Looking up, Rune found a young man standing over her. His mouth curved in a friendly smile, and his eyes sparkled in the candlelight. His hair reminded her of Alex’s—a tawny gold—and in one hand he held a wine bottle; in the other, two glasses.
“My… um… husband is seasick,” she lied.
He didn’t wear the staff uniform, suggesting he was a passenger.
“Pity.” He set both glasses down and began pouring wine. “Would you like some company to help pass the time?”
“She already has company.”
The familiar voice was like an earthquake’s tremor, reverberating through Rune.
The young man glanced up midpour. Rune reluctantly followed his gaze.
Gideon had changed into a dark green suit from Soren’s luggage. The jacket was too tight, the seams stretched to their limit. But the ill fit only made Gideon look more impressive, drawing attention to his well-defined shoulders and the strength in his arms.
“You’re the seasick husband, I take it?”
Gideon glanced at Rune, who smiled weakly up at him.
“The very one.” His attention returned to the young man. “Andyouwere just leaving.”
Sensing he couldn’t win this fight, the man quietly withdrew, leaving the wine and the glasses. Gideon slid into the booth across from Rune and set the glass of water he’d brought with him down on the table.
It was too small a space for someone as big as Gideon. Beneath the table, his legs crowded hers, forcing Rune to tuck her knees between his.
“Do you have to be so rude?” she said, watching her wine benefactor retreat.
“You’re naive if you think all he wanted from you was some company.”
Rune rolled her eyes. “Not everyone has ulterior motives, Gideon. Some people are justnice. You could try it sometime.”
“Trust me.” Gideon watched the would-be suitor search for another table. “I’m a man. I know what he wants.”
She scoffed. “You’re ridiculous. All men have built-in radar telling them the thoughts of other men?”
“Something like that.”
His gaze lifted to her. For a moment, that sparkling silence from the cabin returned. Rune became aware of the candle burning low in the sconce on the wall beside them. Of how small and dark and far away their booth was from the other diners. Of how she and Gideon looked to everyone else in the room: like a couple having dinner together.
This was a game they hadn’t played before.
She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Any luck finding a second cabin?”
He shook his head. “They’re all full.”
Just like she’d told him when they boarded. She circled the rim of her wineglass with the tip of her gloved finger. “You were gone so long, I thought maybe you’d jumped overboard and swam back to shore.”
“And why would I do that?” He lifted his glass to his mouth. “The Barrow Strait is freezing this time of year.”
“But perhaps less daunting than sharing a bed with me.”
Gideon choked on his water. His eyes lifted to hers as he set down the glass.
“Why should I be daunted?” He lowered his voice. “I’ve survived the beds of witches before.”
Is he referring to Cressida? Or to me?
Both, she realized.
