Twenty-three #2
His wide grin matched her own. “Never, my darling.”
“Splendid, because Timothy will want siblings.”
“Timothy? Are you referring to the donkey?”
She tilted her head. “I quite like the name. Sir Timothy Hackberry.”
“It’s a solid name, but I’m shocked to learn I’m already a father—and to a donkey.”
They laughed together. Exhaustion was making her silly, and she appreciated Jonathan for playing along without making her feel like a fool. The gentlemen in London hadn’t known what to make of her odd sense of humor or interest in antiquities.
The serving girl returned with two plates filled with mutton, stewed lentils, and those flat pieces of bread seasoned with rosemary and thyme that Evangeline had come to love. The girl smiled at her once more before hurrying to clear another table.
“Do we have much farther to travel before setting up our campsite?” Evangeline asked.
“Another hour if you can tolerate it. On the map, there’s a stream and olive grove where we can sleep.”
“I can tolerate it.” She would sleep like the dead, but she couldn’t quit if she wanted to keep up with the men in her field of study.
She tucked into her meal, clearing her plate in half the time it usually took. Jonathan paused with his spoon midair. “Do you want some of mine?” he asked.
“Of course not.”
“We walked several hours. Are you sure?”
She snorted softly. “We is the keyword. I’m not stealing your supper.”
“Then I will order more.” He signaled for the girl.
“Jonathan…”
After their exchange, the serving girl sped back to the cauldron.
“I don’t need more food,” Evangeline whispered.
“Well, I do, and I need you to help me eat it all. No waste.”
Playfully, she groaned under her breath. “If you insist.”
After a few more bites of mutton, her energy began to return. She pushed the plate toward Jonathan when she reached her limit, and he polished off the rest.
Once their plates were taken away, he dug a few coins from a pouch and dropped them on the table. He stood as the serving girl returned with something clutched behind her back. She twirled side to side, gaze downcast, cheeks pink.
“Evangeline, may I introduce you to Katerina? When I mentioned you’re an artist, she asked if you might draw her.”
The girl’s blush deepened as she held out a sheet of paper and a pencil.
“I would be delighted,” Evangeline said as she accepted the paper and pencil. “Please ask her to sit by the window. The lighting is better.”
Jonathan directed Katerina to move to a bench where the last of the afternoon’s sun rays bathed her in a golden glow.
“I’ll retrieve Timothy while you work,” he said and kissed Evangeline’s cheek.
Her skin tingled from the contact as she followed his path across the tavern and out the door. He caught her eye through the window and smiled. Shyly, she lowered her gaze, unable to stop a smile from spreading across her face.
Katerina said something then giggled into her hand.
Evangeline chuckled and demonstrated how to pose.
The kiss was likely meant to support their ruse of being a married couple, but she liked it—very much.
Jonathan hadn’t returned by the time she finished the sketch. After Katerina’s mother gushed over the drawing and insisted Evangeline accept a bundle of dried figs as thanks, she set out to look for him. Halfway between the stables and tavern, he had stopped to tighten a loose strap.
She sighed, smiling.
A flash caught her eye. A scraggly man dashed from between two buildings, advancing on Jonathan with a knife. Evangeline screamed and ran in their direction.
Jonathan swung toward his attacker, lunging for the knife arm and slamming his knee into the man’s middle. His opponent dropped the knife, doubling over. In a move she never expected, Jonathan swept his legs out from under him. The man landed in the lane with a grunt.
Jonathan casually picked up the knife and tucked it into one of their saddlebags. She stood frozen, her pulse racing. His expression was grim as he led Timothy toward her.
“I expected you to wait at the tavern.” His firm voice sent a shiver through her.
“I-I finished the sketch. You were still gone. I didn’t know—”
“I would never leave you, Evangeline.”
She frowned. “I never thought you would. Who was that man?”
“A thief.” He dusted off his trousers. “I shouldn’t have lowered my guard.”
“Are you sure he didn’t follow us from Athens? What if he is the man looking for Uncle Charles?”
“He’s a local,” he said. “I saw him standing on a balcony when we arrived. Besides, you said the man in the market was English.”
“But he could have been hired to kill you and use me to draw out Uncle Charles.”
His glower caused her to back up a step. “No one followed us,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m observant.”
She raised her eyebrows. Not too observant. He had nearly been skewered moments ago.
“I heard him coming up behind before you screamed.”
“If you say so.” She tilted her head. “How did you learn to fight that way? It wasn’t from fencing at university.”
He pressed his lips together, and she thought he might not respond. “I was taught after.”
“By who?”
He walked past her with the donkey. “There’s a reason your uncle wanted you to know how to defend yourself, Evangeline. Always watch your back, even in small villages.”
His warning hit her square in the chest. She had always believed Uncle Charles’s lessons were meant to ease Regina’s worries—not that she might need Wing Chun to protect herself in the field.
Her life’s work lost some of its glimmer.
“Are you injured?” she asked.
He stopped and turned back toward her. “No.” His stern frown faded, his voice gentling. “We should keep going before we lose daylight.”
Something in his expression had changed; his eyes were softer, hazy like he was somewhere else.
Her heart twinged. She stepped closer, reaching for his hand. “I’m here,” she murmured.
A shadow passed over his face, but it disappeared in a blink. He squeezed her hand and released it.
“Come,” he said, his voice huskier than before. “Let's find that campsite.”