“Careful,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “You are gambling with our progeny.”
She climbed up on the bed and sat back on her heels, her hands folded in front of herself. “I had a patient from Abyssinia last year.”
There was something compelling about Anna in a mood like this, absolutely determined to win a battle of wits. He’d draw it out as long as he could.
“If I’m not mistaken,” he said, “Abyssinia borders on the Mediterranean Sea in the north and the Red Sea in the south. The Nile runs the whole length of it. You’ve got to do better than that to trip me up, Savard. I was always good at geography.”
“And languages.”
“That too.” What he wanted to do was to get rid of the atlas she had taken back to hold in front of her like a warrior queen’s shield and then tumble her, cold or no cold.
He said, “Does it have to be a country?”
“As opposed to what?” she wanted to know. “Continents?”
He shrugged. “States. Counties, shires. Provinces. Cities.”
“Suit yourself. But stay within the realm of fair play.”
“But first you go on until I miss one.”
“Fine,” she said, composing her expression. “Basutoland.”
“Africa,” Jack said. “If I had to guess, the far south, one of the British colonies probably. I’ll guess near the Cape Colony.”
She put on her most disinterested expression, tilted her head to one side.
“Khiva.”
“Spell it.”
“K-H-I-V-A.”
“You had a patient from Khiva?”
“I’m setting the questions, Mezzanotte. Answer, or admit defeat.”
“Don’t know.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I think you do.”
That made him really laugh. “Why would I lie?”
“To stop the game. But you’ve missed a question and it’s your turn to ask me.”
He tugged on a strand of her hair. “If you insist. Brunei. Spelled B-R-U-N-E-I.”
“Ei is the word for egg in German.”
“That’s your answer? Brunei is a—state or principality in Germany?”
“Not an answer. It was a guess.”
“I’m feeling magnanimous. One more try.”
She tapped her forehead with one knuckle. “Wait. It’s coming to me. Brunei is a Swiss canton on the Austrian border.”
He wrestled the book out of her hands and dropped it over the side of the bed, which made her squawk.
“That’s a valuable atlas.”
“I’ve got a bigger one. Lift up.” He tugged at the hem of her chemise, caught beneath her knees.
She slapped his hands away. “No.”
“No? Why not?”
“I need a reason?”
“I’ll give you a reason,” he said, tugging harder. “I’m rewarding you for that stunning example of a bluff. There’s no Swiss canton called Brunei. Now are you going to lift up?”
“No.” She was trying not to laugh.
“Well, then.” He shrugged. “I’ll have to peel you like a banana.”
She didn’t try very hard to stop him and the buttons were no challenge at all. The thin muslin slid off her shoulders and down her arms to stop at her elbows. With her breasts looking at him cheerfully Jack said, “I’ve got an idea for a different kind of geography quiz. And this one I’m pretty sure you’ll win.”
? ? ?
“TELL ME,” ANNA said a half hour later, still trying to catch her breath. “Do people just stop doing this when the real heat starts next month?”
She felt him smiling, but he rolled to one side so the breeze from the window could wash over her. “Is that better?”
“I wasn’t complaining. Do people stop in hot weather?”
He said, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the bathtub.”
Anna giggled, and was surprised at herself for it.
Jack lifted his head to peek at her, gave a low sound of satisfaction, and dropped it again.
“So,” he said. “You were telling me about men covering up women to ward off the interest of other men. You want me to wear a veil and robes?”
Anna took a journal from under her pillow and began to flap it like a fan. “I’m considering it.” And then: “You know the strangest thing about being married?”
He lifted his head again, one brow raised.
“The playfulness. I never anticipated that, and now it makes me sad to think I might have gone my whole life without it. Did you expect it to be like this?”
“I hoped, is the way I’d put it.”
“But how did you know to hope for it?”
“My parents,” he said. “They are affectionate with each other, and my brothers have that too, with their wives. Each in his own way.” He thought for a moment. “Some more successfully than others.”
“Is that an Italian thing, do you think?”
He wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow. “I couldn’t claim that. You remember Giacalone the tailor.”
“Now that you remind me. ‘Why did you kill your wife?’ in Sicilian.”
He grinned at her. “We are an emotional people, in all directions.”
“From the stories I think my parents were affectionate,” Anna said. She was quiet, but he could hear her thoughts spinning, and he understood.
“I have an idea.”