Page 3 of Dishonor Among Thieves
I shook my head. I’d been in the company of children too long. New people and places were almost intoxicating. I tried to deny the response of my body to the man. The last thing I wanted was to be distracted by a pretty thing—except the pretty thing I’d stolen. I took a breath and planted a puzzled look on my face, dragging my eyes away from that molten stare.
“Excuse me, sir. I was just about to leave.” I ducked past him, my hand on the trinket around my neck for good luck. As I passed by, I swore I caught a whiff of him. Heat and spice, smoke and something harsh and primal—like new blood and rich, fresh earth. I turned my cheek, curious about the fragrance that was so familiar, for a moment I wondered if I knew him.
That was impossible, though. I didn’t know anyone, not in these parts. That’s why I was here. Still, something deep inside me felt a connection to him. A bond that reminded me of home, of family—neither of which I had. I shoved aside all thought. I couldn’t trust anything that wasn’t real, and feelings like this for a strange man were among the least trustworthy things in the Realm. And worse, I certainly wasn’t about to let my crime be discovered because I was transfixed by a mark with beautiful eyes.
I darted between chairs and stepped over boots as I made my way toward the front door. I ducked my chin as I hurried past the companion of the pretty gentleman who was shoveling sausage and onion into his already full mouth. Pushing the door of the pub open, I slipped into the crowded village square. Disappearing into the sea of bodies should have been easy.
But the gentleman was not only handsome, he was quick.
“Miss,” he called, waving a hand in the air. His cloak parted as he waved, revealing a midnight blue doublet that stretched across a muscular chest. His arms were strong, and even his fingers looked like they might crush mine if he caught hold of me. And yet his voice, luxurious and low, flowed over me, the noise of the square disappearing until I felt that we were the only two people standing under the quickly darkening evening sky. “Miss? I think you may have something of mine.”
By the gods… I hadn’t taken this one to be so attentive. Careless, handsome, rich—that’s how I’d pegged him, but the only part that was not lining up was the careless bit. He trotted after me, his tall form towering above the slow-moving villagers in the square.
The night air was chilly with a bite of salt that pleasantly teased my nose as I stood in place and considered my options. Denial was easy, but if this one got handsy, I’d quickly be discovered. As he closed the gap between us, I tried another tactic.
“The job you spoke of, sir,” I said. “I’d like to be considered. I’m hard-working, honorable, and—”
He coughed into his hand, quietly repeating, “Honorable?” under his breath.
I backed two tiny steps away. He truly did suspect me, after all. I’d not been as quick or as discreet as I’d hoped. We were in public, and I was certain I could easily outrun his fine, slippery shoes. Especially after giving him a good shove to his middle, but I’d not been accused just yet. There was still plenty of time to work this out.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I said, trying to make my sweet voice sound genuinely confused.
“I believe,” he said, nodding at me, “you may have accidentally taken my blade. It was on the table when you delivered our food. I thought it might have slipped onto the floor, but perhaps I am mistaken.” He paused, his unusual eyes surveying me from top to toe, as if trying to figure out whether he’d assessed me incorrectly. I heated under his gaze, and tried to convince myself I felt the spark of warmth only because his eyes were so unusual.
“About that job you spoke of inside,” I pressed, trying to distract him from his purpose in chasing me down. “What does the work entail?”
He shook his head, a frown marring his full lips. “It’s not a job for a—”
“For a woman?” I barked. “Sir, I’ll have you know—”
I was about to berate him for making assumptions, when a torchbearer wandered past, dragging a small cart behind him.
“Beg yer pardon,” he said, the small man struggling toward the row of lamps that lit the village. “If yer strangers to these parts, you may not know about the curfew. There’s a turn-in order. Goes into effect about a quarter hour from now.”
“A curfew?” I echoed, trying to edge the panic from my voice. “Why is it not posted anywhere?” I’d checked the shire-reeve’s notices when I arrived in town this morning. There had been nothing of the sort mentioned anywhere.
The old man, his shoulders stooped with age, shrugged. “Curfew’s been in place so long, hardly a soul in Fish Head End don’t know of it.” He struggled to climb down from the box he’d climbed on to reach the flames of the lamp. I reached out a hand to help him.
“Lot of good that does travelers. People just passing through,” I muttered, but then quickly adjusted my face into a calm smile. “Thank you for the warning, sir. I’ll make haste to take shelter for the night.”
The older man squeezed my hand and dragged his cart off to stoke the rest of the lamps in the square. “Be safe, little lady,” he called. “The sea trolls get hungry after dark.”
“Sea trolls,” I sighed. With two sausages in my belly and one in my purse, I’d make a fine meal for a sea troll. As bony as I was, I might fight one off by tossing the sausage I’d stolen and making a run for it, should I find myself in the jaws of the nocturnal beast.
At the mention of trolls, the gentleman’s face grew dark, and I noticed small scars marring his features. His full lips looked as though they’d been smashed and roughly put back together. A tiny scar on his lower lip peeked past the day’s growth of thick, black facial hair. One of his eyebrows looked broken too, as if a fist had separated one brow into two and the parts had stitched themselves together without the aid of so much as an ointment.
“Miss, you’d best go back to your duties,” the gentleman said, looking sincerely concerned and even a little confused. “You must know the night belongs to the sea trolls.”
I barked a laugh, despite how rough it made me feel beside the well-dressed and well-spoken gentleman. The night no more belonged to those rocky beasts than it did to me or to the pretty man standing before me. We were all vulnerable to the whims of the gods—even the trolls. “I’d like the job you’re offering,” I repeated.
The gentleman shook his head. “The position…has been filled. My friend has accepted it. I’m afraid it’s no longer—”
I shook my head. “Your friend—” I lowered my voice, trying not to sound like I was threatening him “—is a raider. Raiders rarely turn honest. The thieving life…it’s far too difficult to leave. The risk, the excitement. I don’t see a man like him managing a household for you. Isn’t that what the job is?”
Leaving the criminal life behind wouldn’t be at all difficult in my case, but that was not information he needed. I watched his face as he considered my words.
“You seem to have picked up an awful lot of information while serving us dinner,” he grumbled. “But I’m sorry. The position is not available.” He looked me over again, the evening breeze teasing wisps of his raven-black hair over his face. He searched my face and my form, as if expecting to see his missing blade fly from my hand. He’d find no evidence, no matter how long he looked. “You’d best get back inside,” he reminded me curtly. “The hour of curfew draws near.”
