Coming to her knees, Liza crawled forwards, taking Hanna by both hands. “This is a weird situation,” she said. “And a scary situation. I thought you were dead for a minute today as well.”

“Sorry. It’s the worst feeling.”

“I know, right. And the reason it’s the worst feeling is that I want to be with you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life and for that to be more than the next twelve hours.”

Trembling ever so slightly, Hanna took a deep breath. “You can be sweet sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Don’t push it.” For half a second, Hanna risked a smile. “You can make do with sometimes for now.”

“And you,” Liza replied, “are sometimes sweet, and sometimes kind, and usually infuriating. But you’re always gorgeous, and sexy, and I will always love you and want you and need you, and no… no platinum blonde murder siren is going to change that.”

Still looking small and folded-in, Hanna let herself curl into Liza’s arms. “I’m sorry I had a … a moment.”

“It’s okay.” Liza stroked her wife’s hair in what she hoped was a reassuring pattern. “It’s sort of flattering that you get jealous. I just wish you’d do it without being so down on yourself.”

Wriggling under the covers, Hanna settled down into bed. Then she stopped, sat up, and threw the offending pillow across the room. “True,” she said, “I am pretty great.”

“You’re the best,” said Liza, curling up beside her, letting herself mould to the lines of her wife’s body as she held her.

“You’re the best too. I should probably tell you that more often.”

The weight of the day was beginning to catch up with Liza, and she yawned. “Same. And I will. We will. When we get out of here, we’ll do better.”

“Yeah,” Hanna agreed. “Or we’ll be dead. And I suppose that’s one way to save on marriage counselling.”

It had been a long enough day that they didn’t really change for bed; they just kicked off their shoes, Liza tied back her hair, and they let fatigue and near-death experiences do the rest. Somewhere in the dark of the hotel, pipes began making weird groaning noises, suggesting somebody was taking a late-night shower and the nineteenth-century plumbing wasn’t happy about it. And it was … Wasn’t it kind of a weird time to be having a shower? Then again, it was a weird situation all round. Holding Hanna as tightly as she could without disturbing her or getting an elbow in the ribs, Liza dropped a single kiss onto her wife’s shoulder and then let herself drift to sleep.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sir Richard, in the Dining Room, with a Question

Monday morning