Page 55 of Under Arthur’s Protection

“He’s obviously an asshole who didn’t deserve a second of your time then, and certainly doesn’t deserve it now.”

I wiped my eyes with the edge of the pillowcase and lay there, unable to do anything but breathe for a few minutes. The ship was quiet. Hours ago, the hallways had been full of people talking and kids running. But at this hour, the loudest things on the ship were the voices swirling around my head.

Arthur was right. How many times had I told myself I needed to get past it all? And how many times had I failed?

“Thank you,” I eventually whispered, not wanting to wake him if he’d fallen asleep waiting for a reply. “Sorry if I kept you up.”

“Don’t apologize. Don’t give him that, either.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, and I yawned. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight, Gwen.”

Chapter 18

Arthur

“You don’t rest much,” I said, picking up her plate from the coffee table.

“I lost the entire day to sitting in the car.” Gwen didn’t look up from her spot on the hotel couch, where she balanced her laptop on her knees. “I need to be ready for tomorrow.”

The trip across France from Roscoff to Troyes had lasted nine hours, including several stops. She’d called the archive around midday, hoping to meet with their archivists first thing in the morning. On short notice, though, all they could offer was early afternoon.

“You won’t be of any use if you’re too tired to think.”

She’d napped during the drive, but she’d been fading fast since room service had delivered our late dinner. “I won’t be ready if I don’t finish reviewing Fergus’s documents, which is what I’m doing.”

The main room in our hotel was small, with a long couch and two chairs, a coffee table, and a reading lamp. But the suite had personality. Its bedrooms sat at either end, separated by archways instead of interior doors. Stone walls and timber ceilings echoed the building’s medieval feel, and a cream-colored throw blanket on one of the chairs even seemed hand-knit.

She yawned, covering it with the back of her hand as though trying to hide her exhaustion.

“Get some sleep,” I said.

“One more document.”

“You said that an hour ago.” I balanced her plate on top of mine and walked them both to the room service tray by the door.

“And now I’m an hour closer to being done.” She cocked an eyebrow at me when I turned back to face her. “And the more you interrupt me”—another yawn—“the longer it will take me to finish.”

“Okay, okay.” I put up my hands in surrender. “I should check in with Lance, anyway.”

She shooed me away, and I left for my room.

I sat on the edge of my bed, pulled out my phone, and just… smiled at it for a minute.

Gwen’s playfulness was nice to see. Since our dinner with the Ferraros, she’d been kicked over and over, and her mood had reflected it. But the ferry ride had improved it.

Considering the emotional roller coaster she’d endured yesterday, I hadn’t expected her to be laughing or joking today.

But it was a relief.

Through the archway into the sitting room, I heard her yawn for the hundredth time. My client was safe and comfortable. That meant I was doing my job right. That was all my smile meant. I dialed Lance and shifted toward the far wall so I wouldn’t disturb Gwen’s work.

He picked up and, rather than saying hello, said, “You were supposed to call me an hour ago.”

“I’m doing great, thanks. How about you?”

He huffed a laugh. “How was the ferry?”