Page 55 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
Suddenly, Eric appeared in the doorway, a second bundle of wood under his arm, and in his hand, he held…a pail. “Found a well,” he said. “I think the water’s good. At least we’ll have something to drink tonight.”
She smiled, grateful that they’d been thinking along the same lines. “Better than nothing,” she murmured.
He came towards her and put the full pail down near the fireplace. He reached for her, and she tensed, wondering what he was thinking. But all he did was reach into the pocket of his coat and extract a hip flask which he shook.
“The finest brandy I could find in your manor,” he explained.
“Oh…well, that’s something.”
“And the flask is full.” He grinned.
“In that case, we can get pleasantly sozzled and forget that we’re hungry and possibly lost.”
“Not lost. I’m sure the horse can lead us home…once it’s safe.”
“Let us hope you’re right.”
He uncorked the flask and offered it to her. She took it, downing a large sip and feeling instantly gratified as it warmed her from the inside. He smiled, reaching into the pocket of his waistcoat, extracting a small pouch. “I also have some tobacco here if you’d care for a smoke.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And just how would we smoke that without a pipe?”
“Ah, well, while we were down in Jamaica with His Majesty’s Navy, I came across a very interesting practice where they roll the tobacco into a paper.”
“Oh? Well, we do not have that either.”
He reached into his other waistcoat pocket triumphantly. “Except I do.” He held it up for her to see.
Her jaw dropped. “You let me cut up my petticoat when you hadpaper?”
He shrugged. “You had already begun to tear it before I could say a word. Besides, you were right to offer. We needed a substantial bit of kindling to get the fire going as well as it was. This paper might have burned too fast.”
“Humph!” Freya said, folding her arms and staring into the fire, sulkily.
“If it is any consolation, I did immensely enjoy seeing your ankles.”
She reached out and punched him in the arm.
“Ouch.” He bent forward, while laughing. “That hurt.”
“Ha! I wish.”
“You don’t know your own strength.”
Freya pouted. “Are you saying that I am mannish?”
“Heaven forbid. Absolutely not, my dear. Merely that a slight thing such as yourself packs more of a punch than expected.”
Freya snorted. “Hardly slight. I know I’m quite sturdy.”
“I would venture to say willowy.”
Freya smiled, her eyes narrowed playfully. “Is that a compliment? Are you paying me compliments?”
“If you want to see them that way. I would call them accurate descriptions.”
Freya laughed. “Oh, of course. Never have it said that Eric Campbell paid his wife a compliment.”
“Oh no, that would be against the tenets of our relationship. We absolutelyinsiston being at odds,” he said with faux solemnity.
