Ronan let out a long breath. “Anice and my dog, Buckie, woke me,” he started again, the correction earning him an appreciative tail swish. “Anice said the victuals I’d sent up for you went missing and that —”
“So you admit they were meant for me?” Gelis pretended to examine her fingernails. She had him now. “Not for the two of us?”
“I hardly see how that matters.” He brushed at his plaid, looking more trapped than if she’d pinned him in a corner with a twelve-foot lance.
“It matters to me.”
He lowered his brows, but said nothing.
Gelis felt her lips quirk.
“You needn’t glower so,” she said, allowing the quirk to flash into her brightest smile.
If anything, his mien darkened.
“I am not wroth with you. Even if I am not accustomed to discovering my evening repast has been tossed out the window.” She gave a light shrug, willing her smile to blaze. “Truth be told, I am quite content.”
The Raven humphed.
“That, sweet lass, I find hard to believe.” He looked at her, his brows arcing. “ ’Tis impossible for you to be at ease. Here, in this place” — he planted his fists on his hips — “and with me.”
She gave a soft laugh. “Nae, especially with you,” she declared, her breath catching.
Her heart leaped, some wild devil inside her making her close the distance between them and poke a finger into his proud, plaid-draped chest.
“Truth is, I welcome challenges,” she announced, jabbing her finger harder on each word. “I wouldn’t be my father’s daughter if I didn’t. So-o-o” — she lifted a fold of his tartan, ran her thumb over its soft warmth — “I’ll start by asking where you were going?”
“There arechallengeshere that would daunt even your redoubtable sire.” He narrowed his eyes at her, deftly ignoring her question. “Were the window shutters bolted or opened when Anice brought you up here?”
“They were flung wide, the wet wind gusting into the room.”
“And you shut them?”
“I did.”
From the door, his dog shifted and resettled his bulk with a grunt.
The Raven shot him an irritated look. “The shutters,” he continued when the beast stopped his scuffling, “did you notice anything unusual when you closed them?”
“You mean besides the whirling mist, denser than any I’ve ever seen, and my smashed feasting goods spread across the cobbles?”
“I mean . . .anything.”
“Perhaps the staves of what appeared to be a broken bathing tub?”
“The bathing tub as well?” His brows lowered. “You are certain?”
Rather than answer him, Gelis lifted her chin and fixed him with her best so-you’ d-doubt-me stare. A look that she’d learned at her father’s knee and that would have made a man of lesser mettle tremble in his boots.
The Raven remained unperturbed.
“You have peat ash on your face,” he said, reaching to brush his thumb across her cheek.
A grave mistake, for as soon as he touched her, her attar of roses scent wafted up to befuddle him. He swallowed hard, tried not to breathe until he’d wiped away the smudge.
But the scent was too seductive.
He bit back a groan, the heady fragrance thrusting him right back into his dreams until he could feel her melting against him, lush, warm, and pliant. As if they still kissed, he could feel her lips parting beneath his and the hot silken glide of her tongue over and around his.
