In Death 32 - Treachery in Death

sing and dance, and I’m going back to work.”
    “Do you think he’s derelict in his duties?”
    “No.” She let out a long breath. “No, I know he’s on top of it. And I know when I’m being pissy.”
    He made the turn to home. “Would it help if I tell you how very entertaining—even arousing—it was for me to watch you metaphorically grind Renee into fuming dust to the tune of ‘Whiskey in the Jar.’”
    “Maybe. It was fun.” She rolled her shoulders. “It was satisfying. More fun, more satisfying when it stops being metaphorical, but pretty damn entertaining.”
    “And arousing?”
    She shot him a quick, cocky grin. “Maybe.”
    They got out of the car, and he caught her hand before she could start up the steps. “Come with me.”
    “No, you don’t. I’ve got to—”
    “Take a walk with me on this bright summer evening. Love’s in the air, Lieutenant.”
    “You mean watching me be a bitch got you stirred up.”
    “It did. Oh, it did.” He gave her arm an easy swing with his. “When we go inside, we’ll work. But just now? There’s a bit of a breeze—finally—and it’s stirring in the gardens, and the woman I love has her hand in mine.”
    He broke a blossom from a bush—she couldn’t have named it—and tucked it behind her ear.
    It didn’t feel foolish, but sweet. So she left it there and walked with him.
    They paused a moment at the young cherry tree she’d helped him plant in memory of his mother.
    “It looks good,” she commented.
    “It does. Strong and healthy. And next spring it’ll bloom again—we’ll watch it bloom again, you and I. It means a great deal.”
    “I know.”
    “She thinks you married me for power,” he said as they walked on. “Renee. As that’s what she’d have done. The power and the money is one in the same to her.”
    “She’s wrong. I married you for the sex.”
    He grinned. “So sure of that am I that I work diligently to hold up my end of it.”
    They wandered into a small orchard, perhaps a dozen trees, branches heavy with peaches.
    “Does Summerset actually use these to make pie?”
    “He’s a traditionalist.” Roarke searched out one that looked ripe, twisted it free. “Have a taste.”
    “It’s good. Sweet,” she said when she had.
    “He’s after adding a few cherry trees.”
    “I like cherry pie.”
    Roarke laughed, took a bite of the peach when she offered. “I’ll give him the go.”
    It smelled of summer, of ripe fruit and flowers, and green, green grass. The walk in the warmth and the scent, her hand in his, served to remind her she had what she’d envied of Renee’s childhood.
    She had her own normal.
    “See that spot there?” Roarke gestured to a sparkling roll of green. “I’ve been toying with the idea of having a little pond put in. Just a little one, maybe six feet in diameter. Water lilies and willows.”
    “Okay.”
    “No.” He skimmed a hand down her back. “What do you think? Would you like it? It’s your home, Eve.”
    She studied the space—thought it was fine as it was. It wasn’t as easy for her to imagine little ponds and water lilies as it was for him. “With those weird fish in it?”
    “The carp, you mean. We could, yes.”
    “They’re a little creepy, but interesting.” She looked at him now. “You stay home more than you used to. Don’t travel nearly as much as you did before. It would probably be easier for you to handle some of the stuff on site—wherever—but you don’t unless you have to.”
    “I have more reason to be home than I once did. I’m glad of it. Every day, I’m glad of it.”
    “I changed your life.” She looked down at the peach they shared. “You changed mine. I’m glad of it.” And back up, into his eyes. “Every day, I’m glad of it. I’d like a little pond, and maybe something to sit on so we could watch the creepy, interesting fish.”
    “That would suit me very well.”
    She linked her arms around his neck, laid her cheek on his. Love finds a way, she thought.
    “I didn’t follow logic,” she murmured. “Even when I told myself it was inappropriate, it was impossible. I couldn’t. Everything inside me needed you, like breath. No matter what I told myself, I had to breathe. I’d been loved before. Webster thought he did even if I didn’t recognize it, even if I couldn’t give it back. And I had a different kind of love with Mavis, with Feeney. I loved them. I had enough in me for that, and I can look back at who I was and be