Page 59 of Blood & Claw

A short while later, washed and dressed once more, she opened the door to find her bodyguard leaning on the wall outside, feet crossed at the ankle. He was whittling that cat figurine of his.

“Your turn,” she announced, stepping outside. The Sweeper held a bite now, whipping her wet hair around her face. The light was fading fast. “Don’t take too long, mind … it’s freezing out here … and I’d rather not meet a boggart looking for treats.”

“No doubt, I’ll be quicker than you,” he grumbled, moving past Ailsa, his shoulder brushing hers.

The door thudded shut, and Ailsa took up the position he’d vacated against the door. Pulling her file from her belt, she then began to file back her nails. In the stall opposite, she spied Rùn. The stallion was pulling hay from a manger. Despite all that weighed upon her, her lips tugged up at the corners. The horse had been tireless so far, but even he needed a rest.

She glanced up at the darkening sky then.

For a heartbeat, she imagined she saw the ragged shapes of The Unforgiven—the souls of the damned searching for victims—and her pulse fluttered.

But it was only a play of the setting sun on brooding clouds, and she exhaled sharply.

Even so, she’d be relieved to go indoors and shut the door behind her.

She huffed a curse under her breath. As much as it galled her, Dale was right. Riding on from Rhu tonight would have been idiotic.

She wasn’t about to admit that to him though.

15: JUST A TASTE

STEPPING BACK INSIDE, and drawing the door closed behind her, Ailsa’s attention flicked to where Dale had pulled a couple of furs off the pile in the corner.

To her relief, he was making a second bed for himself.

But to her consternation, he was shirtless.

His leather vest hung with his cloak, above his boots and weapons, next to the door. The muscles of his bare back flexed and bunched as he arranged the furs.

His leather breeches had been loosely retied and sat low on his narrow hips.

Distractingly low.

And when he turned to her, she couldn’t help it—her gaze roamed over the hard planes of his chest. Dark bruising shadowed his ribs. Fresh scratches crossed one shoulder. Nonetheless, it was hard not to stare. He was quite a sight.

And to her horror, a melting sensation gathered in her lower belly. Her body hadn’t gotten the message that this wasn’t the time or place for such a reaction.

She was suddenly, painfully, aware that they were about to bed down next to each other within a confined space. She’d never been in such quarters with a man before.

“What is it?”

His voice made her chin kick up, heat flushing across her chest.

Dale cocked an eyebrow, a challenge glinting in his eyes.

Shit. He’d caught her admiring him.

Ailsa cleared her throat. “That’s quite a scar you’ve got.”

Fortunately, she’d seen the deep mark that slashed down one side of his chest. It was the perfect excuse for why she’d been gawking at him.

However, when his lips curved slightly and his gaze hooded, mortification rolled over her.

He wasn’t fooled.

Dale’s eyes glinted gold in the firelight, and something stirred within Ailsa in response. Her awareness of him sharpened further.

This wasn’t good.