“Should we marry, do you think?”

“That’d likely make it easier. With the lessons, I mean.”

“I do love your lessons.”

“And me?” His pansy eyes opened wide and winning; perhaps the laudanum hadn’t quite taken him yet.

“Yes. I very much love you, too.”

“Thank goodness.” The poor boy was shaking ever so slightly. “I really thought you’d never take me seriously.”

“I wouldn’t go overboard if I were you.” Rue bent and peppered his neck with little kisses, careful to avoid the bandages. He squirmed a bit. “Hold still.”

“Don’t tease, chérie.”

“Don’t you want to know how well I remember said lessons?”

“More than you could possibly imagine. But I’m not exactly capable of a full assessment at the moment.”

Rue chuckled and relaxed down next to him. She did want to do more. But he was right: he was still recovering, and apparently, they would have the rest of their lives to pursue this particular line of study.

He was drifting off. The lines of pain pulling on his face eased. The happiness remained.

“You’ll sleep here?” He pulled her as close as he could with his good arm.

Rue felt a spike of giddy joy. So he did want to sleep next to her. “All night?”

“I promise not to snore if you promise not to turn into a wolf, or a lioness, or a mongoose, or any other odd supernatural thing next to me.”

“Agreed,” said Rue.