Page 82 of Outrageous

“Well, I suppose the good news is that nobody knows what anyone is doing in this wretched weather.”

He met her eyes, his own serious. “Yes, that’s a very good point. Even so, I think we should keep our wits about us, and I want you to tell me if you see anything odd.” He hesitated and then said, “It might be nothing, so don’t mention it to Andrew, who doesn’t look the sort to be capable of obfuscation. I’d hate for him to let anything slip to our hosts.”

Eva worried her lip and then opened her mouth to tell him about Andrew and the promise she’d extracted earlier.

“What?” he asked.

She looked down into his battered face and saw how heavy and weary his one good eye looked. She shook her head. “Nothing.” She’d told Andrew they should step up and take some responsibility, and so they should.

“Well,” he said, sitting up, “I’m about to seize into a knot on this damp, cold floor.”

Eva stood and then offered him a hand.

“It’s a sign of my decrepitude that I’m seriously considering taking your hand.” He grunted and groaned his way to his feet without her assistance. “But thank you for the offer.” He seized her by the hips, his hands moving at a speed she wasn’t expecting. He jerked her against him, their damp skin making a soft slapping sound.

“My parents always said I should be respectful and offer to help my elders,” she gasped against him.

He grinned, a flash of white teeth the last thing she saw before the candle stub stuttered and gradually died. “I can already see you are going to be a great comfort to me in my dotage.” He hoisted her up onto the bed.

“Godric, you really should use the bed, you’re far too tall for the cot.”

The bed shifted beside her. “Who said anything about either of us sleeping on the blasted cot? Besides,” he said, his arm unerringly finding her waist in the dark and snaking around her, pulling her tight to his long, hard body, “I’m not tired. Hasn’t anyone ever told you the aged require very little sleep?”

Eva smiled into the darkness, happier than she could recall being—perhaps ever. “It just so happens I’m not tired, either.”

“Oh? The exuberance of youth.” He molded her back so closely to his front she could feel the strong, insistent beat of his heart in her own body. “However shall we keep ourselves occupied, I wonder?”

She pressed her bottom against him and he purred.

“Ah, yes, that. Well, I might have mentioned I require a bit of recovery. So we have a good thirty minutes left to kill. Shall I light a candle and read you a bit of The Orphan of the Rhine?”

Eva chuckled. “Oh Lord no, is that really the title?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He nuzzled her neck, his warm lips and the cool tip of his nose against her spine making her shiver.

“Did you really read Gothic novels when you were, er, ill?” Eva didn’t want to bring up any subject that would disturb the delicate balance between them but feared she might already have done so when he sighed.

“I’m sorry, Eva. I really have made a dreadful muck of things—of course you can ask me questions about my life before. I might not answer them all—nor do I expect you to answer all of mine—but it is your right as my wife to ask them.”

Eva clenched her teeth at the words my wife. Yes, she wanted to know about that—most desperately—but pushing too hard at first . . .

You coward.

So what? she whipped back. What has my intrepid nature and impulsiveness done for me thus far?

It got you here.

Well, Eva had to admit that was a direct hit.

“What are you thinking? I can feel your delicious body tightening up.”

“I want to know what happened to your family.”

Now it was his turn to tighten up. As the silence dragged and dragged and his arm loosened around her, she knew she’d made a mistake.

She’d opened her mouth to tell him not to bother when he said, “I know I owe you this, but the story is one I’ve never spoken aloud before.”

The desolation in his voice drove a spike of fear through her chest. What kind of horrid story was this? Why had she asked? Why not leave well enough alone? “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”