“Did you give yourself to me yesterday?” he asked.
“Several times, if memory serves.”
He laughed briefly, because he was just so damned happy. “I think you’re right. Did I give myself to you?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Aye you did,” she said. “You libertine.”
He kissed her firmly, then sat back. “I believe, my love, that that giving and taking has left us with no choice but to carry on with that sort of thing until immediately before we begin moldering in our graves.”
“If you like,” she said, looking as if the thought wasn’t displeasing. “Then what shall we do after your holiday is over?”
“Go back to London for a bit, I imagine,” he said slowly. “My job is there, after all. As for anything else, as long as we’re together, why don’t we take the days as they come?”
She nodded, smiling.
He tossed the folder over his shoulder. “Now, about that giving and taking thing—”
A banging on the front door almost sent him pitching out of his chair. He looked at his wife who was looking at him with the same expression of alarm he suspected he was wearing.
“Let’s go hide in the loo,” he said with feeling.
“It could be food.”
He considered. “Might be.”
“You need your sword.”
He realized that it had been so long since he’d worried about steel that he honestly had no idea where it was. He followed her finger that she was pointing back over her shoulder to find his sword leaning up against one side of the hearth. He considered, then shrugged.
“We’ll slam the door shut if it’s someone sketchy.”
“And if it’s your mates?”
“We’ll slam the door, then push something in front of it to keep it shut.”
She smiled and crawled off his lap. He started toward the door, then turned and pulled her into his arms. He held her until the banging on the door began to be more than annoying, then pulled away and looked at her.
“Later.”
She smiled. “I have black pajamas.”
“I’ll love them.”
“I could place these adorable kitty stickers on them.”
He imagined she didn’t expect a proper response to that, so he only glanced at her, had a smile as his reward, then took her hand to pull her with him across Moraig’s very small great room and over to the door. He looked at his wife briefly, had a firm nod in response, then opened the door.
He was utterly unsurprised to find three grinning eejits standing there, baskets in hand.
He started to speak, then gave up. Words were beyond him.
Mairead peeked around the door he hadn’t quite opened fully. “Och, it’s the lads,” she said brightly.
Oliver shot those same lads a look of promise, then stepped aside so his bride could have a decent look at them and perhaps rethink her enthusiasm.
Ewan stepped forward and made her a low bow before he held out his burden. “We brought you treats and treasures, my lady.”
“Pox-spotted yoga trews?” she asked breathlessly, accepting the basket and peering inside. “Look, Oliver, there is a set for me!”
