Evylin sucked in her bottom lip, enjoying the tender way Deckard was looking at her, yet feeling shy all the same. “Are you suggesting that I smell poorly?” she teased.
He shifted farther onto the bed, moving to sit at her side. She rolled over to look up at him, and he dipped his head lower. “Notat all,” he promised. His fingers traced the edge of her braid, which trailed across the comforter. “I’m merely thinking of your comfort.”
With Deckard hovering over her like that, Evylin found words rather difficult. She wasn’t yet accustomed to the newfound intimacy in their marriage. For all their flirting and time together, for all their kisses and united feelings, her body still faltered when she thought of beingwithhim again.
Evylin wondered if he could see her unsteady pulse thrumming through her veins. She didn’t know whether she wanted him to kiss her or if she wanted to run from the room and hide. “Then perhaps,” she murmured, the words coming out in a breath as she held his green-blue gaze, “you ought to move away so I can get up.”
He drew his thumb along her jaw. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said, then leaned closer.
Evylin’s hand shot up, pressing against his chest to keep him back. “Jonn,” she warned, “if you kiss me now, I—I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.”
His jaw twitched with a faint smile that turned into a grimace. “I’m not sure I would be able to either,” he admitted, then pulled away with a heavy sigh. He climbed off the bed, reaching for her hands. “Come on. We ought to get ourselves moving so you can get to your nap.”
Evylin let him pull her from the bed, even as she groaned. She wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for his practicality or annoyed by it. As he helped her search through the packages and gather supplies for a bath, she found herself wishing she’d let him kiss her, nap be damned. But being the conscientious and solicitous man he was, Deckard sent her off into the hall, arms loaded with a fresh change of clothes, a towel, and soaps, with the promise of a fresh pot of tea on her return.
While lounging in one of the oversized tubs within the women’s bathing chamber, Evylin decided she was, in fact, grateful for Deckard’s practicality. It’d been far too long since she’d had a good soaking bath, possibly since their time in Loclight two months ago. Even at Renaul’s, the servant had scrubbed her skin with a fury, rushing through the process.
Now, Evylin leaned back, luxuriating in the steam and allowing the pads of her fingers to wrinkle.
When she began to doze and the water took on a chill, Evylin finally forced herself out of its embrace. She toweled off and slipped into the new clothing provided for her by the Alliance. Though not a perfect fit, they’d done well enough. She tucked the white blouse into the light brown skirt she’d chosen, the petticoats soft against her legs.
Forgoing stockings, Evylin slipped out of the bathing chamber. The carpet tickled her toes as she darted down the hall to their room. Using the key Deckard had placed in with her supplies, she opened the door. The heady, floral scent of olifera and illus tea wafted to her nose.
“Oh, that smells divine,” Evylin remarked, then frowned, realizing Deckard wasn’t there. “Jonn?”
“Over here,” he called, peeking out from behind the changing screen. “I’m just putting things away.”
Evylin crossed the room, setting her belongings on the tea table on her way. She found him tucking folded piles of clothing into the wardrobe. “Jonn,” she said again, smiling. “We aren’t staying here for... Well, surely, not longer than a few days. Why are you wasting time stocking the wardrobe?”
“It’s not a waste of time,” he said. “No matter how long we’re here, having piles of clothing and personal items strewn about the room will be a nuisance.”
As a matter of course, Evylin had often left clothing and personal items scattered about her room. But she decided not to inform Deckard of that habit.
Tucking some of her damp, towel-dried hair behind her ear, Evylin scanned him. “And you chose to do this instead of bathe because...?”
He shut the now-stocked wardrobe and smiled at her. “Because I wanted to have the room ready for your return so you could drink your tea and take your nap without worrying about cleaning up.”
Though that was the last thing Evylin would have worried about, she found the sentiment charming.
“Now, come,” Deckard said, taking her hand. “If I timed it right, the tea should be perfect.”
Letting him seat her at the table by the stove, Evylin watched as Deckard went about pouring her tea. “That’s usually the woman’s job, you know,” she teased.
He grinned. “Perhaps I like doing things for you. How do you take it?”
The unwelcome realization that they didn’t know one another well enough to possess this basic information came back as Evylin blinked at the teacup in his hand. “Oh, uh—with cream and sugar.”
“Really?” Deckard hesitated, then added the accoutrements.
Evylin rolled her eyes at his condescension. “Not all of us are so brave as to drink it black,” she said, remembering how he took his tea from his stay with her family in Whickam Village. Perhaps she did know him better than she thought.
Deckard chuckled, setting the cup before her. “Yes, well, we mere mortals have to prove our bravery to you Warriors somehow.”
“Says the Mage who single-handedly saved our lives.”
He gave her a reproachful look as he went about tidying the bathing supplies she’d left by the settee. “If you’re referring to our escape from Renaul, I very clearly couldn’t have done that without Isla, Emmaas, and Jarrad’s help.”
“Agree to disagree. Jonn,” she leveled him with a pointed stare, “you don’t have to clean up after me.”
