"Yes, well, that's really all there was to it." Looking ahead, she paced on. "You were restless, but your skull was intact-it was all just the pain."
Lucifer glanced at her. Why hadn't she taken the opportunity to tell him of her vigil by his bed? He'd put her in a position of being grateful to him; why hadn't she evened the score?
They strolled past a succession of neat cottages and on around the curving lane. The Manor came into sight.
"Very well," he said. "I now know your story. I also know that you were in Horatio's drawing room before I entered, and that you were there after I was hit."
"You know nothing of the sort."
He looked smugly superior-she was watching from the corner of her eye.
"You can't possibly tell it was me from a mere touch." The glance she flung at him was both irate and uncertain.
"I can. I did. I know it was you."
"You can't be sure."
"Hmm… perhaps not. Why not touch me again, just to see if I'm certain?"
She stopped and faced him, latent sparks in her eyes-
"Hoi! Miss Phyllida!"
They swung around. A heavy man in a leather apron and vest was lumbering down the common toward them.
"The blacksmith?"
"Yes-Thompson."
Thompson approached. His gaze on Lucifer, he nodded respectfully. "Sir." He nodded at Phyllida, then looked back at Lucifer. "I just wanted to apologize, like, for any bruises you mighta taken when we dumped you in my dray. 'Course, we thought you was the murderer and you weren't easy to lift, but I wouldn't want no hard feelings."
Lucifer smiled. "None taken. I don't bruise easily."
"Well." Thompson blew out a relieved breath and grinned back. "That's all right, then. Not but what it was no fit welcome to the village, 'specially not with a bash on the head an' all."
Phyllida inwardly squirmed. She glanced up the lane toward the Manor.
"Has Sir Jasper got any clues as to this murderer, then, sir?"
Her "No" clashed with Lucifer's "None"-Phyllida nearly outwardly squirmed when she realized the question had not been addressed to her.
With a subtly amused glance, Lucifer added, "Sir Jasper's investigations are proceeding."
"Aye, well…"
Phyllida waited while Thompson pointed out the forge on the far side of the common and assured Lucifer that he could count on him for any assistance, either in laying the murderer by the heels or with his horses.
With a final nod, Thompson took himself off back over the common.
She stepped out again; Lucifer prowled by her side, his stride an exercise in effortless grace. He murmured, "It seems a peaceful little place."
"Usually." She glanced up and found him scanning the common and the church on the crest.
They avoided the duck pond and its vocal inhabitants and reached the Manor's gate. She opened it and stepped through; Lucifer had to duck the trailing fingers of wisteria hanging from the framing arch. She led the way around the small fountain. Gaining the porch, she realized he'd fallen behind. Looking back, she saw him studying a bed of burgeoning peonies. His gaze moved on to a bed of roses and lavender, then he glanced up, saw her waiting, and lengthened his stride.
He joined her on the porch, but glanced back at the garden.
"What is it?"