sitting down to supper, and if your mother gets wind of it, she’ll be scandalized and you’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I’m never going to hear the end of it now!”
“If we find him and fix it, it’ll be forgotten by the time the handfasting rolls around; you’ll see.”
“If they’re just sitting down to supper,” Laurie piped in, “maybe they’ll invite us to sit down with them.”
“Laurie.” Lucas shut his eyes and took off his spectacles to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “We are not here for social calls. We are here to accuse Slade of reneging on a verbal contract to marry my sister.” He opened his eyes, replaced the spectacles, and glared. “Do you honestly think they’ll be of a mind to feed us?”
“But I’m hungry. And a prince. Don’t they sort of… y’know, have to feed me?”
Lucas stared. And then he turned to Alex. Who was also staring. Lucas shook his head. “It’s like there’s an actual thought process in there that gets mugged for every last bit of common sense it has in its pockets.”
“There’ll be an inn,” Alex said distractedly, still staring at Laurie, who merely blinked at them both through the falling gloom. Alex shook himself then let go of the reins of Lucas’s horse. “Let’s go find it, shall we?”
The ground was dry here, Lucas noted with the eye of someone who hadn’t seen much of it lately. Some of the crops in the fields they’d passed sat on rather stunted stalks and others were yellowing in their beds. They’d still get a decent harvest out of it, but a little more rain would have made a goodly difference in the yield. Funny, the way these things worked, he thought with a depressed little sigh—Red Bridge and the whole of Hunt’s Run were apparently lacking for a little rain, and Orchard Downs had far more than what was good for it.
The red bridge was quite lovely and picturesque, and very well-maintained, Lucas noted as they crossed it. Much bigger than he’d suspected, but then, until Declan Slade had come along, Red Bridge had been more of a yes, I think I’ve heard of it than an actual place in Lucas’s world. Lucas didn’t get out of Orchard Downs very often—all right, four times in his life—and he’d only seen the river before in the sense that one of its tributaries made up the boundary between Hunt’s Run and Rolling Green and fed into the lake near the Stone Circle where Lucas and Parry used to go to fish when they were boys. Back before Parry turned into a wanker. And back before Lucas’s mother had made the connection between water and tragic drowning accident waiting to happen .
The village was small and sedate and very pleasant. There were very few people about, what with the hour, but Lucas now and then noted curious stares coming from gaps in shutters over warmly lit windows. Laurie waved at them—the absent kind, arm bent at the elbow and wrist turning just so, as if he was rearguard in a royal procession. Lucas wondered if perhaps Laurie was of the opinion that any party of which he happened to be a member was, in fact, a royal procession. Lucas merely rolled his eyes and looked for an inn.
It was easy to find: lit up with bright lamps at its doors, and one over the sign on a post proclaiming it the Golden Miller. A stout young woman took charge of the horses and directed Lucas’s little party to her father inside, who lifted an eyebrow at the extravagance of two rooms for three people, but Alex was very firm—though politely and quietly so—that, after having spent the day with Laurie, he was not about to spend the night with him too.
“You just know he must blather in his sleep as much as he blathers all day, and people spill the damnedest truths in their sleep. There are some things I really don’t want to know.”
Considering that Laurie had spent more than a few nights on the couch in Lucas’s carriage house, Lucas knew for a fact that Laurie didn’t talk in his sleep. Lucas, however,
“I’m never going to hear the end of it now!”
“If we find him and fix it, it’ll be forgotten by the time the handfasting rolls around; you’ll see.”
“If they’re just sitting down to supper,” Laurie piped in, “maybe they’ll invite us to sit down with them.”
“Laurie.” Lucas shut his eyes and took off his spectacles to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “We are not here for social calls. We are here to accuse Slade of reneging on a verbal contract to marry my sister.” He opened his eyes, replaced the spectacles, and glared. “Do you honestly think they’ll be of a mind to feed us?”
“But I’m hungry. And a prince. Don’t they sort of… y’know, have to feed me?”
Lucas stared. And then he turned to Alex. Who was also staring. Lucas shook his head. “It’s like there’s an actual thought process in there that gets mugged for every last bit of common sense it has in its pockets.”
“There’ll be an inn,” Alex said distractedly, still staring at Laurie, who merely blinked at them both through the falling gloom. Alex shook himself then let go of the reins of Lucas’s horse. “Let’s go find it, shall we?”
The ground was dry here, Lucas noted with the eye of someone who hadn’t seen much of it lately. Some of the crops in the fields they’d passed sat on rather stunted stalks and others were yellowing in their beds. They’d still get a decent harvest out of it, but a little more rain would have made a goodly difference in the yield. Funny, the way these things worked, he thought with a depressed little sigh—Red Bridge and the whole of Hunt’s Run were apparently lacking for a little rain, and Orchard Downs had far more than what was good for it.
The red bridge was quite lovely and picturesque, and very well-maintained, Lucas noted as they crossed it. Much bigger than he’d suspected, but then, until Declan Slade had come along, Red Bridge had been more of a yes, I think I’ve heard of it than an actual place in Lucas’s world. Lucas didn’t get out of Orchard Downs very often—all right, four times in his life—and he’d only seen the river before in the sense that one of its tributaries made up the boundary between Hunt’s Run and Rolling Green and fed into the lake near the Stone Circle where Lucas and Parry used to go to fish when they were boys. Back before Parry turned into a wanker. And back before Lucas’s mother had made the connection between water and tragic drowning accident waiting to happen .
The village was small and sedate and very pleasant. There were very few people about, what with the hour, but Lucas now and then noted curious stares coming from gaps in shutters over warmly lit windows. Laurie waved at them—the absent kind, arm bent at the elbow and wrist turning just so, as if he was rearguard in a royal procession. Lucas wondered if perhaps Laurie was of the opinion that any party of which he happened to be a member was, in fact, a royal procession. Lucas merely rolled his eyes and looked for an inn.
It was easy to find: lit up with bright lamps at its doors, and one over the sign on a post proclaiming it the Golden Miller. A stout young woman took charge of the horses and directed Lucas’s little party to her father inside, who lifted an eyebrow at the extravagance of two rooms for three people, but Alex was very firm—though politely and quietly so—that, after having spent the day with Laurie, he was not about to spend the night with him too.
“You just know he must blather in his sleep as much as he blathers all day, and people spill the damnedest truths in their sleep. There are some things I really don’t want to know.”
Considering that Laurie had spent more than a few nights on the couch in Lucas’s carriage house, Lucas knew for a fact that Laurie didn’t talk in his sleep. Lucas, however,
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