Indulgence in Death Read Free

murder cop.”
    “Sadly for Sean, no. He likes to follow your cases, searching out tidbits on his computer. This last? The hologames murder gave him endless thrills.”
    “Oh.” She glanced over to where Roarke stood with Sinead, her arm around his waist. And thought of the blade slicing into his side.
    “We’ve a parental lock on, so he can’t get the juicier details.”
    “Yeah, that’s probably a good thing.”
    “How bad was he hurt, my cousin? The media didn’t have much on that—which is, I suppose, how he wanted it.”
    His blood, warm, sliding through her shaking fingers. “Bad enough.”
    Seamus nodded, lips pursed as he studied Roarke. “He’s not at all his father’s son, is he then?”
    “Not where it counts.”
    Irish picnics, Eve discovered, went on for hours, as did the Irish summer day, and included music, dancing, and general carryings-on till well after the stars winked on.
    “We’ve kept you up late.” Sinead walked them upstairs, this time wrapping an arm around Eve’s waist.
    Eve never knew exactly what to do when people looped their arms around her—unless it was combat, or Roarke.
    “After all your travels, too. Barely giving you time to unpack, and none at all to settle in.”
    “It was a nice party.”
    “It was, it was, yes. And now my Seamus talked Roarke into going out in the field in the morning.” She gave Eve a little squeeze. At the signal, Eve glanced back at Roarke.
    “Seriously. In the field, like farm field?” Eve said.
    “I’ll enjoy it. I’ve never driven a tractor.”
    “I hope you say the same when we’re dragging you out of bed at half-six.”
    “He hardly sleeps anyway,” Eve commented. “He’s like a droid.”
    Sinead laughed, opened the door to their bedroom. “Well, I hope you’ll be comfortable for the time you have.” She looked around the room with its simple furniture, its soft colors, and white lace at the windows under the slant of the ceiling.
    Flowers, a charm of colors and shapes, stood in a squat pot on the dresser.
    “If you need a thing, anything at all, I’m just down the hall.”
    “We’ll be fine.” Roarke turned to her, kissed her cheek. “More than.”
    “I’ll see you at breakfast then. Sleep well.”
    She slipped out, shut the door.
    “Why,” Eve asked, “do you want to drive a tractor?”
    “I have no idea, but it seems like the thing to do.” Idly, he pulled off his shoes. “I’ll get out of it if you don’t want to be left on your own in the morning.”
    “It’s no problem for me. I plan on sleeping off a year’s worth of beer anyway.”
    He came to her smiling, brushed a hand over her hair. “A lot of people for you to deal with at one time.”
    “They’re okay. At least after you figure out what they’re talking about. What they talk about, a lot, is you.”
    “I’m the new element.” He kissed her forehead. “We’re the new element, as they’re fairly fascinated by my cop.” He drew her in so they stood holding each other in the center of the pretty farmhouse bedroom with the night breeze wafting through the window to stir the fragrance of the flowers through the air. “It’s a different life entirely here. A world away.”
    “The last murder was about a dozen years ago.”
    He drew back, shook his head. Just laughed. “Trust you.”
    “I didn’t bring it up. Do you hear that?”
    “What?”
    “Nothing. See, it’s really quiet, and it’s really dark,” she added with a glance at the window. “Dead quiet, dead dark. So you’d think there’d be more murders.”
    “Looking for a busman’s holiday?”
    “I know what that means even though it doesn’t make any sense. And no. I’m good with the quiet. Mostly.” She ran a hand up his side, laid it on the wound. “Okay?”
    “Well enough. In fact . . .” He leaned down, took her mouth with his, and let his own hand roam.
    “Okay, hold it. That’s just weird.”
    “It feels very natural to me.”
    “Your aunt’s