style="font-size:15px;"> He lifted a brow at that and turned away to toss his hat onto the desk and fill two waxed paper cups with the strong, black brew left warming on an electric burner positioned on a rolling cart. Only at the last moment did he pause. “We have hot water if you prefer tea.”
She shook her head, smiling. “I’m used to Jock’s coffee.”
He handed over the cups and leaned back against the battered desk while Lily took one of the equally battered chairs in front of it. A small leather sofa had been shoved up against the wall between a narrow bookcase and the door. A small barrel used as a footstool sat to one side. Dusty magazines and well-used books were piled together with various trophies and some detritus on the bookcase. A file cabinet in the corner behind the desk was overflowing with papers. A computer arranged on a narrow table against the wall blinked mistily from behind a plastic cover.
The coffee was bitter, but Lily did not complain. Rollie fairly chugged his, drinking it down in big gulps. She suspected that he probably drank too much of the stuff.
“That was amazing, what you did out there,” she told him honestly. “Where did you learn such things?”
“America. It’s a technique used in the northwest there.”
“You’ve traveled then?”
He nodded. “Some. You?”
“Of course.”
He smiled. “Ah, yes. A princess cannot be without her maid.”
She smiled, too. “Just so.”
He crossed his feet at the ankles and folded his arms. “Tell me, does the princess have any unusual guests just now?”
“Unusual?” Lily echoed, stiffening. “Whatever do you mean?”
He waved a hand negligently. “I was just wondering if the lot that came through here this morning are the usual faces seen around the princess and her brother, or if perhaps a more reticent guest might be in residence.”
Lily stood up, feeling a distinct unease. “These are odd questions.”
“Are they? I didn’t realize. I’m just curious.”
“About the guests?”
He shrugged negligently. “It pays to know such things. As a servant yourself, you must realize that certain types of knowledge are essential to anticipating your employer’s needs—and those of her guests, of course.”
She carried her cup to the one small, dusty window at the end of the room and pretended to gaze out at the lushly rolling landscape. “The lot that came through here this morning are the usual crew,” she said lightly, “with the exception of a trio of young women in whom the prince’s mother is trying to interest him.”
Rollie chuckled. “Matchmaking mamas, one of the most formidable forces on earth. From what I saw this morning, she has her work cut out for her, though.”
Lily turned to face the room again, smiling. “He calls them the unholy trinity.”
“Does he?”
She nodded. “He doesn’t want to be in love again. It’s too painful for him, after losing his wife and child a little over a year ago.”
Rollie sent her a strange look, something snapping in the mysterious depths of those blue eyes. “You sound as if you know Prince Damon rather well.”
Oops. She glanced down at her cup, gathering her thoughts. “He and his sister are quite close. One absorbs certain knowledge just from being around.”
“His mother doesn’t seem to have absorbed that knowledge.”
Lily wrinkled her nose. “She thinks that he’ll get over his loss more easily if he fixes his interest, and, of course, there is the succession to secure.”
“Of course.”
He was still looking at her oddly, that mysterious glint in his eye. “Tell me something,” he said smoothly. “In your opinion, are the Montagues capable of acting, shall we say, unlawfully?”
She rocked back on her heels. “No! Why would you even ask such a thing?”
He shrugged. “I like to know who I’m working for, what to expect of them.”
“I find your question insulting,” she informed him with a tilt of her chin.
“Oh? Why is that?”
Why, indeed? She turned away, thinking quickly, and finally said, “I know the Montagues. I grew up around them. They can be fierce when one of their own is threatened.”
“Ruthless?” he interjected.
She turned once more to meet his gaze levelly. “Yes, ruthless, when need be, but not malicious, never that.”
He smiled, and something about it made her think that he didn’t quite believe her. “The princess is fortunate to have you,” he said silkily. “Such loyalty speaks well for both of you.”
Lily lifted her chin a notch higher. “The princess needs no one to speak for her,” she said smartly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the castle.”
She circled the desk, placing her partially filled coffee cup in the trash can next to the cart. He shifted as she strode past him and shot out a hand, clamping it around her wrist.
“When will I see you again?” he asked softly.
She stared at his hand, stunned by the weight and heat of it, only belatedly realizing that his grip was gentle, unthreatening. Carefully, she rotated her wrist, freeing it. “I really couldn’t say,” she murmured, and swept from the room. She didn’t slow down until she had cleared the tunneled archway through which she had entered the stables.
What a disturbing man he was, disturbing but compelling. And real. Perhaps more real than anyone she’d ever known before. How odd that was, to feel as if life was somehow more vibrant, more intense in him. He made her feel as if she had been hibernating, living half-awake. What he had done with that horse! She shivered and remembered the unsettling warmth of his hand. If she was wise, she would steer clear of Rollie Thomas. But for the first time in a very, very long time, she wasn’t sure that the wisest course was the course she was going to take.
Chapter Three
Lily had scarcely cleared the door before Jock filled it. Wondering how much he’d overheard, Roland leaned back against the edge of the desk once more and folded his arms.
“Keeping yourself busy are you, boyo?” Jock said, holding his gaze level.
Roland shrugged. “Trying to. Where have you been? I expected—”
“What were you doing with Lily?” the old man demanded, and Roland had to tamp down his natural inclination to give rather than take orders. Reminding himself that he needed this job at least until the Montagues had been cleared
