King's Warrior (Renegade Lords)

She touched her hair, a self-conscious female gesture. “I was hardly abed, my lord. I was cleaning up after the mess your men made.” She gestured to the shop.

“Ah, yes, my men.” He glanced briefly at the mess, then peered into the back room, at the kitchen and fire. “I must apologize for them, Dame Thread. They overstepped.”

“It is unconscionable what they did, turning my shop upside down, insulting me,” Magdalena said sharply, and stepped back, so she stood in front of the counter where Tadhg was hiding.

“Did they insult you?” He clucked his tongue. “Again, mistress, my deepest apologies. I bid them be circumspect and unassuming.”

“They hardly looked capable of such a high plain.”

“You have no idea,” Sherwood replied drily, and his voice grew more faint as he strode into the back kitchen. Tadhg shifted to keep him in sight. “Some days, it is a stretch to get them to use full sentences. You may rest assured I will speak with them on the matter.”

“And here I’d supposed you already had.”

Veiled meaning seeped into her low-spoken words, and Sherwood turned to regard her with his full attention for the first time since entering the shop.

“Indeed,” he said slowly, as if he’d made some sort of mental notation. “I assure you, madame, I am as aggrieved as you at the mistreatment of such a fine, upstanding…law-abiding merchant.”

There was a faint but unmistakable emphasis on ‘law-abiding,’ an uplift at the end, the quirk of a question. From his low vantage point, Tadhg saw the back of Sherwood’s head turn slightly, toward the back door which was, Tadhg now realized, slightly ajar.

A cold slice of winter air moved through the kitchen, ruffling the flames of the candles that sat upon the tabletop.

Magdalena must have seen it, too, for she stepped forward, speaking loudly. “And yet you are not the law, are you, my lord?”

Sherwood turned, his eyes cold and blue. “Nay, madame. How astute of you to notice.” He smiled. “But I am friends with the law.”

“Of course you are.”

Long seconds ticked away. Magdalena’s gaze never left the baron’s, and Tadhg released another round of silent curses. She ought to be cowering. But he now suspected, in a grim, fatalistic sort of way, that docility was but a thin veneer lying atop Magdalena, clouding up the fire that comprised the true heart of her.

Her sharpness seemed to amuse Sherwood, though, for he smiled. He came out of the kitchen and wandered into the front room, where Magdalena stood. He came nearer, and nearer. Tadhg leaned slowly away from the slitted opening and held his breath.

“Unfortunately, mistress, my men seem to have disappeared.” Sherwood drew to a stop directly in front of the counter where Tadhg was crouched.

“Have they?” Magdalena replied, sounding slightly shrill.

“They have indeed. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Seconds ticked away. Tadhg’s heart hammered in his chest.

Then Magdalena spoke, soft and thoughtful. “I doubt they could disappear entirely, my lord. They were very large.”

Sherwood gave a low chuckle and his knee bumped the linen curtain, an inch from Tadhg’s nose.

“Yes, well, it seems they disappeared some time after visiting…you.”

Silence spread like darkness. No one said a word. Slowly, unconsciously, Tadhg’s hand moved to his sword. She had spirit and defiance, aye, but she was doomed in this encounter. Sherwood had decades of experience terrifying people into compliance. She was but a merchant, treading waters far too deep. She could never—

“You have found me out, lord Sherwood.” Her low-spoken words were full of dry mockery. “I bashed your men on the head, bound and gagged them, stripped them of their clothes, and dragged them to the river.”

Sherwood burst out laughing.

Tadhg funneled a hot breath of relief between his lips.

“Indeed, madame, it does sound outlandish, does it not?” His voice was warm, admiring. Interested. Tadhg cursed silently. The only thing worse than Sherwood suspicious was Sherwood interested. “And yet, missing they seem to be, some time after visiting you.”

“Visiting me?” Tadhg heard a rustle, and her voice came from further away. “I will tell you this, my lord, your men seemed in perfect health whilst they were here destroying my shop. Perhaps the exertion was too much for them? After all, they did topple my wardrobe.” Her voice grew quieter, as if she was walking away. “And here, my chest of threads, hacked open and dumped.” Her voice drew further off as she pointed out various areas of wreckage, “…and my shelves…,” leading Sherwood ever away from the front of the shop where Tadhg was crouched.

He tipped to the side and peered again through the narrow slit.