“Be thankful it’s not you they’re pulling to pieces,” the man points out in a bare whisper.
“I almost wish it were.”
What am I without my supplies? How will I save Gustin now?
Amused, he says, “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
Though reluctant, I crane my head back to look at the man. Before I can answer, a whiff of smoke catches my attention. I turn toward the road just in time to see the goblins light the carriage on fire. The fabric catches first, but soon, the entire thing is engulfed in flames.
The last remnant of my family’s fortune is now ablaze. The monsters dance around their bonfire, many tripping over the petticoats they’ve bunched up to their chests. One suckles toxic pigment straight from his fingers, and a morbid smile crosses my lips as I imagine his slow, painful death.
“Are you all right?” the man asks. The goblins are too preoccupied with their revelry to hear us now.
Am I? I’m not sure.
With a heavy sigh, I answer, “I will be somehow. They’re just things, after all.”
Precious things. All I had left.
Absently, my hand drops to my finger to twist my grandmother’s ring—and then my eyes fly down when I realize what I’ve done.
I packed it with the other things, thought it was best to hide it from Lord Ambrose considering the circumstances. And now it’s gone—lost with everything else.
“Yes, I figured that.” Wry humor laces the masked man’s tone once more. “But I was asking if you’re growing weary.”
Feeling a bit awkward, I primly answer, “It’s not my first time crouched amongst bushes.”
Though the last was easily ten years ago, and I was playing a game of hide and seek in Grandmother’s garden with Gustin—long before I became a nuisance and a burden to him.
“So, you’ve hidden from goblins before?” he asks skeptically. His voice is dark and rich, fitting his mysterious persona.
“Well…no. This is a first for me.” I study him, intrigued despite myself.
Who is this man?
“You?” I ask.
“It’s certainly not my first experience.” He pauses, smiling beneath the shadow of his hat. “But the company is new.”
Night falls around us as we hide, and despite my bluster, my muscles grow fatigued. It feels like we wait hours for the flames to die and the coals to dim to a smoldering red. Sensing my exhaustion, the man holds me tighter, supporting my weight with his arm so I don’t topple into the brambles.
Despite his nearness, subtle sounds spook me, making me think we’ve attracted the attention of other, smaller creatures. I swear I see them from the corner of my eye. They’re perched far too close in the bushes, but when I turn, there’s nothing looking back at me.
Finally, the goblins leave, dragging their treasures with them into the forest from which they came, and the woods fall silent. I stare at the wreckage in a strange sort of shock.
A sudden breeze blows through the trees, only now making me realize how cold it’s become in the spring wood. I shiver, and the man shifts as if trying to block the wind.
“I believe they’re gone,” I say quietly.
Together, we stand. My legs protest after crouching for so long, and my dress catches on more of the thorny twigs.
Even though my rescuer offers his hand, I still manage to trip on a raised, uneven root. I stumble forward, losing my balance.
On instinct, the man catches me. I fall against his chest, and his arms wrap around me in an embrace that could be mistaken for amorous. Suddenly, I’m very conscious of this stranger I’m pressed against.
Things I didn’t notice before shift into clear focus now. The man’s leather jacket does little to hide his strong, toned build. His arms are like bands of iron, and they held me securely all that time. The thought makes my chest grow warm.
My hand rests on his abdomen, and when he shifts, I feel the toned definition of his muscles under my palm. There’s something undeniably appealing about the mystery of him. For a fleeting moment, I wonder what it would be like to paint him.