Beautiful Beast (Gypsy Heroes #3)(15)

‘Bring the whole tin with you,’ he says, and leads the way to his dining table, which has been set for one.

He raises an eyebrow. ‘How about a glass of Pinot Blanc?’

I shake my head, fascinated by the care he has taken to cook his own meal. Only a true gourmet would go to such great pains to prepare a feast for one, but he seems unaware of how unusual his behavior is.

He fishes a bottle of wine from a bucket of ice, and pours himself a glass of wheat-colored liquid. Then he sits down and lifts his knife and fork. I watch him cut out a piece of lobster and, in a sensual act of pure pleasure, slip it into his mouth, and suddenly I’m salivating like Pavlov’s dog. My cookie seems to be a childish indulgence when I watch him savor every mouthful. As if each mouthful was a unique work of art that he has been given the privilege of experiencing.

I watch him eat, and it is a joy to do so. We talk and we laugh. He is easy and funny. There are only two or three bites left on his plate when there is a shrill scream from somewhere in the apartment.

‘Good timing, kids,’ Shane says good-naturedly, and stands up.

‘Shall I wait for you here?’ I ask.

‘No, you don’t want to miss this,’ he says with a laugh.

I follow him to the entrance of a room painted in bright colors with two cots and lots of toys.

‘It was not an accident!’ a beautiful, blue-eyed little girl with her hands on her hips screams furiously at a boy who has his arms crossed.

‘What’s going on here?’ Shane asks calmly.

‘He,’ she fumes, throwing a fierce glance toward her cousin before bringing it back again to Shane, ‘banged me on the head with his train while I was sleeping.’

Shane moves into the room. ‘Let me see that head,’ he says.

She touches the top of her head gingerly and cries pitifully, ‘I’ve been treating him happy and he just wants to kill me.’ She takes a shuddering breath, and, opening out one palm beseechingly toward him, demands. ‘Why? Why?’

Shane gets to his haunches in front of her. ‘Of course, he doesn’t want to kill you, sweetie. He’s your cousin.’

‘Yes, he does. Yes, he does,’ she insists, striking the sides of her little body violently. She points at Tommy dramatically. ‘He just wants me to die out here.’

Shane busies himself with gently feeling the top of her head. ‘Now, why on earth would Tommy want to kill you?’

She thinks for a minute. ‘So he can have all my toys,’ she says triumphantly.

Shane shakes his head. ‘He’s a boy. He doesn’t want your dolls and cookery set.’

She appears to lose interest in Tommy’s motive. ‘Is there an egg on my head?’ she asks anxiously, instead.


‘Maybe a very small one,’ Shane agrees.

‘I’m never sleeping with him again. Don’t make me, Uncle Shane,’ she pleads.

I have to turn my head to hide my smile. How Shane is keeping a straight face is beyond me.

‘Why did you bang her with your train while she was sleeping, Tommy?’ Shane asks the little boy, who has so far said nothing.

He scrunches his shoulders up to his ears. ‘It was an accident. I wanted to kiss her, but the train fell from my hand, and … and … banged her head.’

Shane turns to Liliana. ‘See? It was an accident. He just wanted to kiss you.’

‘I don’t believe him. He’s a’—she frowns to think of the right expression—‘juvenile delinquent.’

Shane’s lips twitch. ‘Do you know what? I kind of believe him. You’re very, very kissable.’ And he kisses her on her cheek, twice, loudly. ‘Don’t you sometimes look at your new baby sister and want to kiss her too?’

She looks at Tommy from the sides of her eyes. ‘Yes, Laura’s cute,’ she admits.

‘Can you forgive him?’ Shane asks.

She stares mutinously at Shane. ‘I’ll have to think about it.’

‘All right then. Think about it while you have lunch.’ He turns his gaze to his nephew. ‘Tommy, what do you say when you accidentally hurt someone?’

‘Sorry,’ he pipes up immediately.

‘Good boy. Now, why don’t we all go into the kitchen and have some lunch?’

Tommy, relieved that he is not going to be punished, nods eagerly.

‘Who’s that?’ Liliana asks, noticing me for the first time.

‘That’s Snow. Say hello.’

‘Hello, Snow,’ she says, wiping her tears, her rage forgotten.

‘Hi, what’s your name?’ I ask with a smile, simply because I want to hear her tell me her new name.

‘Margarite Hum Loo,’ she replies solemnly.

‘That’s a pretty name. What does it mean?’ I ask equally solemnly.

‘It doesn’t mean anything. I just like it because it reminds me of a seahorse, or a mermaid, I’m not sure which yet.’

I smile at the purity of her innocence. It’s been a long time since I was in the presence of children. It is like bathing my soul in clear, pure spring water. It makes this morning’s news even sweeter.

I turn to Tommy. ‘Hello, Tommy.’

‘Hello,’ Tommy says shyly.

‘He’s a cry-baby. He cries all the time,’ Liliana denounces scornfully.