Evylin huffed at their innuendos. But then she suddenly wondered about Rafferty’s true interest. She remembered, at the start of their appointment to the Order of the King, Rafferty had mentioned an attraction to Ilain, though he’d never pursued her. It was possible his restraint was because he knew of Ethenn’s more genuine interest. However, Rafferty always showed interest in others’ love affairs, so it seemed only natural that he should want one too.
“Raff,” she found herself asking, “have you ever had a sweetheart?”
Rafferty’s chin tipped up, his wily eyes glimmering wickedly. “Depends on your definition of the term,” he said.
“Don’t ask, Evie,” Thom cautioned.
“What?” Evylin asked, gesturing to Rafferty. “I just want to know if Raff has ever been in love.”
“Depends on your definition....” Rafferty said in a singsong cadence.
The mischievous glint in his eye gave Evylin the answer. Her nose scrunched in disbelief. “Rafferty! Are you a philanderer?”
The weasel sniggered. “That’s a fancy term. Not sure I quite warrant it, but I have been known to...dally with fine ladies here and there. Can’t say I’d consider it love, though. I’d be happy to regale you with stories of my conquests if you’d like.”
Evylin grimaced, pushing her plate away. “No, thank you.”
Thom chuckled. “I told you not to ask,” he said.
“Forgive me if I thought my friends to be gentlemen,” she returned.
Rafferty snorted. “We can’t all be your incorruptible colonel, Eve. We men have needs. Just because he’s a masochist doesn’t mean the rest of us men have to suffer.”
“You’re deplorable.”
“I’m realistic,” Rafferty said, sitting forward. “Should you have married any other man, you wouldn’t have had three and a half months to make up your ruddy mind.”
“I should hope that’s not true,” Evylin said. “If so, I’m sorely disappointed in the quality of men in this world.”
Thom shook his head. “It isn’t as bad as all that,” he said lightheartedly. “But yeah, Jonn is the exception. Should I have been put in his situation—with any attractive woman, mind you—my patience would have run out at around a month.”
“A month?” Evylin exclaimed. “That’s hardly enough time to get to know a stranger, let alone to—to...”
“Evylin, men don’t need a month. We need about ten minutes. Maybe less if she’s charming enough.”
“You’re deplorable too.”
“I’m not saying it makes it right,” Thom said casually. “Nor that we act on it most times. All I’m saying is that Jonn is a better man than the rest of us. And you’re lucky to have him.”
Evylin had no doubt of that. She’d grown up with Hewitt teaching her to be wary of men’s baser instincts as well as novels declaiming the sordid ways of the world. But they were always stories to her, figments that didn’t have faces. After marriage to Deckard, she struggled to imagine life with a man of lesser morals. A fact for which she found herself infinitely thankful.
At the far side of the room, Ethenn appeared in the kitchen doorway. His shoulders visibly relaxed when he saw them.
“Tallyho, little Loxley,” Rafferty called derisively. “You catch your quarry?”
Ethenn eyed him with his usual reserved demeanor. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“A redhead about my height with an ample undercarriage from all accounts.”
Jaw tight and ears pink, Ethenn glared at him. Then he turned to Evylin. “Morning,” he said calmly. “Deckard wanted me to tell you that he’s gone to visit with Lord Obel. He’s running late, or he would have said goodbye himself.”
“Oh.” Evylin tried to quell her disappointment. “Well, thank you, Ethenn. I believe his appropriate address is highlord, though.”
“No, he’s a duke, and apparently that outranks his magical status,” Ethenn noted. “Also, we’re supposed to meet in The Rook this afternoon. Lieutenant Lohen is returning then, so we can discuss our plans.”
“Hey!” Thom said, slapping Rafferty’s boot, his heels still resting on the table. “You’ll get to try your charms on her.”
“Bloody fantastic,” Rafferty agreed, hopping up. “In that case, why don’t we head over to The Rook now?”
