Siren's Secret by Trish Albright Read Free Book Online Page A

off the stool and grabbed her off hers. His lips came down hard, his arm pulling her close as one free hand slid across her chest to her waist, discovering the secrets that lay beneath.
    Her response was frozen, wide-eyed shock. Her arms sprung outward in surprise, unsure of what they should be doing—grabbing hold or pushing away.
    Just as quickly, he released her and sat back down, leaving her to slide slowly back onto her seat, speechless.
    “Yep. Same bad kissing.” He took a long drink of ale.
    “Sir,” she gulped. “You’ve been drinking …”
    “I’ll say!” the barkeep stated, staring at both of them. “I think that’s enough, Captain.” He took the pitcher away, leaving just his ale mug. “You’ll thank me later, ye will.”
    Olivia flushed in embarrassment.
    “Don’t worry, Al.” Samuel nodded in her direction. “This
he
is most definitely a
she.”
    Mr. Stafford turned to her with a surprisingly happy grin. It made him look younger. Almost boyish. But she doubted he had ever been a boy.
    “And by the way, your, um … outfit is tailored to your form most becomingly.”
    “You needn’t announce it to the world, Stafford! That’s why it’s a
disguise.”
    Al stood in front of Olivia and scowled. “I don’t serve women pitchers, sir—ma’am—whatever you are! I don’t know what yer game is, but take it elsewhere.” The barkeep took away the pitcher of ale that he’d brought for her.
    “What about my money?”
    “There’s the price of deception, missy,” he stated without apology.
    “That’s prejudice against women.”
    “Only if you are one,” Mr. Stafford said. “Which actually, you are claiming outwardly not to be, so I don’t think the argument would hold in court, were there a court willing to hear it—without laughing.”
    “Well, I couldn’t dress as a woman and come down here alone. That’s also the price of being truthful and being a woman. Not to mention that I’m supposed to be dead, so it might be ruled impersonating a dead person. Who knows what the punishment is for—”
    “Wait—” He grabbed her arm, furious. “You came down here alone? Where’s your groom? And Elizabeth?”
    “Mrs. Tisdale? Why, at the hotel. And my groom thinks I am—”
    “Hell, Olivia,” Mr. Stafford worried. “Tell me what is going on before I beat it out of you.”
    “Don’t swear at me. And Oliver is more appropriate, considering my disguise.”
    “You’re in a bar. Swearing happens, Ollie. Now what’s going on?”
    “Nothing really. After Grayson’s death, which I think we both know was murder, I worried about my own safety—”
    “Why is that?”
    “Well, someone had already tried to kill me once. You don’t think I just jumped out a third-floor window at the museum, do you? If my dress hadn’t caught in the window, I would not have been able to grab the vines or the necktie of that murderous villain who tossed me, and I surely would have landed in a crushing heap. Then someone killed him, hoping no doubt to make it look like we’d had a tussle and both died unfortunately, but the vines slowed my descent enough to grasp the second-story window, and actually I later learned the vines were not vines, but climbing ivy, so truly I’m lucky to be alive, considering how flimsy ivy can be. And after Grayson was found dead, I thought it would be safest to not be where I should be for a while, so I went to a hotel with Mrs. Tisdale until we could find passage to Egypt.”
    Stafford stared at her a long moment. “Uh-huh.”
    Al finished a pint of her ale while listening and slammed his mug in front of her. “This one’s trouble, Captain. That’s all I’m saying. You know I won’t be sharin’ nuthin’. I like yer business and all yer men. But this one”—Al pointed at her—“he’s trouble.” He leaned forward, nose to nose with her. “And I mean
he
in the loosest sense.”
    Olivia refused to be intimidated. “Sir, you are very vociferous for one who