Strike at Midnight(36)
The wistfulness in his voice made goosebumps rise up on my arms, and a rush of love came into my heart from the happy memories of my own mother.
“Your mother sounds like a very wise woman,” I said, but the sad look on his face made me realize that she wasn’t a woman who was in his present. “She passed away…I’m so sorry.”
“It’s been a few years now,” he said with a meek smile. “But I miss her so much.”
“Me too,” I said, remembering the loving woman who had been torn away from me all that time ago. “I lost my mother when I was young. My father too.”
“That’s awful,” he said with more sympathy than I would have expected from a practical stranger. “My sincerest apologies.”
A shrug of my shoulders defied the crack in my heart, but I don’t think he bought the nonchalance of the action anyway. The guy switched from naivety and wisdom so fast that I couldn’t put my finger on what the hell he was about. It was intoxicating if I admitted it to myself—which I wouldn’t.
“That’s life,” I said, and then shifted us onto safer ground. “We’re almost there.”
He looked disappointed that we were nearly at our destination, but I would still give him the full hour when we got back to the inn. If he stayed on the right side of the conversation, of course. Any more compliments and he would be in a hired carriage and back to his home before he could blink. I wouldn’t be able to take many more of them. Not when every movement, every look, every action backed up his words. He would be closer to that toss in the hay than he thought if he kept that up.
“Do you like being a renegade hunter?” he asked, and I was grateful that he hadn’t pushed the previous conversation.
“It pays the bills, I suppose. But I do like the thrill of it. The chase. If it gets a small justice for people, it’s worth it. But you’re right. It wouldn’t have been my first choice for a profession.”
“What did you want to do?” he asked, and the words “to be a wife, to be loved, and to work on the lands of my home” stopped short of coming out of my mouth. That dream was lost to me a long time ago.
“Anything that didn’t involve cleaning was a good start,” I said, and he chuckled.
“I would agree with that.”
“I like that I know how to fight,” I explained further. “That I can handle a horse and several weapons. It gives me a strength and purpose that I never even knew I needed. It comes in handy when men think they can cross a line with a woman, I’ll tell you that.”
Another laugh didn’t come as I’d expected it to, so I looked at his face. It was grim as he looked back at me.
“Has anyone ever tried to hurt you that way?” he asked, and the flare of anger in his eyes was visible even with only the light of the moon guiding our way.
“Of course they have,” I said, knowing it was the lot of many women in Lower City. But it also made me recall my own nightmare of that night when my stepmother’s punisher had laid his hands on my skin. “Where I come from, it’s practically a daily occurrence, but no one has succeeded in it. Not since I’ve been a hunter in Carena, at least.”
Damn it. I hadn’t meant to add that last part. I needed to keep my guard up.
“I’m sorry if you’ve known pain,” he said with a sympathy that wasn’t condescending. “You don’t deserve that. No one does.”
“Life isn’t always about rainbows.” I let out a large sigh as I recalled his mother’s words, but I also remembered how my own dreams and hopes had kept me sane during those long and lonely nights in the cellar. “But your mother was right about dreams and wishes. They can at least be a shining light in the dark.”
It took me a moment to understand that he was slowing Ginger down to a stop, so I did the same until we were stationary side by side.
“Are you okay?” I asked, wondering what he was up to now.
He didn’t hesitate in gently pulling me closer to him so I could meet him halfway. His lips were on mine before I could say any more about it.
There was no tongue—that’s all I could probably recall as the softness of his lips pressed against mine—but there didn’t need to be to get my fire going. Every part of my body responded from my head to my toes, and I don’t think it could have handled anything further at that point. I was in total shock at my response to him.
A neigh from one of the horses broke the spell, and I moved my head back to see him looking at me.
“Sorry again,” he whispered, and a small smile graced his lips.
Thud. Thud. Thud. That was my thumping heart banging so hard in my chest that it felt like it was taking up residence in my eardrums. I needed to get control of the situation. And myself.
“No worries,” I whispered, and before I could jump off the wagon and onto him, I tugged on the reins I held. “We need to go.”
He didn’t get the chance to say anything more as I pulled away from him, but I heard him follow us the rest of the way in silence. The deep breaths I was taking helped, and before I knew it we were at the back of the inn and tying up the horses by where we kept Ginger. They would have to stay there for the night, but goodness knew what the hell I was going to do with them after that.
“Come on,” I said, the small distance between us giving me some of my control back. I led Lemonade Guy through the side door of the bar to avoid going in through the front. Marcel didn’t like me entering that way—it was practically his house—but right now it was a necessity.