Page 24

“Do that.” Nathaniel set two coins on the table, more than the ale was worth. “And Croft?”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Whatever you find, I want to hear it the moment you find it. Not filtered through a report a week late. I don’t care about the day or the hour.”

“You’ll have it the same day.” Croft rose, tugging his coat straight. “Be careful, Your Grace. You’re no use to your wife dead in a ditch because you pushed a dangerous man too hard, too fast.”

Nathaniel nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

Croft inclined his head and left.

Nathaniel had barely settled back in his seat with what remained of his ale when a familiar face dropped into the booth across from him. Everett grinned at him in a way that promised an evening’s worth of aggravation.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled. “If it isn’t the newest married man in all of England, spending his wedding night in… Where are we?”

“Everett—”

“Oh yes, in a tavern two villages from home. I confess I’m disappointed in you, Nathaniel. Truly disappointed.”

“What are you doing here, Everett?”

Everett flagged down the barkeep for his own drink, entirely unbothered. “I know you too well, my friend. Though I admit I’d hoped you’d be at Duskwell. Perhaps tucked up with your pretty wife, rather than drinking in the same corner booth we’ve worn smooth over the past year. But here you are, as I predicted.”

“I had business to attend to that could not wait.”

“You always have business.” Everett’s grin didn’t waver, though something more serious flickered beneath it. “Go home, Nathaniel. It’s your wife’s first night in a castle full of strangers, in a bed she’s never slept in, married to a man she’s known all of a week. She could do with your company more than I do.”

“She’s still settling in. She’ll want rest tonight, not…” Nathaniel’s jaw worked. “Nothing else.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than his mind flashed to her soft pink lips, her bright green eyes, and the brown curls framing her face. He could not help but wonder how his hands would feel on her curves, caressing them, kneading them.

He ran a hand through his hair, his cheeks suddenly hot.

“Aha! I only meant company. Though it is your wedding night…” Everett’s eyebrows quirked. “Since you’ve leaped straight to ‘nothing else,’ that’s on you, not me.” He smirked. “I’ll simply observe that helping a nervous bride… relax into her new circumstances is traditionally considered part of a husband’s duties. It’s your wedding night. That’s rather the purpose of the occasion. And please, don’t glare at me as though I’ve suggested something so scandalous.”

“I didn’t say it was scandalous,” Nathaniel grunted, clenching his fist.

He growled in answer, but Everett only laughed.

“She has enough on her plate already,” Nathaniel said, once he’d mastered the urge to throw something at his best friend. “She needs rest.”

“And heirs?” Everett probed, quieter now, some of the mirth leaving his voice. “You’ll need one eventually, Nathaniel. The duchy will need it, if nothing else.”

“Isabella’s memory comes first,” Nathaniel stated, in the same final tone he’d used with Croft not ten minutes ago. “I owe her that. I owe Iris that, too. She will see her mother’s name cleared before I turn my attention to anything else.”

“Both matters aren’t mutually exclusive, my friend,” Everett murmured. “You can honor her memory with your quest and spend the evenings with your wife. You know that, don’t you?”

“An heir can wait. Cumberlea cannot,” Nathaniel insisted.

Everett studied him for a long moment, then sighed. “As you like. But don’t stay out too late. Whatever you tell yourself you owe your sister, you have a wife under your roof tonight who’s never spent a night there before. That’s worth something, too.”

Perhaps he is right, but if he is… I haven’t the faintest idea what to do with it.

It was well past midnight when Nathaniel finally rode back through the gates of Duskwell Castle. He quickly dismounted, handed the reins to the groom, and made for the back entrance.

The castle was dark except for a single lamp left burning in the foyer. He lit a taper, climbed the stairs quietly, and made his way to his chambers. Once inside, he went to the bedroom, intending to change before checking in on Iris, when a sharp, broken cry shattered the quiet.

“No, please!”