Marshal twitched and then chuckled as he set down his coffee mug to free his handheld from his back pocket. "Someone must be mad that I'm enjoying my vacation."
I arched an eyebrow and set down my coffee cup as well. We were at the inn's restaurant hoping to catch sight of either suspicious characters found in Sally's report; or even the man from Marshal's past. In the meantime, he told stories of his past adventures with Seifer, in code of course, in hopes I would remember him telling me the same during our trip to the Tomb near Deling.
Up to this point, no memories surfaced.
Marshal accessed the email and chuckled again. "Damn. Here, chicklit. Check it out."
I retrieved the handheld. 'Bingo. Get on with it and get your ass back to work.' I smirked.
"I guess I should get those pictures taken. Huh? Boss-man sounds pissed, and we've only been here one day."
One day. It seemed a week. I passed the handheld back. Hopefully the information found on those people from Marshal's past would help Trepe on her undercover mission. Now we had but to finish our original investigation of the surveyor and the landowners.
"So." Marshal took up his coffee mug and asked, "Which property you like?" at the same time he stroked the inside of my leg with his knee.
A negative/positive of wearing shorts.
My stomach tumbled and twisted, but I forced a calm expression as I also sipped my coffee. My head began to throb. "I don't believe they want to sell to strangers, Blake," I said calmly, pushing his touch away. I crossed my legs.
"Don't be silly, chicklit," he said, and his knee changed tactics, stroking my outer thigh instead. "Like I said, we've only been here a day. We just need to try a little harder."
My insides tightened and my skin tingled as I fought back the whole-body shiver. My focus slipped from Marshal's face once or twice, but I dragged it back. "Could we talk to the surveyor today?" I crossed my legs the other direction and pushed his knee away with my sandaled foot.
His eyes twinkled. "Sure thing. We just have to find out where he lives."
A waiter approached our table with more coffee and inquiries as to whether we needed anything. Marshal inquired about the surveyor's location the same time I felt his fingers caress the skin of my lower leg and knee. I straightened and sat back, desperately trying to quiet the roar as Marshal sent me a sidelong glance. I didn't meet it.
The waiter gave directions and then left. Marshal focused back on me. "Ahndra." He looked down to his refilled coffee mug when I didn't look up. "I, uh, I used to tease you, erm, before." He cleared his throat and sent me a glance. "Sorry."
This time I watched Marshal's expression. I could always tell when his apology went deeper than the initial word. Something shined differently about his face and eyes when he felt more than 'sorry'. Of course, his apology and his explanation didn't soothe the internal reaction to his continual touch. I had grown accustomed to him asking permission. . . and yet, there had been something more pleasing in the unexpected touch. A little 'more' of that newly found drug my body craved so continuously.
I looked down again. Curiosity and intrigue pushed me forward, and I re-crossed my legs and began lightly caressing Marshal's calf with the top of my foot. My skin tingled as my insides roared. I could feel Marshal's surprised glace, and then he smiled and slightly nudged my foot with his leg. I only continued to stare into my coffee. Yes. It was 'more' while being less--
Marshal stiffened. I looked up to see him staring down into his tightly gripped coffee cup. I again stroked his calf, and he briefly glanced toward the entrance of the inn with a whispered "Shit."
An eyebrow twitched and I casually glanced--My face hardened as my temper flared. The man from before had entered the inn and now talked with the clerk at the reception desk. I moved my focus back to Marshal and found that my foot had begun a rhythmic and steady stroke of his leg. I didn't stop. I couldn't.
"Soon," I said in a low tone. And vengeance would be sweet, I would see to that. Five years of plotting a never-attained revenge made one quite proficient.
"Hey."
Marshal's grip tightened even more around his coffee mug. My foot momentarily paused the soft and slight stroke of his leg. I resumed as I looked to my left. The man from before stood there with a slight smile on his face.
I forced one. "Hello."
"Did you get to talk to anyone about that property you were looking at?"
I noticed that Marshal forced himself to show interest in the conversation by lifting his gaze from the coffee cup. I shook my head as I replied "No, and Blake and I need to buy as soon as possible. The wedding. . . ."
The man nodded in understanding as his nearly black eyes took in both my unique facial characteristics and Marshal's barely civil expression. I continued to stroke Marshal's leg, and it seemed that he almost pressed his leg against my foot for an enhancement of the action.
"Geez. That's too weird. I just talked to him this morning and he said he was going to let the reception clerk here know to tell you he would be back in town tomorrow. That way he could talk to you about it."
"Oh. We can wait."
"That's good. I'll let him know. Any particular time tomorrow?"
I looked to Marshal. "Before lunch?"
Marshal met my gaze, and I could see his jaw muscle twitching. "That's fine."
Much to my surprise, I felt like reaching out to hold Marshal's hand for extra support and strength. I blinked, noticed Marshal's change in expression to my reaction, and then forced myself to focus on the man beside our table.
"Before lunch would do well."
"Right-O. I'll let you know when I hear from him."
"Thank you."
The man smiled briefly and then turned away. I stared after him with slightly narrowed eyes. Second meeting. Still no introduction with name or identification of position there within Winhill (i.e. farmer, banker, etc). My instincts screamed 'suspicious' with such clarity I felt sure the man could hear it.
He left the inn without a look backward.
I tapped my fingers on the table, giving a blink of surprise when Marshal's hand covered mine. I looked over at him and met his silver-charcoal gaze.
"I owe you."
I arched an eyebrow. "For?"
"For handling everything. It looks like I'm not as good at this as I thought I was."
But I understood how our past horrors effected the performance of our duty. Marshal hadn't had the day to transition himself into the possibility of meeting his sister's murderer. Considering that fact, I felt a muted respect and admiration for how well he had handled things.
I adjusted my hand in his to give him a firm squeeze. "You are."
Marshal held my gaze for a long moment before doing something I had never even imagined. He kissed my palm. A shiver waved down my body from toes to fingertips and back as I stared at him with wide-eyed.
He smiled softly and then caressed the top of my hand with his thumb. "Thanks, Ana."
My insides tightened and my skin tingled at the way he said my name. As before. In his arms. I swallowed hard and lowered my eyes with a whispered "You're welcome."
Marshal's smile widened slightly as he again softly nudged my foot still absently stroking his skin. "I guess we should stop wasting time and go find the surveyor. What's his name?"
But I couldn't remember. I couldn't retain anything but his touch and the tingle and the memory of a kiss.