“Is it really so unexpected, Detective? Our reactions to one another have always been strong. Two sides of the same coin and all that.”
He chuckled and tipped his head back against the tree. He closed his eyes again and added, “We’ve flipped the coin.”
She nodded and settled against his shoulder. “This side is so much more pleasant,” she whispered and closed her eyes, certain she’d not gain even a moment of sleep.
Light finally crept over the horizon and into the trees. Oliver watched it approach, having slept little. His eyes were gritty, and he wished Emme had a pot of tea in her portmanteau. She still slept, the longest stretch throughout the night as far as he could tell. He knew her leg must throb and protest in pain while sitting still, let alone involuntarily moving in her sleep. He’d stretched out his legs so she could angle sideways toward him and rest her foot atop his shins.
If someone had told him even a week ago that he’d find himself sprawled with Emmeline O’Shea beneath the trees in an unknown countryside, he’d have laughed. Or sworn like a sailor. They’d been resting for a handful of hours, and the enforced stillness when he was desperate to be proactive was a test of his patience. He was exhausted and couldn’t have carried her anymore, so when it had begun raining and she’d insisted they stop, he’d been able to retain his pride.
She’d been sleeping with her head on his shoulder, though it had now slid to his chest. He held her close to try to keep her from moving, because every time she did, she awoke with a pained gasp. He took the opportunity now to study her in better light. When compared so literally against his own height, she made him look like a giant.
Her hair was completely free of pins and ribbons. The strands were long, with a gradual curl at the end, and a good portion of the silky black mass was trapped beneath his arm. He wanted to lift it free, but she woke at the smallest of movements, and he desperately wanted her to rest. Her eyelids were swollen, her skin pale, and he knew her shoulders and chest would be aching at least as much as his were from maneuvering the Jump Wings.
He sighed softly and inched his far leg out from under her, bending it at the knee and feeling much like someone trying to keep a child napping. It was better to convince himself that was how he viewed the situation than to admit he had taken the proverbial plunge into abject insanity.
He loved her.
He didn’t know why it surprised him. She had been paramount in his thoughts for months on end, and she was definitely correct—their intense emotional clash represented two sides of the same coin. Since taking on the role of her bodyguard, his drive to keep her safe had been as desperate and focused as before, when he was tasked with keeping her in check.
He suspected her feelings mirrored his. She was a constant surprise, however, so he could be completely wrong. Perhaps her affection wouldn’t extend beyond gratitude for his friendship and the enjoyment of a kiss. She’d been hurt, though, when she thought he’d regretted kissing her on the beach. That may be nothing more than pride; many a modern woman found opportunities that allowed freedom from dependence on a man. Heaven knew Emme had established her place in the world all on her own, and he was fortunate to have fallen into her sphere. But if he knew anything about her, it was that whatever she did, she did with her whole heart. He didn’t imagine she would be content with an occasional dalliance.
He wrapped his hand around his other wrist, encircling her in an embrace, and leaned his cheek against her head. They needed to reach civilization, and soon. Someone had paid Barclay to take them far away, and who that person was must know by now the plan had failed. Oliver had stashed their Jump Wings behind a large outcropping of rock before leaving the water’s edge, but even so, he imagined it wouldn’t be long before her enemies found their trail.
They ought to have been in Edinburgh by now, settling into the Grand Hotel near the heart of the Summit’s festivities. He mentally reviewed Emme’s schedule for the day. She was to have visited the International Village, where multiple temporary buildings had been constructed in the Princes Street Gardens to showcase varying countries’ cultures with games, food, events, and items for purchase. She was also to have met with Giancarlo and the rest of the International SRO delegates to review the week’s events.
As if she heard his thoughts, she stirred. He lifted his head, giving her some space. She planted her hand on his chest and shoved, pushing herself upright with a loud groan and then a wince.
“Oh, mercy. Everything hurts.” She put a hand to her head and rubbed her eyes before glancing at him. “I must look a fright,” she mumbled. She gathered her hair in one hand and pulled the mass over her shoulder, grimacing as her fingers caught in the tangled strands.
“I need to . . .” She flushed and looked away. “I’ll just go over there for a moment.”
He understood her embarrassment and pushed himself to his feet, barely restraining his own groan. “Here, I’ll help you stand. I’m going to take better stock of our surroundings now that it’s daylight. I will just be out on the road. Call for me if you need me.”
She nodded but wouldn’t meet his eyes. He bent down behind her and put his arms beneath hers, lifting her carefully and wincing at her gasp of pain. He handed her the walking stick, feeling helpless and wishing there was a maid magically nearby who could help her.
When she
