Of course she was, and Oskar couldn’t blame her. And he would do all in his power to see that she got home safely.
Even if it broke his heart.
Chapter 12
Lily sat at the window and stared out. A thaw had set in and the snow had begun to melt, pouring off the roof in a constant, drip, drip, drip, and sending little streams cascading down the street outside. Lily sighed, propped her chin on her hand and watched, feeling bored and restless.
Three days had passed since Kai Stewart and Conall Sinclair had arrived in Edinburgh. Three days since the incident with Bryn Fletcher and his gang. Four days since Oskar had kissed her.
And he’d barely spoken to her in all that time.
It was maddening. There was so much unfinished business hanging in the air between them. What he’d done to Bryn Fletcher. The burned-out townhouse. The discovery of Alfred Brewer in Edinburgh. That kiss...
She surged to her feet. Enough. She crossed to the pegs on the wall and took down her cloak. She needed to get out. If she sat in this house any longer, she’d go stark-raving mad!
She threw on her cloak and was approaching the front door when it suddenly rattled and swung open from the other side, letting in a draft of cold air. Oskar stepped inside, shaking water from his hair. He froze when he spotted Lily.
“What’s going on?”
She crossed her arms. “I’m going for a walk.”
He shook his head. “That isnae a good idea.”
“Neither is me staying in this house! If I do, I might end up committing murder! Am I your prisoner?” She glowered at him and he said nothing. “No? Then get out of my way!”
Before he could stop her, Lily pushed past and slipped through the door. She was hit by a wave of cold air and after the stuffiness of the townhouse, it was invigorating.
She took a deep breath, then marched off—uphill this time, towards the crag at the top that housed the castle. She’d seen hardly anything of fifteenth century Edinburgh—except for the dank alleys when she’d bolted from Bryn’s gang and that hardly counted.
Above, the sky was a bright, crisp blue and the wind that howled down the narrow street was cold enough to sting her cheeks. She heard heavy footsteps behind her and Oskar suddenly fell into step beside her.
“Lily, ye are being stubborn,” he rumbled, his voice low. “Come back to the townhouse where I can keep ye safe.”
In the sunlight his hair looked like beaten copper and his blue eyes shone. Why did he have to be so god-damned good-looking? And why did he have to look at her like that, in that way that made her stomach do a little flutter? She was angry with him, damn it!
“I’m not stubborn,” Lily said, forcing a shrug. “I’m just tired of being cooped up. And I want to look around.”
“But it’s—”
“Not safe. Yeah, I know. You must have told me a million times already. Now unless you are going to throw me over your shoulder and carry me home like some cave man—which I wouldn’t suggest if you want to keep your wedding tackle in one piece—I suggest you move!”
He blew out his cheeks. “Fine. But I’m coming with ye.”
“Suit yourself.”
