Page 165 of Sword & Shadow
Deckard’s gaze snapped to Rafferty’s face. “Where did you hear that?”
“Most recently? Ethenn.”
Deckard turned away, a flush working across his scalp. He’d done his best to forget Ethenn’s witness to his and Evylin’s kiss in Dunneshead.
“You really did a number on Loxley. The kid was practically shaking in his boots as he told me. He kept that bit from Thommy, though.”
Hewitt shook his head, and Deckard shifted uncomfortably in his saddle.
“It was Thom who told me about it in the past,” Rafferty said. “The first time, he lamented how Evie confided in him about your prowess after we saved dear ol’ Prince Ephren. Good on you, by the way.”
Deckard furrowed his brow, confused by the commendation.
“The second time,” Rafferty continued, “was back in Loclight. Said he and Hew were just sitting there when you two came barging in, tangled up and tearing at each other. He thought you’d finally worked up the nerve.”
“He wasn’t the only one,” Hewitt remarked.
“Guess that wasn’t the case,” Rafferty said, waggling his white-blond brows.
Pressing his lips together at the recounting of some of their most intimate moments, Deckard pushed the memories aside. “It wasn’t,” he muttered.
“I can see how having your brother and her uncle there might kill the mood.”
Deckard glanced at Hewitt accusingly. “Indeed.”
“But she wanted it, right?” Rafferty asked.
Deckard recoiled. While his sensibilities had relaxed in the past fourteen days spent in Rafferty’s company, such a blatantpresumption of Evylin’s intimate desires caused his moral senses to flare.
Rafferty didn’t notice. “I mean, the way Thom talked, she was as eager as you.” The weasel gave him a meaningful look. “Something about her tongue—”
“Stop!”
A smug grin remained on the weasel’s face as Deckard worked his jaw.
On the nearest embankment, Hewitt scowled. “Tell the fool what he wants to know so he stops asking.”
Giving both men an irritated look, Deckard followed the ghost’s advice. “I chose to respect her wishes. Whatever that makes me—a coward, an idiot, a gentleman—I don’t care. I did what I thought was best forher. Because I love her.”
Rafferty pursed his lips, listening.
“You weren’t there,” Deckard said, more to Hewitt than Rafferty. “The night of our marriage, I saw the fear in her eyes. Every time I touched her, even if it was as innocent as a kiss on the hand or a brush of my fingers, she would flinch. I wasn’t about to force myself on her. Not when she was so clearly afraid of intimacy.”
The twitter of robins filled the marshes around them. In the distance, their small camp awaited with Auden tending a fire. Rafferty drew his horse up short, stopping them. He met Deckard’s gaze with the most serious expression he’d ever worn.
“But,” the weasel said, “she’s not afraid of it now.”
A sad smile crept over Deckard’s face. He glanced at Hewitt. A familiar tension filled his chest, as though his lungs wouldn’t expand to take in air—like his heart refused to beat.
“Yes, she is,” he said solemnly.
Rafferty scratched his head, baffled. “But you love her?”
“Yes.”
“And she loves you?”
“No.”
