Page 73 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

She didn’t let go, so neither did he. After a while, her breathing evened out, synchronizing with his. She drew back slowly with her arms still looped around his neck. Her cheek brushed against his. His fingers tightened on her waist. When she leaned her forehead against his, closing her eyes with a sigh, the world around them disappeared.

If he could be like this forever with her, he would fight off anyone—the mercenaries, Farrin, the entire Regent’s Consul. She was truly his other half. And they had no future.

He inhaled and released her.

“Are you hungry?” He ducked out of their makeshift tent to untie the donkey. “I will take Timothy to the stream first, then we can eat.”

“Oh,” she mumbled. “S-sure.”

He led the donkey to the bank where Timothy waded in and dipped his head to lap up the water. Jonathan kept checking the campsite and the surrounding area. Each time he saw it was all clear, his heartbeat slowed a little.

He wouldn’t rest easy until he had Evangeline back with her sister and brother-in-law. You never should have brought her, fool. But he had listened to her arguments. She had been logical, and a secret part of him had wanted to be alone with her—to see what life could have been like for him if he had never joined the Regent’s Consul. A wife who loved antiquities as much as he. Someone who didn’t grow bored with his talk of frame drums or his study of Athena.

Back at the campsite, Evangeline hadn’t moved from the tent. He secured Timothy and gave him a feeding bag before rummaging through the saddlebags on the ground.

At the last village they had passed through, he had bought loaves of bread, figs, and olives to last for a couple of days. He had found smoked lamb for Evangeline since she didn’t like salted fish. Grabbing an extra blanket on the way back to the tent, he ducked inside with their meal.

“I am sorry about the fire,” he said and laid out the food before wrapping the blanket around her shoulders.

“Do you want to share?” she asked, holding up an edge of the blanket.

He shook his head. “I am still warm from the climb,” he lied.

They ate in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Every time he swallowed, it sounded like a cannon in the small space.

A jackal howled in the distance, but she didn’t jump like the first time she’d heard one. After they ate, he wrapped the remaining food to return it to the saddlebags.

“Do you want to freshen up in the stream?” he asked.

“Not tonight. It’s too cold.”

When she reclined on the pile of blankets and pulled the other up to her neck, he put the food away and walked the perimeter of the campsite, listening for any unnatural sounds. It was quiet, except for the trill of crickets and gentle burble of the stream.

He returned to the tarp but sat outside, his back propped against a boulder. A breeze blew across his warm cheeks, soothing now, but it would become uncomfortable soon.

It was quiet in the tent. Maybe she had already fallen asleep. After the strenuous climb and their discovery earlier, she deserved a night of oblivion.

Every half hour, he walked around the campsite to stay awake and check for danger. Timothy dozed lightly, his ears flicking with a soft swish-swish when a small animal rustled beneath a nearby bush. The deep-throated croak of a frog drifted from the stream.

Jonathan’s muscles relaxed. The familiar sounds were reassuring; nothing threatening was hiding in the dark.

He returned to his post and sank against the boulder. It was going to be a long night.

A while later, a murmur came from the tent.

“Evangeline?” he whispered.

She didn’t answer. He peeked inside and heard her teeth clicking together. She moaned, shuddering.

Damnation. He couldn’t let her freeze to death.

Before he could argue himself out of it, he crawled into the tent to lie beside her, tucking her back against his chest. When he draped his leg over hers, she sighed but didn’t wake as her shivering slowed.

After a few minutes, she stopped shaking completely and mumbled something in her sleep. He closed his eyes, soaking in the feel of her, her sweet scent. Her soft curls tickled his nose, and he smoothed them away from her forehead.

She settled. No more restlessness; no more murmurs. He stroked her hair again and lightly kissed her temple.

“I love you,” he whispered. So much that he ached with hopeless loneliness.