“What on earth are you talking—wait, husband? You’re married?” Mercy stopped scowling and shot Alden a questioning look. “You never mentioned you were married.”
“Of course not. It’s a secret.” Lisa was speaking in a singsong manner now, her words sloppy with extra sibilants. The Swede in whose lap she was sitting was also clearly well past sober, because he gave Lisa a smacking kiss on the cheek and told her he didn’t care if she was married to a hundred men—she was still welcome to sleep in his tent.
“An’ what’s more, I think he’s right. Youarejealous,” Lisa added, jabbing a finger toward Mercy. “And you’re bossy, too.”
“Did you know she’s married?” Mercy asked Alden.
He shook his head. “I’m just as surprised as you. I can’t imagine why my sister-in-law would send her to me if she was already married. Perhaps Alice didn’t know.”
“Yeah,” Mercy said slowly, and was about to add something to that when a shout went up, almost deafening them. The Berserkers declared it was time to dance, and someone brought out a set of speakers for his phone.
“And this is where the party ends,” Alden said.
“Things do look like they are getting out of hand,” Mercy agreed.
With Vandal’s assistance, and Mercy’s blatant shoving of men outdoors, they managed to get everyone who wasn’t currently residing at the gatehouse outside and returned to the various tents that now dotted the front lawns of Bestwood.
“I’ll put the diva to bed,” Mercy said as Vandal carried Lisa, now well plastered, upstairs to her room.
“You sure? I don’t mind doing it,” Vandal said with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“Are you sleeping in the stables?” Alden asked. “If you are, I’d rather you stay out there and keep an eye on the outbuildings. We don’t need any more fires or other incidents.”
“That was my thought as well,” Vandal said, reluctantly dumping Lisa onto her bed. With quick precision, Mercy removed her shoes, skirt, and blouse, leaving Lisa in her underwear and a tank top.
“We’re going to have a little talk, you and I, in the morning,” Mercy warned, throwing a blanket on top of the prone woman.
Lisa gurgled something, and curled into a fetal ball.
“I hope she has a hangover to end all hangoverstomorrow,” Mercy said when they returned to their own room. “Which reminds me—you haven’t commented on the fact that I have not pestered you about getting the police to talk to her.”
“I may not have commented, but I did notice that fact,” Alden said, sitting on the edge of the bed and wondering when he had last felt this exhausted.
“Good. I decided that I wouldn’t pursue it until after the shindig tomorrow, since the evidence has been destroyed anyway.”
“What evidence? The house?”
“Yeah. It’s just too bad that we couldn’t get back to those light switches to dust them with the stain. I’m sure Lisa’s hands would have proved that she was the guilty party.”
“But guilty of what?” He watched with interest as Mercy disrobed, neatly folding each garment she took off and placing it tidily away in the wardrobe. He wondered if his habit of just dumping his clothes on the nearest chair annoyed her, and if so, whether it would cause strain in their marriage in years ahead.
His brain stumbled to a halt. Marriage? Since when was he thinking of marrying Mercy? He narrowed his eyes on her as she tidied his things up, noting how graceful she was, how intuitive to his desires—both carnal and otherwise—and, most of all, how her lovely shining self seemed to light up all the dark corners of his soul. Of course he would marry her! He didn’t want her looking at another man the way she looked at him. The matter was settled.
“Obviously, of trying to do you in with the trapdoor in the gallery. But as to what she could be doing under thehouse...” Mercy stood still, his newly purchased shirt in her hands. “You know, a thought occurred to me.”
“Oh?”
“It’s kind of an out-there thought, so feel free to tell me I’m crazy.”
“I would never do that,” he said nobly. “At the worst, I might tell you that you were a bit mad, but never barking so.”
“Hee-hee. Barking mad is such an English phrase.” She set down his shirt, now neatly folded, and slipped into bed next to him. Unfortunately, her deliciously wicked nightgown had been lost in the fire, but he made a mental note to buy her a suitable replacement as soon as possible. “It’s that stuff we found the other day. The wash bottle and the bit from an OTC package.”
He smiled to himself. Ever since his conversation with Tamarind, he’d been having some very startling thoughts, and now it appeared that Mercy was on the same track. “You think they are important?”
“I do.” She eyed him. “What if... what if rather than some homeless person hiding out in the passages who was allergic to dust, or old homes, or whatever, what if it was someone doing something specific in the passage?”
“Something specific like making drugs?”
