Rose felt like stomping, except she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he irritated her. “This is unnecessary,” she said. “We’re safe behind the wards.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Look, I appreciate your intentions, but I want you to leave. Now.”
He ignored her.
Rose glanced at the house and saw two little faces behind the window screens. Great. What to do now? Blueblood or no, he had saved Jack. He had sworn not to harm them, and flashing a man who was doing nothing to attack her went against her every instinct.
He couldn’t really be trying to protect them. That would be . . . noble. She almost guffawed at the pun.
Fatigue mugged her like a wet blanket thrown over her head. It had been a terrible day, and she had no energy to argue.
“Fine. You’re welcome to the porch.”
Rose went inside, pulling the door shut with a thud. The boys stared at her. “If he tries to come inside, shoot him,” she said and headed for the shower.
SOMETIMES simple pleasures are best, and nothing compared with a shower after work. Having spent the entire day squirting cleaners and scrubbing office counters and walls, Rose now thoroughly scrubbed herself with Irish Spring and a fake sea sponge. It took her ten minutes to drown the day in shampoo and soap, and when she emerged, put on clean clothes, and brushed her wet hair, she felt almost human.
While she was in the shower, her fury at the blueblood’s intrusion slowly melted into uncomfortable unease. The blueblood had saved Jack. He’d stayed with them because they were scared and even made them food, and then she’d treated him like dirt. She felt bad about it. This is stupid, Rose told herself. He was here to force her into marriage. All of this could be an act. She owed him no sympathy.
The creatures that had attacked Jack terrified her to the very depths of her being. Rose wished she could speak to Grandma, but with the evening rolling into night, the trip would have to wait until the morning. And Grandma Éléonore, although she would use a phone in a pinch, refused to keep one at her house.
In the kitchen, Jack brought her a pancake on a blue metal plate. “It’s good,” he told her. “He made them special. See, he put sugar on them.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. “Tell me everything, from the beginning.”
Ten minutes later, she pieced together the whole story. The blueblood had cut the beasts to pieces in a feat of incredible martial prowess demonstrated by Georgie with much vigorous waving of his fork, brought Jack inside, promised them that nothing bad was going to get them while they were in his care, and then proceeded to make pancakes. If he somehow staged this whole thing, which was still a possibility, it was masterfully done. The boys were now convinced that he could move heaven and earth. In their eyes, in the space of an hour, the blueblood went from the “shoot on sight” villain to a glorious hero of unmatched manliness.
“Did he eat?”
The boys shook their heads.
Great. Now she had a hungry “hero” on the porch without food or blanket. And her vague unease had blossomed into full-blown guilt. Completely crazy, she reflected as she pulled some sausage from the fridge and fried it. She should be shooting him in the head.
Rose divided the sausage onto four plates. “Eat your dinner.”
She put a fork and a knife onto one of the plates. Georgie jumped off his chair, poured iced tea into a plastic cup, and handed it to her. Rose rolled her eyes and took the food and the tea over to the porch.
He sat in the same spot she had left him, staring at the sky colored with the first hint of sunset. The wind swiped stray hairs from his long blond mane. His huge sword lay next to him. Even at peace, he emanated menace.
She set the plate next to him.
“Thank you,” he said.
Instead she leaned against the porch post. “Are you really going to spend the night on my porch?”
“Yes.”
“I can perfectly take care of us myself. It’s fixing to get dark. You should go back to wherever you’re staying.”
“I’m sure my tent will greatly miss me,” he said.
“A tent?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sleeping in a tent? Why? Are you out of money?”
“On the contrary.” He reached into his jerkin and produced a small leather wallet secured by a strap. He undid the strap, dipped his hand inside, and produced a gold coin. The sunset rays glinted on the metal surface.
A small fortune. She wondered how much it was worth. Would it feed them for two weeks? Three?
“So what’s the problem?”
His face wore a perplexed expression. “I tried to seek lodging, but unfortunately most of your neighbors suffer from a critical lack of trust. They see me coming and lock their doors and shutter their windows, and no amount of yelling and wallet waving can persuade them to listen to reason.”
Rose pictured him standing at the boundary of the Ogletree house in that enormous fur cape, with a giant sword sticking over his shoulder, roaring at the top of his lungs and then being upset that nobody came out, and laughed.
“I’m sure my predicament seems hilarious to you,” he said dryly. “You live in an insane place populated by mad people without a shred of courtesy.”
“Have you tried the McCalls down south? They could use the money.”
He turned up his nose, oozing aristocratic haughtiness like it was cheap cologne. “I won’t stay in a shack.”
“Well, excuse me, Your Highness.” She laughed harder.
“Some men in my situation would find your giggling offensive.”
“I can’t help it. It must be nerves.” She shook with laughter. The fear that curled inside her in a small, cold chunk of ice melted. The blueblood wasn’t harmless—far from it—but once she had laughed at someone, it was hard to go back to full-out terror.
“You could let me stay here. I would pay you, of course.” He dropped the coin into the wallet. It made a metallic clink, announcing there were many more just like it.
“Oh, you’re good,” she said. “You want me to let you stay in our house?”
“Why not? I already promised to protect you, so I’m bound to this property by my own word, at least for tonight. You might just as well make some money from my misfortune.”
“You’re unbelievable.” Rose shook her head. Why in the world did he want to get into her house so much? A small part of her wondered if he really was worried about the kids, but a much bigger part of her shook its head in cynical disbelief. He was a blueblood. He didn’t give a damn about mongrel Edger boys.
“I’m simply pragmatic. You probably have a spare bed in that house, which, I hope, is clean and soft, and therefore much preferable to the hard wooden floor of this porch.”
She actually considered it. He could bust her door down with one shove of his shoulder. In fact, he could probably go through a wall, if he set his mind to it. In terms of their safety, having him on the porch or in the house made absolutely no difference. The money would be most welcome. She could buy beef instead of chicken for once. An extra set of uniforms for Georgie. Lunchables for the kids. They always wanted them, but at $3.98 a pop, they were a rare treat.
“This would be a purely business arrangement, separate from our other agreement,” she warned.
“Of course.”
“I want you to swear that you won’t attempt to molest me.”
He looked her over very slowly. “If I chose to molest you, it wouldn’t be an attempt. And you would be most enthusiastic about it.”
