“It’s doubtful there’d be any in my size anyway.” He half closed the door, then cast me a wry glance. “Pink?”

“It’ll look better on you than me. Us pale-skinned redheads just can’t do it justice.”

He snorted, tugged it off the hook, and pulled it on. It was thigh-length on him, so it not only revealed the long, magnificent length of his legs but also the still-bleeding bullet wound.

“We need to find a first aid kit and treat that,” I said, motioning toward it.

“There’s one in the kitchen. You can make the tea while I patch myself up.”

He scooped up our wet clothes and headed for the laundry while I checked on Vincentia. Her pulse was strong, and there was movement under her eyelids, suggesting she was either close to waking or maybe even foxing. I was tempted to pinch her cheek to see what happened but decided to grab a cuppa first. It had been a long, tiring day, and it wasn’t over yet.

Cynwrig looked up as I walked into the kitchen. “She awake yet?”

“I think so but pretending otherwise.” I shrugged. “I decided my need for tea is stronger than the need for answers right now.”

He chuckled softly. “There are some needs that should never be ignored. Tea is one of them.”

I raised an eyebrow, amusement bubbling through me. “Dare I ask what the others are?”

His smile was soft and smokey, and my pulse did its usual dance. “I suspect you should not. Not until we have time to cater to said needs, anyway.”

“‘Cater’ is such an unromantic word.”

He briefly pursed his lips. “Deal? Minister? Treat?”

I grinned. “See, this is the problem with having a natural magnetism that can make a maiden weak with wanting without even trying—you lose the ability to verbalize desire properly.”

He laughed and tied off the bandage on his leg. “Then I shall definitely concentrate on verbalizing my wants and desires when we have more time for such things.”

“Something I very much look forward to,” I said lightly. And hoped like hell that the gods would give us a break and some time—although I daresay we’d already had our allotment of luck tonight.

I found a couple of mugs and some tea bags and made our drinks. There was a packet of those little long-life milk pods in the pantry, which I generally avoided except in cases of emergencies.

This could definitely be classified as an emergency.

By the time we’d finished our tea, there were definite sounds of activity coming from the second bedroom. I sighed and met Cynwrig’s gaze. “Shall we get this over with?”

Cynwrig plucked the scissors from the first aid kit and rose. “It’ll make it easier to decide our next step.”

“And what to do with her.” Or even if we should do anything with her.

She was sitting up in bed trying to unpick the tape around her mouth when we walked in. Her gaze flashed toward mine, her green eyes furious. She said something incomprehensible thanks to the tape, but I had a feeling it was neither pleasant nor polite.