“It would appear so.”
Not precisely a blond—though his hair wasn’t dark enough to be considered brunette—he was about as attractive as men were allowed to be. Yet there was nothing pretty about him. With a chiseled jaw and deep-set eyes, his features were undeniably masculine. She was unable to do anything but stand there and stare at him. Away from the smoky confines of the gaming hell, she was able to fully appreciate his features. Last night, she’d recognized he was handsome, but here in the light of day… She mentally shook herself and moved away from him to stand behind the counter.
He followed her, as did Calliope, her eyes bright and full of curiosity.
“What do you want?” Sabine asked, her voice lowered to a whisper to avoid disturbing her other customers.
He chuckled, then met the gaze of her aunt. “The lady interrupts my game of poker last evening, completely distracts me, then makes a wild wager, and she wants to know why I would want to speak with her.” He leaned against the counter and flashed a brilliant smile at Calliope. “Would you not be the least bit curious?”
“I would indeed, my lord,” Calliope said in agreement.
Sabine leveled her gaze on her aunt. “You are not helping.” She pushed her with one finger. “Will you put the rest of the stock out? And keep Agnes and Lydia in the back.”
Calliope smiled at them both, then disappeared behind the curtain.
“You own this establishment?” he asked. He glanced at the rest of the storefront, then back at her.
“I do.” Well, she and her aunts did together.
“Beauty aids and hair tonic.” He picked up a jar, eyed it, then set it down. “Interesting.”
Calliope came back around the curtain, an armful of jars balanced precariously. “Carry on,” she said as she passed. “Don’t mind me none.”
“Are you going to tell me why you want my map?”
He offered a smile, one so piercing she feared her knees might buckle.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” she muttered. She squared her shoulders. “I don’t believe I owe you an explanation.” Her voice came out with more bravado than she felt.
“You think not?”
“I do. My lord,” she added, forcing herself to be polite. Her throat was dry as she licked her lips.
“You may call me Max.” He pulled her hand to him and placed a kiss on the top of her wrist.
Sabine momentarily got caught in the blue trance of his gaze, then jerked her hand back. “I don’t believe I shall call you anything. Is there something else I can assist you with?” She wanted him out of her shop. Though she did need his map, discussing the map or anything else related to Atlantis was far too dangerous with other customers about.
She supposed she could simply ask him if she could see it, but at what cost? Last night, with a simple wager, he’d requested a kiss. What more would he require for a look at the map? Not to mention she could easily tell from this conversation that he was a curious sort. He would have questions. Questions she could not answer.
Besides, the more she thought about her plan, the more certain she was that tonight she would sneak into his house. “Perhaps you need some hair tonic? Our products have been known to invigorate new growth.”
Smiling at her again, he said, “Trust me. I’m quite vigorous.”
She stepped away from the counter. “Then I suppose that shall be all.”
He grabbed her arm and stilled her. His rich azure eyes met hers and did not waver. Was this to be some sort of
contest? She always had a difficult time walking away from a challenge. Fair enough, she met his stare and did not move. She could outlast him. The corners of his lips tipped in a smile.
Before either of them could speak again, the tiny bells rang through the shop. Sabine looked away. Customers were a priority over her silly pride.
A woman entered and hadn’t even closed the door behind her before speaking. “Well, well, well, the Marquess of Lindberg. I certainly hadn’t expected to see you,” the woman purred as she stepped forward, her kohl-lined eyes roaming boldly over the marquess. Her lips were painted with red rouge, drawing attention to their fullness. She was a tall woman. Unlike most women of height, she was not lithe or overly thin, but lush and curvaceous, soft and round in all the appropriate places. No doubt a much-admired creature among the men of London.
He turned at the sound of her voice. “Cassandra, you know there is no need for such formalities.”
She sauntered forward, then held her hand out to him. As he leaned over it, she positively glowed. “Max, it’s been far too long.”
“Has it?” he asked playfully. “Whatever are you doing here?”