An hour later, she found herself looking over the side of an old fortress.
“Can you imagine the effort that would have to go into something like this?” she asked, running her hands over the stone. “The shell cement, the size of the rocks, each one having to be placed just so.”
“Ah, never take a historian to a fort, eh?”
“By gods, take a look at this-!”
“Whoa!” He lunged over to grab the back of her shirt as she tilted dangerously over the edge of the wall. “Would you mind staying on top of the fort, please? Or at least going down via the usual ways? Like stairs?”
She laughed, let him pull her up, and leaned back on the wall. “It’s just remarkable! Bloody remarkable!”
He eyed her proximity to a gap in the wall and came over to lean beside her. “It is pretty interesting. Then again, it’s pretty interesting that they came all the way from Spain to be here. A journey that would’ve taken months, maybe even more than a year in their time. And they didn’t even have the amenities that we have on ships now.”
Oh, be still my throbbing historical heart.
“Want to go see the barracks, then?”
“Surely.”
He held out his arm with exaggerated courtesy and led her down the steps to the area in question.
“Rather dim, isn’t it?”
She looked around. “Worse than that, crowded. There would have been at least forty men in here.”
“Uncomfortable where women are concerned, eh?” He leaned over like he was going to give her a quick hug, then leaned back. “Well. I think there’s a gift shop. Interested?”
“Hm…I guess. Can’t imagine what they’d be selling though. Rocks? Gun bits?”
“You might be pleasantly surprised.”
She wasn’t. There were fake guns, real gun bits, maps, whistles, and other such things she felt belonged under the title of “boy gifts”.
“What about these?” Jason held up a box bearing the titled Calligraphy.
Shuffling around a stand of wooden whistles, she came over to look at them. He was holding it about chest height and she ended up balancing herself on her toes and grabbing his arm to get a look.
“Ooh, glass pens!”
“Glass pens?” He flipped the box to look at the back. “Oh! Glass calligraphy pens. Do you think it works better than brass?”
“Steel, anymore.”
“Steel, then.”
“I don’t know, I’ve never had a chance to use one of the glass ones.”
“Would you like to?”
“Will you try them with me?”
His smile made her acutely aware that she was leaning on him. That her hands were closed over warm skin and taut muscle. Her breasts were brushing his ribs. His breath was rustling her hair.
She jumped back. “I mean the pens, you know.”
“Oh, I know. I just couldn’t resist the innuendo.”
“You’re a bad man.” She accused.
“No. Sadly, I’m a good man.” He gave her a little half smile. “Let’s go shopping before I change my mind about that.”
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