Page 60 of The Falconer

‘Ah, but then you would be left alone on this beach, cold and wet with no one to swing you up in his strong, waiting arms.’

‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

‘Immensely.’ Gavin lifts me, shifting so I’m cradled against the front of his body. I’m surprised, he did it very well. I wonder how many ladies he’s carried away from freezing beaches.

My spine remains entirely straight and stiff as I rest there. Where am I supposed to put my blasted hands? I clumsily pat his shoulder and settle on grasping the fabric of his shirt. What do other women do when they’re held? Swoon a bit?

‘Er,’ I say, a bit awkwardly, ‘thank you?’

Gavin’s finger brushes the outside of my arm. A reassuring gesture, but it feels intimate, utterly familiar. I tense at first, then relax and settle more comfortably against his chest.

‘You hate asking for help, don’t you?’

For once in my life, I want to be honest with someone. What would it be like not to hide or pretend? I’ve kept too many secrets from him already and that almost got him killed. But I’ve already grown so used to lying, I don’t think I can do anything else.

‘I have to take care of myself,’ I say.

Gavin pauses. ‘I know.’ He stares down at me, serious now. ‘But you shouldn’t turn down an offer to be cared for. Some people aren’t fortunate enough to receive one.’

Chapter 21

‘You know,’ Derrick says from his perch on my windowsill, ‘I think I have something of a headache this morning. I didn’t think faeries got them.’

He glows softly in the morning light that filters through my bedchamber window. I notice him eye the shiny parts of my lightning pistol, which I’ve taken apart to clean after my swim in the Forth. If I don’t watch him, he’ll steal some of the pieces and I’ll find them tucked away in random places around my dressing room.

‘Perhaps it’s a honey-ache,’ I say. I put aside the ramrod and pick up the pistol’s barrel to push a small bristle brush inside. ‘That’s the result of eating too much of what wasn’t yours.’

I pause to massage my temples, grimacing when I catch my reflection in the far mirror. I look like I’ve been hit by a locomotive.

Worse, I’m the throes of a fever that hurts my head and makes my body ache. My injured hand looks absolutely disgusting under the gloves I’m wearing, with my palm all torn and blistered. I had to dress myself again to hide my various injuries from Dona. One more morning like this and the poor lass might think she’s been sacked.

‘But your friend offered it,’ Derrick complains. ‘So she might not have explicitlysaid, “Derrick, please eat all of the honey in my kitchen,” but it was implied by the mere fact that shehasa kitchen.’

‘Do you know,’ I say, ‘I don’t think there was a word of sense in any of what you just said.’

‘I think I’m still fuddled.’

‘Nowthatmakes sense.’

‘So,’ he says brightly, changing the subject, ‘how did our Seer do last night? I don’t think I like him, you know. He’s too well groomed. Never trust a man without some indication of chaos, I say.’

‘You spent five minutes with him.’

‘One can learn a lot in five minutes,’ he mutters and squints at me. ‘You have sand in your hair. It looks silly.’

I pat the top of my head and cringe as some grit falls to the floor. I’ve washed my hair three times already and apparently I still haven’t got it all out.

Casually, I brush the sand off the table. ‘Thanks for that.’

‘You’re welcome, precious.’

With a sweet smile, I ask, ‘And how was your adventure with Kiaran last night? Nothing quite like killing faeries to form an everlasting bond, aye?’

Derrick glares. ‘Could you possibly form a working relationship with someone who isn’t so crabbit all the time?’

‘What did he do?’

‘Stole all of my intended victims! There I was, getting ready to fly around and collect my trophies, and he jumps in and swings his blasted glairy-flairy blades and kills everything.’ Derrick snorts. ‘Damn thedaoine sìth. Smug, arrogant bastards.’

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