Page 63 of The Trick of It

As soon as they re-entered the kitchen, Seph locked eyes on Rhys and felt her heart jump again, giving a little flutter against the base of her throat. “You’re sleeping on the floor in the empty room,” she told him before her stomach could kick up into her vocal cords and say something entirely different.

“What, again?!” he exclaimed, pouting. “I already took the floor back at the inn.”

“You did what?” Errol muttered. He immediately shook his head and held up his hand. “I don’t want to know.”

“Ah, well, I wasn’t going to suggest anything so rough,” Nini said, clapping her hands together in delight. “But I could certainly see to having enough blankets and pillows brought up that you could make something like a bed in place of one. Perhaps the two of you can alternate the proper one, night by night.”

Seph turned very slowly to look down into the other woman’s beaming face.

Maybe she was a mind-reader, because she very clearly knew she was making mischief.

“Whatever you think is best,” Rhys said, shrugging as he pulled Seph’s half-eaten plate in front of him and began to pilfer from it.

“Rhys!” Seph snapped, lunging forward and managing to grab only the cheese as Rhys’s hand retracted, somehow with all four tiny pickles wedged between each fingertip.

She could only glare at him and chew on her cheddar while he grinned back, making a show of taking nibbles of his stolen booty.

“The floor,” she said again, pointedly.

“Oh, certainly, certainly,” he lied, wiggling his brows at her. “The floor.”

Errol frowned.

Nini smiled broadly.

And Seph sighed, uncertain that either was strictly appropriate.

Part VI

Swaps and Props

Chapter Twenty

“Are you going to behave yourself?”

Rhys scoffed, dropping his valise and the last of Seph’s leather bags onto the drive as he peered up at the frowning, blue-eyed visage of his brother. “Probably not. Why do you ask?”

Errol did not laugh. Or blink. Or move at all.

It was disquieting, truth be told.

“Rhys, you’ve a … complex history with Miss Boswell,” he said carefully, shifting his big feet left to right in clear discomfort for having to say it. “It is lovely to see that the two of you have reached some sort of accord, but the propriety of this shared chamber business…”

“Will be fine,” Rhys said, holding a hand up. “This isn’t a house party full of toffs. We’re all carnival folk and vagabonds. No one cares about appearances here.”

“That doesn’t mean you can treat her like less than a lady,” Errol said stubbornly. “Willa taught us better than that.”

Rhys paused, sighing and shaking his head. “I know that, you dolt. And I’m … We’re … Listen, Seph and I are working out our business right now. Things are … They’re good, Errol. Finally. You can trust me that I want them to remain that way.”

Errol looked unconvinced, scratching at the side of his nose and squinting. “I just hope you’re going about this with the respect Miss Boswell is owed.”

“Aye. I have never been anything less than a gentleman,” Rhys said, eyes narrowing. “What are you suggesting?”

“Not ‘suggesting,’” Errol said with a sigh. “Just … remembering. You. And your propensity to act out around her.”

“Oh, you’d know all about that, would you?” Rhys shot back. “Always forthcoming with the women in your own life whom you’ve complicated gravities toward, hm? And don’t pretend like you’ve always been a saint, either. We’ve known each other through all our unfortunate growing pains, brother mine.”

At that, Errol dropped his hand to his side and gave a sheepish, little smile, a blush working its way across his nose. “Fair enough.”