Page 88 of Outrageous

“They are other rooms.”

“Really? I wonder why Mr. Norton said they only had these two?”

“Well, likely it’s because they are crammed full of stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

He shrugged and turned back to his work. “All kinds of things: furniture, clothing, crates of brandy.”

“Huh.” She pushed the odd information from her mind and pointed at a tea saucer with a gritty black mess. “What’s that?”

“Hmm?” He glanced up and saw where she was pointing. “Oh, that’s something I devised so that I don’t need the requisite three feet of smoldering saltpeter-soaked rope.”

Eva stared.

He sighed. “Don’t worry what it is. All you need to know is that the arquebus will fire as quickly as most other guns the way I’ve set it up.”

Eva would believe that when she saw it, but in the interest of harmony she kept her opinion to herself. “Where is the other gun?”

“Under my pillow.”

Eva fetched it and opened the breach. “Where are the bullets?”

Andrew looked up. “Why?”

“Because I want them, that’s why.”

“But why do you want them?” He had that look, the one that said he was prepared to argue until the bitter end. Eva knew the expression well: it was one her family dreaded seeing on her face. Now she knew how they felt.

“Godric and I are going into town and he’ll want a pistol along,” Eva said, not exactly lying. He’d not mentioned it, but surely he would want one.

Andrew perked up. “Oh. I want to go.”

“You’ll have to sit in the back of the wagon in the straw with Godric. There is only room for Mrs. Crosby and me on the seat.”

His cheeks flushed at the mention of the other woman’s name, and Eva rolled her eyes.

She tossed the gun onto the bed. “Load this so we can bring it along. And you’ve got ten minutes to put that gun together. Can you do it?”

He gave her a scornful look. “With my eyes closed.”

“Do it standing on your head if you like—just do it quickly.” She knocked on the connecting door. “Godric? Are you dressed?”

She heard something that sounded like laughter and opened the door to find him just where she’d left him on the bed. But now he was tipped onto his side, laughing.

She rushed to him and dropped down on her knees beside the bed. “Godric! Good Lord, what is wrong?”

“Numb.”

She could barely hear him. “What? What’s numb? What happened? Is it your head—that blow to your temple?” And was it her fault for making him spend such a delightful, but vigorous night?

“Tongue.”

“It’s your tongue?”

“Tongue. Tongue ith numb.” His eyelids fluttered closed and drool oozed from the corner of his mouth.

“Godric!” She shook his shoulder vigorously, but that only served to dislodge him from his precarious perch on the bed. He slid slowly and bonelessly to the floor, far too heavy for her to stop.