Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

Whether it was the spices, the wine, or the effect of his smile, she felt most languid and awake at once. An unusual combination. “You were in the lagoon…” she prompted.

“Yes. I swam around a bit, sunned myself on the rocks, and otherwise forgot about the world. Then I decided it was time to return to town and discovered I had a great problem. My clothes were nowhere to be found.”

“No.” Cat put her fork down.

“I am very serious. My boots were where I had left them, but my trousers and tunic were gone.”

She laughed at the image.

Jamie laughed too. “I did not know what to do. I could only assume someone had sneaked by while I was swimming and stolen my things. But I could not understand why they would leave my boots, which were worth far more than my linens.”

“What did you do?”

“What could I do? I pulled on my boots and went in search of my clothing.”

“Unclothed.”

“As the day I was born.”

More laughter bubbled through her and she covered her mouth with her hand.

Jamie shook his head. “Oh, it only gets worse. Here I am, sneaking about the foliage looking for whichever miscreant had stolen my clothes.” He chuckled. “I must, you can imagine, contain my modesty.”

He held up his palm and cupped his hand, demonstrating.

“It is a good thing you are not overlarge,” she teased.

He playfully narrowed his eyes at her. “I look forward to reminding you of the truth, dear wife.”

Cat smiled around a bite of pheasant, enjoying the unusual curry spice and savoring her husband’s warm regard.

“I could not return to the village,” he continued. “Not as I was. But with luck and perseverance I did find the pair of thieves. They lolled about in the shade and enjoyed their bounty.”

She lifted her brows. “Village children?”

He shook his head. “Goats.”

“Goats?”

“Yes, a pair of goats sat across a meadow, happily munching on my trousers and tunic.”

“But you got them back?”

“It was not so simple as that. I approached the guilty pair very stealthily, of course.”

“In all your naked glory.”

“Yes, well, my glory must have been enough to frighten them, for they quickly scampered away, my clothing locked in their mouths. I chased them and was led right into the center of their flock. The tricky pair hid within their own brothers and I could not tell them apart.”

“Sneaky goats.”

“I chased them all, determined to ferret out the two.” He stopped to eat his pheasant. “Not only did I scare the entire herd but the shepherdess as well.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. The poor girl. I did not see her until the herd separated.” He made a parting motion with his hands, as if scattering the herd. “There she was, all youth and innocence.”

“And you unclothed.”

“Not just unclothed, but flailing about with my hands in the air and my, well, jewels exposed to all.” Jamie waved his hands about, mimicking the motion.

Cat pressed her linen napkin to her lips, trying to swallow her bite of pheasant. This was too funny.

“The shepherdess ran away, of course, and I almost had those tricky goats in my grasp when a gunshot exploded. Bam!”

She jumped.

“I covered myself with one hand and put the other in the air.” Again, he demonstrated with his hands, dropping one into his lap and lifting the other in a gesture of surrender. “Her father had come down, angry and armed.”

“What did you do?”

“He spoke only the thickest dialect. I could not make sense of him, and he certainly could not make sense of me. I was forced to use my hands to try to communicate and, well, you can picture that.” Jamie lifted his hand from his lap and held it in the air. “There wasn’t even a rock to stand behind. I tried to point to the guilty goats, but they had hidden themselves, clever pair that they were. I tried to explain to him about the goats taking my clothes.”

Jamie made the oddest motions with his hands, a kind of charade that was the most ridiculous thing she had ever seen. Her laughter was not to be stopped.

“That looks nothing like a goat taking clothing.”

“The father did not think so either. By this time his daughter and half the village had arrived to watch the scene. The farmer pointed toward his daughter and I shook my head and made clear ‘no’ signals with my hands.” Jamie crossed his hands like a sharp X. “I pointed to the goats instead.”

“Oh, Jamie.” Her smile ached now.

“Yes, not the best choice. The villagers collapsed into an uproar of hilarity, thinking I wanted to abuse the goats and not the shepherdess. The father only grew angrier. I thought for certain I would be shot.”

“How did you finally explain?”

“Finally a villager arrived who understood Parisian French and was able to translate to the farmer.” Jamie dropped his head into his hands. “The guilty goats were caught, but my clothes were completely ruined.”

“I hope they gave you something to wear.”