The dice were scooped up, returned, and in the brief pause while odds were calculated and purses weighed, the clink, clink, clink I was waiting for sounded. I clenched my fingers around the half-empty drink, the silver ring scratching the glass.
The Sheriff carried a void around him. I’d never gotten close enough before, but I’d heard the tales. He didn’t smell of anything, didn’t particularly look like anyone familiar, but if he let you near, people were sucked in. Once you penetrated that inner circle, you were bound. A kind of magic perhaps, or just well-crafted charm.
My knuckles blanched, and I rested the glass on the narrow table in front of me as sweat condensed on my palm.
“Quite the night.” The Sheriff eased himself onto the bench beside me. He crossed one leg over the other, the silver spurs flashing in the firelight.
There was no need to be subtle. He’d spotted me the moment he entered the room, a dog on a scent. It’s what I did.
“Can I get you a drink?” I moved toward my pocket, but he gripped my sleeve. His thumb slid over my wrist, massaging my pounding pulse.
“No need to be nervous.” His fingers slid down my hand, and he tapped the ring on my finger. “Unless you’re being watched?”
Clement threw the dice again and hissed low. The man’s hand dropped from his shoulder, and Clement moved to the side as another took his place. He glanced toward my corner, and I flicked my attention back to the Sheriff, but his gaze burned through my hood.
“Husband?” The Sheriff leaned back against the wall, his arm resting on the window ledge with his body still turned to me. His blond hair was long and tied at the nape of his neck, face pale, but full. Not the look of a man who had been running from half the bounty hunters in the country for years.
“Brother-in-law,” I whispered.
“He’s not particularly good at dice.”
“He doesn’t know how to gamble.”
The Sheriff’s gaze snapped back to me, one side of his mouth tipping up. He leaned forward, his other hand swiftly moving aside the folds of my cloak to rest on my thigh. “Does he always watch you this closely?” His gray eyes moved back and forth between mine. The gap between us narrowed and his breath washed over me—tasteless, odorless, an unknown.
“He likes to remind me of my duty.” I gulped down the rest of the ale, grateful for the giddy rush of warmth that bloomed under my skin.
The Sheriff’s hand slid up my thigh, squeezing my loosening muscles. “He wishes you were his.”
I shrugged. My face was still turned, my clothing unidentifiable. Clement shouldn’t recognize me, but still, my gut twisted. “Is he looking?”
“He can’t take his eyes off you, but that’s half the fun.” He winked. “Two more, I think.” He strode to the bar, his shoulders pulled back, confidence palpable.
I kept my face turned to the side, but I knew Clement clocked his every step.
The Sheriff handed me another ale, and I buried my face in it, cursing the blush rising up my neck.
He turned back to me, angling his body so I was partially hidden, his hand returning to my upper thigh. His fingers stroked small circles as he talked, creeping tantalizingly higher. “So, I noticed that the prince buys you gifts?”
My answer was incoherent as he gently brushed my crease. My body pulsed in anticipation.
“How many women does he have on the go?”
“He’s currently unattached,” my reply was slightly breathless. “So, as many as he wants.”
“And your brother-in-law doesn’t like that.”
“He doesn’t like a lot of things.”
His fingers swirled again, and I took another deep drink.
“They’re very tight-lipped at the castle. It’s good to find someone who will talk. This town too, it’s full of secrets.”
“The murdered women? Were they linked to the deaths of the prince’s fiancées?” Did I sound too eager? My head lightened as the ale sloshed through my system.
“If you’re worried about your position in the castle, that is, you should be safe. All the women had something in common, either wealth, or rare jewels, or magic. However, when the prince was banished up here by the queens, there were rumors of one too many bodies piling up that even the palace couldn’t sweep under the rug.” His fingers continued to circle, tearing my focus from his words.
“That’s not what the prince told me,” I said. “He’d said he left to forge his own path, to escape his royal duties.” Had I fallen for it? For him, so easily?
