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Ollie’s eyes met hers, and a look she didn’t understand passed between them. He worked his jaw in frustration before sitting once more, though she could see his anger coiled and ready to strike. Rather than strike out at Gan, he grabbed her waist and sat her down on his lap.
“But dinner for you–” she protested.
Ollie pressed his mouth to her cheek. “You’re all the dinner I need,” he said loud enough for Gan to hear.
Her cheeks heated as she noted the smile spreading across Gan’s face. He chuckled, his eyes on the fish instead of her. She turned her head to look at Ollie, eyes wide. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Exactly what he thinks I should be.” He lifted a hand and pressed it to the side of her face. Tarley had the impression he was thinking about kissing her, his eyes drifting to her mouth—like earlier—and her heartrate pounced once more, expectant, but when he leaned forward, he pressed a kiss to her cheek instead. “I don’t like the way he’s looking at you,” he said against her skin.
“He’s looking at me like most men in Kaloma look at women. Like chattel.”
Ollie ran his hand from her head, down over her shoulder and dropped to the juncture between her hip and thigh, his thumb riding the seam of her leg.
Her body responded to his touch inopportunely, a deep thrum of need spreading warm and low.
He gave her a squeeze. “I don’t want to let you up, but I need protein for later.” He gave her hip another squeeze and let go so she could stand.
Gan laughed loudly. “Keep ‘em in their place—on their backs.”
She skewered two fish and handed the stick to Ollie, who looked utterly disgusted at Gan’s comment. Then she skewered a fish for herself and sat next to Ollie.
“What are you doing out in the woods?” Ollie asked, staring at his cooking fish.
Tarley watched Gan, who took his time answering.
“Hunting.”
“What kind of game?”
“Woman.”
Tarley heard Ollie’s breath stop, then restart with a rush before he asked, “Excuse me?”
“Seems there was a ruckus in a village nearby. A serving wench got it in her head to strike a man, then ran. Priest called in a hunting party.”
Tarley straightened. He was talking about her.
“There’s more of you?” Ollie asked, horrified.
“Was,” Gan said, oblivious, and checked his steaming fish. He tested it with his filthy teeth, and Tarley worked to keep her expression neutral. “Few of the men kept tabs on her family. Thought they were hiding her but turns out wasn’t the case.”
Which was why Mattias hadn’t surfaced.
“Few of us decided to hunt the woods,” Gan continued, picking at his fish. “But you know, not many of the weaker sex is willing to charge the haunted woods, so that was a longshot. If she did, she’s probably dead, some Northman’s new toy, or a collector got to her first. Huntin’ party disbanded and went home, ‘cept me. You’re the first I’ve come across.” His eyes drifted back to Tarley and lingered. “Pretty woman, I hear. Was hoping to have a go at her before I turned her in for the reward.”
Ollie stood, pointing his skewered fish at Gan. “Take your fucking things—take the fucking fish—and get the fuck out of this camp.”
Gan remained seated and just stared at Ollie as if surprised by his outburst. “What climbed up yer ass, lordling?”
Seeing Ollie wanted to beat the man to a pulp, Tarley’s her heart further softened toward him. She could also see he recognized the man wouldn’t get his anger in that way. “You keep looking at my wife.” He stalked around the fire still holding the skewer.
Gan jumped up and grabbed his stuff. “I’m not getting ideas about your property.”
But Ollie didn’t stop, and Tarley wanted to cry out for him to be careful, to mind his ribs, but held her tongue. He grabbed Gan by his thick jacket with one hand and dragged him across the expanse toward the woods. “She’s mine. All mine. And I won’t have some other man getting filthy ideas.”
She knew he was acting, but the words did something to her, working their way inside of her so that her heartbeat raced.His. All his.
“I don’t got no ideas,” Gan yelled, trying to get his feet under him, only Ollie was moving too quickly.
