Page 12 of Of Glass and of Gold

A flash of heat brushed my cheeks. It may have been impressive when she did it, but the gloating? I could do without the gloating. “Answer me,” I barked.

“Maybe I’m here to stop you.” She reasserted her stance, her small body still primed for a fight.

“Stop me from what, exactly?” I sparred with my words, trying to cipher her intentions. Direct questions didn’t seem to be getting me anywhere, but nothing trains someone more for manipulating word play than being in politics.

She replied, “Someone lurking in the dark at a recently widowed woman’s home has nefarious intentions, wouldn’t you agree?”

If I had to guess, I’d say her eyebrow cocked at the end of her question. But like me, her face was mostly covered, and her loose hanging hood cloaked the rest in shadows. Perhaps she hadn't realized what she'd just admitted, that Mr. Gallagher did indeed lose his life, though her taunting confident tone held an allure like she knew exactly what she was saying.

“You mean like you’re doing?” My words came out wrapped in velvet, playing along with this game we'd begun. I didn't mind engaging, especially when it fed me more answers.

Her body tensed, though she tried her best to keep her stance open. That hit a nerve.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs stopping,” I said. “What kind of woman wants to strike against a grieving widow?” I asked in a condescending and sly manner. Calling her character into question was the first sign of an uncontrolled response I’d managed to get. Maybe getting under her skin would have her revealing something she didn’t intend to.

The tension in her shoulders melted away. “So you admit it?”

Her question flipped my understanding of the situation. “Admit what?”

“That she’s widowed?” Her insinuation was that she’d gotten me to reveal something.

“I—” I stumbled over what to say, not understanding the relevance of repeating what she’d previously thrown at me.

Unless she'd been baiting me.

Apparently that was all the ammunition she needed because she came at me again—only this time I was ready. Sending her fist flying, I shielded myself with my left forearm. Before she could prepare another hit, I sent her tumbling back with a kick of my boot against her abdomen. She fell, but saved her landing by using the momentum to roll. She wasted no time getting back on her feet.

She was trained well.

“Kicking a lady isn’t very nice.” I could hear the smile on her lips, even though she groaned through the pain.

“Oh, you’re no lady,” I crooned. No proper lady would have the skills she did. Still, the sight of her hand glued to her abdomen definitely didn’t make me feel like a man.

She straightened slowly, and before I opened my mouth to see if she was alright, her right arm cocked back. Shimmering moonlight off metal gave me the split second difference between life and death, because a moment later she sent the dagger hurtling in my direction. I leaned, twisting to the side, dodging just in time to watch it pierce the wooden fence at my back.

Almost soundlessly, she approached at full speed. I turned around just in time to duck and miss her right hook. She really expected to hit me with all the same moves a second time? Lunging forward, I tackled her middle while simultaneously hooking my right heel behind her right ankle. In one fast motion, I drew my heel back, forcing her to pivot. Before my next breath, I’d managed to wrap my arms around hers, pinning her back to my chest, locking her arms in place, and hovered my sword in front of her neck.

Her ragged breathing was the only sound between us. I had the leverage here, and we both knew it. Somehow she felt even smaller in my arms, but I didn’t dare relax my grip. “That wasn’t very nice,” I taunted, unsure why I didn’t spit out my threat right away. Lingering here would draw attention, and getting caught wasn’t in my plans for tonight.

“I’ll show you how nice I can be,” she gritted out.

She lifted her legs off the ground, and I grunted, trying to not to let her fall and take me down with her. My muscles strained, and I held my breath while counteracting her amplified weight. I crouched over her slight frame to keep her in my grip.

Too late I realized her maneuver.

Her head flew backwards, smashing into the side of my nose with an audible crack. Instinctively, my grip loosened, and before I could gather my wits, she dropped to the ground and her leg swept mine. My left side smashed against the ground.

Do or die. I raised my sword, ready to slash at her next advance despite the blinding pain and disorientation. I raised my gaze just in time to see her shadowy figure crossing the yard. She hopped over the fence, out of sight, leaving me in a perfectly silent garden.

My sword arm dropped in defeat, and I finally grumbled from the pain. A tender jaw, bruised ribs, an unidentified nose injury that hurt like hell, and a battered left side. In a matter of minutes, I’d had my ass handed to me. I rubbed my jaw, realizing it had been for nothing. I had no insight as to who she was, or why she’d come here. And I was fairly certain she didn’t actually know what befell Mr. Gallagher, but was trying to find out. Let alone the fact that we’d marked up the scene of the abduction that I’d come to scour for clues.

I took a moment to rest in the plush grass before rising to my feet. Muscle memory slid my sword perfectly into the sheath on my back.

This unforeseen altercation didn’t need to completely impede my purpose for coming here tonight. I dragged my gaze around the garden, ignoring the dents she’d made in the bushes on her landing.

On the whole, this garden didn’t hold any advantages for stealing a person. The back fence only came up to my knees, exposing it to the alleyway behind. Mirrored gardens lined the other side, providing the same amount of minimal coverage. Quite an exposed setting.

I reconsidered this may be a case of a man running out on his wife, but a subtle mark caught my eye. The pointed peak of one of the fence panels differed in color.

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