“I know you are there,” Everard said.
A figure stood up on the north side of our house wearing a ninja-like get up. One of Solentine’s people. Had to be. He’d left a babysitter for us.
“Get down here,” Everard ordered. “I have a job for you.”
The figure tossed a rope down and slipped into our courtyard.
Everard looked in Gort’s direction. The old mercenary hurried over.
“Take him to the basement.”
Gort nodded to his sons. They flanked Tillmar like two hounds and herded him inside.
Everard looked up at me.
“Don’t walk down the stairs by yourself. I will come and get you.”
I chased Kaiden out, Clover helped me throw on one of my two housedresses—it still hurt to raise my arms—and headed for the stairs.
“My lady, your hair!”
“Never mind.”
Someone had broken into our home trying to murder us. The condition of my hair was the least of my worries.
I marched out the door and to the stairs. Everard was already there, blocking the way. He saw me. I was on the top of the stairs, and he was one step down. We were almost the same height, and I saw his expression shift. His eyes darkened. A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. My brain identified the look and screeched to a halt.
For a moment we just stared at each other.
“Your hair is down,” he said. The smile got deeper.
In Rellas, the only time a man would see a woman with her hair down without any sort of decoration would be if they were about to climb into the same bed together.
“For crying out loud, it’s not like I ran out here wearing nothing but lace and leather.”
His eyes went wide. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
And that was exactly the wrong thing to say. Me and my big mouth.
I jerked my hands up, rolling my hair into a bun. “Clover! I need a hairpin!”
She darted out of my bedroom, thrust a hairpin at me, and ran back inside.
I pinned my bun in place. “There, it’s fine now.”
“Leather and lace. I’m still trying to picture it.”
“Don’t.”
“Is it not usually either or? How would one combine the two . . .” He gave me a contemplative glance.
“You need to broaden your horizons. Are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?
“You were cut.”
“I wasn’t. I’m wearing chainmail under my clothes.”
