Page 56 of The Witch's Heart
Dean looks away. “She’s smarter than you’re giving her credit for,” he says, and I set the water down again.
“I’m right here you know.”
“Trust me, we haven’t forgotten,” Dean says, smiling at me. “How was your nap?”
I ignore him and turn to Declan. “Iamsmarter,” I tell him stubbornly. “I got us out of that dungeon, didn’t I?”
Declan softens as he pushes off the dresser and crosses to where I sit amid rumpled covers. He kneels and brushes hair out of my eyes. “You did, love. You’re brilliant. I’m just worried about you. That bastard wants you for something. I just want to know what.”
“We know he wants her alive,” Dean says. “That’s something.”
But Declan scowls at him over my shoulder. “I’m not willing to bet anything on that piece of shit. Especially not her life. Are you?”
I press my finger to the creases between his worried eyes, wanting to reassure him. “It’ll be all right.”
He pins me with a fierce, promising look. “I will protect you.” His gaze flicks to Dean who scoots in behind me, pressing his chest to my back.
“We both will,” Dean says against my ear.
“We will protect each other,” I say and Declan nods, satisfied with that.
“Someday you both will have the bakery you’ve always dreamed of. I can already smell the freshly baked bread.”
“And what of your dreams, love?” Declan asks.
“I’m still working on that,” I say softly. “My dreams turned to nightmares, and it’s been impossible to turn them back.”
“We will help you make new dreams,” he says.
Silence follows and Declan’s worried expression shifts to something else as his gaze dips to my mouth. He leans in, brushing a kiss across my lips, and my entire body shudders in pleasure. Dean’s hand caresses my neck and I close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of their touch, their closeness.
The sound of the lock clicking free makes us all jump.
Declan shoots to his feet and Dean slides closer, angling his body to shield me from whoever is shoving open the door.
Sir enters and tosses a garment bag over the corner of the dresser. Then he drops an envelope on top of it and retreats to the open door.
“What’s this?” Declan asks.
“Open it and find out,” Sir says. His eyes land on Dean’s hand in mine and he frowns. “Your presence is requested.”
“Requested?” Dean repeats.
“Required,” Sir says, glaring now.
Three guesses who requires it.
“And if we refuse?” Declan asks.
Sir swings his gaze to glare at Declan, glowering in some sort of challenge. “I will come to collect you in one hour. One way or another, you will come.”
He turns and grabs the door, letting it slam shut behind him.
I jump up and reach for the envelope, ripping it open and sliding the heavy cardstock free.
“You are cordially invited to dinner and dancing. Seven PM. The main hall. Attendance required.”
I look up at the boys, confused.
