“She was asking about the ale. Said she might have an idea who took it. Then it started to rain.” He shrugged. “Thought we’d have the conversation somewhere dry, not that the burlap did much to keep out the storm.”
“Oh right. I see,” I said in a small voice.
A pause. “That bothered you? That I might have invited a woman into my wagon for more than just a chat?”
“No, of course not,” I said quickly. “It’s no business of mine. But you can’t blame me for thinking you might have wanted to wait out the storm with her instead of coming all the way to the Ship’s Anchor.”
“Hmm.” He folded his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall. “Well, I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to come here and meet you like I said I would.”
Suddenly, he pushed away from the wall and strode toward me. When he reached the tub, he braced both palms on either side and leaned so close I could smell the heat of his skin. He didn’t dip his gaze, but his proximity still sent a shiver down my spine, coating my arms in chill bumps despite the hot bath.
He tucked his forefinger beneath my chin, and the chills were replaced by a storm of sparks. “So let’s see this thing through, darling. I’ll be downstairs.”
I couldn’t find my voice. And when he pushed away and vanished out the door, I didn’t even breathe for several long moments. Eventually, I sagged, fully submerging myself, and blew out a long breath. Bubbles erupted around me.
I tried to shove the moment out of my mind and failed. My thudding heart refused to let me.
* * *
Ragnar sat in the far corner with his back pressed up against the wall. His keen eyes surveyed the door leading outside, as well as the counter where Nilsa was in deep conversation with a tipsy pixie whose wings were tossing her from side to side liked a ship caught in a storm. I slowed on the bottom step, suddenly unsure if this was a good idea.
Not that I’d ever been sure.
As if sensing my presence, Ragnar looked my way. He visibly stiffened. With a slight smile, I cut a path toward him, my long dress swishing around my booted feet. I’d chosen one of my favorite ensembles. The bodice laced up the front, dipping low over a white blouse with frilly edges along the sleeves and the collar. A necklace dangled between my bosom, the gemstone in the center glinting from the reflection of the hearth’s firelight.
When I reached his table, I tossed my braided silver hair over my shoulder and settled onto the bench across from his. “You always sit in that corner, even when there are plenty of open seats.”
“It has the best view of the door. Where else would you sit?”
I leaned forward onto my elbows. “Well, I’d sit anywhere. But I’m not expecting someone to barge through the door. Things like that don’t happen here in the Isles.”
“Someone stole all our kegs.”
“Point taken.” I frowned. Truth was, I didn’t know how it could have even happened. The island usually protected us from these kinds of things. No one could land on our shores unless they had good intentions, and those who already lived here valued the lack of crime too much to steal.
“You want some food before we start hunting for our thief?” Ragnar asked, his deep, melodic voice cutting through my thoughts.
I pointedly looked at the window. Rain slashed at the rattling glass, and the heavy boom of thunder still echoed from time to time. The worst of the Elding had passed, but I’d had enough rain for one day. I wasn’t going out there hunting anytime soon.
“I noticed several of the merchants at the table near the door,” he said. “We don’t have to go out in the storm to start asking questions.”
I cocked my head, smiling. “I think this calls for a slice of apple pie, then.”
15
LILIA
“Did you happen to notice anyone hauling big barrels of ale across the meadow?” I asked hopefully.
The dwarf’s eyes darted to Ragnar’s scowling face and back to my smile again. We’d taken a fairly obvious approach. I’d chatter nicely with everyone while he stood there looking threatening. So far, it had done nothing to scare forth any answers.
“Was I supposed to?” the dwarf asked, scratching his long, forked beard. “‘Cause I didn’t know I needed to be on the lookout for any barrels.”
“No, it’s just…well, they’re my barrels, and they’ve gone missing.” I indicated at Ragnar, who seemed to take that as a signal to deepen his scowl. “His, too. We’re tavern owners, you see.”
“Are you Lilia?” the dwarf asked, perking up.
“That’s right,” I said with an encouraging nod.
