Strike at Midnight(35)
“Oh, really? And what does being a lady mean to you?”
“Honor, loyalty.” He paused and waited for me to look at him. “Courage.”
“I don’t think chasing after a wagon into the Nightmare Woods would equate to courage. More like stupidity.”
“So saving my life was a stupid act, was it?” he asked with humor.
“I would say that it was more stupid for you to get kidnapped in the process,” I muttered, but I would say by the laugh he let out that he had heard me.
“I would agree with you if it hadn’t resulted in me seeing you again. But seeing as it did, I cannot help but be happy about it.”
He grinned, and I couldn’t help but smile with him. This guy was infectious.
“You’re extremely lucky I was on this lane tonight,” I said. “It’s not a place I frequent often.”
“Where were you going, may I ask?” He looked around him. “It’s not a place I would expect anyone with common sense to travel through.”
“You’re saying that after you decided to venture out to Lower City on your own?”
He laughed again. “Very true,” he replied. “But I would say that it’s a risky place for even a renegade hunter to visit.”
He was right about that part at least.
“It’s not a place I choose to come through often,” I told him eventually, “but it’s the quickest way from the docks to where I live. I had to speak with someone there.”
“Is this regarding the duke?” he asked, and my guard went up. He didn’t need to get involved in all of this. He had already gotten himself into too much trouble for the evening.
“It is. But it’s just another angle I needed to look into. Did you really have to come all this way to return my slipper to me?” I asked, quickly changing the subject. “You could have paid for it to be delivered, or asked one of your staff to return it.”
“I told you I also wanted to see you again. You ran away from me before we could become better acquainted at the ball. This was my chance to run into you again.”
“And the fact that I’m a renegade hunter with pink hair hasn’t put you off in the slightest?” I asked sardonically. He was unbelievable.
“Why should it?”
“Because we’re from different parts of the city?” I asked, wondering if he had hit his head in the wagon. “Because we’re from different backgrounds? Because I’m in trade and you have money to line your pockets? Do you want more?”
“They are ridiculous reasons for not wanting to be with someone,” he said, and I had to admit I did a double-take at that comment.
“They’re enough for some people.”
“Then those people are missing out, aren’t they? And I don’t see what your hair color has to do with anything.”
“It’s pink.”
“I can see that,” he said, “but I also saw how you pulled all eyes to you when you were at the ball. You had an air of confidence and vulnerability about you that was impossible to ignore. Not to mention you’re very pleasing to the eye.”
A blush hit my cheeks with such a burn that I was glad the shadows would disguise the hue. This guy apparently had no filter and let anything that popped into his head come out of his mouth.
“My hair wasn’t pink then,” I said, not knowing what the hell else to say.
“Pink, blue, green, yellow. Your hair had nothing to do with it. And neither did the absence of a noble title. You are a very engaging woman.” He leaned over to put his hand on my arm, and his touch felt like a balm to the heat that raced through my body at his touch. It was a strange contradiction.
“Shouldn’t you be like married or something?” I asked, knowing how eager the nobility was to tie themselves to one another before their wayward ways ended up in the result of bastards.
His hand dropped from mine to take a hold of Ginger’s reins, and I hated that my body felt an absence from his touch.
“Not yet,” he replied, “but I hopefully will be one day. And one day soon.”
“Then you shouldn’t be sniffing around me,” I said, needing to put him in his place once and for all. “I’m not one for marriage, or for a toss in the hay with the likes of you either. You should keep your pretty words and attention for women who matter.”
His laughter boomed across to me again, and I looked at him as if to say What the hell? There was no angering this guy whatsoever.
“I would be lucky to have a toss in the hay with you, and I would be extremely lucky to have a wife like you. You underestimate yourself.”
“I am a realist,” I said, not wanting to show him that his words had just affected me in one big-ass way.
Images of his kisses, his ring on my finger, and us rolling in between the sheets together were being unfaithful to the deterrent I was trying to put down. What is wrong with me?
“There is nothing wrong with being a realist, I suppose,” he said. “Especially from a woman who has been forced to become a renegade hunter at fourteen. But my mother used to say that dreams and wishes are what keep us hoping, what keep us growing. She warned me that those who refuse to see the rainbows are the ones who need the most help because they’re very sad inside.”