Learned Edmund looked up, saw her approach, and retreated to a safe distance.
It was probably because she was on such a ragged edge, but his alarm was almost soothing. At least here was someone who was afraidofher, and notforher.
Slate barked a laugh, reached out, and caught at the air a foot from Edmund’s face. He stared at her in alarm.
“Learned Edmund?”
“Yes?” he said warily.
“Thank you.”
One eyebrow went up. He made half a gesture, possibly part of a benediction, thought better of it, and said “Uh…you’re welcome?”
Slate pulled her hands through her hair. “Do you need anything?”
“I could use some water, if you want to go down to the river.”
She looked around for the bucket. Caliban, who had beenwalking back into camp, reached down, picked it up, and walked off again, without speaking.
Slate gritted her teeth at his back.
I should have left him in the cell.
Well. Excellent job,Caliban congratulated himself.The only way you could have made more of a hash of that was to accidentally run her through with your sword.
I did what I had to do.
The empty bucket knocked against his leg. He stepped cautiously down the pine-needle encrusted slope to the river.
He’d had some kind of thought, when he started talking, of saying, “I wasn’t sure if that was what you really wanted, but if you’re sure…” Of seeing if she was actually interested, not merely high on adrenaline and the body’s animal need not to die.
And then what?
He snorted.And then I would have told Learned Edmund to watch the horses and taken her the minute we were out of sight. Up against a tree if I had to.
Repeatedly.
She had been growing in his mind for weeks. Her anger and her stubbornness and the way she would grin suddenly when she worked out a problem in her mind. He wanted her to grin like that at him. He wanted to take her in his arms and feel the weight of her breasts in his hands and say things that made her laugh out loud and do things that made her cry out his name.
He knew better. He should have known better, anyway. He’d resigned himself to physical loneliness. The demon in his headwould be an unwelcome third in any bed. But somehow his body didn’t know that and it seemed to be dragging his heart along in its wake.
He had been wanting to say something for days now, but there was never a chance—not with Brenner like a jealous shadow at her heels.
And then he’d had a chance…and somehow the words had gotten tangled up and what had come out had been so painfully awkward that he was probably lucky she hadn’t stabbed him on the spot.
I did the right thing. She would have regretted it. Who wants to bed a possessed murderer?
Apparently for a moment last night, Slate had. He could still half-feel the path her fingertips had taken across his skin.
Perhaps he should dump some freezing water over his head.
The strong do not take advantage of the weak.
So why do I feel like such an idiot?
Caliban dipped his bucket in the stream, straightened up, and felt steel lying in a cold kiss across the back of his neck.
In a way, it was a relief. He’d known it was going to happen, and at least they could get it over with sooner rather than later.
