Heartless Hunter (Crimson Moth, #1) (64)

“Perhaps another night,” he said.

Wait … what?

Rune straightened, trying to recover from her shock.

“It’s getting late. I should go home.”

“Right. Of course.” The sting of rejection made Rune glance away. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch your horse.”

He shook his head. “There’s no need. I know where your stable is. I can fetch my own horse.”

She was about to insist—she would be a poor hostess otherwise—when he interrupted, catching her hand.

“Rune.” His thumb brushed across her knuckles. “I would like to come in, but I promised to go slow with you.” Lifting her hand, he kissed the sensitive part of her wrist, making her shiver. “And if I step through that door tonight, I’m afraid I won’t keep my word.”

A wild feeling swept through Rune. She didn’t want him to keep his word. She wanted him to take her upstairs. This instant.

“Good night, Miss Winters.”

Turning away, he headed for the stables. Rune watched him disappear around the side of the house. Shakily, with her back to the wall, she sank to the terrace stones.

She could still taste him on her lips. Still feel the ghost of his hands on her ribs.

He doesn’t actually want you.

Her skin tingled everywhere he’d touched her.

You’re falling for his tricks.

Gideon was winning at this game. Because what they’d done tonight, Rune wanted to do again—for reasons that had nothing to do with rescuing witches.

“I loathe him,” she told the shadows in the garden, trying to remember all the reasons this was true.

But her voice trembled as she said it.





THIRTY-FOUR

GIDEON




GIDEON STOOD BEFORE THE floor-to-ceiling window of his office listening to Harrow relay her most recent findings.

“The ship we found that casting mark on?” said Harrow. “An hour before it set sail, there was last-minute cargo brought on board: two barrels of wine delivered by an aristo.”

Beyond the window, the scarlet sun set over the capital. The Ministry of Public Safety perched on a hill in the center of the capital, giving a view to the harbor.

Gideon wasn’t admiring the view. He was using his reflection in the glass to adjust his new suit jacket while he listened to Harrow’s report.

“Unfortunately, the man’s hood concealed his face,” Harrow continued. “And there was no moon that night. So the dockhands couldn’t identify him.”

“How do they know he was an aristo?” asked Gideon, doing up his cuff links.

The jacket was a gift from Rune, and had arrived less than an hour ago. To replace the one I ruined, said her accompanying note. He’d turned the note over, looking for the rest, but there was nothing more.

It had been three days since he’d left Rune in that garden. Leaving her there had been more difficult than he cared to admit.

“The dockhands said he had a sophisticated way of speaking, like someone with an education. He also wore a ring on his smallest finger.”

“Is that all? It narrows down nothing.” Gideon sighed. “Half the aristocracy bejewel their hands with rings.”

“This one was plain and thin. Silver, maybe. They described it as a poor man’s wedding band.”

Gideon shook his head. “Perhaps he was a poor man. A man can be both poor and intelligent.”

“I’m simply relaying information,” said Harrow. “No need to get touchy. Both boys suspected he didn’t share their station, despite his attempts to obscure it.”

“He might have been nothing more than a merchant, late with his cargo.”

Gideon wondered if Rune—or whoever she employed to oversee her shipping business—kept lists of inventories aboard each ship, and if such a list might still exist weeks after the ship delivered its cargo.

“I’ll keep my eyes open for an aristo wearing a plain silver band,” he said finally, returning to his reflection and eyeing the suit jacket. He’d never worn anything so fine. It was double-breasted, ocher in color, and made of satin. It fit him surprisingly well, and, judging from the shop name on the box, Rune had spent a small fortune on it.

When Gideon first opened the box, he could almost smell her. A delicate scent. Like the wind bringing him the essence of the sea. Beautiful and wild and … dangerous.

He frowned, shaking off the thought.

She clearly meant for him to wear the coat to the Luminaries Dinner tonight. In fact, if he didn’t leave soon, he was going to be late.

Turning away from the window, Gideon started for the door. “I—”

“There’s something else,” said Harrow.

Gideon halted, meeting her gaze. “What is it?”

“Rumors,” she said. “Unverified.”

No mocking smile tugged at her mouth, and no mischief gleamed in her eyes. He nodded for her to go on.

“Some of my contacts say there have been casting marks seen around town. In alleyways and attics. Often several signatures together. As if witches are gathering in small groups.”

Like an alarm ringing through his body, all of Gideon’s senses heightened at once. “Were any of these incidents reported to the Guard?”