“Yes. It is.”
Her brow crinkled, and her mouth turned down. But then she looked up and saw his slight smile, and her brow smoothed over. “Do not tease me now. I am a woman on the verge of an emotional breakdown.”
“You?” He shook his head. “Not possible. I have never seen so formidable a person as you with your little gun.”
Her lips cracked a smile. “Nonsense.”
“No,” he said, “I truly feared you would shoot that man over my shoulder.”
She peered up at him.
“And,” he continued, “I greatly feared you would miss and shoot me instead.”
She rolled her eyes, keeping pressure with the fabric to his cut.
“Or, perhaps, you wouldn’t have missed on accident, but rather to put an end to my complaining.”
Her eyes flicked to his, her lips turning up and chest jerking with a silent laugh. “I would never. Especially not while you were being so gallant. Pray, why did you hit that man?”
He looked down at the cobblestones, not wanting to meet her gaze. The memory appeared in his mind—the man’s hands on her, his mouth nearing the skin of her throat. And then blind fury had filled Leonard from head to toe.
“He was a boor,” he finally said. “It would have been wrong for me to not defend you.”
Honora leaned back on her feet, pulling the cloth from his cheek and straightening her shoulders. “You were a gentleman. And I thank you.”
He huffed a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “I would hardly say I am a gentleman. I have behaved abhorrently toward you.” He ran his finger along the smooth edge of a stone on the ground. Even with the way he had treated her, she kept coming back. Something deep within him ached. Whatever Honora’s faults, she truly did seem to want to get to know him. For whatever reason, she cared.
“Why have you tried so hard? To be near me?” he asked. The fuzziness of his head made his words seem detached from him. “Others gave up within only an evening. But not you. You stayed by my side, slowly chipping away at me. I do not understand why you would do so. It isn’t as if I’ve done anything of value on this search. And I am a miserable person to be around.”
Honora tilted her head. “A miserable person would not give me the time of day. But you did. And you introduced me to your friends, even knowing what I was. You cannot convince me that those are not attributes of a good man. The others, to their own detriment, did not see what I saw. They are the same people who would not have given me the time of day. But you did.”
A smile lifted his lips, and the light about the moon suddenly seemed to blur. As did everything else. Honora was there in front of him, but details grew fuzzy—her hair obviously light in color but with no discernible style; her head above her neck but had no discernible features.
His head rolled back.
“Leonard?”
He heard scuffling, and then hands were running along his hair and face—smooth fingers tracing over him. Her featuresslowly swam into focus, but only one thing stood out to him. An angry red line on her brow.
Leonard reached a hand up, gently trailing his fingers over the tender skin. Then his fingers jerked back, as if they knew he had crossed some barrier that he shouldn’t have. He clasped the bold appendages across his stomach to keep them in line.
“You must have been hit fairly hard to be worrying over me,” Honora said. “Or you are too much in your cups to think straight. It almost feels like you care.” She was running her hands over his head and into his hair, her fingers presumably probing for cuts or bumps. But it was blasted distracting.
Leonard’s eyes traced her face. “I do care, Honora.” His stomach felt as if it would upheave with the words as sudden nerves swirled within him. Being this honest with someone didn’t come easily to him, and his body was revolting at his messy attempt at vulnerability.
Her fingers halted on his shoulders. For once, she had no retort. No witty or quick comeback.
The moonlight kissed the tops of her cheeks, and the angry red cut on her brow made Leonard recall how Honora had been knocked to the ground. He didn’t know how to take her injury away or what that man did to her, but part of Leonard wanted to ease her pain for once. For whom did she have to help her? Just like him, they both took care of themselves.
He stared at the gouge and nodded toward it. “How does that feel?”
She dipped her eyes. “A bit better.”
With nerves spiking again, Leonard swallowed. His fingers clenched. “Who takes care of you, Honora?” he whispered into the cool night air.
With eyes still trained down, she took a tremulous breath. “Myself, of course. I’m a grown woman.”
He watched as a swallow bobbed in her throat. “And who do you have to share your burdens with?” he pressed.
