Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [99]
Swinehild did up the buttons on her bodice, pulled open the door to a rackety clothes press behind the door, and took out a heavy cloak.
"I'll just make up a snack to take along," she said, slipping out into the dark hall. Lafayette followed with the lantern. In the kitchen he stood by restlessly, shifting from one foot to the other and listening intently for sounds from upstairs while Swinehild packed a basket with a loaf of coarse bread, a link of blackish sausage, apples, and yellow cheese, added a paring knife and a hand-blown bottle of a dubious-looking purplish wine.
"That's very thoughtful of you," Lafayette said, taking the basket. "I hope you'll allow me to offer a small additional token of my esteem."
"Keep it," Swinehild said as he dug into his pocket. "We'll need it on the trip."
"We?" Lafayette's eyebrows went up. "How far away does your mother live?"
"What have you got, one of them mother fixations? My old lady died when I was a year old. Let's dust, Lafe. We've got ground to cover before himself gets on our trail." She pulled open the back door, allowing ingress to a gust of chill night air.
"B-but you can't come with me!"
"Why can't I? We're going to the same place."
"You want to see the duke too? I thought you said—"
"A pox on the duke! I just want to get to the big town, see the bright lights, get in on a little action before I'm too old. I've spent the best years o' my life washing out that big elephant's socks after I took 'em off him by force—and what do I get for it? A swell right-arm action from swinging a skillet in self-defense!"
"But—what will people think? I mean, Hulk isn't likely to understand that I have no interest in you—I mean no improper interest—"
Swinehild lifted her chin and thrust out her lower lip defiantly—an expression with which Princess Adoranne had broken hearts in job lots.
"My mistake, noble sir. Now that you mention it, I guess I'd slow you down. You go ahead. I'll make it on my own." She turned and strode off along the moon-bright street. This time O'Leary was sure he saw a tear wink on her cheek.
"Swinehild, wait!" He dashed after her, plucked at her cloak. "I mean—I didn't mean—"
"Skip it, if you don't mind," she said in a voice in which Lafayette detected a slight break, ruthlessly suppressed. "I got by O.K. before you showed up, and I'll get by after you're gone."
"Swinehild, to tell you the truth," O'Leary blurted, trotting beside her, "the reason I was, ah, hesitant about our traveling together was that I, ah, feel such a powerful attraction for you. I mean, I'm not sure I could promise to be a perfect gentleman at all times, and me being a married man, and you a married woman, and . . . and . . ." He paused to gulp air as Swinehild turned, looked searchingly into his face, then smiled brilliantly and threw her arms around his neck. Her velvet-smooth lips pressed hard against his; her admirable contours nestled against him . . .
"I was afraid I was losing my stuff," she confided, nibbling his ear. "You're a funny one, Lafe. But I guess it's just because you're such a gent, like you said, that you think you have to insult a girl."
"That's it exactly," Lafayette agreed hurriedly. "That and the thought of what my wife and your husband would say."
"Is that's all that's worrying you, forget it." Swinehild tossed her head. "Come on; if we stretch a leg, we can be in Port Miasma by cockcrow."
Three
Topping a lose rise of stony ground, Lafayette looked down across a long slope of arid, moonlit countryside to the silvered expanse of a broad lake that stretched out to a horizon lost in distance, its smooth surface broken by a chain of islands that marched in a long curve that was an extension of the row of hills to his left. On the last island in line, the