Page 73 of The Falconer

‘Aileana.’ Catherine’s hand on my arm is so cool that I flinch. ‘That wasn’t—Good heavens, you’re burning up. Are you ill?’

‘I’m fine.’ I swallow and shut my eyes hard.

‘I can stay, if you need me. If you’re—’

‘Catherine!’ Lady Cassilis’s voice comes from the hallway.

‘No.’ I need to lie down. Just as I suspected, my legs can’t hold me. I grasp the arm of the settee to keep me upright. ‘Please. Go with your mother.’

‘If you insist.’ Catherine sighs. ‘I’m terribly sorry for some of the things she said. She was much too harsh with you.’

I almost open my mouth to agree, but decide against it. As much as I dislike Lady Cassilis, sheisto be my future mother-in-law. It’s best I learn to accept that now. ‘Her only son was just caught in a scandal with a girl she considers utterly unsuitable,’ I say carefully. ‘I understand why she was harsh. Tell her I’m sorry for everything.’

Catherine nods. ‘I shall. Please send word when you’re better. I’ll worry otherwise.’

Her dress rustles as she leaves. It’s the only sound I can hear, other than my violent heartbeat.

Gavin’s hands are on my shoulders then, as he gently turns me to face him. He stares down at me, his eyes so blue, fierce and concerned. He slips an arm around my waist and draws me against his chest. I let out a soft groan of complaint as he places the back of his hand against my forehead.

‘Shall I send for a doctor?’

‘It won’t help.’ I turn my head and his fingers graze my cheek and rest on my collarbone, below myseilgflùrnecklace.

‘It’s from a faery, then. Isn’t it?’

I let myself rest against him, because there is nothing else I can do. I’m too weak to push him away.

I nod. ‘One of the hounds.’

‘I see.’

What does he see? He has offered marriage to a woman who will always be injured or bruised or bleeding. I will never be rid of my scars, and I’d never want to be. They will always be there, burned into my skin. Brands of my success, of my kills.

I lean back and meet his gaze directly. ‘I don’t want to marry you,’ I whisper. ‘Is that awful of me?’

‘Not at all,’ he says softly. ‘I don’t want to marry you either.’

Chapter 24

Iwake with a start and gasp for air, flailing in sheets soaked through with sweat. Hands grab my shoulders roughly and hold me firmly against the pillows.

I stare up in shock at Kiaran. The taste of his power settles softly against my tongue, not at all overwhelming. His features are shadowed, barely visible in the glow of the street lamps filtering through the open window. He smells so strongly of heather and spring, with a hint of rain from the wet clothes he presses into mine.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ My mouth is dry. It hurts to speak, or move my lips.

‘I said I’d be back.’

I swallow. My throat feels as though it’s lined with blades. ‘You said visit, notattack.’

Kiaran releases me. ‘I tried to wake you. You were thrashing in your sleep and scratching your wounds.’

I reach for the button near my bed and the lights near the door turn on with a click. A soft glow illuminates the room and Kiaran’s shining skin, swathing him in a gleaming halo of gold.

My gaze drops to his lips and I think about this afternoon. The way he stroked the scar running down my back, my body pressed against his after our fight—

No, don’t think about it. I should move away from him. Further away. I whip the counterpane off my legs and try to stand. It takes two attempts. I stumble, but manage to catch my fall by gripping the bedside table.

‘Well,’ I say, my voice shaky, ‘here you are.’ I look at him again and lose all rational thought. ‘In my . . . bedroom.’

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