Not that he was under any illusion he’d ever have her. But he could always remember tonight.
AT HALF-PAST TWO, THE clock chimed, and Simon sat up. Marjorie had known he wasn’t sleeping. His breathing wasn’t deep or regular. But he was resting. Meanwhile, she had listened for any unusual creak or scrape. The ticking of the clock, the settling of the house, and the constant crash of the waves on the rocks were the only sounds she heard. She told him as much when he asked if she’d heard anything.
“Good. I’ll wake you at half four, but if they haven’t come by then, they won’t try tonight.”
They traded places, she sinking into the couch cushions, which were still warm from his body. She pulled the blanket about her and the faintest scent of him wafted past her nose. That scent was so familiar and so comforting. She really could not believe she had hated him before.
“Simon?” she said, looking over at the chair where he sat with one leg crossed over the other.
“Hmm?”
“You said my name was Marjorie Burrows. If we’re not married, is that my name?”
“No. I should have told you before. I simply forgot. You’re Marjorie Clawson.”
Marjorie Clawson. She’d hoped hearing her true full name would stir something in her, but it sounded like that of a stranger. “You’re sure? Do people call me Margie or—”
“God, no. Another agent tried it one time, and you all but took her head off. In fact, we don’t usually use Christian names when speaking. You call me Burrows and I call you Clawson or Agent Clawson.”
“Burrows.” Saying it was pleasant and not foreign. “Burrows,” she tried again. She glanced up at him. “Is that how I say it?”
“No. You say it like, Burrows!”
“I do not bark like that.”
“You do. It’s practically one syllable when you speak it.”
She sighed and closed her eyes. “I really am quite insufferable, aren’t I?”
He shrugged. “You just don’t have time for social niceties.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’m afraid I’m quoting you.”
She pulled the blanket over her head, which did not help as it only brought his smell closer to her nose. All the while she’d been keeping watch, she’d had to force her eyes not to slide over to him. But how could she not want to look at him? In the lamplight, she could see the planes of his face and imagine how warm she would be if she climbed under the blanket with him.
But instead of doing what she wanted, she’d risen and built up the fire in the hearth. Now, under the blanket, she was almost too warm. “Simon?” she said, still under the blanket.
“Yes?”
“Don’t ever quote me again.”
“Noted.”
She closed her eyes and tried to picture herself marching about barking people’s names and telling everyone she had no time for social niceties. She didn’t like that image very much and decided to imagine herself as Agent Clawson. What did agents do? Could she fire a gun? Punch enemies of the state? Decode secret messages? She thought about asking Simon—Burrows—but instead she drifted off.
When she woke, the sun was streaming through the open windows and the sea breeze tickled her face. The sound of gulls calling as they dove for food was familiar. She didn’t have a direct view of the ocean, but she could imagine it was dark blue under a vibrant azure sky.
“It’s not half four,” she said.
“No, missus,” came the voice of a girl. Marjorie looked over the back of the couch and saw the maidservant Barbara carrying an armful of linens from her bedchamber. “It’s almost eight. I didn’t want to disturb you, but Mr. Burrows said I could change the bedchamber linens as you were sleeping out here. If I might ask, missus, is there anything amiss with the bed?”
“No, not at all. I’m sleeping on the couch because...” Oh, no. Now she had to think of a lie. She couldn’t tell the girl she was in the sitting room to keep watch for intruders. But even before she could turn possibilities over in her mind, a lie came out of her mouth. “Mr. Burrows snores. I couldn’t sleep with all that noise.”
“Oh, I understand, missus. My father snores. Sometimes it feels like the whole house is shaking with his snoring. I’ll just take these out to the washing tub.” She indicated the sheets in her arms. “There’s tea and toast in the kitchen. Mr. Burrows said you were going into the village for dinner.”
“That’s right. Don’t let me keep you.” She waited until she heard the back door close behind the servant girl before she stood up. She didn’t want to have to explain why Mr. Burrows’s snoring caused her to sleep fully dressed.
