“I’d hoped to talk you into going on a carriage ride.”

He blinked slowly, nonplussed.

“A carriage ride?”

She threw herself in the chair Mikaelsson had vacated and Alfie again found himself gritting his teeth as she did, for much of her jiggled (and it was enjoyable to watch) while her hair bounced (and that was enjoyable too).

“Yes, Alfie, a carriage ride. You know, those wheeled conveyances, led by horses that—”

She would be outrageously annoying if she wasn’t so adorable.

“I know what carriages are,” he said with a sigh.

“Yes, well, the day is crisp and cold, but we could get a rug. And I know this bakery that does these vol-au-vents filled with the richest, meatiest stew you’ve ever tasted—”

“I can’t go on a carriage ride with you, Bronagh.”

“Why not?”

He refused to look down at his sticks.

Even if he did, she knew the direction of his thoughts.

“We can have the vol-au-vents brought to the carriage and eat them in there, Alfie,” she said softly.

“I have things to do.”

“It’s always work with you,” she huffed.

“This is because there’s always work to do,” he retorted.

“You have not been out of this castle since you were carried into it.”

He did not like the reminder, but he kept his mouth shut on that.

“And again, this is because there is much work to do, Bronagh.”

“You must enjoy life, Alfie,” she returned.

“I enjoy life fine,” he lied.

And she hooted, rolling her eyes, before she pinned him with them and stated, “Farah told me even before those horrible, horrible men did what they did to you, you were all about work and duty.”

“I made an oath,” he told her.

“I did too,” she shot back. “Nurses take their own oaths, Alfie. To care with kindness. To maintain a steady hand. To ever have a listening ear. To never cease in learning. And that is not only my vocation, it is my calling. But it’s not my life.”

“Well this,” he spread his hand over the desk in front of him, “is my life.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because…because…” She bounced in her chair with agitation, and gods, his cock jumped with the same as she did, but his reaction was caused by something much different. “Because!” she finished.

“Bronagh, much is happening,” he said low.

“And it will happen whether you sit in that chair or leave it for a few hours to enjoy a delicious vol-au-vent and then it will be here when you get back!” she declared hotly.

Bloody hell, it was irritating how clever she was.

It was especially irritating when she was clever during an argument.

He scowled at her.

She glared at him.

The door opened and King Wilmer swept in.

“I am now reduced to being summoned by a bloody knight,” he groused instead of saying a greeting. “A crippled one.”