Ronan went long-strided across the room and secured the banging shutter.
A task he executed too hastily, for when he yanked on the rain-soaked shutter, slamming it into place, the wretched thing pinched two of his fingers.
Gritting his teeth, he resisted the urge to howl in pain.
“Leave Maldred in the remote past where he belongs,” he said as soon as he trusted himself to speak. “He is undeserving of your sympathy and” — his gaze lit on his leather bag, the neatly folded piles of his journeying gear lining the great four-poster bed — “if you would hear the truth of it, I was packing for a journey. But days —”
“A long one and far from here — judging by what I have seen.” Disappointment flickered in Lady Gelis’s eyes. “I knew it was true.”
Ronan started toward her, one hand raised in denial. “ ’Tis no’ what you think, lass. I packed — and unpacked — days ago. My travel goods were returned to yon strongbox long ere you arrived.”
Doubt creased her brow. “But —”
“I cannot explain why my gear was strewn about the bedchamber.” He grasped her upper arms. “I can only swear that I had no hand in it. And” — he drew a breath, not liking how the brightness in her eyes was making his chest hurt — “I will get to the bottom of it and ensure the like doesn’t happen again.”
He glanced at the empty table. “None of it.”
“I believe you. Nor am I frightened here.” She looked down at his hands holding her, then back up at him. “I also know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt me.”
Ronan released her at once and turned aside before she could see him wince.
The odd ache in his chest grew hotter, tighter.
She should be frightened.
Very frightened.
Instead, she slipped around him, her attar of roses scent floating about her like a fragrant cloud, her damnable green bauble glittering in the soft glow of the hearth fire.
Ronan reached to curl his hands around his sword belt, only to remember he wasn’t wearing one.
He frowned, folding his arms instead.
She smoothed her skirts. Then, putting her hands on her hips, she placed herself just so that she effectively blocked his way to the door.
“Well?” She angled her head.
“We have naught else to speak of this e’en,” he said, knowing it wasn’t the answer she’d wanted. He knew, too, that the words would cut deeper than any sword.
But if he stayed any longer, he’d regret more than her mere presence.
Wishing it were not so, he turned to leave. “I’ll order the house guard to patrol the corridor outside your door. Your night rest will not be disturbed.”
“Wait.”
The word fell between them, an iron weight around his ankle.
“I will not have any night’s rest unless you tell me where you meant to go.”
Ronan frowned.
She flicked a glance at his travel gear. “I am a curious woman.”
An iron yoke seemed to settle onto Ronan’s shoulders, joining the shackle at his foot.
He cleared his throat, risked one answer-seeking glance at the ceiling.
But the age-blackened rafters remained mute.
