“I sure have.” When they stepped into the cottage, she rummaged around in the kitchen. Suddenly her stomach felt so hollow she would settle for anything to eat. Disappointed, she said, “I thought I saw two pieces of fruit earlier.”

“You did,” he replied, glancing around as well. “An apple and an orange.”

She threw up her hands. “Well, they’re gone now.” The monkey was nowhere to be seen, so she raised her voice. “You could have left me the orange!”

“I’ll head into town to pick up the groceries,” he told her. “Shouldn’t be longer than an hour.”

She paused to stare at him. That sounded odd too, almost domestic. His offer to get groceries was like having a dragon offer to make her tea, incongruous and unsettling. “How did we become so… so… team-like?”

His dark eyes snapped with something that looked suspiciously like laughter. “You’re such a pain in the neck, I haven’t a clue.”

Her mouth dropped open in outrage. “I’m the pain in the neck? Who shoots first and asks questions later? I bet you’re the lousiest date on the planet. Who would want to go out with that kind of nonsense?”

“What?” His expression went blank.

“You…” Her voice trailed away as realization dawned.

He hadn’t been on a date, not for decades at least, and maybe not ever, since dating was a fairly recent concept in historical terms. He had been embroiled in this conflict for so long he was barely house-trained any longer and stripped of most niceties.

The fact that he had offered to get groceries actually was kind of a big deal. The fact that he had relaxed enough to joke with her, smile, and even laugh on occasion, was nothing short of miraculous. If anybody was ripe for a protracted case of PTSD, it had to be Nikolas.

Her face softened. Reaching out, she hooked her fingers through his and gave them a quick squeeze. “Never mind. Thanks for getting the food.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, frowning. “Lock the door when I leave.”

Biting back a sigh, she told him, “I might choose to lock the door when you leave because it’s a good idea, not because you ordered me to.”

His eyes narrowed. “One of these days you’re going to say, ‘Sure, Nik. That’s a good idea, I think I’m going to do that.’”

Nik. She liked that.

“Don’t hold your breath.” She laughed.

“Give me your car key,” he said.

That wiped the smile off her face. “Why?”

“Nobody would look twice at my car in the city, but here in the countryside it’s pretty noticeable. I need to store it or get rid of it, but for now, I’d like to use your car.”

He had a point. She dug out the car keys and handed them to him. Silent as a shadow, he slipped out the door, and a moment later, the Mini purred down the drive.

Left alone, she slowly walked through the shadowed cottage and threw herself in a sprawl on the couch. My cottage, she thought. This is all mine now. My couch, my chair, my—my—

The monkey appeared. It had the same little stick arms and legs, but its belly was rounded. It climbed into her lap.

With a gentle hand, she petted his back. Realization dawned.

“This is my circus,” she said. “You are my monkey. At least for now, huh? You know, the Porsche isn’t the only thing that sticks out like a sore thumb in the English countryside. Hint, hint.”

He regarded her with his sad eyes and wizened, old-man face. When she stopped stroking him, he picked up her hand and put it on his head. Smiling, she started to pet him again.

“One of these days, I’m hoping you’re going to feel comfortable enough to shapeshift into your natural form,” she told him as she settled back into a reclining position. “And maybe, someday not too far off, you’ll feel safe enough to start talking again. What do you think of that?”

As she stretched out into a horizontal position, he curled up against her side and put his head on her shoulder, and it may or may not have been in answer to her question. She wrapped an arm around him.

Despite her best efforts to rest yet stay awake, she crashed headlong into sleep until the crunch of tires on gravel roused her. Knuckling her eyes, she sat up. Damn it! She had an eight-hour time difference to overcome from Los Angeles, but at this rate, she was never going to get her days and nights sorted out.

The light had changed, and the shadows in the cottage had lengthened. The monkey loped toward the kitchen and the door. When Nikolas carried in bags of food, she forced herself upright to join him.

He carried in a large amount of what looked like everything they could possibly need, from dish soap to laundry detergent, fruits, vegetables, cans of beans, packages of meat and fish, bread, eggs, cheeses, butter, yogurt and milk, some prepared meals, and even a few bottles of wine, a six-pack of lager, and a bottle of brandy.

Hungrily she tore open a package filled with two Scotch eggs and bit into one, which was when she discovered that a Scotch egg was sausage wrapped around a hard-boiled egg. Oh yum. She said around her mouthful, “Thank you.”

One corner of Nikolas’s mouth lifted. “You’re welcome. I contacted my men. Gawain is going to arrive first, tomorrow morning. Then they’ll all show up, one by one, staggered over the next few days. That way they won’t draw attention to themselves, and when each one shows up, you can paint the null spell on them.” He paused. “We might not even need the null spell when we’re in the house. The land magic could mask our energies.”