‘Never you mind,’ I told him as the door opened and one of the Sidhe girls strolled in. She gave me a funny look; she probably thought I was holding a conversation with myself. There certainly wasn’t a trace of fear in her expression so she didn’t recognise me. It was a relief to know that my face wasn’t plastered on Wanted posters all over the Clanlands.
I snapped the bag shut and firmly zipped it. There was a muffled squawk of irritation from Bob, which I covered with a cough. I gave her an airy smile.
‘I was drinking a glass of champagne,’ I told her, ‘when I heard someone say hello. Then I realised it had to be the drink talking.’
Her mouth fell open slightly as my feeble joke sailed right over her head. She looked me up and down and edged away. ‘Are you from Macquarrie Clan?’
‘No. Why do you ask?’
She shook her head. ‘No reason.’ She backed quickly into one of the stalls and firmly closed the door. I shrugged and walked back out. There will always be haters.
This time, when I walked back past their table, I fixed on the handsome dimpled Sidhe who was sitting next to Byron. He caught my eye and smiled. I smiled back slowly. His eyes danced. Yahtzee. I continued to saunter past and, just for a moment, there was a brief lull in the conversation. Well, well, well. It appeared I was already getting somewhere.
I jumped awkwardly back onto my bar stool and smiled at the bartender. ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘What do you know about the Macquarrie Clan?’
He opened his mouth but was forestalled by a smooth voice from behind. ‘Other than the fact that insanity runs in their family?’
I glanced round, my gaze falling on none other than Byron himself. ‘Insanity, huh?’ I murmured. ‘That makes sense.’
The corners of his chiselled lips lifted . ‘I’m Byron,’ he said.
I gave a tiny smile back. ‘I know.’
His emerald green eyes laughed at me. ‘Then you’re at an unfair advantage. Aren’t you going to tell me who you are?’
My tongue darted out and wet my lips. His eyes followed the movement and I felt a frisson of unexpected lust in my belly. That was quite enough of that, I told myself firmly. I sniffed. ‘I’m here incognito,’ I told him quietly. ‘I could tell you…’
‘But then you’d have to kill me?’
I shrugged. ‘I’m a pacifist. But, yeah, at the very least I’d have to tie you up in a room somewhere while I made my escape.’
‘Sounds like fun,’ he murmured. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘Don’t bother, mate,’ grunted the Cockney, appearing at my other side in a bid to get the bartender’s attention. ‘She’s not interested.’
Perfect timing. I waved a hand in the air. ‘He’s right,’ I said cheerfully. ‘You should go back to your friends. I’m just enjoying a quiet drink.’
Byron folded his arms so that his biceps bulged. I wondered how many times he’d practised that move in the mirror. ‘Right now,’ he drawled, ‘it’s far more interesting here.’ He gestured to the stool next to me. ‘May I sit down?’
I did my best to look nonchalant. ‘It’s a free country.’
He sat down. My dress was already riding high again but, to Byron’s credit, his eyes didn’t once drift downwards. I caught a whiff of spicy aftershave that almost did me in. Then I remembered what he was really like and what I was here for.
‘I’m surprised that you’re not aware of the Macquarrie Clan’s reputation,’ he commented. ‘It’s well advertised across the Sidhe world.’
That throwaway observation meant that he didn’t recognise me from our encounter in the Bull’s palace all those years before. It had lasted only a few seconds so that wasn’t completely surprising but it meant that, despite my white hair and eye colour, he hadn’t connected me to my father. He’d pegged me as one of the lower-class Sidhe, probably from a minor Clan. My chances of success had just quadrupled.
‘I don’t get out much,’ I told him. Then I crossed my legs. It was deliberately calculated body language to give off the vibe that I wasn’t interested. ‘Hard to get’ would win the day.
Byron beckoned the bartender, who’d finished serving the annoying Cockney. He gave a deferential bob of his head and poured him a neat whisky without asking what he’d like. I guessed that this wasn’t Byron’s first evening here. And he probably took a different girl home with him every night. As long as I was that girl tonight, nothing else mattered.
‘One for the lady too,’ he purred. ‘But make it the really good stuff.’