Page 27 of Mated to the Mad Marquess

Malcolm sighed, and the forlorn sound cut Hrafn’s laughter short.

“What if I made your temporary cage here more comfortable?” he asked. “A larger room or a bigger bed, perhaps? Would you walk into it willingly then, or are you still determined to fight?”

She pushed her boiled potatoes around her plate with a fork. “After all you’ve seen today, you think I’m guilty?”

“I don’t. I believe you were accused unjustly and I intended to write to my king to share what I’ve seen, but I’m not a magistrate, and you were ordered to be confined within these walls until you’re vindicated.”

“I’m within them,” she said gruffly.

“But not confined.” His voice hardened, a wall to defend himself against the temptation in her testing tone. He could learn to love battling with her.

“I was very clear before about how this would go for you,” she said dryly, an unmistakably glint of excitement in those velvety brown eyes. “You cannot keep me.”

He repressed the urge to meet the dare hidden in her words. Meeting the dare would require pulling her across the table and into his lap where he would do unspeakable things to her until she relented or orgasmed or both . . .

“If I let you wander freely,” he growled, “you’ll make a liar out of me. And if you’re seen, we’ll have more to deal with than some phantom-monster.”

She flicked her fork flippantly at his words. “I’m not scared of farmers or their torches. Let them come.”

“I’m not either,” Malcolm said somberly. “What their unrest will bring down on us is what I’m frightened of. The king will come to keep the peace. He’ll speak death into your ears—both our ears, because I can’t bear to see you harmed. You’ll doom me as well.”

“You won’t guilt me into another cage, either,” she said, setting down her fork. She held up her palms like they were balanced scales. “You saved my neck yesterday. I saved your life today. My honor is secure.”

“You’d leave it at that between us?”

She met his gaze head-on. “I will see the monster destroyed. I owe you nothing more.”

“Your cage is a necessary precaution. Don’t be unreasonable. What if the king drops by to check on my progress?” Malcolm ground his teeth when she rolled her eyes dismissively. “If the king doesn’t deal with us himself, he’ll most assuredly send the Bloody Queen of Night. I know you’ve lived outside of society for a long while now. It’s unlikely you’ve heard the stories, but I’ve lived some of them, Raven. Suffice it to say, our queen earned that title. Her justice is swift, and she’d make quick work of both of us. You risk too much. Youwillbe confined.”

Hrafn’s eyes widened, the fiery glint in her gaze made more prominent by the gaslights. “This queen sounds exactly like the sort of person I’d enjoy meeting.”

“I don’t want to fight—”

“Yes, you do,” she accused, and her lips quirked.

Oh, yes we do!Solis added. Beside the fireplace, he’d grown to twice his usual height.

Malcolm was kidding himself. The challenge. The call of adventure. The chance to prove he hadn’t turned into a soft dandy just yet. Of course he wanted to fight with the Vanir warrior. The parts of him buried in lust wanted to touch as much of her as possible, whatever the reason. Another part of him just wanted the chance to grapple with one of the legendary beings from all his favorite childhood stories.

Malcolm twisted in his seat to face his soul. The little balls of shadow were done feasting on embers now. They rolled to and fro, bouncing into each other, leaving trails of blue behind them that smelled like rot. The inky trails evaporated quickly, but the scent lingered.A room with a lot of sunlight should put them to sleep. Find one and watch over them there. I’ll handle our mate.

Diminished, Solis shrunk back down to his original size. He guided the train of rolling shadows out of the great hall. Now dressed, Clapa followed them, poking strays back in line and giggling when they spat at her. They left more smelly blue droplets on the floor behind them.

Ignoring Solis’s grumbles over the stench, Malcolm waved off the nearest footman. “Leave this place for now. I’ll ring for you if more is needed.”

“Afraid I’ll get carried away and hurt your servants while I’m trying to hurt you?” Hrafn asked.

“I’m more worried thatImight.” It had been a while since he’d had a reason to fight. He waited for the servant to leave the great hall before he turned back to his plate. He didn’t have to wait long; the footman moved hurriedly.

“This is going to hurt,” she whispered, and her mouth curved in its subtle way. “But I’ll try not to break anything.”

“Are you referring to my bones or my things?”

“Bones. All your things are fair game.”

Malcolm forked a bit of boiled egg into his mouth and chewed aggressively. “The moment you finish your food, I’m hauling you back upstairs. By your wings or your hair if I have to.”

“Hm. Good to know.” Hrafn bit off a corner of toast and chewed it slowly.

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