“I wonder…” Warden looks around, scratching at the scruff on his chin.
“What do you wonder?” I ask, kicking off my shoes.
“I wonder why I wasn’t offered this room when I stayed,” Warden rasps. “It’s a good room fit for a Brag.”
“Because you were a filthy monster straight off the road. I didn’t know you from any of the Reivers or Redcaps who frequent my premises.”
“I would hope you never let a Redcap stay in this room.”
“What sort of landlady do you take me for?” I grumble at him. “This is my honeymoon suite.”
Warden blinks at me.
“When two humans get married, they go on something called a honeymoon to get to know each other.”
“Humans do not mate when they find their beloved?”
“They do, but also they get to mate all over again once they are married.”
“What is married?”
“Where they pledge to be with each other until death.”
Warden’s gaze rakes over me, and he drops to one knee, taking my hand.
“My lady Hazel,” he says in all seriousness. “I pledge to be with you until death.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Are we married by your human customs now?”
I’m doing everything I can not to smile, but I can’t help myself.
“Yes, Warden.” I chuckle. “I believe we are.”
A relieved smile spreads over his face. “Good. It means we can get on with the mating.”
My hand goes to my stomach. Not that there’s any evidence of what he, and Long Meg, claim is a pregnancy.
“I think we’ve already done the mating part.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned,” Warden growls, taking me in his arms and glancing at the door to the bath.
“I presume my filthy little mate will want to join me in scrubbing off the last of the Thegn?”
“What?” I mock gasp. “You’re calling me filthy?”
“You haven’t seen yourself, my lady.” He rubs his face against mine. “But I have, and I believe you need to be relieved of your clothing,” he rumbles. “And thoroughly washed.”
“Oh, you don’t like a filthy mate?” I tease, slowly peeling my dress from my shoulders.
“Do you want to find out?” Warden growls.
But before I can answer, there’s a knock at the door.
“Ignore it,” Warden rumbles.
“I can’t. If it’s Hilda, she won’t stop knocking.” I sigh.
Being back at the Dark Gibbet is like pulling on a comfortable old sweater. We might have been here half a day, and I might have spent most of that time making sure the place hadn’t fallen down in my absence (It hasn’t. In fact, if anything, it has flourished annoyingly. It’s almost as if I never left.) But it is like I never left at all.
Millie, as Long Meg informed me with some glee, has kept the place running. Mostly because she is one of the daughters of Duddo and was here all along to keep me safe.
