Lavender. My favorite.
I used to carry a bar of lavender soap on my hunts. It was one of the few pleasures I allowed myself.
He would have known that.
The knot tightened in my throat as I rubbed the bar over my skin. This wasn’t just a simple pleasure, it was treasure.
I washed my hair and stayed in the tub until it cooled. Far longer than I should, and I was wasting daylight, but wild vines couldn’t—and didn’t—drag me from that bath.
Refreshed and feeling more like myself than I had in years, I changed into clean clothes and crept back downstairs. Thehouse was still quiet. Which was odd. I was sure Gavin would have been up and ordering me around by now.
Before I returned to the kitchen to collect my leather flask, I retrieved the shackle key from the porch. Considering Gavin’s anger from last night, I should hold on to it in case I found myself on the wrong end of the iron cuff. Except the words he’d rasped in my ear made me think he wouldn’t shackle me to a rail… but to him.
Heat coasted through me. I never should have bought that blasted shackle. It was the bane of my existence. The culprit of my wicked thoughts.
Ignore the man. Ignore his games.
I let out a shivery breath and walked through the silent house back to the terrace.
A door rattled, and I slowed, looking over my shoulder.
“Gavin? Is that you?”
He didn’t answer.
But the house did.
I heard the sound again, and I followed it until I was back in front of the arched doors at the end of the hall. I pressed my hand against the wood panel. Was it loose in the frame? Maybe there was an open window on the other side, and a gust of wind had rattled the door.
Or maybe you stayed up all night reliving a certain kiss against a vine, and now you’re sleep-deprived and hallucinating.
Yeah. It was definitely that one.
“You can’t go in there.”
I jolted at the childlike voice, my face heating as if I’d spoken my private thoughts out loud. Why was I always getting caught in front of this door like a thief with their hand in the treasurechest? Facing the young girl, I found her peering up at me. A braid was coiled on top of her head, and she wore a sea-gray linen dress. Sand dusted her bare feet. She still wore her gloves.
“Oh, it’s you, again. Annie, right?”
Annie nodded and pointed a gloved finger toward the arched doors. “My uncle says no one is allowed in.”
My hands landed on my waist, an inquisitive line wrinkling my brow.Never tell a treasure hunter they can’t go somewhere.
“Why not? Is that where your uncle stores all his treasure? Should we steal some?”
Annie’s eyes widened at my conspiratorial tone. It took her all of two seconds to make a decision.
“I don’t have the key. But you can use these.” She pulled two pins from her hair and held them in her palm. It seemed even Mini-Gavin couldn’t say no to a challenge.
“Wow. Aren’t you clever? Let me guess, your uncle taught you to pick locks with hairpins.”
Annie lifted her shoulders with a coy smile. “It’s supposed to be a secret.”
“I promise not to tell.”
Taking the pins from her hand, I crouched in front of the doors, inserted the first one into the lock, and used the other for tension. Annie knelt at my side, watching intently as I worked the lock.
I nudged her with my elbow. “Your uncle thinks he’s a master thief, but did you know, I once picked a lock with a fish hook?” I wriggled my eyebrows. “And then I ate the fish for supper.”
