My Lady Jane(107)

“When you came after me at the tavern, you nearly died.” He looked wrecked at the memory. “You nearly died, and then who would I have argued with?”

“You’d have found someone.”

“No.” He stepped toward her. “I only want to argue with you.”

She met his eyes and saw that he meant it. “And I only want to argue with you.”

“I do respect you,” he said earnestly. “And I trust you.” He spoke more hurriedly now; it was almost dark. “I’m sorry, Jane. I shouldn’t have locked you in a cage without your consent, and I shouldn’t have made you believe that what you want isn’t the most important thing to me. I just couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. But I am sorry. Deeply, madly, truly sorry.”

Jane spent a moment untangling that. “So you’re apologizing for locking me in a cage?”

He nodded. “And I’ll apologize every day for the rest of our potentially short lives, if that will help.”

“Quite unnecessary.” She closed the distance between them and looked up (and up and up) to meet his eyes. She shook her index finger at his nose. “But if you ever even think about locking me in a cage again, I will stab you with a knitting needle.”

“It’s as though you’ve reached right into my worst nightmares, my lady.” He grinned.

“And I suppose I’ll try to be less rash when it comes to putting myself in danger. After all, if I died, who would you argue with?”

“I’m glad you’re finally seeing reason.”

She laid her head against his chest. Gifford’s warm breath stirred against her hair, making sparks ignite in her stomach. “Now,” he said. “I want to hear about your day. Did you read any new books?”

“I’ve read all the books we have.” She wrinkled her nose. “Armies aren’t very good about carrying libraries with them. I can’t imagine why. We’d fight so much less if everyone would just sit down and read.”

Gifford’s laugh rumbled through him, loud against her ear. “A question I often ask myself. Imagine how much money the realm would save if the rulers focused their finances on libraries, rather than wars.”

“Not if I were allowed to shop for books.”

“England would go bankrupt,” he said gravely. “Thank God for wars.”

She pushed him away, playful. “You can’t switch sides like that.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “It’s too late. I’ve switched already, and since you’ve forbidden switching that quickly again, I’m stuck opposing you.”

“Congratulations,” she said. “You’ve just described our entire relationship.” She took his hand, her eyes going serious again. “I’m not sorry we got married. About the way it happened, maybe, and all the discomfort we’ve put each other through. But not that we got married.”

The way Gifford smiled was so full of hope and relief, it made Jane’s breath catch, and she had the strongest urge to stand on her toes and press her lips to his. But then he glanced toward the tent flap. “It’s almost ferret time.”

He tried to pull away, but Jane held tighter to his hands and shook her head.

“I don’t want to change tonight.” She hugged him, burying her face against his shoulder. “I want more than these few minutes, Gifford. G.”

“I know,” he whispered. He held her tight. “Me too.”

Jane clung to him like he was her anchor. Some nights she was resigned to the change, and others she fought and knew she would not win. But right now she resisted the flickers of light with all her will.

She felt the magic fill her. Then it drained away, and Jane opened her eyes, expecting to be small and furry and cupped against Gifford’s chest.

Only the last part was true.

Gifford held her against him, but it was her human hair that he stroked, and her human legs that she stood upon, and her human eyes that met his.

Awe filled his face. “You . . . broke your curse.”

She was still trembling with the anticipation of the change. Maybe they’d been wrong about the time. After weeks of living half lives with short times at sunrise and sunset, they’d both learned how long they typically had together, but maybe they’d been wrong.

“You didn’t want to become a ferret,” Gifford continued, “so you stayed human.”

“It wasn’t that,” she breathed. “I wanted to stay with you. That was my heart’s desire.”

Wonder and disbelief warred on his face, but finally a wide smile won as he cupped her face in his hands.

Heart pounding, Jane leaned forward. They were close. So close.

Cloth rippled and torchlight shone in. “G—” Edward stopped halfway into the tent. “Oh. I’m sorry, Jane, I thought you were a ferret.”

For a moment, Jane wished she were a ferret. It’d be less embarrassing than her cousin walking in on . . . something. A kiss that didn’t happen.

She leaned back and caught her breath, resigned. The kingdom had to come first. “It’s all right. I learned how to control it at last. I think I’ll remain a girl tonight.”

“Good. That’s good.” Edward flashed a tense smile and turned to Gifford. “We’re having a strategical meeting in my tent.”