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cobalt blue, such as found in Chinese porcelain.
    Looking into them, she felt a strange sort of hitch in her chest, as if someone had stolen her breath for a moment.
    Perhaps she made a sound or something showed in her expression, for his brows drew together and a small half-smile pulled at his lips. “What is it?” His voice was soft and searching, as if he worried he’d offended her.
    “You’re…” She trailed off in a mad blush.
    “I’m what?” he prompted gently, yet looking a bit apprehensive.
    Lovely. Rare. Unexpected.
    “You’re Eamon,” she said instead. Lord, what was wrong with her? Had she gone mad?
    Again came that smile, a slow stretch of his mouth. And it was as though someone had lit a tinder within him. “So we’ve established, Bit.”
    “Bit?” Surely she had heard him incorrectly. “What does that mean?”
    His smile vanished with a wince. “I apologize,” he said after a moment, “that was rude of me. Now you have an idea why the family refrains from taking me anywhere. Or why I refrain from going,” he said under his breath.
    How well she understood that feeling of awkwardness. She’d never said or done the proper thing in her life. Much to everyone’s despair.
    “I don’t mind the familiarity,” she said, feeling too warm. “After all, we are to be brother and sister.”
    He scowled at this, as if unconvinced.
    “What does bit mean?” she prompted once again.
    “Nothing. It was a foolish slip of my tongue. Forget I said a thing.”
    “Oh-ho no,” she said with a light laugh. “You cannot tell a person to forget what they’ve heard. It only tweaks the curiosity more.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he went an endearing shade of pink that clashed with his flaming hair. “Tell me.”
    Eamon cleared his throat. “Well, you’re a little bit of a thing, now aren’t you?”
    “Little?” she scoffed. She was a quite respectable five foot three inches. “Compared to some, I suppose.”
    He laughed, a rasping sound, and then ducked his head. “You’ve the right of it. I’m a big brute, to be sure.”
    “I did not mean it as an insult, Mr.—Eamon.”
    Still smiling, he squinted up at her from under his lashes. “Then I shall not take it as such, Lady Luella.”
    “Lu,” she corrected, ignoring the small pinch in her heart. “You may call me Lu, if you’d like.” Even as she spoke the words, her skin heated. Lu? Was she mad? It was Aidan’s name for her. Perhaps it was a bit of revenge for Aidan’s current frostiness toward her, for her embarrassment faded and defiance surged forth. Anyone might call her Lu. And why not?
    As for Eamon, he went utterly still, his expression unreadable. And she wondered again if she had overstepped. Lu opened her mouth to recant her offer when he cleared his throat.
    “All right then, Lu.” He swallowed audibly, and his gaze rested on her. It was strange, she thought in a daze, that looking into his steady, too-blue eyes felt familiar, safe, and at the same time, extremely dangerous. A bit like standing on a cliff that overlooked the sea. One could study that view forever, know it would always be there, and at the same moment, one could leap into danger.
    Thankfully, Eamon tilted his head back to look up at the green leaves swaying above their heads. “I wanted to say how sorry I was to hear of your loss.”
    Those softly uttered words fell heavy upon her breast. “Thank you. My father’s death was…” Hell. Lu struggled to find a word that didn’t have her sounding heartless, yet didn’t make her any more of a liar than she already was. “Distressful,” she settled on. “He had lived a full life, thus it was not unexpected in the way of the others.” Everyone she’d ever loved or cared for, gone within days. “Such as when I lost my sister.” For a moment, Lu could not speak. A chasm of pain opened up within her. Why had she told him?
    “I did not know you had a sister.” Eamon rubbed his jaw, looking pained,