Page 95 of Song of the Dark Wood

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Rowan pushed past Charlie into the sitting room. Conor paced in front of the fire, his hair still wet from his post-murder bath. He froze when he saw her.

“Glad you had a chance to clean up from your foray into finger painting—or is it calledclaw paintingfor you?”

“Get out,” Conor gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Sorry, but you scared them so badly they don’t even want me in town anymore. Looks like you’re stuck with me unless you want to leave me to the creatures of the Dark Wood.”

Conor sighed miserably. Apparently, her company had become unbearable. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. One moment he seemed obsessively focused on her, and the next, he was trying to ignore her.

“I suppose I’ll be expected to help Elder Garrett’s soul cross over next week?”

Conor huffed out a breath. “Charlie will take care of retrieving him tonight. You’ll not need to see the man again. You may go to your room,” he said dismissively.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And if I wish to stay here and enjoy my cider?”

He clenched his fists at his sides. “It’s not a time to test me.”

“Funny—I feel much the same about being bossed around, especially after I warned you that you wouldn’t help anything,” Rowan quipped.

Conor stood with a start, the chair clattering to the ground behind him as he advanced on Rowan. She stood her ground as he towered over her. “You have a death wish!” he barked.

“And you have an obsession with control,” she countered. She should have been scared, but his passion only stoked her own, no matter how reckless it might have been.

Conor’s nostrils flared and his gaze dropped to her lips. She hated that she wanted him to kiss her. It was exhausting wanting him all the time when he was so unpredictable.

They stood there, chest to chest, both breathing in short, shallow gasps.

Rowan met Conor’s stormy eyes. “I’ll take my cider now.”

Conor took a step back, shaking his head. “Demon’s breath!” He sighed, turning away from her and righting his chair before sitting and returning to his reading.

Rowan grinned in triumph as she sat in her chair by the fire. A moment later, Charlie appeared with her cider. She sipped it slowly, watching Conor over the rim of her mug. He wouldn’t look at her, but she could tell he also wasn’t reading. He was just staring at the book so he could ignore her.

Taking another long swig of her cider, she relished the burn of the whiskey. She rested her head back against the chair and tucked her legs under her.

She didn’t mean to fall asleep, but she woke when Conor lifted her into his arms and carried her up to her bed. He removed her boots and tucked her beneath the blankets, and before she settled back into sleep, she heard him whisper so softly she thought she might have imagined it.

“I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t certain if he meant for killing Elder Garrett, for not listening to her, or for getting her banished, but she was too exhausted to ask, and when she woke the next morning, she was certain she’d imagined it.

25

ROWAN

Rowan was tired of waiting. For days, Conor avoided her as she prowled around Wolf’s Keep, reading journal after journal so she wouldn’t lose her mind.

Despite Elder Garrett’s death, Rowan still felt uneasy. She knew that Conor’s attack had raised the fear and anxiety in Ballybrine to a fever pitch, and she didn’t like being away from Aeoife. She couldn’t stop hearing the frenzied voices of the people gathered outside the temple.

Were they harassing Aeoife? She wanted to go back and bring the younger Maiden to Wolf’s Keep, but she was worried that would be no safer for the girl.

Most of all, she was tired of Conor’s games. She wanted answers.

She marched into the library to confront him, breathing in the scent of ink and parchment. Normally, she found it soothing, but today, she was too frustrated to enjoy it.

“What am I to you?” Rowan asked.

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