“Stop,” Michel growled at Iman. The man halted but still vibrated with anger. Michel turned back to Terence. “Whose deck is it?”
“Mine,” Terence shrugged.
Michel glared at him. “Pick up the cards,” he yelled. Then to Iman, “What was the wager?”
“A silver ring and my compass,” Iman said.
Michel tallied a conversion in his head and took coins from his belt. He tossed the coins to Terence. “The wager is paid. I don’t want to see you playing cards again.”
The boy nodded, but Michel caught a snicker in his expression. Michel snatched him off his feet and lifted him nose to nose. “Do you understand what I said?” Michel snapped.
This time, Terence seemed cowed. “Yes,MonsieurMichel. Yes.”
Michel set him down and helped him pick up the scattered cards. Then, like they were children, he yelled, “Enough drinking! Go to bed!”
Iman grumbled but seemed satisfied now that his debt was canceled. Terence scurried about picking up the cards. It was Terence, Michel realized, who was causing the tension among the men. A cocky young man who would steal from the men he traveled with. Not good.
After a moment of fizzling energy and some jeers from the others—taunting Iman for losing at cards and Terence for getting yelled at—the men quieted. Satisfied that the two had gone off to their own spaces, Michel felt the tension in the campground dissipate. Michel turned and made his way back to the fire near his tent, ticking this addendum to the mental list of things he would have to give attention to.
But just as he thought he would have to keep a closer eye on Terence, he looked up to see that Eve’s eyes were stormy, and they were all over him.
ChapterEight
The next morning, Michel woke up just as the sky was turning from black to gray-blue. He breathed in the smell of the dwindling fire while his eyes focused. He smelled coffee and turned to see Eve preparing a mug near the fire.
Eve had slept in the small tent he usually used when they traveled, and he had slept right at the entrance. He realized she must have had to step over him to get out. He stretched and sat up with his legs folded in front of him. He watched Eve moving around the fire. He thought again of how she had looked at him the night before, and he wondered what it would take to captivate her in such a way again.
The rest of the men, he saw, were mostly still asleep, though some were stirring on their bedrolls at the smell of the coffee. Iman snored loudly, and Terence was up, shuffling through his things. Michel turned his attention back to Eve as she rose from the fire and came toward him.
“Good morning,” she said as she approached. She handed him the cup.
“This is for me?” he asked, accepting the warm porcelain cup in his hands.
She nodded. “Two sugar cubes, correct?”
“Yes,” he said. “Thank you. And you?” he asked, looking up at her as he took a sip.
“I prefer tea.” She smiled. “Don’t take long. I am almost ready for your shave. I am just preparing the hot towels.” She indicated to a cushion she had set up with his shaving materials laid out next to it.
“Shave?” He glanced wearily at the tools as he stroked his fingers down his cheeks. “I can do that myself,” he said. He would typically get a shave while in the towns, but didn’t mind the growth when they traveled between cities.
She grinned mischievously. “Do you not trust me?”
“I don’t know,” he said, looking between her and the blades she had laid out. “You have shown you don’t mind causing me pain.”
Eve just gave him a playful shrug and went back to preparing the towels.
A short while later, he was sitting on the cushion with Eve kneeling in front of him. He was learning that he couldn’t dissuade her once she had decided on something. Having her this close, though, the proximity was suddenly pressing on him in a way that was making him uncomfortable. The closeness, though he enjoyed having her near, her scent in his nose, made him concerned he would do something stupid once more: grab onto her, touch her in a way he shouldn’t. It would be a bad move to lose control now, especially when she held a blade to his throat.
Kneeling before him, Eve scooped the cream he used for shaving out of a small pot and leaned forward to spread it over his stubble. Her eyes narrowed and focused as she did. He watched her, enjoying the chance to see her up close, her skin so smooth and her pink lips pouting in concentration. The feel of her hands on his cheeks was stimulating and soothing at the same time. He allowed himself to enjoy the sensation.
Then she leaned over to wipe her hands on a towel and take the sharp blade, which she held by the bone handle with the Chevalier crest on it. He thought for a minute about how she had managed to find his personal effects and realized that she had been into all his things. He would have laughed if he wasn’t having to keep such tight control over himself, having never shared his privacy with a woman like this. Never had he had a woman in his space for so long, never had he entrusted any part of his life to someone he dallied with.
He couldn’t hide anything from Eve. She took control wherever she went.
She held the blade up against the top of his cheekbone, and he had a startle of anxiety run through him. He didn’t think she would hurt him intentionally, at this point, but… maybe?
“Have you done this much?” he asked, his voice raised.
