“I might have figured that out if you’d told me we had to go into the water in the first place.”
“Well, how the buggering hell did you think we’d make the seal if not there at the breach?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to apologize for giving you credit for more logic than you seem to have on it?”
She poured her tea, very slowly. “In the world where we stand now, and where I’ve lived most of my life, we’re more private about nudity. Should I apologize for giving you more credit for knowing that than you apparently have?”
“I was in this place once on this side where the women on the stage took off…” He saw the hole he was about to fall into. “Well, never mind that. It’s war, Breen. I can wish for peace, and for the time and skill to give you the room you need, but I don’t have it. What we did tonight we couldn’t have done without you. I needed you. We needed you.”
She softened enough to get another mug. “You expect me to train and to learn how to fight in this war with my fists, with a sword, with a bow, with my gifts. And I’m trying.”
She poured tea into the mug, handed it to him. “I expect you to learn how to explain things to me instead of making decisions for me. I’ve told you enough about my life here so you should understand what it’s like for me when decisions are made for me.”
“That’s fair. That’s fair,” he repeated. “I’m likely to be as poor at it as you are with a bow, but I’ll work on it.”
Satisfied the crisis had passed, Bollocks took his biscuit and went to stretch out by the fire.
After he sampled the tea, Keegan sighed. “I appreciate the tea, but I’m wondering if you’ve some whiskey to go into it.”
She went to a cupboard, took out a bottle. When he held out the mug, she poured some in. And when he made a come-ahead gesture, poured more.
“Thanks for that.” He took a drink, then another. “I don’t see how there’d be trouble over here tonight—or what’s left of the night—but I can’t risk it. I can’t leave you alone. I’m not asking to share your bed.”
He drank again as she watched him over the rim of her mug.
“In truth I’m too bloody tired so I don’t think either of us would enjoy that much in any case. I can take Marco’s bed, or the divan in there. I’d know you’re safe. I need to sleep, and I won’t unless I know you’re safe.”
He looked exhausted, and she realized she hadn’t really factored that in. And not just physically, she thought, but in every way exhausted.
“You can share my bed. To sleep,” she added.
She set down her mug of tea, opened her bag to take her pages out and lay them on the table. She started to shoulder the bag, but he took it.
“I’ll carry it up.”
With a nod, she started toward the stairs. “Come on, Bollocks. Bedtime.”
He bolted up ahead of her, was already curled in his bed when she came in. She lit the fire before taking her toiletry case out of the bag Keegan carried in.
She went into the bathroom, shut the door.
When she came out, Keegan, like her dog, was already in bed—and both of them asleep.
She changed into flannel pants, a T-shirt, lowered the fire to a simmer. Thinking what a complicated, often difficult man she’d ended up involved with, she slid into bed beside him.
And dropped into sleep the moment she shut her eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
She woke alone, and to the shimmer of sunlight. A glance at the clock showed it was after eight—long past her usual get-up-and-get-going time.
Then again, she honestly didn’t know what time she’d dropped into bed.
She got up, grabbed a hoodie, and went down to find her dog.
From the back door she spotted him in the bay, and Keegan on the shore throwing the ball. Time after time Bollocks swam after it or leaped up to snatch it from the air.
She had good reason to know he’d do that for hours.
Leaving them to it, she made coffee and—muttering at herself for being stupid and vain—did a light glamour before she carried the coffee outside.
“Your arm will fall off before he gets tired of that game,” she called out.
Keegan heaved the ball again before he turned. “So I’ve come to know. I fed him, as that’s easy enough, but I didn’t know for certain how to work the machine for coffee.”
“Fortunately, I do.” She offered him one of the mugs.
“Thanks. It’s good. I’ve thought of having Seamus try growing the beans, as he’s a wizard with such things, but tea’s the tradition. I might ease it in after things are settled and done.”