Freyja shot out of bed as if ejected from a fired cannon and pointed imperiously at the door.
“Out!” she said.
The man flashed her a grin, which was all too visible in the near-light room.
“I cannot, sweetheart,” he said. “That way lies certain doom. I must go out the window or hide somewhere in here.”
“Out!”
She did not lower her arm—or her chin. “I do not harbor felons. Or any other type of male creature. Get out!”
Somewhere beyond the room were the sounds of a small commotion in the form of excited voices all speaking at once and footsteps—all of them approaching nearer.
“No felon, sweetheart,” the man said. “Merely an innocent mortal in a ton of trouble if he does not disappear fast. Is the wardrobe empty?”
Freyja's nostrils flared.
“Out!” she commanded once more.
But the man had dashed across the room to the wardrobe, yanked the door open, found it empty, and climbed inside.
“Cover for me, sweetheart,” he said just before shutting the door from the inside, “and save me from a fate worse than death.”
SLIGHTLY MARRIED
A Dell Book / April 2003
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2003 by Mary Balogh
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Published simultaneously in Canada
eISBN: 978-0-440-33449-1
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