Double drat.
She quickly stepped in front of it, hiding evidence of the spell.
Through the open door, her eyes met the officer’s. She watched his gaze drop, running slowly down her body. As if he had every right to look.
White-hot anger flared in her chest. But there was nothing Rune could do. In this moment, she was at his mercy. They both were.
Suddenly, Gideon stepped between them, blocking Rune from the officer’s gaze. Grabbing the shirt he’d discarded a few minutes ago, he gently pulled it down over her head. Startled, Rune pushed her arms through the sleeves as the hem fell to the tops of her thighs, covering everything but her legs.
She glanced up to find a fire raging in Gideon’s eyes.
He was shielding her from them.
Or, more likely, shielding the proof of her witchy-ness: the blood dripping down her calf, the spellmark on her ankle, the signature floating behind her.
If the change in her appearance surprised him, he didn’t show it.
“Can we hurry this up?” Gideon’s voice held a warning as he turned back to the officers. He stepped toward the door, forcing them into the hall. “My wife and I were just married and would like to be alone.”
“Of course,” said the officer. “We, um, were wondering if you’ve seen this girl?”
There was a short pause, then: “No.”
“And your wife? Mrs. Sharpe, have you seen this girl?”
Gideon stepped aside, but only barely, allowing Rune to answer. In the doorway, one officer held out a locket. It hung from a golden chain and was instantly familiar.
Rune had gifted it to Soren two weeks ago. It was an exact twin of a locket he’d given her.
Andherface was painted inside.
“I’ve never seen that girl in my life,” said Rune, glad she’d had the chance to illusion herself.
“There. Are we good?” Gideon’s rough voice made his role of impatient new husband all too convincing. Before they answered, he said, “Great. Goodbye.”
He slammed the door in their faces.
The room seemed to have shrunk since they first entered it. Still facing the door, Gideon heaved a sigh. Rune stared at his bare back, unable to stop her eyes from tracing the corded muscles in his shoulders and arms.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Under any other circumstances”—he turned to look at her, his gaze dropping to his massive shirt hanging off her small frame—“I would have thrown him out.”
Unable to find her voice, Rune simply nodded.
The foot of space between them felt like a sliver as they stood half-dressed in front of each other.
She tried to hold his gaze and failed, her eyes dropping to take him in. She heard the breath he let loose, as if they’d unknowingly been playing a game calledWho can hold off the longest?and now that Rune had lost, Gideon could let himself lose, too. His eyes trailed down her form as he allowed himself to look at her the way she was looking at him.
The air felt strained. Rune was afraid to move, suddenly all too aware of the bed behind her.
“Are you—”
“I should—”
Their voices cut the tension.
Gideon stepped away. Toward the luggage. Turning to Soren’s suitcase, he unzipped it, reached inside, and pulled out the first thing he found: a gray knit sweater. Pulling it on, he said, “I’ll go see if they have any other available cabins.”
