“We probably should continue searching for the weapon,” Daniel said with reluctance. “We could try the library—”
“No point,” Alice told him. “According to my literary sources, at night during a house party the library isalwaysoccupied by trysting lovers.”
He glanced at her sidelong, and Alice shrugged. “What?” she said defensively. “I like to be familiar with a breadth of literature.”
“I—”
“It is misogynistic of you to take that attitude toward romantic novels, Mr. Bixby.”
“I—”
“They are rich with psychological and sociopolitical themes pertinent to—”
“I was merely going to say that you’re right. Let’s just go to bed, and preserve our energy for tomorrow.”
“You mean the sofa,” Alice said.
Daniel frowned a little. “Mrs. Rotunder seemed to find it odd that we were on the floor this morning. Perhaps married couples never—er, lie together anywhere but a bed.”
“That is a concern,” Alice conceded.
“As professional people, I believe we can manage sharing one bed.”
Alice considered just how professional they had been half an hour before on that bed, and started blushing. But the mission was all, so she relented. Allowing Daniel first use of the washroom, she then took her turn, and when she emerged, dressed in a nightgown and robe, he was already in bed, propped up against the pillows and reading a book. His spectacles were off and once again he wore his sleeveless vest. Gritting her teeth and girding her loins, Alice climbed in beside him.
He did not look up from his book as she arranged herself rigidly against the pillows.
He did not glance her way as she pulled the quilt up high and smoothed it.
Nor did he even blink as she untied her robe and attempted to wrangle it off beneath the quilt, in the process smacking his book with her elbow, almost knocking a pillow to the floor, before at last liberating herself from the wretched thing. She attempted to fold it but ended up in a wrestling match with the silky material until finally Daniel set down his novel, took the robe from her, and folded it into a precise square with what appeared to be only three moves. He placed it at the end of the bed and went back to reading.
Alice sat for a moment considering whether or not to shoot him. Then she took her own book, Shakespeare’sAll’s Well That Ends Well, from the bedside cabinet.
There, she thought as she opened the book and felt the familiarcalm of typeset words seep through her.We are just two people sitting on an item of furniture, reading. It is perfectly fine.
Daniel shifted slightly. His scent of fresh soap wafted about Alice. She frowned determinedly at her book.
“Man is enemy to virginity. How may we barricado it against him?”
Her frown deepened. Just then, Daniel turned the page in his own book. Alice glanced at him for the merest second. His right hand cradled the book. His left hand, with its wedding band, lifted to scratch his jaw, where a promise of beard shadowed the firm curve. Alice swallowed hard.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, and she realized her brief glance had become a long, intense stare.
“No, no, not at—no, nothing,” she said and returned to her reading.
“There is none. Man setting down before you will undermine you and blow you up.”
Alice slammed the book shut so forcefully, Daniel jolted.
“Those women in the corridor were mocking us,” she said. It was the first thing that had come to mind but would suffice as reasonable conversation.
“Mockery is part of a pirate’s job definition,” Daniel answered. He turned the page in his book.
“I fear theystilldon’t believe us happily married.”
“Well, we are. Professionally speaking, I mean.” He turned another page.
“Our practice must have been inadequate.”
