God…what had she done?
Filling a pot with water, she put it on the tiny stove, and waited for it to heat. But this was a casual, everyday chore that required little attention. A good thing, since she had yet to re-surface from the unbelievable pleasures of kissing Harry Chalmers.
“The water’s hot…”
His voice sounded behind her, making her jump and juggle a teacup. “Good heavens, don’t creep up on me like that, Harry,” she scolded. “Make yourself useful if you must, and pour the hot water into the bowl for me?”
He did as he was told, ensuring that the hot and the cold blended thoroughly. “There. Now where’s your soap?”
“No.” She put her hands on her hips and faced him. Heavens above, she wanted to throw herself into his arms and demand more kisses, more…something…
“No what?” He raised his chin and stared at her.
“Um…no, you’re not doing the dishes. Didn’t we just agree you should rest your ankle?”
“You agreed that, not I.”
She sighed. “All right. Here.” She showed him cloths and the little piece of soap. “I’ll dry them then.”
They worked in silence for a few moments, the splash of the water in the bowl and the clink of china the only sounds.
“We should talk, Willow.”
“Indeed we should. I have many questions about this entire matter. Madame Lépine, your business with her, why here in Little Witham? And most of all, what are you, Harry?”
He finished the last cup, carefully placed it on the board next to the bowl, and then turned to her.
“Right now, I’m confused.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I’m confused, Willow. Confused by you.”
“By me?” Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why on earth would I confuse you? I’m just me.”
He grinned. “I know you are. But you’re no longer the Willow Trease who would sneak out of the house at dawn with your sister to pick mushrooms. Nor are you the girl who thought nobody noticed when you curled up small in big chair and listened to conversations without making a sound.”
“I…”
“What you are now is a woman. A woman grown.” She saw his throat move as he swallowed. “And a woman I find very attractive. Not to mention the fact that you are also the woman who has probably saved my life.”
She gathered her wits. “That is a somewhat dramatic statement. A sprained ankle is not anything that might have posed a serious threat…”
“No, it’s not. But you took me in and nursed me through not only a bad ankle, but apparently a very rough fever. You let me stay, you made no fuss, nor attracted any attention. And for that, I am eternally grateful. Had you not behaved thus? I might not be alive today.”
A chill washed through her as she stared into his eyes. He was telling the truth—she could feel it in her bones.
“For God’s sake, Harry, who, or should I say what, are you?”
He took a breath. “I’m a courier.”
Chapter Six
In Which the Husband Regrets His Words, and the Wife Remains Determined
I should never have told her.
Harry castigated himself silently as he watched Willow absorb the implications of his dramatic announcement. She’d left the kitchen and dropped into a chair by the fireplace.
