Otto, next to me, wheezes. “Did she—” He grins when I look up at him. “She said she loves me.”
His cheeks are red, happiness shining deep in his eyes, and it warms me more thoroughly than any flame.
I touch his chin. “What’s not to love?”
He stands, beaming joy. “Perhaps there’s a market in this town,” he says, searching along his belt until he finds the money purse attached to it. “I can buy some wood to whittle her a new animal. Or would they have toys to buy, do you think? Or—”
“Otto.” I stand and grab his arm in a huff of laughter. “It’s the middle of the night.”
He wilts, but he’s still smiling softly, and he rolls his eyes at himself. “You’re right. I’m just—” A low hum of delight. “I really want her to like me.”
My chest swells, warmth and happiness overflowing, and I wonder if it’s possible to combust from seeing the man I love so smitten over my cousin.
“Tomorrow,” I say, “you can buy out all the toys this little village has. I’ll help you.”
He rolls his eyes again and sets aside his money pouch. “It sounds a bit ridiculous now. I’ll control myself.”
“Perish the thought.”
Otto hesitates, then his lips pucker in a suppressed smile.
“You had mentioned something about me taking my shirt off?” he asks.
I step closer to him and rest my hands on his chest. “Andnotseducing you, as you’ll recall.”
“Hm. Definitely not.”
My gaze on him goes serious, intent. “There is very little I can do to help you deal with what happened to Johann, what is happening in Trier. Let me do this.”
“You don’t need to help me,” he says. “You’re struggling too, I know you are.”
“So you can alleviate one of my struggles by allowing me to do this for you.”
“Dowhat?”
“Take your shirt off and find out.”
“Fritzi.”
“Otto.”
He sighs. I haven’t heard that in a while. His sigh of exasperation, of me vexing him, and I grin.
I haven’t grinned in a while either. Haven’t wanted to, or been able to. Bogged down by fear and memories and worry. And while all of that is still here, I feel like I canmoveunder it. Like the weight of it has lifted, just enough that I can stretch and work feeling back into numb limbs andbreathe.
I undo the clasp of his cloak and remove it. He doesn’t protest.
“It may be cool in here, but I’m not restarting the fire,” I tell him. “Just in case.”
“I thought youweren’tseducing me.”
“Do you think of anything else? I am capable of other delights.”
“You’re having me take my clothes off in a private room, Liebste. What else should I be thinking of?”
“Innocent things. Angelic things. I am a virtuous, saintly woman, Otto Ernst, and I am appalled you would assume otherwise.”
He laughs, rich and hearty, and I hook my fingers under the edge of his shirt and tug. He lifts his arms and lets me strip it off of him.
