“I don’t know.”
Her green eyes flashed. “Do you know anything?”
Stephen knew he had to get this lady off his property and attend to shoring up the castle’s defenses. Already, the water had drained from the floor. The marbles had followed each other down specially designed cracks between the stones to a neat queue against the wall, for ease of restocking the traps.
Easier to do, when one wasn’t being held at sword-point.
Stephen sighed. “I know that there’s a 0.000152 probability of you finding the earl before he intends to be found. Indeed, I am three hundred and eighty-nine percent more likely than you to divine his whereabouts. Yet despite my having collated and analyzed all the—”
She nudged a battle-axe into his cravat. “Stop flirting with me.”
His eyes widened with interest. “You interpret my use of logical reasoning as… flirtation?”
“Everyone shows off when they’re flirting. If you don’t mean for it to be arousing, then cease doing so.”
He closed his mouth obediently. Arousing, did she say? A torrent of theorems and equations was suddenly bursting to pour out.
“If you’re not the earl,” said the berserker, “then who are you? And why do you have such a phenomenal physique?”
“I… What?”
“Your abdomen. Why does it have so many muscles?”
“I possess the same quantity of muscles as everyone else.”
“I don’t think you do,” she muttered. “Stop it. It’s distracting.”
“It’s my anxiety,” he admitted. “When the world presses down on me, I drop to the floor and pressupinstead. It’s my solution to stressful situations.”
Her gaze lowered, and she licked her lips. “I shall endeavor to be more stressful.”
“You’re doing a wonderful job,” he assured her. “If it weren’t for the razor-edged blades at my throat, I’d be doing press-ups at this very moment.”
She looked tempted to lower the battle-axes. “I shall take that into consideration, Mr….”
The berserker trailed off and looked at him expectantly.
He smiled without responding. It was one thing to avoid an inconvenient beheading, and another to take a berserker into one’s confidence. Then again, her blades were still at Stephen’s throat.
Which was perhapsheridea of flirting.
“I’m waiting for your name,” she said.
“I know,” he answered.
He also now knew several facts about her. She was clever and determined and dotty as a ladybug. She had also come closer to breaching the castle in the space of an hour than anyone else had managed since his arrival. Perhaps even centuries.
Other traits he observed were less important at the moment. Such as the soft smoothness of her skin, and the fetching curl to her blond hair. Or the wet flower petal from her bonnet that now clung becomingly to her round cheek, just begging to be plucked by Stephen’s fingers.
He was not going to touch her, he reminded himself firmly. He was not the sort to touch anyone. He was a turtle who liked his shell. There was safety in solitude and science. Interaction with others led to confusion and risk. He was better off alone than accompanied.
Yet here he found himself.
With her.
“I’m still waiting,” she reminded him.
“I know,” he answered.
