Willow glided into the tea room as though she had been born into royalty. Her posture was immaculate, her smile was demure, but her eyes were sharp as she stared directly at the senior Connor. If she had been a proper noble lady, she would have lowered her eyes in deference of his gender and his station. But Willow met his judgmental gaze with her own, unspoken challenge. Liam smirked to himself as he followed her into the room. He had been worried that his father was going to intimidate Willow. Perhaps he should have been more concerned for his father.
The elder Connor swept his eyes up and down her figure. “Well, Liam,” he said, rising to his feet, “I am beginning to understand the attraction.” He approached the woman slowly, and took her hand. “My apologies, dear. I did no
