“You would not want to get too close to those sacks,” he says. “Which is the point. Norrington’s men take one whiff of old Walker’s cart, and they cannot send him on his way fast enough.”

“Meanwhile, he has other goods hidden deep inside them,” I guess.

Nicolas grins. “He does indeed.” He rips two empty sacks and stretches them over us as the cart lurches forward. Then he covers the sacks in hay and lies down beside me, one hand on my hip.

“Thank you,” I say, “for seeing whoever shot at us before they fired.”

“I do not even know if they were firing at us.”

“Maybe so, but your quick reaction got us out of a very dire situation, meaning you did save my life, and therefore I owe you.”

His mouth opens. Shuts. He eyes me. “I was about to say that it was nothing more than you have done for me. However, the mention of recompense stopped me. I fear arguing may not be in my best interests.”

“It is not,” I say. “I owe you my life and will repay you handsomely.”

His smile grows to a grin. “I do like the sound of that.”

“You should. I may not be the most skilled at that particular art, but I am eager to improve.”

“I think you are quite adept, but it is true that practice does improve any skill.”

I sigh. “That is what my sister always says.”

He pauses. “You sister advises you on . . . ?”

“Cooking. She is a baker, after all. I cannot promise you the best meal you have ever had, but I promise all my efforts in that regard, in repayment for saving my life.”

I catch his look and frown. “You seem disappointed, sir. The growling in your stomach tells me you are quite hungry, and I am offering to feed you.” I wriggle closer to him. “Unless there is something else you would like.”

“If you were honestly offering me dinner, I would accept with thanks, as I would also tell you that you owe me nothing. However, as you seem to be teasing me, I will admit that I may have been hoping for another form of recompense tonight.”

“Tonight?” I widen my eyes. “You do not want it now?”

He shivers and nuzzles my neck. “Do not tease, crécerelle, or I will be in no condition to stand when this cart reaches its destination.”

“I am not teasing. Mr. Walker cannot see us under these sacks. No one can. I presume we have a bit of a ride ahead. Also, I am discovering a very odd thing about narrowly escaping death. It does make me rather . . . libidinous. However, if it has the opposite effect on you . . .”

He takes my hand and pulls it lower, pressing it against the crotch of his trousers.

“Indeed,” I muse. “It seems to have the same effect on you. How interesting. Well, the offer stands, sir. If you would prefer your payment at a more reasonable time, in a more reasonable place—”