Page 15 of His Revelation
He hesitated, surprised that she was calling him on his actions. “Well…aye, I suppose I did. But ye have to admit, it was too good an opportunity to pass up.”
To his surprise, her mulish expression faded to a grudging smile. “Yes, I suppose you are right. I did not think anyone was watching, or I would not have—have spoken to the frog.”
That moment of hesitation spoke volumes. “Nor kissed it, I suspect.”
Under his layer of dirt, his smile flashed. Perhaps it was the wrong response, because she flushed and turned just enough to present him with her shoulder.
“You are not supposed to be here, sir. This is my family’s private garden, and you are trespassing.”
Her haughty tone was back, and it was almost a relief. He didn’twantto like her.
“Please, milady.” He tried his best to make his tone beseeching. “Dinnae send me away without hearing my plea.” He needed to make himself sound as pitiful as possible. “I’ve no’ eaten all day.”
With a scowl, she gestured to the well. “There is a plump frog in there who would roast up a treat.”
His lips twitched at her pique; amused, despite his intention not to like her. “Eathim? Are ye mad? After the gift ye bestowed on him? He is likely the luckiest frog in all of Christendom, and I cannae ruin that byeatinghim.” Besides, a man would have to be truly desperate to eat a frog.
Which ye are supposed to be, ye idiot.
She rolled her eyes as she turned back to him and planted her hands on her hips. “Howis the poor thing lucky, sir? He just got thrown into a dark hole!”
Lysander lowered his voice, then his chin. “Aye, but before that, ye kissed him. Men must throw themselves at yer feet, begging for a mere glance, or the simplest favor. And here ye go, offering an actualkissto a reptile.”
This time, he couldseethe blush crawling up her neck to stain her cheeks, and he didn’t give her a chance to deny hiswords. “What, milady? Ye cannae deny ye are the most beautiful creature in all the Highlands. Surely ye ken that.”
Surely ye spend hours in front of yer mirror each day telling yerself that.
But she didn’t answer him. Instead, she lifted her chin. “Amphibian.”
“What?”
“The frog is anamphibian, sir. Not a reptile.”
Amphibian, reptile, whocared? How was Lysander supposed to know the difference?
A little voice in the back of his mind whispered,Ye didnae expect her to ken the difference either, did ye?
But he could use that to make him seem even less desirable. With an obsequious bow, he said, “Forgive me, milady. I am no’ a man given to reading many books.” She would interpret that as he was uneducated.
But she snorted softly. “Not many men are, I suspect.” Before he could defend the rest of his sex, she continued. “But surely you did not sneak into my private garden and spy on my private conversations just to discuss taxonomy.”
“Private conversation, milady? Is that what ye call it when ye kiss a frog? Ye ken, that is how one gets warts.”
She blinked. “Is it? I had no idea.”
Lysander shrugged easily, settling on his heels, wishing the broken-down old boots he’d had his valet find for him—the poor man nearly fainted at the thought—didn’t pinch his toes quite so much. Soon, he’d be limping for real.
“I confess I dinnae ken, but that is what my auld—” He stopped himself before he said “nurse,” knowing the man as he appeared to be wouldn’t have been raised by nursemaids. “My auld mother told me that once.”
“Ah.” She nodded sagely. “And I imagine she had to tell you such a thing to quell your propensity for kissing frogs?”
For the second time since stepping into the garden, Lysander was unable to hold back the laughter which burst from his lips. She had a sharp wit, this “angel” of his, even if she was using it to insult him.
The reminder shewasinsulting him caused him to sober. He had to remember why he was there and not take the time to appreciate her wit, as well as her beauty.
Why? She insulted ye as ye insulted her. Is that no’ fair?
This time, he allowed his scowl to show, even if it was his irritating internal monologue he was annoyed with. “Milady, that was no’ kind.”
