Page 86 of Bride of Mist
The sly assassin wielding her knife.
The storm-tossed waif shivering against him.
The fierce warrior battling thieves.
The breathtaking angel spiriting him to heaven and shuddering back to earth in his arms.
His throat ached as he took one last look at her.
Then quietly, before she could stir, he dressed and gathered his things. He left her weapons, as he’d promised. And he placed his dagger among them. She could use the jewels to pay for lodging when she returned to Rivenloch.
He owed her much more for what he’d taken from her. But that was a debt he couldn’t repay. A wound he couldn’t repair. An injury that, once inflicted, left a permanent scar.
Fighting indecision and choking back regret, he slipped out the door.
He needed to flee the inn before the king awoke. And he needed to get to Castle Darragh before Feiyan’s clan came looking for their lost warrior.
Gradually the morning light, seeping through the crack of the shutters, beckoned Feiyan to leave her Eden of luscious bedlinens and toasty warmth. But she didn’t want to rouse yet.
Sometime in the night, Dougal had awakened and tucked her under the covers. And that was where she wanted to stay.
She smiled. Once they were wed, she’d linger in bedeverymorn. She snuggled closer to where the Westlander had stretched out beside her last night.
But he wasn’t there.
She was alone.
Panicked, she opened her eyes and flung off the covers.
The fire was cold. The bath was cold. And her weapons had been assembled neatly in the corner, looking as cold as the rest.
Every shred of Dougal’s presence was gone. His clothing. His boots. His satchel. Erased, as if he’d never existed.
His abandonment hit her with crushing force, caving her chest, sagging her shoulders. Desolation squeezed her heart until it burst into a thousand pieces, like a fine glass chalice shattered in a mail-clad fist.
How could he have left her?
After what they’d shared together—the intimacy, the connection, the journey to a celestial realm—how could he turn his back on that and walk away?
A sob clogged her throat. Tears blurred her vision.
Had it meant nothing to him? Hadshemeant nothing?
Cursing under her breath, she swiped at her wet eyes.
She shouldn’t be surprised. Shewasnothing. She was the kind of lass most people overlooked or ignored.
It seemed Dougal was no different. He may have made her feel special last night. But today, she’d become inconspicuous again. Easy to leave. Easy to forget.
Biting back foolish grief, she donned her clothes and hastily braided her hair. There was no point in lingering.
He obviously didn’t want her help. Or her company.
Heartbroken, she consoled herself with the fact that at least she’d gotten her weapons back. As she slipped them into the pockets of her garb, she noticed the jeweled dagger he’d left behind.
She supposed it was payment for what he’d taken.
The more she glared at the shiny blade with its gems winking up at her, the more her hurt hardened into anger.
