Page 21 of Blood & Roses

I scoffed, feeling unusually flustered and wondering if I could successfully frame the proprietor for his murder.

Rowan sat up, propped up on his hands, looking at me levelly. “Are you actually uncomfortable?” he asked, canting his head as he studied me. He sighed, grabbing one of the pillows. “I’ll take the floor.”

Gods, what was wrong with me? “No,” I said, closing the distance between us and putting a hand on the pillow to stop him. “No, it’s fine. I’ll take the floor. You had to carry me all day.”

“Isolde,” Rowan said, pinning me with an arresting green stare as he snaked an arm around my waist. From this angle, I was barely taller than him. He sat on the bed, his arm preventing me from fleeing as I looked down at him. “I don’t mind sharing. There’s enough space.”

“But what about—”

“I’m tired, Isolde,” he implored, eyes still boring into mine. “And it’s cold. We will both be more comfortable if we share, and I promise not to do anything but sleep.”

He was right about the cold. My breath was forming little clouds, and I doubted the threadbare blanket on the bed would do much to keep either of us warm.

Rowan’s arm tightened around me, and I felt shivers run down my spine that had little to do with the temperature.

“Why did you kiss me?” I asked, my voice barely louder than a whisper as I looked down into his eyes. My heart was beating so rapidly in my chest that I was sure he could hear it, and I could swear his heart increased its pace just a little as well.

If we were going to share a bed, I was determined to clear the air first.

He grinned, his scarred eyebrow making him look like his only plan was mischief. It did things to me. “Because I wanted to.”

“That’s not a proper answer,” I pushed, a little breathless as I felt his palm splay flat against my back.

Rowan shrugged, his grip on my waist tightening as his voice pitched a little low. “It's the truth. I’d quite like to do it again, if I’m being honest.”

“I—”

“You were so fierce,” he said, interrupting my scattered thoughts. “Hurling kitchen knives at our enemies in your dressing gown, your hair wild around you like a black cloud.” He lifted one hand, stroking his thumb gently across my jaw. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Oh,” I murmured, not sure what to do with this declaration. “Rowan I—” I swallowed, feeling stupidly nervous. “I don’t really do romance. Or relationships of any kind. Except for my sisters.”

“You don’t say,” Rowan drawled, his tone teasing and familiar, full of warmth and affection. I smacked his shoulder, and he laughed.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he assured me. “And right now, as my brother is unconscious and being hunted, and you and I are trapped in this tiny, horrible room, romance should probably be the farthest thing from my mind. But…”

“But?” I prodded, a bit breathless.

“But perhaps you are a witch who has ensnared me,” he murmured, his grip on my waist tightening as his hand continued to cup my jaw. “Because all I want to do is kiss you again.”

“I’m no witch,” I breathed, feeling wholly out of my depth. “And you don’t even know me.”

“I don’t,” he agreed, his eyes still holding mine earnestly. “At least, not well. But I’d like to, if you’ll let me.”

I pursed my lips, considering his blunt offer.

“Sleep only,” I said eventually. “And heat.”

“Sleep and heat,” Rowan agreed with a grin. He let go of me, stuffing the pillow back behind his head. “You can even keep your daggers on you, if you’d like.”

I huffed a laugh, hesitating for one more moment before removing the weapons and placing them on the floor next to what would be ‘my’ side of the bed.

Rowan tossed me the blanket, covering himself in his cloak as I got myself settled. It was cold enough that I tucked my cloak up over me as well, and I shivered as I lay in the dark next to him.

“May I?” Rowan asked, holding open his arm as he turned slightly. “Heat only.”

I bit my lip, but the cold was deep enough that it drove me to accept. I scooted closer, pressing into his warmth as I tried to find a comfortable spot.