Page 14 of To Hunt a Ruby Remedy

“I’m trying to make her a wealthy woman, since you don’t seem to understand the value of coin.”

“Ranulf,” Scarlette whispered, placing her hand on my forearm.

If the hunter was at the cottage, I’d be able to avoid him more easily than if I had no idea where he was. And maybe I could lead him away and convince him the dragon he had heard about flew over the Drakona Forest but made its home in the mountains.

Plus, I liked the idea of taking this man’s money. Since Scarlette would no doubt insist on giving up her bed, it only seemed fitting that she get paid for the inconvenience.

I stopped holding the door, sweeping Scarlette back with my arm so she wasn’t hit when it slammed into the wall under the force of the hunter’s continued pressure. The man nearly fell on his face, but he recovered quickly. Then he spotted Scarlette and the look he gave her had me wanting to shove him out once more.

“Let me gather my things. It will only take me a moment to clear out of the guest room,” she announced.

I was fairly certain she only had a single change of clothes, so I wouldn’t have long alone with the hunter. I stepped between him and Scarlette’s retreating figure. “A half silver per night.”

“Outrageous. The finest inn wouldn’t charge so much.”

“I thought you wanted to make my grandmother wealthy.”

“A silver for the week.”

“A silver for four days.”

“Fine.” The huntsman dug into his belt pouch.

“Oh, and don’t even think about touching Scarlette. In fact, don’t even look at her. Understood?”

“If she opts to enjoy my bed instead of yours, that’s her business.”

I snorted. “Like you’d offer her any enjoyment.”

I heard Scarlette’s quick footsteps and turned around.

She looked past me at the huntsman, and while there was a smile on her face, I could tell it was forced. “The room’s all yours,” she told him.

He shoved a coin at me, grabbed his pack and went down the hall. The door slammed closed behind him.

Scarlette bit her lip. “Do you think your grandmother would mind if I borrowed her bed while she is gone?”

“Of course she wouldn’t, but you aren’t sleeping in her room.” I hurried to explain before she leaped to the wrong conclusion. “You can take the attic. I’m not leaving you down here by yourself with the hunter. I’ll sleep in Grandmother’s room.”

Scarlette glanced in the direction of the closed door. Biting her lip, she glanced back at me. “I met Gideon in Wulfkin. I don’t think he’s a danger to me. He’s too obsessed with the dragon he thinks lives in the forest. He only cares about me insofar as I can give him information. Which I can’t.”

“Nevertheless, I’d prefer for you to sleep in the attic.” I didn’t mention what the huntsman had said while Scarlette gathered her things. She was probably right that the man only saw her as a tool, but he wasn’t aware that Scarlette knew nothing about the dragon. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to get information out of her by any means available. I’d simply make sure he didn’t have the chance.

The morning after the hunter—Gideon—arrived at the cottage, I was in a foul mood. I hadn’t gotten enough sleep, I knew I couldn’t work on the charm for Scarlette today because I had to lead the hunter toward the mountains, and worst of all, the blackberry pie was gone. When I had retired to Grandmother’s room the night before, there was still a third of the pie remaining. I had heard Gideon get up in the middle of the night, but since he hadn’t gone near the attic stairs, I had let him be. Apparently, he had snuck out to eat the rest of the pie.

Scarlette gave me a nervous look as she kneaded the bread dough. The early hour had not improved my mood. She worked silently, warily. That only made things worse.

“I’m not going to bite your head off if you talk,” I snapped.

She pressed her lips together, and I wanted to curse. Great. Now I was taking my frustration out on her. We had finally reached a balance, and Gideon had thrown me right back into being a surly bastard. Scarlette didn’t deserve my anger.

I looked closer, wondering if an apology would be enough to fix this, and realized she was holding back laughter. I lowered my head onto my arms on the table. “Go ahead, get it out.”

She didn’t laugh, but her voice rang with merriment. “Not a morning person, I take it?”

“I am neither a fan of mornings nor people.”

Her laughter filled the room. “There were plenty of blackberries in that patch. I can make another pie.”

---