On the Edge (The Edge #1)(32)
Author: Ilona Andrews

"If I was trying to get into your bed, I’d do something along these lines."

In her short dating life, Rose had been hit with a few "come hither" stares, but Declan left them all in the dust. He focused on her to the exclusion of all else, not really staring, but gazing in fascination, as if he were pulling her onto a tightrope above a chasm and didn’t care if they both plunged to their deaths as long as she came to him. It pierced her defenses, and Rose blushed, suddenly awkward and hyper-aware as if she were a teenager catching a boy looking at her and realizing for the first time that she was a woman.

"Rose," he said, as if tasting her name in his mouth. "Let me in."

She simply shook her head. It was all she could do.

"Shall I strip and try to entice you with my manly body?"

And just like that the spell was broken and she laughed. "It won’t work, but if you do want to make a spectacle of yourself, who am I to stop you, Your Excellency?"

Declan sighed. " ‘ Your Excellency’ is the proper form of address for an ambassador or a bishop of the Zoroastrian or Catholic faith, as they style themselves as ambassadors of their God’s will. I’m neither a bishop nor an ambassador. When it comes to societal niceties, you’re hopeless. But have no fear – I’ll arrange for lessons. Lots and lots of etiquette lessons. Luckily, I have both money to hire the best teachers and patience to wait until you learn."

She bristled, and instantly his face snapped into that blueblood stone-hard expression.

"I’ll get your things," she told him and turned.

"You work very hard, and you’re too proud to take charity," he said. "I find it admirable. But there’s a fine line between proud and unwise. As you pointed out, you’re a single woman in charge of two boys. You’re unemployed with no prospects of obtaining a new position, you’re facing a danger of unknown magical origin, and you’re ill equipped to deal with it. I need a place to stay. I’m willing to employ you as my hostess and will defend you and your brothers against this danger or any other for the duration of my stay. I have already sworn not to harm you and your family. You get money and a capable adult male under your roof, while I get a room and three meals a day. To turn me away is both foolish and irresponsible, and you’re neither."

She stopped. He was right. "What do you get out of it?"

"As I’ve mentioned, I intensely dislike sleeping in a tent. But more importantly, I’ve made the trip into the Edge, and should I come back empty-handed, with wild stories of some phantom hounds that killed my bride-to-be, I’d be a laughingstock. I can’t afford to lose you now. If you persist in this unwise course, I’ll pitch my tent right here, in the spot where I stand, and I’ll do my best to defend you regardless. However, my defense will be much less effective."

Of course. A purely mercenary reason. She had expected nothing else.

The children had to eat. Her grocery supplies consisted of three packs of Ramen noodles, six drumsticks, some rice, a few potatoes, half a container of bread crumbs, and a pound and a half of ground beef in the freezer. And he would protect them. They both knew she would accept his offer. Rose grasped at straws, trying to find some way not to feel as if the choice had been stripped away from her, but found none. Suddenly she was simply weary. "That’s the other thing I don’t quite understand about you. You’re an earl. You have money. You’re not ugly."

"I’m quite handsome, actually," he said.

Handsome was for ordinary mortals. She rolled her eyes. "And so modest, too. Why are you here trying to get me to marry you?"

"I’ll tell you, if you let me in."

"How much are you willing to pay?" she asked.

"Our standard rate. A doubloon a day."

It was generous. More than generous – some families would put him up for a week for a single coin.

"Half a doubloon a day," she said.

"No, you see, the idea behind bargaining is that you ask for a larger amount."

Apparently, he understood sarcasm just fine. He just chose not to notice it, when it failed to suit him. "I know that you in the Weird think that all Edgers are swindlers. We aren’t. I won’t take more than what’s fair, because I don’t want to feel indebted to you. For your half-doubloon, you’ll get the use of the bedroom and three decent meals a day, and your laundry done, should you need it. You’ll get nothing else. I’m letting you under my roof, and I expect you to behave with respect toward me and my brothers. Should you breach this agreement, you’ll immediately leave. Should I breach it, I’ll refund all related money. Am I making myself clear?"

"Perfectly. Should I swear a blood oath?"

"No. Your word’s sufficient."

He rose, picking up his sword. "You have it."

Rose removed the ward stones. He stepped inside.

"Suppose I offered you a carte blanche," he said.

"What does that mean?"

"You leave with me. I’ll support you in a respectable style. I’ll pay for the education of the boys. In return we’ll share a bedroom."

"Respectable style?" She chewed on those words. Here was a contradiction if she ever saw one.

"Two, three hundred doubloons a month. Enough for a modest but comfortable life. Obviously, I would take care of your rent, tuition for the children, and extraordinary expenses."

"Obviously." She shook her head.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

She simply looked at him.

"I take it by your frigid countenance that it’s a no," he said. "And more, you believe me to be an idiot for offering it to you."

"Even if you’re not lying, even if you intend to do everything exactly the way you suggest, you asked me to become your whore. I don’t have anything against women who chose that sort of life. But I’m not, nor will I ever be, one of those women. If you were to offer me a job, the type of job where I didn’t have to earn the roof above my head by spreading my legs, I would consider it. But I don’t really trust you farther than I can throw you, and since you’re large and muscular, that wouldn’t be very far. And I’m not positive it would be a good idea to depend on you for my livelihood anyway. I don’t want your money, Declan. I’m not a beggar or a free-loader."

He was studying her, and she wondered if he really had meant the offer or if it was some sort of a test. Either way, he had her answer, and she meant every word.

"My money would let you leave this place."

"This place is my home. Would you do it if you were me?"

"No," he said immediately.

"Why do you think I would?"