when he didn’t get caught. But he was going to have to be a lot more careful if he didn’t want to see the inside of the Yelen’s dungeons.
Two possibilities here. One was that Josie was trying to get him killed. Not a notion he wished to entertain, but still, all things considered, it was possible. Capricious was her middle name, and he’d pissed her off bad. The other, more likely perhaps—
A creak of the window brought him instantly upright, pistol at the ready. He slipped over to the bank of windows at the rear of his cabin and waited to one side. There, one window sneaking open, inch by careful inch.
Not careful enough. Van Gast yanked at the handle, pulled it all the way open and shoved his pistol in the gap. “Yes?”
The smoky voice almost made him lose his grip on the gun. “Now, that’s no way to greet a lady.”
Van Gast stepped back and let the pistol fall away. He held it ready just in case. “If there was a lady here, I’d greet her nicer. All I can see is someone trying to get me killed.”
Josie dropped through the gap, landed lightly on the deck and sauntered over. Not in a dress now, in a silk shirt that clung everywhere, snug breeches that showed off her litheness, quickness of movement. Van Gast tightened his grip on the gun, but she looked up at him with that Joshing Josie grin, all lopsided devilry, and his resolve wavered. It hadn’t been her, it couldn’t have been.
“Of course, I’ve never really been a fan of ladies, as such. And I’m still alive. So far.”
“I’ve noticed both those things about you.” The tone was light, but her gun was cocked and ready, her grin the public one, the risky one that had a one-in-three chance of seeing him dead. “Where were you?”
The sensible thing might be to stay calm, sweet talk her. Sod that—he’d almost been shot. Twice! “Where was I? Where you told me to be—right up till the guards turned up. Where were you?”
She stepped round him warily, the gun still pointing his way. “Waiting for you. Almost blew the twist when you didn’t show. Skrymir said…” She shook her head, and her plait, dyed a pale brown now, flopped over her shoulder.
“Skrymir said what?”
“It doesn’t matter. Why weren’t you at Kyr’s Palace?” She watched him carefully, her eyes gray as steel and as ruthless.
This wasn’t going anything like he planned. He’d planned to get her alone, persuade her into bed, into loving him again. But tonight had rattled him. His little-magics were telling him trouble all over, had barely warned him in time. He’d only just escaped, by the best margin—the narrowest. Now she wasn’t making any sense.
He ran his spare hand through his hair. “Josie, stop pointing that gun at me. Why the fuck would I be at Kyr’s Palace when you told me to meet you at Herjan’s temple? Or is this your idea of revenge, have me chased halfway round the city—and shot at to add to the deal? Any more you’d like to put me through?”
Gods, she was too close now, close enough he just wanted to grab her and kiss her until she agreed to stop all this sodding nonsense. Her grin slipped and the sharpness went from her eyes, the hardness from her lips. She was Josienne again, as capricious as the sea, and as hard to pin down. She might be trying to kill him, but fuck it, he was going to take his chance. Stupid-but-exciting. He never did anything else.
He threw the gun without a thought to where it landed, and made a grab for her. She laughed suddenly, danced out of his way—the old game, the one where she would never be caught, never be pinned, not till the last second. He was sick of the game.
She had her back to one of the bedposts, and she was still laughing. Waiting for him to try to catch her, so she could run again no doubt. But this time, when he made his move she stayed, let him take her by the arms, run his hands down to hers and twine them together.
Her eyes were dark as they searched his, looking for something, anything perhaps. She was tense against him, as though one wrong word would be all it took before she ran. He wanted to kiss it all away. Everything, all the hurt between them, all the bad