Page 3 of Unspoken
One ebony brow lifted.
Dangerous. This man was dangerous. He had killedmany and would do so again before his death on the morrow.
Those compelling green eyes held her prisoner.
“Would you like me to bring you some ale?” sheasked, desperate to shake the yawning darkness that unexpectedly accompaniedthe idea of his inevitable demise. The least she could do was offer the man adrink. “’Tis a lovely summer brew, light and malty and it goes well with thestew. Uh, I don’t drink it much, only because I’m not allowed without it beingtaken from my pay, oh, and because I can’t be inebriated while I serve,besides. But, I snuck a tip from the cask once, and I thought it quiterefreshing.” She flinched and bit her tongue to halt any further inane speechfrom leaving her fool mouth. He must think her dull witted and awkward indeed,which apparently, wasn’t a stone’s throw from the truth.
His jaw dipped in a nearly imperceptible nod.
“Right then.” Flashing him a nervous smile, sheadjusted her itchy cap and escaped back to the kitchen.
If only she could catch her breath! All but throwingher tray to the counter, she rushed to the pantry, flinging herself against thedoor, heedless of the darkness. Bending at the waist, she clutched at herapron and panted as though she’d run a league.
What was happening to her? It had ceased to bethis difficult so long ago. Not since London had she so battled with herconscience. Instead, she’d struggled to accept what knowledge she had, to dowhat she must tosurvive. Nothing should be asked of her beyond that. Shedidn’t choose this curse, thissight; it’d beset her at birth. And,unfortunately for the wicked and beautiful Berserker, she’d never been able toalter the fate of another, no matter how urgently she desired it.
Chapter Three
“See, I told ye he was an eerie bastard.” Abbynodded to Nellie, another serving maid with copper hair and a mass of freckles.“Nearly scared the slippers off Evy, here.”
Evelyn grimaced at the nickname that Abby hadcoined for her. They didn’t call her ‘Evie’ or ‘Eve’ but ‘Evy’ as it rhymedwith ‘heavy’. Painfully aware of her rounded figure, she couldn’t stop herselffrom smoothing her apron self-consciously.
“He would like some ale, sir,” she mumbled to Moorland,ignoring the women.
“While you’re at it, take this pitcher to theMackay table. Those lads be needin’ a drink after their nasty battle wi’ theDonald a se’nnight ago.” He clucked in sympathy
She hoisted the tray onto her shoulder and left,dreading the Mackay table. They’d had much to drink already and were becomingover-loud and bawdy.
“Here you are, Milord,” she carefully placed thefullest tankard on the table at the Berserker’s elbow, “and I brought you linento protect your thighs—trews!”
Christ’s Bones! To mention a body part wasimpropriety of the highest nature. But she’d been staring at his sinuous legswhile she’d been talking and noticing the cords and ropes of muscles visiblebeneath the shamefully tight leggings.
Cheeks burning, she risked an upward glance.
He reached his big hand out and removed the linenfrom her fingertips, draping it carefully across his lap and looked back toher, a twinkle of amusement glinted in his devilish eyes.
The brackets around his hard mouth seemed carved intoa frown. Had he not much reason to smile? She stomped on her curiosity. Itwas of no consequence, besides, tomorrow he would be—
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, enjoy your supper.”She turned around and grimaced once more, closing her eyes and shaking her headat her stupidity.
Making her way to the Mackay table, she swore shecould feel his dark and potent regard caress her spine.
Alarming, that.
Don’t look at him. Do not look back.Asshe made her way through the throng, speculation regarding the mysteriousstranger drifted to her on the heavy air.
“I heard that when they berserk, they flashlightning from their eyes.”
“It’s true he’s mute, the gods took a price beforeblessing him with the Berserker rage!”
“He has the strength of ten men, he does, justlook at that sword!”
“Makes one wonder about hisothersword.”Evelyn narrowed her eyes at Abby’s annoyingly feminine purr as she swishedpassed with a full tray.
Unable to stop herself, her gaze strayed back tothe quiet man consuming his dinner in thoughtful bites. Sighing, she couldn’thelp but notice the occasional play of torchlight over the strong lines of hisface, the flex of his temple as he savored each slow bite of stew. For a manreputed with such violence and brutality, whose very presence emanated lethalmenace, he commanded himself with almost gentle self-constraint. His mannerscompared with that of any noble present. Better, in most cases.
‘Do their careless words sting you?’Shewondered, distracted and enthralled by the silent and lonely figure as shenoted the manner in which every person in the room gave him a wide and fearfulberth. How like people. To enlist his help in a time of crisis, but shun andexclude him from their ranks. They ought to be ashamed.
“About time ye fill our tankards lass, I cannearly see the bottom.”
