Page 58 of Misadventures with a Duke

“Close enough to what I said. But a silver lining in all these clouds? We don’t have to pull up stakes from here until Wednesday or Thursday. That clears some space to consider next moves if necessary. And right now, I think we have to plan on that being really necessary.”

I am tempted to repeat my profanity, but how would that help her in any way?

“Can Drue help out in that regard as well? And what about contacting my brother? You said he is happy with your friend and successful too? Unless there is a reason for him to be ashamed of me now, I think he will be happy to see me and—”

Her laugh is so high and shrill, I almost think an alarmed bird has gotten inside the building. “Oh, he’ll be happy, all right. But right now, he and Allie aren’t a viable option for assistance. Even if we did reach out to them in Italy, they wouldn’t be able to return until—”

“Next month at best, certainly.” I nod, hoping she takes assurance from the commiseration, but wonder why it escalates into her full smirk. I am absolutely not complaining about her adorable expression but push aside my perplexity to push on. “So what additional resources do we have to explore? And how can I help with the efforts?”

I expect to say farewell to her fleeting smile, but to my pleasure it hitches up by another degree. “You really are ready to help, aren’t you?” Her gaze turns the color of lush ferns as she runs a hand up and across my shoulder. “Even if I said we had to go out and face a whole battalion of the NYPD with nothing but our bare hands—”

“Oh, yes please.”

This time, I am ready for her reaction. The light laugh is like church bells. If it were truly so, I would have been more eager to attend services in my youth.

All too quickly, the sound ebbs into some impish quirks at her lips. “Oh hell,” she mutters. “I’m in such trouble.”

“Pourquoi, Rayonnement?” I splay my hands to her hips. “Why?”

“Because now you’re making my head swim without all the poetry.”

I frown anew. “Swimming heads are not usually good.”

A playful swat to my chest. “Depends on how you look at it, Desperado.”

“I prefer to keep looking at you,” I insist. “Though I do see a very tired woman.”

“Worth it. Take my word on that, okay?”

I am not so willing to surrender my concern to humor. “Allow me to wait here for Drue. You can go back to the room and rest for—”

“No!” Imaginary fireworks seem to blind her. She blinks at them rapidly before rushing on. “I…I mean thank you but no. Who knows where Logan has eyes in the city, and you’re rocking the wild Pompeii vibes even more right now. Not that I want you to clean up anytime soon.”

Her new quip comes just as she slides her touch across my nipple. A hiss escapes me from the moment she scrapes the tip with her thumbnail. The preening grin on her lips has me tucking closer against her.

“Well,” I finally husk. “If this is what my dirt earns me, I shall wallow in a bog forever.”

“Hmm. While I definitely approve, I’m not sure our hosts here will go for it. So after we grab some sustenance, maybe I can introduce you to a fun practice of our time called a shag shower.”

I am uncertain what has me hardening the quickest. The odd suggestiveness of her term or the silky tone in which she invokes it. “Just how soon will Drue be here?”

More church bell laughter from her, which blooms warmth to the middle of my chest. For a moment, I forget every one of the battle scars across it, as well as the rest of my body. Bathed in Raegan’s lush gaze, the dark marks cease to be reminders of the violence that has ruled a good portion of my existence. When she studies me, I feel like a warrior who has survived. Even more, a hero who has conquered. At this moment, I might even believe it. I have vanquished time itself.

But not without her.

Before the certainty can solidify in my spirit, there is a loud rattle at the room’s stained-glass door. A moment later, Drusilla Kidman appears in the portal, though I only recognize her because of her long aqua braid. Everything else about her aspect is astonishingly different from the woman I met yesterday, down to the strange semblance of an infant peeking from the sling across her chest.

“Greetings from the soggy tundra. Your life-bringer is here.”

“Truth. One billion percent.” Raegan’s tone is thick with gratitude. “I can smell the dumplings already. The gossip mags too. My God, D. How am I ever going to repay you?”

The woman grins so cockily, I am jarred again—but pleasantly. The freedoms enjoyed by females of this time are quite satisfying to observe. Hopefully, I shall soon be adding shag showers to my roster, as well.

“Hmmm.” Drue drawls while exchanging an affectionate hug with my rayonnement. “How about a weekend of true crime bingeing in my girl cave? You can supply the endless carbs and sugar.”

Raegan chuckles. “I had to ask.”

“You so totally did.” But Drue’s quip seems threaded with new solemnity as she delivers one more parcel to Raegan. The small item, concealed in a plain white paper bag, has Raegan visibly stiffening. Why? “If you need anything else, you know where to shout, right?”