“To be honest with you right now, at this moment…all I can say is that we will have to see when we get there.”
“I need more than that vague promise.”
He leaned forward as if to put a hand on the tree above her head, then, as if recalling their public location, he pulled back.“I don’t know what questions you’ll ask, so I can’t make a promise I won’t keep.That being said, I will share all the truth that I believe will be sufficient in answering your questions.Will that do?”
She didn’t want itto do.She didn’t want a reason to converse more with him.She didn’t want an excuse to seek him out.To be in his presence.Listen to his voice.Just be near him again.And again.And again.Five times.
But she did.She wanted it all.“I suppose it’ll have to do.”
“All right, I’ll give you five questions—”
“Wait.Why only five?”
His lips tugged up into a teasing smile.“I thought you said you had no questions?”
Blasted man.
“Why five?”she repeated, holding her ground as much as she could with a flushed face.
“Else you’ll be pestering me with questions for the rest of my life, my little librarian.”
Very unladylike as it was, she snorted.Then coughed.“I doubt that would be the case.”She had to say something to move past the tingling all over her body as the sound of his nickname for her.Surely he called every woman something, for a label was easier to remember than a name.But still…it tingled.
“Once you know about…well, let’s leave it at this.You do your best to get me a conversation with Bart, and I’ll answer five of your questions.Any questions that you have.”
“I can’t promise Bart will listen to his wife Fidelia, never mind me.”
“Just do your best.That’s all any of us can do, and that’s all I’m asking of you.”
“We’re agreed then?”
“Yes.”He stuck out his hand waiting for a handshake.As if she were some business partner.So that’s how it was then.That’s how he saw her.She was a partnership in which there were mutual benefits.Fine.
She thrust her hand into his and pumped hard, up and down twice.
Chapter 11
Soren
“Ah!”Prupracticallyshouted,pillow in hand striking him—if one could call what she was doing with the bluntest object known to man,striking.All of this, he really should have been prepared for considering he had snuck into her bedroom through a window, but he was surprisingly not prepared for it.
“Dear God in Heaven, where did you come from?”
Snatching the pillow from her hands, he gestured to the window.
“Give that back,” she said, lunging for her pillow as if it were her prized gown.One that she should be wearing.“Ow!”
“Does that hurt?”he tapped her side with the swinging pillow.
“No.”
“Then why are you using it as a weapon?”
“I didn’t have time to think.”
“Apparently,” he shrugged, handing her back her weapon of choice.“Why did you say ow?”
“No reason,” she replied, hugging the pillow tightly in front of her nightrail clad body.
