Page 57 of Blood & Claw

“That’ll be four coppers then.” The ale-hall keeper replied.

Ailsa was about to dig into her coin purse when Dale reached out, his hand closing over her wrist. She jolted at the contact. “I’ll get this, wife.”

His thumb pressed warm against her pulse. Her breath hitched before she could stop it—and his eyes flicked up, as if he’d felt it.

Cutting him a glare, she let him extract the coins and pay the ale-hall keeper.

“Take a seat, and I’ll bring your meal and some ale,” the man said as he tucked the coin into the purse at his belt.

Dale guided Ailsa toward a long table, hand at her back. His palm scorched through her layers of clothing like a brand. Something low in her belly fluttered in response.

She stiffened.

How dare her body betray her?

Her cheeks started to warm then.

How was a wife supposed to behave? She didn’t want to smile and simper. She’d rather jab out her eyes with an eating knife.

Two men playing Liar and lingering over their drinks looked up from their game as she and Dale sat, curiosity sparking in their eyes.

The proprietor moved off to greet his other customers.

When he was out of earshot, Ailsa leaned in. “Since when are we handfasted?”

“It’s just easier,” he replied. “People trust a married pair more than a lone woman traveling with a blade for hire.”

Ailsa pursed her lips. She hated that he had a point.

“It’s also safer,” he added. “For you.”

Her lip curled. “So, you’re worried about my safety now, are you?”

If he thought she’d forgive and forget last night, he was mistaken.

His jaw flexed, even as his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t mean to abandon you last night,” he said roughly. “Things … got out of hand.”

She frowned. Out of hand? “What does that mean?”

“You were right … creatures were prowling around our camp last night.” He glanced away then. The man looked exhausted; his eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale. “I spent the night trying to keep them away from you.”

Ailsa stilled.

She’d spent half the morning convincing herself he’d run off and left her to die. Now she didn’t know whether to believe him. In truth, she was still pissed off at him for not continuing their journey today. Gods knew how far ahead Kayla was now.

“Your ales.”

Two wooden cups thumped down on the table.

An instant later, a harried-looking woman appeared at her husband’s side bearing two trenchers of what smelled like mutton stew. She set them down. However, her distracted expression vanished when her gaze settled upon Dale.

Ailsa marked the admiring look she gave him.

It was warm inside the ale-hall, and he’d taken off his thick fur-lined cloak. Light from the cressets on the nearby wall played across his arms, highlighting their strength. He bore no tattoos on them, and a light dusting of oak-brown hair covered his muscular forearms.

Even travel-weary and dirty from the road, there was no ignoring his masculinity. His looks weren’t chiseled, yet they were more arresting for it.

Aye, he was aggravating, but he was also easy on the eye.