Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)(51)

And of course, she had a way with the men.

Cora possessed a soft, feminine allure that acted like a lodestone for every pair of bollocks in the vicinity. Even Meredith found herself captivated, trying to understand just what it was about the girl. It wasn’t simply her pretty face. No, it was that air of wonderment she carried. She received every word a man spoke as the most fascinating bit of information imparted to humankind since the Ten Commandments, greeting the news with wide, round eyes and those slender bronze arches above them, and—most importantly—that breathy, feminine coo of interest.

It was a talent, that. One Meredith had never mastered. And Cora seemed happy to discover that this talent had more honest applications than whoring.

A few reedy strains of music wafted over the din. As she made her way to the bar, Meredith spied Darryl in the corner, sawing away at his fiddle with more enthusiasm than skill.

Music, friendship, merriment, drink, flirtation—the Three Hounds was a nightly party of late. The community spirit pleased Meredith greatly, as did the influx of coin. The only thing missing from the scene was Rhys.

True to his words after church three weeks ago, Rhys had indeed been wooing her. In his own gruff, rough-hewn way. Though by night he camped out at the cottage site, he came down to the inn for dinner every evening, always bringing her some small treasure from the moor. Wildflowers were hard to come by in September, but somehow he’d conjured up a few. Other days he’d brought a sleek raven’s feather, or a polished stone from the stream. Once, during the turning of earth for cob, he’d found an odd little bronze clasp that looked worn by centuries. From the Romans’ time, they’d decided as they hunched over it in the light, turning it this way and that. If not earlier.

And then one night he’d come in late, well after dark, plainly exhausted from a long day of labor. He’d grasped her by the shoulders and pressed a warm, firm kiss to her forehead.

“Sorry,” he’d said. “That’s all I have today.”

That kiss had been her favorite gift of all.

And oh, how it made her yearn for more. But for all that his hard work and sweet gestures were chipping away at her own reluctance, she’d yet to make a dent in his. No matter how she tempted him, directly or indirectly, after his dinner he always left and retreated to the high moor. It disappointed her, and not only because she’d much rather have him sleeping in her bed. Rhys was missing out on all this nightly camaraderie. He would never truly become a part of the village and be accepted by the locals if he didn’t mingle with them outside of work. Give them a chance to take his measure, not just his coin.

Was he even giving her that chance? Even in their private conversations, Meredith realized, he always encouraged her to do most of the talking. It was only just becoming clear to her that for all she knew about him, Rhys was a difficult man to truly know. What was it he’d said?

Like a damned boulder.

She’d yet to find his cracks.

“How are you faring?” she asked Cora as she reached the bar. “Why don’t you go have a cup of tea in the kitchen? I’ll do the serving for a bit.”

“Are you sure?” Cora blew a stray hair from her face. “Shall I make enough for you, too?”

Meredith shook her head. “No, but my father might like a spot of tea brought up to his room. And a slice of buttered toast, perhaps.”

“I’ll be glad to, Mrs. Maddox.”

Someone opened the door, and a cool burst of wind swept through. Meredith thought, not for the first time that evening, about Rhys sleeping out alone on the barren moor. Was he cold? Was he hungry? Was he safe? She couldn’t help but worry about him.

“Oh, Lord,” Cora muttered. “It’s him.”

A cheer rose up from the assembly. Meredith glimpsed Gideon by the entrance as the crowd parted around him. True to his word, he hadn’t interfered with the construction plans—he’d even helped on occasion, hauling wagonloads of lumber and straw, along with increased amounts of ale and foodstuffs to keep the workers fed. But Meredith suspected his increased presence in the neighborhood was mostly selfish in motivation. Gideon wanted to keep a watchful eye on his smuggled goods and his enemy.

Tonight, however, he appeared to be here to have fun. Wearing a devil-may-care grin, he worked the crowd with his usual charm.

“Don’t you like Mr. Myles?” she asked Cora.

“Doesn’t matter what I think of him. I can tell he doesn’t like me.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Struts around, orders me about.”

“You, girl,” Gideon called from across the room. “Look lively and pour me a brandy.”

“See?” Cora whispered. “And the way he stares at me …”

“They all stare at you.”

“Not like he does. I think he knows what I was. You know, before.”

Meredith bit her lip, wishing she’d never said anything to Gideon about Cora’s past. “Trust me,” she soothed, “it’s not that he doesn’t like you. He likes you too much, that’s all. You have the poor man turned arse over ears, and he’s scrabbling to pretend he’s still in control.”

Gideon approached the bar, eyeing Cora with a lustful gaze.

“What brings you in tonight?” Meredith asked.

“For one cause and another, I feel like celebrating.” His eyes never left the barmaid. “Thought I ordered a brandy.”