“Davey. It’s what she called him,” Larkin added.

Hoyt nodded. A name was always useful. “If we could capture or destroy either of them, it would be a blow to her.”

“She’s not leaving for Geall as soon as we are,” Blair mused. “Maybe we can set up some traps. We can’t know where they’ll come out on the other side, not exactly, but we may be able to do something. Anyway, we’ve got a few days to think about it.”

“And we will. Now we’re all tired. We all need some sleep.” Glenna laid her hands on Larkin’s shoulders. “You need to get your strength back, handsome.”

“I’m feeling more myself. Thank you. But it’s the pure truth I could use a bed.” He got to his feet. “There, it seems my legs will hold me now. Would you come up with me, Blair? I’d like to have a word.”

“Yeah, all right.” She went up the back way with him. She wanted to keep her hands in her pockets, but he seemed a little unsteady on the stairs. So she took his arm, pulled it around her shoulder. “Here, lean on me.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I wanted to thank you for taking care of me.”

“Don’t.” It made her stomach clench. “Don’t thank me for that.”

“You tended to me, and I will thank you. I heard your voice. When I was flying home, and I wasn’t sure I could make it, I heard your voice. And I knew I could.”

“I thought she had you. I imagined you in a cage, and that was worse than thinking you might be dead. I don’t want to be that scared, I don’t want to feel that helpless.”

“I don’t know how to keep that from happening.” He was out of breath when they reached his room, grateful for the help to his bed. “Would you lie with me?”

She managed to get him down, then gaped at him. “What?”

“Oh, not that way.” With a laugh, he took her hand. “I don’t think I’ve got that in me just yet, but it’s a lovely thought for another time. Wouldn’t you lie here with me, a stór, sleep with me for a while?”

After the pain she’d given him, she’d assumed she’d be the last person he’d want to be with. But here he was, holding out a hand for hers.

“Just sleep.” She laid down beside him, turned in so she could see his face. “No fooling around.”

“Is having my arm around you fooling around?”

“No.”

“And one kiss?”

“One.” She touched her lips to his. “Close your eyes.”

He did, on a sigh. “It’s good to be home again.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Not really. A bit sore is all.”

“You’re lucky.”

He opened his eyes again. “Couldn’t you say I was skilled and courageous?”

“Maybe that, too. And I can add smart. Unicorn horn versus Goodyear. I really like that one.”

She laid her hand on his heart, closed her eyes. And slept.

Chapter 9

I t was the stiffness in his own bones that woke him. Larkin lay there a few minutes wondering if this was how he’d feel every blessed morning when he was an old man. Sort of whifty in the head and heavy in the body. Maybe it was such a gradual thing that the mind adjusted so you forgot what it was to feel young and spry.

He swore he creaked when he rolled over.

Of course she was gone. He probably couldn’t have managed to make love with her if she’d stayed—if he’d been able to talk her into it. She was a puzzler, Blair was. So strong, all but steely, and a goddess in battle. But there were all these layers inside, soft ones, bruised ones.

A man just wanted to peel off that hard edge and get to the heart of the matter.

And she was so interesting to look at. The hair like a soft cap, so dark against her white skin. Those deep eyes of magic blue that looked right at you. No coyness at all. Sometimes he just liked to watch her mouth move whatever words were coming out of it, to see all the shapes it could make.

Then there was her form, all lean and tight. Sleek, really. He couldn’t say he minded overmuch her trouncing him in hand-to-hand, not when he had that body bumping up against his. Long legs and arms, those strong shoulders that were often bare during training. Those lovely firm br**sts.

He’d thought quite a bit about her br**sts.

And now he was stirring himself up with no place to go with it.

He got up, wincing. He supposed, all things considered, he was lucky to have gotten off just sore and bruised. He had Glenna to thank for that, and maybe he’d seek her out, see if she could do a bit more now that he was rested.

He took a shower, giving into the luxury of running the water hot as he could stand. He would miss this, that was the sheer truth. He wondered if Moira, who was clever with figuring how things worked, could build one in Geall.

Once he was dressed, he wandered out. The house was quiet enough he wondered if the others were still sleeping, and considered going down to the kitchen. He was hungry again, and no surprise there.

But he doubted he’d find Blair in the kitchen. He thought he knew well enough where she’d be.

He heard her music before he reached the training room. It wasn’t the same music as she’d been playing in the kitchen the other day. There was a woman singing now, in a rough, fascinating voice about wanting a little respect when she came home.

Well, it didn’t seem too much to be asking, in Larkin’s opinion.

And there was Blair, stripped down to the little white shirt and the black pants that sat low on her hips—a personal favorite of his, truth be known.

She was tumbling, he noted. And using most of the big room to do it. Handsprings, kicks and flips. At one point, she rolled to a sword that lay on the floor and began to fight what must have been a multitude of invisible opponents.

He waited until she gave a last thrust, her body posed in a deep warrior position.

“Well, you slaughtered the lot of them.”

Only her head moved first, turning until her eyes met his. Then she brought her feet together, lowered the sword. “Nothing but dust.”

She walked over to set down the sword, turned the music down, then picked up a bottle of water. Drinking, she took a good long look at him. His face was bruised, scraped along the temple—which for some reason didn’t make him less of a looker, she decided.