“You know we’re not getting married,” I mumbled.
“So, you say.” He flipped the page on his own book.
“Excellent work maintaining the public image though.” Our knees fell against one another, mine covered by the blanket, his outside it. Rain pattered against the window above us.
“My life in service to the crown.”
Okay, that is him being annoying on purpose. I pushed his knee with mine. He pushed back. We came back to the center, still touching through layers of fabric. My stomach fluttered, because hormones have no damn sense.
“If you want the dress—or anything else—you should buy it.” Lorcan didn’t look at me. He turned a page. Lightning briefly turned his face a ghastly green.
“Scarlett is coming at the end of summer, after her internship in New York with the United Nations ends. She’ll bring our belongings from Scotland. I don’t need much to get through the next few weeks.”
Nothing from my former life will fit, though. It’ll be nice to get back my laptop with notes from school stored on it, not that I’ll ever finish that damn degree, now.
Our shoulders touched, too. I laid my head on his bicep. Oh, this is bad. Very, very bad. But it feels so good. I’m tired, a bit chilled and craving human contact. Why overthink it?
Lorcan kissed the top of my head.
“Anything you need, Princess. I’ll pay for it. If the Treasury needs a loan, I can cover it.”
“Keep your money. You’ve more than earned it.”
He chuckled softly. “Stubborn.”
“I am often told so.”
“My wallet in service to the—”
“Shht.” The words on the page aren’t really sinking in. My eyelids kept trying to close on me. “How is your ankle?”
“Better.”
“Not broken, then.” I bit my lower lip to keep from smiling. I don’t doubt the injury was real, but do I think he was milking it? Yes. Do I mind? Not terribly. Should I? Probably more than I do.
A softhm. He flipped the page. I drifted off.
Hours later, in full darkness, when the rain had diminished to a gentle sprinkling of drops against the windowpane, I awakened with a full bladder. Lorcan’s body was wrapped around me like a child holding a favorite stuffed toy. The tops of his thighs pressed against the backs of mine. His arm weighed heavily on my waist. I wriggled out of his grasp and clambered out of bed.
Downstairs, I stuffed my feet into my boots and grabbed a cloak from the hook beside the door.
I hope he got a discount on this house, considering the plumbing situation.
When I came back, shivering, Lorcan was where I left him. I crawled back into bed, shoved him onto his back, and stretched myself against his side. He stirred long enough to hug me close.
“Bad dreams?” I murmured. He shook his head, sleepily.
“Good ones.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
“Does she always talk this much?” I asked Lorcan under my breath forty-five minutes into a hike into the forested slope leading up to the cliffs outside Tenáho.
It wasn’t supposed to be a strenuous trek. For Arya, it isn’t. Lorcan is so fit it’s hard to imagine a physical challenge he couldn’t meet. I, however, am dying. How I climbed all the way up to the Temple, and then back down, is a mystery. It’s possible that I’m fatigued more from his sister’s incessant chatter than from the actual hike.
“Pretty much.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “She’s been curious about you for years. Now she has you as a captive audience. Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” For once, I actually meant it.
