13. Chapter 13 #3
I hadn’t changed from last night, so I was still wearing an old pair of trousers and a shirt that barely fit underneath my cloak. “Then I’d have to hike home in damp clothes because there’s no way they’ll dry in time.”
That grin morphed into a smirk. “Or wear just the cloak.”
Parts of me could not take this teasing, and not just my flaming cheeks. Something had changed between us this morning—something that could become addictive if I got much more of it. “Okay, shower time!”
“Ladies first,” he said, glancing down at boot prints that were too big to be my own, protective Nocthel instincts showing. “I’ll keep a lookout.”
I hurried through my shower because fighting the frigid torrent’s chill ate away at my magic. While I got clean, Rowan steadfastly kept his eyes trained on the paths leading to and from the waterfall.
A gentleman too. Too much to like to lose him so soon.
When it was his turn, I peeked at him only once on my way up the trail toward the wardstone…
All right, twice, because right then, he wasn’t my patient.
He was just a man I was enjoying the afternoon with.
The first was by accident. I wasn’t proud of it, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t already seen it all before.
The powerful lines of his back, the shimmer of water on his skin—at least I could keep those memories long after he was gone.
The stone near the waterfall was also the one closest to the road leading past Selmont.
My wet hair made the forest feel colder than before as I walked.
The wardstone itself looked like nothing more than a stray boulder with a bit of etching on it, half-buried in moss and roots to the mundane eye.
But to me, the surrounding air seemed to vibrate with the buzz of a bee swarm.
It pulsed softly when my fingertips touched it. I closed my eyes, letting the finest thread of magic seep from my fingertips. Its pull was consistently strong, overly so, like it was starving.
Not good. I’d be a husk of a woman before this week was out with healing Rowan and supplementing the wards.
An ugly thought sprang to mind. To keep the wards up, I’d have to skip healing him, meaning he might stay a while longer.
So selfish. And yet, that might have to be the case regardless of my desire to keep him around. I pulled back, not ready to commit to shoring them up just yet.
I’d been so absorbed in testing the ward and daydreaming inappropriately about my patient that I hadn’t heard the hooves crunching on the leaves behind me until they were ten feet away.
Not Rowan.
I knew that immediately, instinctively.
I tensed, slowly lifting my hands from the stone, willing my pulse to slow. Travelers sometimes passed by on the road, but none came this far down this side path.
“’Scuse us, miss.” A deep voice. Unfamiliar.
I whirled around. Two men on horses, too close to a woman alone in the middle of nowhere.
That alone told me everything. But the way they carried themselves, the mismatched pieces of leather and mail, and the swords at their belts screamed one identity: Mercenary.
One man was broad and scarred, with black hair and a beard down to his chest. The other was well-built with a shaved head.
Both looked like they’d been riding hard. Their hands rested too close to their weapons to be anything but a message.
I pulled my cloak tighter around myself. “Can I help you?”
The hairy one attempted a gap-toothed smile. It didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes. “We’re looking for a man who was last seen around these parts.”
“A man?” My voice didn’t squeak, which was a minor miracle.
“Aye,” the bald one said. “Tall fellow. Brown hair. Expensive armor. Very fine steed. Thought he came this way after the storm.”
Every muscle in my body seized. Nothing about this felt right. Think, Lunette. Lie.
The problem was that I’d never had to lie with two armed strangers staring at me like they already suspected I was hiding something.
My mind reached for something plausible and found nothing.
Just Rowan’s face. Just the thought of them finding him helpless in my bed.
I stepped back, legs itching to run, before I thought better of it.
The hairy one’s hand fully gripped the hilt of his sword.
The bald mercenary hopped off his horse. “We’re not looking to harass a woman, miss. Just for information about the man. Our employer says he’s dangerous.”
Definitely dangerous. And the not harassing a woman part already smelled like a lie.
I swallowed hard. Too late. My hesitation was a confession all on its own.
The broad one found his way to the ground next. “Why don’t you tell us where he is, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. The word landed like a hand already on my throat.
Both men smiled, but neither smile was pleasant.
The hairy man grabbed my arm. His grip was hard enough to bruise, meant to frighten as much as restrain. It would work… Until it didn’t.
I smiled back, and as I wove the threads, I imagined the satisfying snap that would render his arm permanently useless.
Time to show them the real Fae bitch.