She shot him a grin. “I prefer to think of it as persistent.”
This time he laughed. “There are other terms I might use. Now, eat your meal.”
“And then we’ll play darts,” she stated confidently.
“And then we’ll see.” Lifting to his mouth a slice of bread piled with beef, cheese, and chutney, he took a hearty bite, the discussion closed for the time being.
As they ate, they talked about the performances they had watched at Astley’s and which ones had been their favorites; Emma liked the trick riders best, while Nick had preferred the elaborate battle scene at the end.
“Although I would never trade my days at sea, not even for a chance to have captured an Imperial Eagle,” he told her.
“What was it like,” she asked, “being at sea?”
His eyes were very gray as they met hers. “Liberating. Exhilarating. Wet and cold when it stormed, yet absolutely beautiful. Peaceful—except when we were being bombarded by cannon fire from an enemy ship, that is.”
“Cannon fire? That sounds terrifying. Was it frightening?”
He took a drink of ale. “Any man who claims he isn’t afraid in the midst of a battle is either a liar or a suicidal fool.”
She took a moment to consider his words. “But you miss it, your life in the navy,” she said, a statement rather than a question.
His gaze turned introspective. “It doesn’t matter now, since it’s rather difficult to manage a landed estate from the deck of a ship,” he concluded with a wry smile.
And that was the end of that particular subject.
Their conversation moved on to a variety of random topics, everything from her impressions of the English countryside as she’d traveled from Scotland to pets they had each owned as a child: two King Charles spaniels and a long-haired white cat for her, a pack of English foxhounds his father had kept for hunting and a Dalmatian named Speckles for him. He currently had a magnificent black Newfoundland that he had left at his estate in the country—a huge dog that loved to swim, drooled copiously when he was excited, and stood roughly the height of a pony.
“I would love another pet,” she confided with a sigh. “But right now there is no place for one in my life.”
Perhaps once I am married, she thought, only to wish that the dismal thought of her upcoming nuptials hadn’t entered her mind. Pushing it aside, she drank the last of her tea and laid her fork across her empty plate.
She cast a glance over her shoulder. “Oh, look. It would appear they are finishing their game.”
More than that, the men were leaving. After draining the last of their ales, they each set down their empty mugs, then strode toward the door, calling out friendly farewells to the tavern keeper as they went. One of the men, a rough-jawed fellow with collar-length black hair and vivid blue eyes caught her gaze as he passed, then, to her astonishment, gave her what one could only call a cheeky wink.
Across the table from her, Nick stiffened, his jaw turning grim and pugnacious as he half made to rise. But the other man was already out the door, exchanging some inaudible comment with his friends that drew a raucous burst of laughter.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He glared toward the door. “That one needs to be taught respect. He’s got nerve looking at you that way.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean anything.”
“I’m sure he did,” Nick countered in a hard tone. “If there were any way I could safely leave you alone, I would go impress that fact upon him.”
By using his fists? she wondered, rather convinced that was exactly what he had in mind. An odd warmth spread inside her at the idea, a sensation that vacillated strangely between pleasure over his defense of her and alarm that he would consider resorting to violence.
“Well, they are gone now,” she said reassuringly, “so there is no point in worrying further over the matter. We shall never see them again, after all.”
“A good thing—for them,” he said.
Still, the logic of her statement seemed to resonate with him, and after another few moments, he finally quit glaring at the doorway. His eyes, a steely gray now, shifted back to hers. “If you are finished dining, we should depart.”
“Oh, but we haven’t had our game,” she protested.
His expression turned hard again.
Before he could refuse her outright, she rushed on. “There is no one here now to watch except the proprietor and those two old men, and what harm can they present?” And she was right, the clerks having rushed off while she and Nick had still been eating their meal. “Just let me try tossing a few darts; then I will go quietly.”