A million possibilities flashed through his mind. “What is the prize?”
Unafraid of what he might request, she tossed back at him, “Winner’s choice.”
Her heart.
That was what he wanted.
But not between his teeth.
No, no, no.
This was madness.
Father was coming. He would pass through if Hiram kept a step ahead. He couldn’t afford to linger.
This game, this girl, they were too dangerous. The moment he’d noticed her, he should have left town.
Busy staring back over her shoulder at him, Howl turned her ankle on a stone and tumbled forward.
Hiram caught her, clutched her to him, barely daring to breathe.
“My hero,” she panted, a sheen of sweat on her brow. “My Saint.”
The tentative possession of the nickname softened her voice to a whisper.
“Howl…”
Lithe fingers threaded his lapels. “Yes?”
“You’re standing on my foot.”
“The better to hold you still.” She cradled his face between her palms. “For this.”
As she dragged his head down to hers, she kept her eyes open, watching his reaction when her warm lips brushed his in a chaste kiss. Then she untangled from him and straightened her dress.
Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.
Frantic hearts pounded in his ears. His. Hers. Theirs.
“How did you know that was the prize I would have chosen?”
Howl was grinning when she finished smoothing her palms down her skirt.
“Who said anything about you?” Her eyes sparkled. “That was my prize. I was only claiming it.”
“You didn’t win.”
“I didn’t specify a finish line.”
“You cheated.”
“Yes.” She mimed twirling a villainous mustache. “How else was I to take advantage of a young man traveling alone in the dark?”
A laugh tore from his throat, and her eyes crinkled at the corners. She slapped a hand over her mouth as if that might silence him before he woke the farmer. But the tight thing in his chest, that dark pit he called a soul, had cracked open and let in light.
Let in her.
Dark gods help them both.