“Cold?” he asked as they settled onto the wool blanket.
“No,” she answered, but snuggled into him anyway.
His expression turned serious. “I hope Reddington doesn’t send his dueling envoy until after we’ve finished our repast.”
She knew he wasn’t worried about interruptions to their picnic.
“It’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I’llbe fine.” Mostly fine. She was currently at sixty percent. Climbing on chairs and leaning into toilets was rarely a good idea.
Stephen’s forehead lined with concern. “There’s a 0.8683 probability that Reddington’s men—”
“—have not trained with swords as long and as obsessively as I have,” Elizabeth finished firmly. “I won the fight the moment he agreed to put down his rifles and pick up a blade.”
“I’m building you a sword-throwing machine,” he muttered.
“Build it for yourself,” she retorted. “I don’t need it.”
She had already told him she was one hundred percent self-sufficient. When it came to swords, that number rose to one hundred and ten. She had dozens of skilled fencing partners, including her sister-in-law Kuni. But as long as Elizabeth was in top form, no one—not even the Balcovian warrioress—had bested her in years.
“I’m fully confident,” she promised him.
“You’re sure you’re not overconfident?”
“I’ve never shot a pistol, and my ability to aim daggers is middling at best. But I live and breathe swords. I sleep with them. As a child, I was raised by a wild pack of deadly Claymores. They recognize me as their own. I speak their sword language. I’m their sword princess.”
“All right, all right.” Stephen chuckled despite himself. “I’ll stop worrying.”
Elizabeth knew better than to thinkthatwould happen, but at least they could move on to other subjects. Once Stephen had seen her fight, he would understand. Swords wereherdevices. Each swipe of her blade as precise as any mathematical equation.
As the sun crested high over the castle, Elizabeth and Stephen sat on the roof, looking out over picturesque Dorset. They turned to face each other at the same time.
“It’s a gorgeous view,” she said softly.
“Isn’t it?” he murmured back.
They were no longer looking out over the square stone crenellationsat the low clay valley, or the steep limestone ridges, or the distant chalk downs. They were gazing into each other’s eyes, her hands in his, her sword stick lying on the gray stone next to the forgotten picnic basket.
Elizabeth hadn’t even tried to see if she could glimpse any of Reddington’s red-uniformed men in the woods. Once upon a time, the sight of so many soldiers in one spot would have looked like a veritable feast of delicious morsels. But since coming to Castle Harbrook, she’d had eyes for no one but Stephen.
Smiling, he pulled out a bottle of chilled Veuve Clicquot champagne.
She arched her brows at the notoriously expensive vineyard. “Depleting your cousin’s reserves of the good stuff, I see?”
“I ordered a few crates from Madame Clicquot last week.”
“A few crates,” she repeated. “Let me rephrase. Depleting your cousin’s coffers of gold, are we? All of these deliveries must add up to—”
“—a fraction of what I earn any given month,” he finished. “I pay for all my expenses myself. I could purchase this castle outright, if it weren’t already promised to two other people. I had to plump up Densmore’s finances with my own funds in order to settle his accounts and devise more logical investments.”
She stared at him. “Your cousin manipulated you into becoming a sitting duck for a literal army and your response was to give him money?”
“Not him,” Stephen said. “The estate, which you’ll recall at this moment is headed for me anyway. And I am indebted to Densmore for all the times he tried to help me at school. Once I realized the earldom neededmyhelp, I temporarily loaned it sixty thousand pounds. Which I then transferred back into my own accounts with interest once the first investments proved profitable.”
Elizabeth choked on her expensive champagne. “Did you saysixty thousandpounds? What exactly is it that you do, again?”
“I told you.” He shrugged. “I’m a tinker. I invent things, and sometimes other people want them. When they do, I either sell the invention outright or lease the patents to multiple parties. In England alone, my rolling hinge is part of tens of thousands of wagons and carriages.”
“You’re as rich as Reddington,” she breathed.
