Chapter 47

At Dana's suggestion, the three of them walked the mile to the village, rather than take advantage of the cars provided by the auction house for shuttling bidders to and from the train station. It was a golden, sunny afternoon and the rolling green countryside was picture-postcard lovely. If not for the unwanted third party, Beau could have easily enjoyed strolling through the tidy town with a pretty woman on his arm. Since Saville never stopped talking, however, there was no way to ignore his presence. As soon as they were seated at a scarred oak table in the cozy, thatched-roof pub and the waitress had taken their order, the antiques dealer let go of Dana's hand and turned to size up Beau.
"So tell me again, exactly what sort of items are you looking for? Predominantly furnishings? Objets d'art? Investments? Any particular period or style you prefer?"
"Investments always appeal," Beau replied. "And as to style or period, I like an eclectic mix. Usually, the older the better though. I'm particularly fond of medieval and gothic odds and ends but they have to be good. Not like that atrocious armor that was on the block today."
"I see." Saville jotted some notes on a hand-held PDA while Dana thanked the waitress for bringing their drinks. "I wonder if you'd be interested in a private tour of our showroom? Dana, you saw it last night. Do you think there would be anything there that would suit your...client?"
"Oh, absolutely," Dana agreed without the slightest hesitation. "You've got that Flemish tapestry I was going to call him about, in fact. And that pair of silver goblets, though I still think those are overpriced."
"I thought you had your eye on those," Saville drawled, stroking the inside of Dana's wrist with his thumb. "They're worth every bit of that price, and you know it."
Beau sipped his beer, trying to focus on enjoying the dark, peaty flavor instead of ripping the other man apart.
Dana calmly moved her arm out of Saville's reach and raised her own glass. Like Beau, she'd chosen a classic British stout, while Saville had opted for wine. "Cheers."
"Here's to new acquaintances," Saville added, lifting his wineglass as well. "May they satisfy everyone involved."
The train trip back to London was a test of Dana's endurance. Riding with the two men made her feel like a particularly juicy bone being tugged between a pit bull and a rottweiler. Beau might not have any interest in a serious relationship but he clearly didn't like having another man pay attention to her. She slid her hand inside her jacket and rubbed at the bite scar on her neck. Could Beau be feeling the effects of the mating hormones too? Had she somehow transferred them to him through her saliva - if not from kissing, then maybe when she'd bitten him? Or was he just the kind of man who didn't like to share his toys, even if he wasn't particularly attached to them? Either way, she had a whopping headache pounding at the base of her skull - which was odd, since she'd never had a migraine in her life. Beau Dumont was opening her up to all kinds of new experiences.
It was still daylight when she climbed the stairs to her flat, followed by a silent and sullen Beau. He hadn't said a word since they'd taken their leave of John at Victoria Station. He'd simply taken her arm and marched her back to her apartment at a rapid clip. She was torn between the urge to rip him a new one for being such an ass and the one that involved ripping his clothes off the minute the door closed behind them.
"Hello!" The cheery voice called out to them from the first floor landing and Dana wished invisibility was one of her draconic powers. Since it wasn't, she smiled at her landlady, who was peeking out her door.
"Hi, Mrs. Crittenden. How are you tonight?"
"I'm fine, dear. Have you two been out enjoying the sights?" The old lady batted her eyes coyly.
"I was working," Dana told her. "But Mr. Dumont was willing to tag along."
Beau stepped over to the door and took both of the older woman's wrinkled hands. "Anything to spend time with my lovely bride." Then the traitorous wretch kissed Mrs. C's knuckles.
Maggie Crittenden, who had to be at least sixty, blushed like a teenage girl. Dana had to give Beau points for making her landlady smile, even if he was being an ass about insisting they were married.
"It must be so difficult to be separated for so long when you're newly married," Mrs. C continued. "Are you going to be here until dear Dana's assignment is finished?"
"I think so," Beau agreed with a kind smile. "I'm hoping it won't be too much longer before we can return home for good. England is beautiful but..." he sent Dana a smoldering look, "home has its advantages."
"Oh my," Mrs. C tittered giddily. "Well, children, just to let you know, I'll be gone until tennish tonight...dinner with my sister. Have a nice evening." She winked at Dana and allowed Beau to kiss her on the cheek before she sailed out the front door.
"Did she just give us permission to have loud sex?" Even Beau looked a little dazed as he watched the older woman walk down the front steps and hail a taxi.
"Ummm - I think so." Dana shook her head. "Of course there's still the second-floor tenant to consider. But he plays in a rock band and usually works nights." Dana's tiny flat was the third story of the once-elegant townhouse. "Not to mention the neighbors on either side." The houses here were all built side-by-side with only thin walls between them.
"Do you know them?" Beau took her hand and began to tug her up the stairs. "Do you care?"
Dana saw the heat that flared in his hazel eyes and shook her head. "No. And not in the slightest." They both took the stairs two at a time, past the second-floor landing and all the way to Dana's door.