Page 17 of Winter's Fate

Kat had not even posted guards at her door.

Well, why would she, when she herself was not in residence? Few people even knew Laena was here. And if they did, she was hardly worth the trouble of killing.

Laena ran for the first door, twisting the knob, but it was locked. A slam sounded behind her, and she threw herself toward the next without taking the time to look behind her. It opened, and she slipped inside. She shut it quickly and threw her weight against it, breathing hard.

When she looked up, she found herself staring into the startled face of Captain Callum Farrow. He had a bottle in one hand, a mug in the other, his lips parted in surprise.

He was also naked. From the waist up anyway, and that was perfectly sufficient to catch Laena’s breath in her throat. Hard lines defined the contours of his arms and the planes of his chest. His tanned skin glowed in the light of the fire. Despite the danger, and the fear tightening around her throat like the assassin’s fingers, the sight of him froze her in place. For a moment, faced with that chest, and those shoulders, she forgot what words were. The room smelled of whiskey and woodsmoke, and she didn’t know if it was him or the drink or a combination of the two.

“My lady?” he said, the words gruff and the slightest bit slurred, as if the drink had already dulled his tongue.

Already? No, it’d been hours since he’d escorted her to Kat’s sitting room. Time for an entire meal’s worth of drink. Two meals, even.

“I was attacked.” Laena felt lightheaded; the aftermath of the fight had left her trembling. “In the—in Katrina’s sitting room.”

Captain Farrow’s eyes sharpened, and he set the bottle on a sideboard. “Stay here.”

He said it like a command, but Laena didn’t mind. She wasn’t sure she was capable of doing otherwise, in any case. She had just sense enough to move away from the door as he hurried through it. She remained rooted to the spot as the minutes ticked by. Some terror-stricken part of her brain was certain the man would meet his death, and that it would be her fault.

She was too rattled to sit, too rattled do anything but pace as she waited. He’d already strewn his shirt and jacket across the bed, and he’d gone after the assassin without his boots on. They sat by the door, already polished. He’d seen to them before disappearing into his drink.

Laena waited, the shock of the attack wracking her body with shivers, and still she could not keep herself from moving back and forth across the room. Even when Brin scurried out of her pocket to perch on her shoulder.

Laena tsked, offering the creature a hand so she could return her to the deep pocket of the skirt. “When did you leave the bag?” she scolded. “Hurry and hide yourself, before Captain Farrow sees you. There’s no telling what he might do to your kind.”

At length, he returned.

“I gave chase,” he said, “but the imp escaped. The guard is on their way. Was no one stationed outside the room?”

Laena shook her head, her throat stinging as she swallowed hard. “There was a council meeting. I’m sure they were needed elsewhere.”

Farrow’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze dropped to her neck as he stepped closer to her. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head again, words sticking in her throat. He lifted his thumb, skimming light fingers along her neck and leaving her skin tingling. “This is a nasty mark.”

He raised his fingers to her forehead, inspecting the bump that was no doubt rising angrily there. And though he was only checking her for injury, nothing more, she found herselfwishing she could close her eyes and lean into his touch. She could feel the heat of him, and she was all too aware of the bareness of his chest. It was all she could do not to lift a hand and run her fingertips over those ridges of muscle, interrupted only by a jagged scar on the collarbone, another on his right bicep.

“I hit my head,” she said. “When I knocked the settee over.”

“We should call for the physician to inspect your injuries.” He brushed the skin alongside the cut on her cheek, as if he felt they should take a look at that, too.

Then he dropped his hand, and she wasn’t sure whether to be glad or sorry as he took hold of her elbow and eased her toward a chair by the fire. Dizziness rattled her head, and she swayed, but he didn’t let go of her until she’d settled onto the edge of the seat. Where he promptly handed her his glass.

“Knocked the settee over, did you?” The corner of his mouth twitched, just slightly. “Impressive, my lady.”

Laena took a swallow, grateful for the comforting burn of the whiskey in her throat. “I had no intention of dying this evening. And I told you, I’m no lady.”

Apparently convinced of her safety, at least for the moment, Captain Farrow stepped to the bed, where a pile of clothing lay in a heap. He selected a shirt and shrugged it on over his head. He moved with a fluid kind of grace, despite the drink he’d clearly been taking all evening. Like a wolf, dark and dangerous.

And he was dangerous, she reminded herself. Especially to her.

In this moment, sitting by the fire, she wanted to forget it. But she’d be a fool not to recall that he would imprison her the moment he learned of her power.

“If the King’s Guard dragged their feet like this, I’d have their heads,” he muttered.

Dangerous, and a bit grumpy, too.

“Are you so used to assassination attempts?” Laena attempted to inject a note of amusement into her voice, but theincident was too near for levity. She could still feel the assassin’s fingers around her neck, intent on murder.

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