“Dé tha thú dèanamh?”
The boom of Grif’s deep voice startled them both badly enough that they instantly jumped apart. Hugh whipped around, thrust his arms akimbo, and frowned at Grif, who was striding in from the entrance at the other end of the room. “What are we doing? We’re no’ doing anything!” Hugh scoffed. “I was merely showing Miss Addison how to walk. Hurrying things along for ye, then.”
“Thank ye kindly, MacAlister, but I’ll conduct the lessons, if ye donna mind,” Grif said.
Hugh sighed, flashed a warm smile at Anna, and then strode to where Grif stood, clapped him on the shoulder, and said, “Aye, then I’ve warmed her up for ye.” And with that, he walked out the door, whistling.
Grif shut the door at his back and turned around, leaned against the door, arms folded, as he considered Anna, much like, she thought, a hungry lion might consider a rabbit. It felt exactly as if she’d been caught misbehaving in the nursery, and she smiled tremulously. “He was helping me,” she said, but Grif’s catlike expression did not change. “You neglected to mention the ankle, after all.”
“Aye, that,” Grif said, nodding thoughtfully.
“And you did say I was to use my, ah… body…to its best advantage, did you not?”
He pushed away from the door, casually strolling toward her, his head down. “I did indeed. But when I said to use yer body to advantage, I intended that ye should use it to yer advantage, not his. ’Tis a fine line a woman must walk, between using her body to have what she wants and letting a man use her body to have what he wants. Ye’d best learn the difference now ere ye make trouble for yerself.”
For Grif, an imposter, to threaten her with scandal was really too rich. Anna lifted her chin and reminded him, “It is you who should be afraid of scandal.”
“Me?” he asked, coming to a halt, looking incredibly surprised. “Why?”
“Why? Is it not obvious? You’ve come to London posing as someone you are not, you have told more than one falsehood in seeking some hideous little gargoyle, you travel with a man you would call your valet, but who is obviously not your valet—”
“He would that it were so!” Grif interrupted irritably.
“Do you call him a liar?” Anna demanded.
“Aye. And on most occasions, to his face.”
That silenced her. That confused her. What, exactly, was the situation between these two men?
“Mo chreach,” Grif said impatiently at her bewildered look. “All right, then, here it is. MacAlister is in fact me dearest friend, and has been since we were but wee bairns bouncing on our fathers’ knees. He’s come to London to help me. But he is no’, nor shall he ever hope to be, a valet.”
“That’s not all of it, is it?” Anna demanded, her eyes narrowed. “What of poor Mr. Dudley? Have you impressed him into your service?”
“Poor…?”
“Have you the slightest notion of what is happening in your very own household?” she exclaimed with much superiority. “Mr. Dudley’s gout bothers him terribly, if you hadn’t noticed!”
He annoyed her further by smiling. “Oh, aye, lass, I’ve noticed it, all right. I’ve noticed it all me life, for Dudley is me family’s butler. It happens that he has come to London to help me as well.”
“Help you… what?” she tried.
He just laughed, his gorgeous lips sliding over his white teeth. “Ach, Anna!” he laughed. “I wouldna tell ye if ye were the last soul on this earth, and well ye know it! Ye are hardly to be trusted, are ye now?”
“You, an admitted imposter, would speak to me of trust?” she cried, incensed. “I am the only one in this room who can be trusted!”
He snorted his opinion of that.
“I am!” she insisted, pacing now. “Just because I’ve—All right, well, I’ve really pushed you into a bit of a corner, I’ll grant you that—but not because I wish you harm! Because I am rather in need of assistance!” she said earnestly. “And quite honestly, Grif, it is I who shouldn’t trust you, isn’t it? You are the one parading about as some Scottish earl when in fact you are… well, you are…” God in heaven, what was he?
Anna paused and sighed irritably to the ceiling. Truthfully, she had lain awake more than one night wondering why he was in London, why he wanted that dreadful little gargoyle so much that he would bargain for it. “Frankly, I’ve no idea who you might be, although a number of nefarious thoughts come to mind.”
“Aye?” he said, brightening. “Such as?”
“Such as murderer. Thief. Spy.”
“I beg yer pardon? No’ statesman? Earl? Perhaps even the bloody king of Scotland?”