Page 123 of Blood & Claw

A line appeared between her eyebrows. “Trouble?”

“Aye … the kind that complicates a man’s life.”

Her gaze guttered slightly, and self-recrimination struck him like an arrow in the ribs. Their relationship, this forced intimacy, was turning him into an arse.

He didn’t like hurting her, and the thought of walking away from her left a sour taste in his mouth.

He caught himself then.

What was he doing? He knew this job would end.

They’d rescue Kayla, and she would heal him. Then, Ailsa would hand over the last of the coin she’d promised, and they’d all go their own ways. It was what they’d agreed.

No looking back. Nothing was more important than his reckoning with Niall.

Best he remembered that.

This fey young woman who made him sweat wasn’t part of his plans.

Ailsa stifled a yawn as she kicked dirt over the fire.

She needed to wake up. Kayla was so close, she could almost reach out and touch her.

They’d risen just as the first glimmers of dawn lightened the eastern horizon. They had to get moving. Nonetheless, she lingered for a moment, her gaze lifting to where the skeleton limbs of the trees and the jagged silhouette of the surrounding mountains were etched against an indigo sky.

Her lips then curved. The Uplands were far bleaker than The Wolds, and yet they held such majesty. She’d always wanted to see The Goatfells, and now she had.

Shifting her gaze from the sky, she turned to where her bodyguard was saddling Rùn.

She and Darach had slept little overnight, just a short doze. Finishing his tattoo had taken a while, and what followed afterward had drawn them deep into the night, especially since he’d taken her again.

Twice more, in fact.

On both occasions, she’d bid him to restrain her wrists as he plowed her senseless.

She was bone-weary in the aftermath, and the skin between her thighs was tender, yet the world looked different in the misty sunrise.

She was different.

As for Darach, it was difficult to know.

They’d talked after the first time, but she’d marked the way his gaze shadowed. His words.

You’re trouble … the kind that complicates a man’s life.

Ailsa continued to observe him. Was she imagining it, or was he making a point of not glancing her way?

She didn’t regret what they’d done, but did he?

She hadn’t failed to notice either that he hadn’t tried to kiss her since they’d gotten up and dressed. The tenderness of the night before had dissipated like morning mist.

A raven croaked then, and she looked up, spying the bird on the branch of a twisted oak. A huge raven with glossy black feathers.

Ailsa froze. “Our friend’s back,” she murmured.

Darach turned, his brow furrowing. He then glanced around, his hand straying to the hilt of the dagger at his thigh. “That means Fern’s nearby.”

Ailsa frowned. He was right. The way this bird had flown off after the Shee huntress had made it look as if it was her companion. She glanced over at the raven once more. It stared back, its beady black eyes giving her nothing. And then, with a loud caw, it flew from its perch, winging into the murky dawn.