Once Upon a Valentine (17 page)

She jerked her attention off his chest and spun around, scooping up the ugly shoes and bandana. “I need some privacy.”

He chuckled. “Looks like I do, too.”

She muttered something under her breath before disappearing into the brush. Raine enjoyed the moment, knowing full well that with Ashlynn, it wasn’t always easy to get the last word.

When she returned a few minutes later, Raine didn’t just chuckle, he laughed out loud.

“Make one more sound and I take this off.”

Hmm. That could be interesting. Especially because, even in the ugly, sacklike dress, with her beautiful hair hidden away, she was lovely. Far too lovely to go unnoticed.

He frowned. “Wait.” Rummaging through his things, he came up with a leather belt. He handed it to her, along with some clothes and said, “Stuff these down your dress so you look matronly.”

She did, and the end result was moderately better. Or worse, as the case may be.

“Don’t forget the dirt on your face,” he ordered, even as he bent to retrieve some to rub on his own. The clothes he’d bought from the trader for himself were as hideous as hers, and the damp soil made them even worse. For good measure, he rubbed a handful into his hair and smeared it on his face and forearms.

Ashlynn did the same, until the two of them looked as though they’d just fallen off the back of a turnip truck. Literally.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” she told him. “Once we get there, I need to go to the Mare’s End. It should only take a few minutes.”

“Is someone at the tavern holding something for you?” he asked, skeptical, remembering what the owner and employees of the place were like. Not particularly trustworthy.

She shook her head, but didn’t explain further.

Raine’s curiosity was piqued, but as they moved back through the forest toward Foxglen, that curiosity segued into tension. This could go so wrong. How could anyone look at her and not see the beautiful woman under the dirt and the lumpy clothes?

He tried to distract himself—and her—by asking her about her life here in Elatyria. From the sound of it, she’d had a storybook childhood—right down to the death of a mother, the love of an adoring father and a brief stint with a wicked stepmother. Fortunately, things like divorce had made their way over here and that marriage had ended a year after it had begun. One thing was sure: she and her father had been incredibly close until his recent death, which obviously still grieved her.

The small talk didn’t distract him. In fact, the closer they got to the village, the more the weight of what they were doing settled onto him. He’d been hired to protect her, but even if he hadn’t been, he’d do it anyway. Ashlynn’s was a life worth protecting. No matter what the cost.

That realization surprised him, as he usually didn’t value anybody’s skin as much as he valued his own. But it was true. He suddenly knew he’d do anything—risk anything—to keep her safe. He hadn’t evaluated it, hadn’t planned it. But having lived beside her, listened to her, studied her, followed her and now interacted with her, he knew Ashlynn Scott was
very
special.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked when they neared the end of the forest. “Maybe I could get this thing for you.”

She squared her shoulders in determination. “I can do it.”

“Still don’t trust me, huh?”

“Not with this.”

“But you do with your life? That’s screwed-up logic, lady.”

“Some people would say the item I’m going to retrieve is worth more than my life.”

“Well
some people
need to be whacked with a stupid stick.”

She blinked, looking up at him, curious. “Are there such things in your world?”

He grinned. “Sure. They’re called baseball bats.”

Though she still appeared puzzled, he had no time to explain. Because they had arrived.

The village was buzzing with activity—lots of people coming in to market this morning—and the time would never be better to slip in. Hopefully they’d blend in with the crowd and be out in an hour, never having been noticed.

“You ready?”

She took a deep breath, then nodded. But she couldn’t hide the slight tremor on her pretty, albeit dirty, mouth. And though Raine wasn’t the touchy-feely type, he couldn’t help reaching out for her hand and squeezing it. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

She managed a tremulous smile. “Thank you.”

Her expression was trusting. And right then, Raine acknowledged that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep his promise. Absolutely nothing. He would keep her safe, if it was the very last thing he did.

Silent understanding flashed between them. Then, together, their hands still locked as if they were just a bored, overweight, middle-aged, filthy farm couple, they walked into Foxglen.

IT WAS WORKING.

To Ashlynn’s surprise, she and Raine weren’t immediately chased out of the village for being so filthy. In fact, compared to some of the people they saw—not to mention the pungent odors of their clothes—they looked pretty good. Even she had a hard time reconciling Raine’s ragged, dingy appearance with the golden-skinned god she’d glimpsed while he’d changed.

She hadn’t meant to stare. When he’d caught her, she’d wanted to sink into the ground. But not much could have made her look away from those incredibly broad shoulders, the thick arms flexing with muscle, all that warm, supple skin. She wasn’t used to seeing such brawny, muscular men on Earth, which seemed filled with guys in suits who rode buses and trains to office jobs and never worked outside a day in their life. Raine was different. Apparently, his job finding, protecting and taking things kept him very active, indeed.

“You okay?” he asked as they moved through the crowd.

“So far, so good.”

She only hoped it stayed that way, that they continued to blend. For now, they drew no second glances, no questioning stares. They also saw no one who looked like the hired muscle she’d spotted from the woods last night.

“Do you think they gave up and left?” she asked as they reached the main square.

Raine, who’d paused to buy a few pieces of fruit, shook his head. He handed her an apple, murmuring, “Don’t be too obvious, but check out the baker’s shop. Tweedle Dumbass is leaning against the side of it. I’d guess the other two are sleeping.”

She glanced and saw the man, almost tripping as she realized just how huge—and frightening—he looked. She edged a little closer to Raine, glad he was by her side, no matter how much he’d annoyed her by insisting on it.

A moment later, when they stopped at another booth to purchase a wedge of cheese, she overheard a conversation that confirmed what Raine had told her.

“No sign of ’er yet, I ’ear,” said an old woman, who was busily chopping up hunks of meat and lacing them on skewers.

“You t’ink she’ll come tonight?” asked another. “I could use that re-ward money, that’s for sure!”

“I ’spect so. Them Hunters seem right sure of themselves.”

Ashlynn felt the blood drain from her face. Apparently noticing her reaction, Raine slid his arm through hers and casually led her away, as though they had just come for a leisurely market stroll with everyone else from the surrounding farms. Once they were out of earshot, he murmured, “I’d really like to get out of here, so let’s do this.”

She edged toward the tavern. “Give me five minutes.”

“You’re the boss.”

Before she walked away, he put a hand on her arm. His fingers sizzled against her skin. She couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to be touched by him with no barrier between them. No dirt. No map. No danger.

No clothes.

All of the above would be her choice. It was madness, perhaps, but Ashlynn wanted that to happen. The attraction was undeniable. The danger and excitement of what they were doing had only built the desperate need inside her. And once this was over, once he was no longer sticking around because he’d been paid to watch her, she hoped she’d have a chance to do something about it.

“Be careful,” he urged.

Ashlynn nodded once, then walked toward the tavern. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the shadowy interior, pausing inside to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. The place looked just as she remembered: same dust-covered pictures on the walls, same dirty floor, same bored-looking serving girl.

It will be okay.
As they would say on Earth, easy-peasy.

Then she glanced toward the rear corner—
her
table—and felt her stomach roll. Because, not only was it occupied, the two men sitting at it were familiar. One of them was the Hunter from last night. The other, well, she’d call him Tweedle Destroyer…a bookend to the thug patrolling outside.

Ashlynn’s feet turned into lead. She remained near the doorway, panic hitting her hard. But she shoved it away, thinking about what she must look like to them—just another farm wife come to market. Not Ashlynn Scott, premier historian and curator for the Grand Elatyria Museum.

One of them glanced over. Her pulse raced as she wondered if her disguise would hold up. Fortunately, his piercing gaze didn’t linger. After a quick sum-up, he looked away. She took a moment to breathe deeply, then slipped back out the door.

Raine was right outside. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re both in there.”

“Hell.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her around the side of the building. “Okay, that’s it, we can’t do this.”

“You don’t understand, I
have
to.”

Maybe if the thugs hadn’t been sitting
right there,
at a table directly over the stone where she’d hidden the map, she’d think about leaving and waiting for things to cool off. But how could she? For all she knew, they may already have found the oilskin-wrapped package. Maybe they had the two quarters in their possession and were waiting for her to come back with the third. They could know the exact spot she needed to check, might be guarding that spot like two cats hovering over a piece of cheese left to tempt a mouse.

Still, this mouse couldn’t leave. Not without knowing if all was lost. “If we could just draw them out for a few minutes…”

He frowned, raking a hand through his hair, which even the dirt couldn’t make less attractive. “Minutes? You’re sure?”

She saw by his expression that he had an idea. “If you get them to leave, I could be in and out in under two minutes.”

He muttered something under his breath, then said, “All right, you win.”

“What are you going to…”

“Never mind. Just stay here. After you see them come running out, you wait thirty seconds, make sure they’re totally out of sight, then hurry in.”

He turned to leave.

“Raine,” she said, grabbing his arm, “thank you.”

A crooked smile appeared on his handsome, dirty face. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a challenge. I just hope this is worth it.”

4

THERE WAS NO WAY IN HELL this was going to be worth it.

In fact, as Raine entered the tavern and saw the two scarred men seated in the back corner, he questioned not only the plan, but also his own sanity. Fighting back when you had no choice was one thing. Leaping into the snake pit and saying “Bite me” was quite another.

He swallowed down the urge to turn around. Trying not to be obvious, he studied the layout of the place, checked the escape routes—one behind him, a window on the opposite side—and gauged his chances of making it out of here without a broken limb.

He’d give himself one in five. Not bad odds…but they would only be met if he pulled this off without a single hitch.

Walking slowly, like a weary, timid farmer, he skirted the scarred, empty tables. He studied the men as he approached, getting a more complete picture than he had last evening.

One of them looked terrifying, the other merely frightening. Both bore scars that told tales of previous battles. The Hunter he’d seen last night wore a knife on his hip, another one strapped to his arm. Too bad he was the merely frightening one.