Somewhere between her stubborn questions and that damned look of finality, she had settled herself beneath his skin. Maxen clamped down on his jaw. He should have answered her. God help him, he should have answered her. The next time he saw her, he would. He rarely ever made the same mistake twice.
He slid the slipper into the inner pocket of his coat, sending a colddo not asklook when Dagger raised his brows. A better man would let her go. A better man wouldn’t be selfish. But he not a better man.
He was a beast.
“Let’s hunt.”
Chapter Thirteen
Calliope hurried throughthe Lanes of Brighton, Prince loping faithfully at her side, cold biting at her cheeks. Wind rose, whipping at the cloak she’d snatched up in her flight. She was only glad she’d left it draped forgotten over a box of candles in the first place. Her heart galloped like a runaway horse, her gaze darting from shadow to shadow. She didn’t even know where she was going, where she could go. An inn, certainly, but one far enough away from the shop she’d pulled together with her own hands. Away from the life she’d tried to carve. Away from Maxen Fury and the madness she’d stumbled into.
She and Prince rounded a corner near the edge of the market district when a carriage pulled up beside them. The man from inside waved for her to stop. Calliope slowed instinctively, clutching her valise tighter. This was not her landlord or any of his brood.
The door creaked open.
“Miss Turner?” A voice, smooth and startled, carried down the street. “What a surprise.”
Of all the men she could’ve run into tonight... “Oh, Mr. Peregrine.”
His features shifted from curiosity to something almost like concern. “Are you all right?”
“I’m . . .” How to answer that?
“Are you in trouble? I can help if you are.”
Prince growled. Calliope placed a hand on his head, reassuring him.
“I don’t mean to pry,” he glanced up and down the street, then back at her, “but it’s not safe to walk about on your own, even with your hound and dressed like that. Let me offer you a ride.”
Calliope really wanted to take him up on the offer. It was cold, night, and she wasn’t certain how long her hostage would stay tied. “I’d hate to be trouble...”
“Nonsense.” He stepped out and held the door wide open for her. “Where are you heading?”
Calliope hesitated. “I need to find lodgings for the night.”
“Ah. You’re in luck. I know an excellent place, and best of all, they take hounds as well.”
Relieved, Calliope nodded. Honestly, if she didn’t have a pistol tucked in her valise, she would never have agreed. The weapon, along with Prince, gave her just enough ease to accept his offer. “Then I shall rely on you just this once.”
“Of course.”
Prince hopped in first, and Calliope followed. The moment the wheels began to roll, she let herself exhale. Mr. Peregrine, who had settled across from her, rested a gloved hand casually on his knee. She couldn’t help noticing the blunt difference in his soft, brown leather gloves and Maxen’s dark, black ones. But then, these men were day and night, were they not? Even Mr. Peregrine’s eyes were a soft brown and his hair fair.
Did all the men here dress to match their features?
How peculiar.
“You look pale,” he said after a moment. “Are you sure there isn’t anything amiss?”
He must know there was, or she wouldn’t be looking for lodging this time of night. “I’m truly fine. There’s no need to worry about me.”
A soft sigh escaped him. “If you need help, Miss Turner, whatever it may be, I am at your disposal.”
Trust me, Mr. Peregrine, you do not want me to ask for help.She would only prove troublesome yet again. “Well, thank you. I shall keep that in mind.”
He inclined his head. “I heard an intruder broke into your shop.”
Could she even be taken aback at this point? “Word travels fast.”
