The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes (London Highwaymen, #2)(30)

Then she reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Marian,” he said, barely managing to get the word out. “What is happening right now?”

She cast him a faintly disappointed look, and good Christ that should not have gone straight to his prick. “You said that all I had to do was say the word.”

“Oh God,” he said. “Have you always been this brave?”

She sniffed. “Obviously.”

With that, she rested her head on his chest and went to sleep.





Chapter 13




When Marian woke, two things struck her with equal urgency. First, her head was filled with knives and rocks. Second, her head was currently on Rob’s chest.

She remembered the previous night with rather more clarity than she would have liked, or even thought possible given the volume of gin she had consumed.

“Are you finally awake?” Rob asked, his voice a raw rumble that she could feel as much as hear. “Thought you might have died.”

“Ha ha,” she managed, and the sound of her own voice was enough to give the knives and rocks in her skull a good shake. She winced into the fabric of Rob’s shirt, aware that she probably ought to extricate herself, but as that would involve moving, it was presently out of the question. It would also involve Rob removing his arm, which was a heavy band around her waist. “Maybe I did die, and this is the hell I so richly deserve.”

“Hell seems unlikely, darling, because I’m entirely comfortable, even if you did wake me with your snoring.”

The injustice of this was enough to make her raise her head. “I do not snore.”

“Oh really. So all those sounds must have come from some other person who spent the night burrowed into my clothes like a vole. Or perhaps I dreamed I was on a pig farm.”

She reached for a pillow and smacked him in the head with it. “Slanderer.”

“You snored the previous night as well. You snore like a man twice your age and twice your size. It’s impressive, really.”

She hauled herself out of bed. One advantage to falling asleep in her clothes was that now she didn’t have to get dressed, which was excellent news as she didn’t think she was equal to so much as putting on a pair of breeches in her current state.

“You’ll feel better after a cup of tea,” Rob said.

“I know,” she said, peeved. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had too much to drink.”

She made her way to the window. The glass was frosted over, so she unlatched the window and threw it open, letting in a gust of icy wind.

“What in hell?” Rob grumbled.

“Checking the weather.” The first rays of sun had barely made it over the horizon, but she could tell that overnight a hard frost had settled over the valley that their path would take them through. It was not a sensible day for any kind of travel, least of all on horseback, and certainly not while hungover, but it would take only a few hours to reach Little Hinton. “There isn’t any snow on the ground, at least,” she said.

An hour and several cups of tea later, they were on their mounts. The countryside was hushed and still, the sky a field of gray that almost concealed the rising sun. The horses’ hooves crunched along the frozen turf and Marian winced in sympathy. She nudged Gwen into a canter, but when she looked over her shoulder, Rob was several lengths behind.

“Why are you dawdling?”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Rob said.

“You are.” She brought her horse to a stop to let him catch up. “Is your horse injured? Are you injured?” She doubted that the paltry matter of a hangover would be enough to slow him down.

“Nothing of the sort.”

Marian might have believed him if she hadn’t spent the past two days noticing what it looked like when he was lying—a widening of the eyes, a tendency to blink. Then she noticed that his cloak wriggled in a manner that cloaks decidedly should not. She stared at him. “Tell me you don’t have a kitten under there.”

“I don’t have a kitten,” Rob protested. “They’re much too young to be taken from their mother, Marian. What kind of monster do you take me for?”

She sighed. “Show it to me.”

“It’s not a kitten.”

“You and it are both going into the river unless you show me.”

He sighed and pulled back a corner of his cloak. The animal within extended a paw and took a swipe at his jaw, which he just narrowly ducked away from.

“You deserved that,” Marian observed. “What is that thing?”

Rob looked down at the creature and Marian followed his gaze. Indeed, it was not a kitten. It was the ugliest cat she had ever seen. It was missing an ear and most of its tail and had a general air of defeat and hardship.

“While I was admiring the kittens, I noticed this poor unfortunate fellow skulking about in the shadows. He’s skin and bones, as you can see for yourself. It looks like he found himself on the wrong side of one of the barn cats. I don’t think he’s much of a mouser.” The cat gave a great squawk and wriggled in Rob’s arms. “Cats are supposed to like horses. He’s spent his whole life in a stable, for Christ’s sake. Why can’t he settle?”

“I daresay he hasn’t spent much time on horseback,” Marian observed dryly. “Give him to me.”