Page 60 of Beyond the Cottage

“Go ahead,” she said. “I’ll be out front.”

He nodded and walked away. Gretta lingered, watching him climb the ladder like the desperate letch she’d apparently become. When he was out of sight, she guzzled water from the pump and wandered to the rickety bench on the porch.

She flipped through her notebook, trying to revive her excitement from before. Now that the rush had worn off, she just felt tired. Coming back to capture Isobel seemed more exhausting than exhilarating.

It didn’t make sense. Gretta’s obsession had finally been caught, and the only thing left was to reel it in. She should bevibratingwith elation. Instead, the logistical hassle and another trip south made her head throb.

What the hell was happening to her?

No—wrong question. This was about what had already happened. She’d had a ridiculously fucked up week, and anyone would be out of sorts. For godssake, she’d just ogled her captor like she was starving and he was carved from gingerbread. Next, she’d probably find herself marching inside to swap cookie recipes with Isobel.

Gretta closed her eyes and dropped her head back on the bench. An image of a muscled chest dripping with sweat intruded.

Okay, fine.Ansel grew up hot. Should she beat herself up for acknowledging the obvious? Besides, she was deprived. Sentient pond scum would grab her attention. The real crime was that someone like him should come in such a fine package. She might have even succumbed to him if they’d reunited under different circumstances.

The prospect startled her. Whatwouldhave happened if they’d met with clean slates on neutral ground? If they’d actually recognized each other? Considering her real-life reaction, chances were good she’d have thrown herself at him.

Would she have let him hug her as long as he wanted? Fallen into his bed that very night?

Grief knotted her stomach, followed by self-disgust. Pining over the impossible was a waste of time. Really, she ought to be grateful she’d seen behind the good-looking veneer before discovering his identity. In a way, his ‘shenanigans’ had saved her a lot of trouble. While never reuniting at all would have been ideal, at least she hadn’t learned his true nature via a messy, drawn-out relationship.

Not that Gretta did relationships.

She billowed her tunic. The afternoon heat was brutal, and she didn’t sweat as prettily as Ansel. She gave up and whipped off her tunic. Though the ivory silk camisole underneath wasn’t proper, it gave her a chance to air out.

Swatting a mosquito, Gretta returned her attention to her notes. Talking to Isobel left more gaps in her understanding of witches than before, and there were endless possibilities to work out. Back on track, she jotted questions and theories.

An hour later, Ansel slumped beside her on the bench.

“Done?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He scrubbed his hands over his freshly dampened hair. “It’s a damn sauna today.”

“I don’t know how you stand it. The more time I spend here, the more I’m convinced the Radiant Swamps are a festering pustule on Merecia’s asshole.”

He chuckled. “It’s better than freezing your ass off in a blizzard.”

“I don’t know. You can always add layers, you can only take so many off.”

He glanced at her sweaty camisole. Just as quickly, he looked away with a cough.

“Anyway,” he said. “I know you’re in a hurry, but do you mind if I rest a little before we go?”

“I guess not.”

Sprawling, he yawned and closed his eyes. “Wake me in fifteen minutes.”

In a matter of seconds, he was lightly snoring, and the sound reminded her of waking up with him on top of her that morning. Definitely not the mental image she needed.

She settled more comfortably on the bench and ran through all the things she had to do. Most urgent among them: convincing Ansel to follow her to the capital. Since he lacked a gold hoard like Isobel, Nat’s money should do the heavy lifting. She’d have the whole boat ride to convince him.

Yawning as deeply as he had, she spread out.

Only a few more hours. Then she’d finally escape the humid, foul swamp.

“Fuck!”

The shrill scream jerked Ansel from sleep.

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