She was his wife, and she was adorable, incredibly desirable. He had never wanted anyone like this. Half out of his mind, he moved his lips across her jaw, down to her throat. He could feel the beat of her pulse, inhale the scent of her hair, jasmine and rose water. He kissed his way down, teeth grazing her collarbone; his lips grazed the hollow of her throat—

She drew away swiftly, scrambling off him, her face pink, her hair tumbling freely down her back.

“That was very instructive,” she said, her calm voice at odds with her flushed face and rumpled dress. “Thank you, James.”

He let his head fall back against the headboard with a thump. He was still dizzy, blood slamming through his veins. His body ached with unexpressed desire. “Daisy—”

“You should sleep.” She was already gathering up Cortana, already sitting back down in the chair by his bed. “You must, in fact, or we will never know.”

He struggled to regulate his breathing. Bloody hell. If she were anyone else, he’d have said she’d intended this as revenge: his body felt ravaged by wanting her. But she had settled herself calmly in her chair, her sword across her lap. Only the slight disarrangement of her hair, the red marks on her throat where his lips had been, showed that anything had happened.

“Oh,” she said, as if just recalling an item of shopping she’d forgotten. “Did you need your other wrist tied as well?”

“No,” James managed. He was not about to explain why further proximity to Cordelia seemed like a bad idea. “This is—fine.”

“Do you want me to read to you?” she said, picking up a novel from the nightstand.

He nodded very slightly. He was desperate for a distraction. “What book?”

“Dickens,” she said primly, opened the volume, and began to read.

Thomas was buttoning his coat as he crossed the kitchen—dark, now, as midnight had come and the place was blissfully free of domestic staff. He had crept out of the drawing room without the others noticing, caught up as they were in their chatter and card games. Even Christopher, on watch by the door, hadn’t noticed as Thomas had gathered up his gear jacket and bolas and crept down the hall.

Feeling rather proud of himself, he soundlessly unlatched the back door to the garden and threw it open. He had just slipped outside into the chilly darkness when a light flared in front of him. The burning tip of a match illuminated a pair of sharp blue eyes.

“Close the door behind you,” Anna said.

Thomas did as requested, silently cursing himself. He could have sworn that ten minutes ago Anna had been asleep in a chair. “How did you know?”