Page 40 of An Outlaw’s Desire

“Milady?” Harlow said from out in the corridor. “Are you all right, Blythe?”

Chapter Ten

Oh, mercy.

Blythe’s body still tingled from her glorious coupling with Pitt. In the midst of such a crucial conversation with him, she didn’t want to answer her door. But, if she didn’t respond as the widower expected, he might come into the room to investigate.

Pitt’s expression hardened. Steel hissed against leather as he drew his knife.

No, she mouthed then glared at him. She would not have bloodshed this night, especially because of her.

“Blythe?” Harlow said again.

“Just a moment,” she called.

Firelight glinted off Pitt’s dagger. He hadn’t put it away. His posture told her he was prepared to fight. Did he really believe she was going to betray him to the man-at-arms?

Pitt’s gaze sharpened: a demand for her to make plain her intentions.

Narrowing her gaze in return, she motioned to the space beneath the bed.

He rolled his eyes.

Go, she mouthed. While he doubtless didn’t enjoy scrambling beneath the furnishing, ’twas the only reasonable place for him right now.

Scowling, he dropped to the planks and went under the bed. She retrieved the belt for her robe, secured the garment, and ran her hands through her mussed hair. Hopeless to try and look presentable. But, ’twas not proper for Harlow to see her in her robe anyway. She’d only open the door a crack.

She peeked out.

Harlow bowed. “I am sorry to disturb you.”

“’Tis all right.” As he straightened, she spied a second guard standing farther back: Galven, from the stone circle. A bandage wrapped around his head and secured a thicker swatch of linen over his right temple—no doubt where he’d been injured when he’d slipped on the ice.

“Milady, are you well?” Harlow’s gaze darted past her into the room.

“I am. Many thanks, though, for checking on me.”

“The voices, Blythe.”

Oh, dear. “Voices?”

“We heard two. Yours and a man’s.”

Her stomach knotted. “What you heard was….”

“Aye?”

Think! Quickly. “I was….” Aha! “…practicing.”

Harlow’s brows rose. “Practicing, milady?”

Relief broke from her on a laugh. “Clarine and I are putting together a special surprise. We are writing a holiday play that we will perform on Christmas Day.”

“Is that so?”

“I wrote a bit tonight. I was trying out different voices, to see if I could sound like a man.” She chuckled. “I guess I succeeded.”

The widower thoughtfully scratched his chin. “I would never have guessed ’twas your voice.”