“Delacorte, what thedevilare you...”
Lorcan became aware of a squeaking sound, rapidly escalating in volume. It evolved into a sort of fluttering, then terminated abruptly in what sounded like the honk of an angry mallard.
His mind blanked with astonishment.
“Delacorte... did you just... was that...”
Decades from now, tearing back the corner of the blanket so he could bolt out of bed would still rank as one of his worst decisions.
Because there was no escaping what he’d just set free.
He’d been warned.
He crashed back against the pillow as if felled at the knees by an ax and flung an arm over his face. “Oh. Oh no. Oh, dear God.”
The arm was insufficient. He retrieved the pillow from beneath his head and covered his face with that instead.
He lay in stunned silence a moment, struggling not to inhale.
“Delacorte,” he said hoarsely, finally. “Myeyesare watering. I’m literallyweeping, you bastard. I haven’t wept since I was a boy.”
“I did try to tell you,” Delacorte said, with some regret, but no real shame. “I honestly thought you of all people would understand ‘batten the hatches.’” He paused. “Ihadhoped to be more discreet about it.”
“Fair play,” Lorcan admitted through the pillow after a moment. “You did warn me.”
“And the window frame is a bit stuck from all the rain, so I can’t open it to get any air in. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait it out. Which is why I insisted upon a seal.”
“You thought of everything,” Lorcan said bitterly.
He would survive this. God knows, the thing he did best was endure.
Aa Lorcan lay quietly recovering beneath the pillow, he listened to Delacorte turn a few pages of his book.
They lay like this in more or less companionable silence.
“I betthatwill teach you to argue with your wife,” Delacorte finally said.
Lorcan gave a shout of laughter.
Which set Delacorte off.
Soon the two of them were roaring with laughter, thumping the bed with their fists. Lorcan coughed and wiped his eyes, happily disgusted.
They jumped when the ceiling thundered as if someone was taking a hammer to it.
“Haud yer wheesht yegrrrrrreatFARRRTINNNNGwrrrrretch!” Angus McDonald howled through the floorboards.
“His ‘r’s go on forever,” Delacorte said admiringly.
They took pity on Mr. McDonald and settled down.
Lorcan tentatively lifted the pillow from his face. He found the air tolerable enough to restore it to its rightful place beneath his head.
“Would you like a book?” Delacorte gestured to his little shelf.
“No, thank you. I think I shall lay here and brood until sleep takes me under.”
“What was your fight with your wife about?”
