Page 106 of Under Arthur’s Protection

Arthur grimaced, and he didn’t speak for a long time. It felt like an hour, though it was likely no more than two minutes. At last, his hand left the steering wheel and found my knee. He gave it one slow squeeze and said, “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Chapter 32

Arthur

“This is ten times what I’d normally pay.” Gwen stared at the tube of mascara.

I’d suggested we stop in the duty-free shop on the ferry before checking into our room. Despite the change of clothes Merlin had arranged, we were both missing a lot of our routine items. I had the duffel across my body and the sword case in my hand, while she carried her messenger bag. Between us, we were wearing everything we had until I could either get us home or get our bags delivered from the hotel in Troyes.

She’d made a beeline for the makeup shelves, but duty-free shops rarely stocked drugstore brands—assuming that was the price discrepancy she was concerned about.

“I’ve got it,” I said. “It’s a business expense.”

She dropped it into the small shopping basket she’d grabbed at the entrance. “This is a pro bono job. You’re not making any income to cover those expenses.”

“Lance wants to put it under marketing.” I kept my voice light, because light was working and I wasn’t about to fuck up whatever was going on between us. “He’s planning a whole press release about the authentication, so you’ll need to be camera-ready for the photos.”

She laughed and swatted my chest, then wandered down the aisle to pick up a bottle of… I had no idea what.

I watched her for far too long. Were Bridget’s words still weighing on her? Or what had happened at the archive? It had only been a day and a half since someone had put his hands on her and threatened to kill her. Less than twenty-four hours since Rick had me pinned against the wall, with his arm at my throat.

Tonight, braless in ill-fitting jeans and an oversized hoodie, she was more relaxed than at any point since we’d met.

Correction: The most relaxed, other than last night, after I’d made her come twice and we’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms.

Good thing it was a pro bono job, because if she’d paid us, I would have had to refund every dime for breaking protocol. The thought of Lance and Merlin reviewing the expenses made me bite back a laugh. I could almost hear Merlin’s lecture if I’d had to offer a refund and told him why. He would have assumed Lance was the most likely to sleep with a client.

Although… Galahad had slept with the client he was hired to protect. So there was precedent for it. But he wasn’t working for us at the time, and they were living together now, so his scenario was different.

Although his had been a pro bono job, too.

Maybe Round Table Security shouldn’t be doing pro bono jobs.

I wandered into the fragrance section. Rows of bottles lined the glass shelves, with brand images interspersed between the displays. I browsed until I spotted the Bleu de Chanel and grabbed a bottle. It was a stupid thing to care about while we were fleeing Rick and his thugs, but the cologne would help me feel like myself.

“The best part about your dirty clothes”—Gwen appeared beside me—“was how they smelled like sandalwood.”

“Sandalwood?”

“And citrus.” She held out her basket, now loaded with a few cosmetics and a gargantuan bar of Swiss chocolate.

I held the box up to show her. “This is what I usually wear.”

“It’s perfect on you.”

Decision made. I placed the box into her basket. “Can I carry that for you?”

She tipped her chin toward the duffel and the sword case. “You’ve got two things. I’ve got two things. I think I’ll manage.”

Fair enough.

I paid for our supplies, and we headed to our cabin.

Gwen swiped the keycard, pushed the door open, and we both froze.

A queen-sized bed took up most of the room, with a seating area by the porthole. No bunks, no narrow couch. It was significantly nicer than our first crossing. It was roughly the same square footage as the safe house, but the bed looked much more comfortable. So did the chairs. Fuck, the floor looked more comfortable.

“That’s unexpected,” said Gwen, standing next to me.