King's Warrior (Renegade Lords)

She had stopped by the huge oak pillar that separated the front room from the back, her bright tunic gathered in one hand, her thick hair tumbling over her shoulders, her chin up as she looked Sherwood in the eye.

“If your men have truly disappeared, my lord, I do not grieve. But I will offer this piece of advice: there are five taverns within a stone’s throw of this shop. When a man goes a’missing, I have found taverns a fine place to start.”

Her voice was level, her gaze unwavering.

“What excellent advice, madame,” Sherwood said quietly. “Tell me, did they happen to mention anything while they were here?”

“Anything about what?”

“Oh, anything, anything at all. Their task…where they were going…who they were looking for….”

A pause. “They were looking for someone?” Magdalena asked in her low, throaty voice.

Tadhg’s fingers flexed around his hilt impotently. Hiding here, beneath this counter…never again.

Low firelight threw shadows across the room, turning Sherwood’s cheeks and eyes into hollows of darkness.

“They were indeed, madame. An outlaw. I have been tracking him for weeks now. He keeps slipping away. Very clever. Very cunning. Very dangerous.”

“How frightening.”

He smiled faintly. “You do not appear frightened.”

“Perhaps that is because I am trying to decide what damage a lone outlaw could do, compared to that done by your pack of wolves.”

Sherwood’s head went back slightly, then he glanced at the debris field of her shop. “Of course. And yet, I’m sure a clever woman such as yourself would know better than to get involved with criminals. They can be so unpredictable.”

“I have not found them to be so.”

Sherwood swung his gaze back. “No?”

Magdalena shook her head, and for a moment, the baron seemed distracted by the tousled, multi-hued nature of her hair. “No. I have found criminals to be ever criminal in nature. But law-abiding folk can be far more changeable. One never knows what they will do, does one?”

A pregnant silence followed.

Under the counter, Tadhg stiffened. Why did he have to pick a woman with fire?

Sherwood stared at her, a faint smile on his lips. Now he was not only amused, he was intrigued.

Intriguing Sherwood was even worse than angering him.

“You are very astute, madame,” he agreed. “Men abide the law; they do not abide the law.” He wavered his palm back and forth in the air. “One never knows which way they will turn. How clever of you to see it.”

“Yes, people are always remarking on my cleverness.”

/> “How predictable of them.”

“I find it reassuring.”

“A beautiful, smart woman like yourself, finding the predictable ‘reassuring’?” He clucked his tongue softly. “I doubt that. In fact,” his voice was almost a drawl now, “I would venture to say that you are the sort of woman who might be longing for a taste of the unpredictable. Something untoward, perhaps, something…exciting?”

Silence rolled through the room. All Tadhg could see was Magdalena’s back, the curve of her hip, the long tangle of her hair. The edges of her were lit by fire. Then Sherwood strode past her, so close he almost brushed her shoulder, and glanced up the narrow stairway that led to her bedchamber. “You are alone here, Dame Thread?”

“Hardly,” she retorted, sounding sharp and slightly breathless. “I have my apprentice. And a very large blacksmith who visits every night.”

Sherwood turned. “Every night?”

“Every one.”