His patience had clearly run thin by the time they were several yards from the trees. The rain had increased its efforts, and he put his arm around her waist. “Relax against me,” he told her brusquely, then lifted her against his side.
Her breath left her lungs in a grunt as her feet dangled a few inches off the ground. He maneuvered both her and her luggage into the trees, setting her down when unruly branches and twigs hit them in the face. She managed to avoid “screaming in pain” but couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped when she bumped her foot against a rock.
She hopped on her right foot, teetering and balancing her weight, and belatedly remembered she held a walking stick to aid in the effort. While she worked at keeping herself upright, Oliver moved farther into the trees.
“We’ll sit here for a time, at least until the rain stops.” He appeared again at her side and repeated the awkward half lift to carry her to a dry spot under the entwined trees and branches.
“My portman—”
“I’ll get it,” he snapped.
He disappeared through the trees to retrieve the bag that had become a source of contention over the last few hours. She chewed on her lip, wondering if he would be restored to good humor if she kissed him again. It wasn’t in her nature to manipulate people for whom she genuinely cared, but desperate times and all that. Now that she’d been the recipient of Detective-Inspector Reed’s charming side, she found she liked it better over there.
She examined the small area of ground at the center of four tree trunks and gingerly sat down. She clenched her teeth to keep from crying, knowing she was fully responsible for her current state of affairs. She was not one to place blame on another when it rested firmly on her own shoulders, and she was still trying to forgive herself for Oliver’s involvement.
It had been his choice, her rational brain pointed out. But he would never have made such a choice if not for her actions. She couldn’t regret it, when all was said and done, because she’d known to her bones that the smarmy captain had no intention of releasing them. She’d felt his malevolence without reading his aura or examining his feelings. According to Oliver, they’d been headed for Portugal. Portugal!
She rotated her head and put a hand to her neck as Oliver returned with the portmanteau. He dropped it on one side of her and sat down on the other. He sighed and leaned against a tree trunk, his hip aligned companionably against hers, and put his arm around her shoulders. He gently pulled her closer and closed his eyes.
“Get some sleep if you can,” he murmured. “Rest your ankle, and in a few hours, we’ll move again. Someone is bound to come along the road eventually, and we’ll beg for a ride to the nearest inn.”
She tipped her head against his shoulder and sighed quietly. “Are you hungry?”
He cracked one eye open and gave her a side glance. “I fear I neglected to bring the soda water and cracker tin you requested from the flight ’ton.”
“I have food in the portmanteau.”
He opened both eyes. “You said it contained only documents.”
“I didn’t say it contained only documents. I make a habit of keeping portable food bits on hand.”
“You do? Why?”
“One never knows how long any given activity will take. Protest rallies tend to last several hours, especially if we encounter interference of any kind.”
He half smiled. “The law-enforcement kind?”
“Exactly. So you see, you’ve yourself to thank for the fact that I am prepared.” She sat up and pulled the bag to her, opening the top clasp with fingers that still felt sore from the intense cold of her impromptu airship departure. She reached inside and located a biscuit tin and small canteen of water, pulling them out and showing Oliver.
“Miss O’Shea, you’ve impressed me yet again with your resourcefulness.” He took the tin from her and opened it, fishing out a biscuit for her and one for himself. They ate in silence, occasionally feeling the raindrops that managed to infiltrate their leafy canopy. She handed him the water, and he took a sip, wiped the rim, and returned it to her.
A smile twitched, and she fought the urge to laugh.
“I would love to hear what you find so amusing.” He took another biscuit from the tin.
She couldn’t very well admit she found it silly that he would go to the trouble of wiping the rim of the water canteen so shortly after kissing her senseless on the beach. On a practical level it made sense, she supposed, and she took a sip of water. She should appreciate his thoughtful attempt at civility.
“When we were young, Isla, Hazel, and I used to enjoy impromptu picnics. When Isla’s younger—and often irritating—sister, Melody, tagged along, we always insisted she clean the rim after taking a drink of communal punch.”
“Did you consider packing more than one drink container?”
“Space was at a premium. Isla usually carried everything in a pack on her back. Does military protocol dictate you wipe the canteen before sharing with a fellow soldier?” She nibbled on her biscuit, hungry but slightly nauseated.
“More often than not, if we were in a position to be sharing water, nobody worried about such details.”
She’d never heard his tales from the time spent at war in India. What she knew of Daniel, Sam, and Miles was that they didn’t share much about those experiences either. Having arrived at a place where she cared about offending Oliver, she wasn’t certain she should ask about it.
“Why did you decide to leave military service?” she asked, hoping the question was innocent enough. “I’ve heard you were a rising star.”
“Were you asking about me?” He winked.
“I may have made some inquiries while looking for information to exploit.”
He laughed. “Were you hoping to blackmail me into staying out of your
