Dancing in Red (a Wear Black novella) by Heather Hiestand, Eilis Flynn Page A

weren’t
any good roles for me in Dublin this summer, so I thought I would see what was
going on here. I do love officers.”
    “We haven’t any use for women of talent
here, just those of easy virtue.” The subaltern waggled his eyebrows.
    The younger man giggled and drank down
half his mug. Making her decision, Nellie boldly dropped into the lap of the
older one and lifted his mug to her lips.
    “I’m not going to go with any common
man,” she said. “I’m better than that.”
    “You are, are you? I think you’re a
wren, just like any of them.”
    She forced her expression to remain
alluring. “You’d be wrong. I know things.”
    “You do?” he laughed.
    “I have a specialty,” she murmured,
tilting the mug to his face and helping him to drink down a healthy swig of the
beer.
    He nuzzled her neck but she batted him
away. He frowned. “What’s your specialty, lass? We can go out back after I’ve
finished the pitcher. I have a few coins in my pocket. More than you’re used
to.”
    “No,” she said, feigning offense. “I
specialize in…initiations.” She would have to this time, as she was a virgin
herself.
    The subaltern narrowed his eyes, then
drank down his glass, and slammed it on the table.
    The younger subaltern unsteadily poured
out the rest of the pitcher, overflowing both glasses. He stood to hand over
the glass, making a lewd gesture as he did so. “We don’t need any initiations
around here. Fully ini-init-sexed here.”
    Dear God in Heaven . She gave him a
disapproving stare, one that always kept her younger siblings in line. Though
he was likely older than her just-turned-nineteen, he stopped gyrating and
seated himself again.
    “I hope you don’t think I’m in need of
that sort of help,” said Mills, shifting underneath her weight. She felt him
harden slightly under her bottom.
    She grabbed the glass from him after
he’d finished half of it and took a healthy gulp herself. “No, but it sounds
like you have a friend who does. I’ll be happy to help you out. Prices
reasonable.” She held out her palm.
    “Nothing of the sort, not without a
sample.” He leaned toward her, his mustache tickling her cheek.
    She tapped his cheek, laughing lightly.
How did the others do this day after day? “I don’t give anything away for free.
I don’t need to.” Big talk. Thankfully, the beer kept her empty stomach from
rumbling.
    “She’s pretty enough,” said the younger
one, his bleary eyes assessing her. She assessed right back, making sure her
smile was friendly. From what she’d heard, some of these boys were just as
likely to hit her as bed her if they were offended. “Be a lark to sneak her
into Bertie’s bed, see what he does with her.”
    Mills sniffed her neck. “Smells clean.
Don’t want you passing anything unsavory to our future king.”
    “I’m cleaner than you!” she said
indignantly. That was for sure, since she made sure she had a bath as often as
she could, but from a single whiff of this bunch, she could tell that wasn’t
the case for them. “I’ve just come down from Dublin. I told you that.”
    “I don’t know if I’m drunk enough to
risk the general’s wrath,” the other man said, belching and coughing. He wiped
his nose. “You going to make this worth the risk?”
    She stared at him. Men had all the
power. What risk was he taking? She risked disease, pregnancy, the ire
of the Catholic Church. Her only weapon was charm.
    And she knew how to use it. She ran her
fingertips down his arm. “You know the prince is going to like me, my lad,” she
said with a wink, glancing at the men around the table. “After I blow his mind
with pleasure, I’m sure you’ll find him grateful.”
    Two more subalterns joined them around
the table, fresh from adventuring into another pub. They discussed their
favorite wren loudly, making Nellie’s cheeks pink with embarrassment. Hard to
believe these were the apple of the nation, that was for sure. Another pitcher
was