Smiling up at her nephew, Millie replied, “Oh poo, I may be well into my sixtieth year, but I am not a doddering old ninny. I can manage to survive a dinner party, and still wake the next morning without feeling as though I’d been plowed over by a herd of elephants.”
“Of that I have no doubt.” He took a seat at the furthest end of the table. “Who is thishimyou’re looking to question?”
“Why you, of course. Haven and I were discussing her watch, and the possibility that someone at the Romany camp will know something about it.”
Narrowing his eyes, he furrowed his brow. “That is a possibility, but making the trip to the camp, and then poking around asking strange questions, might not be the best idea.”
He finally turned his deep, black gaze upon her, and a blush warmed over her skin. While last night was the best night of her life, it was also the most awkward and painful. She’d never slept with a man who held a torch for a dead woman, refused to speak about her, and just laid in strained silence while she bumbled toward the bedroom door in shame.
“What do you need to know?” Of course he would completely ignore anything having to do with last night. She didn’t blame him. She’d ruined it with her questions.
Haven fought back the heat of the blush tugging at the roots of her hair.
“During a particularly interesting experience, I discovered there was a spirit living in my watch. When it connected with me, I picked out the name Ahmi. I want to ask if anyone in thecamp knows this person. Maybe Ahmi is in the camp, or is part of another tribe. Who knows, but at least it’s a place to start.”
He hesitated before responding, his voice a rumble of suspicion. “If you wish to ask questions, I will take you.”
While the thought of riding beside him sent anticipatory tremors through her, it also sent electric shocks of fear. How could she sit beside him for however long it took to get to the camp without talking about what happened last night? Sure, she could keep her mouth shut, but the curiosity about the woman in the painting nibbled. Haven needed to know the woman’s identity, and what she meant to him.
“I would appreciate it. Thanks.” Her voice wobbled.
Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
Millie had. Her knowing gaze missed nothing.
Millie glanced between her and Logan, and her gaze finally rested on Haven.
“I’ll ask Chef to pack a basket with some finger sandwiches and such.” Millie’s expression said she wanted to say more, but the wise older woman kept those words to herself.
For now.
Confused, emotional, hungry for Logan’s touch, and fearful of the future staring her down, Haven didn’t have a clue what she’d say when Millie finally cornered her.
“Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you, aunt.” He turned to Haven. “Please be ready to depart half past the hour. It will take an hour or more to get there by carriage.”
“Why not take two horses?” Millie’s suggestion startled Haven.
Ride a horse?
A pensive expression crossed his face. “Itwouldmake better time than the carriage.” He focused on her. “Miss Edwards, can you ride a horse?”
Hell no.“Um, I did take horsemanship classes at summer camp ten years ago.”
“Knowing the basics is enough when your mount is an easy ride.”
Mount...easy ride....
Her mind swam circles in the gutter.
“I guess I can give it a try.” When did her throat get so dry?
“It’s settled, then. I will have two horses saddled.”
Dismissing her with a nod, he picked up a newspaper and hid his face behind it.
Fighting back the urge to rip the paper in half and stuff it down his starched, too tight shirt, she flexed her fingers, and followed Millie from the table.
