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He might have pressed her to finish the thought, but all he heard was that he wasn’t wanted, and he godsdamned knew he wasn’t needed.

“Right,” he said, taking a step back and crushing his fledgling feelings. “I’ll just–”

“Ollie–” Her step followed him.

“I’ll just, um, go–” He walked past her, grabbed the fish and the knife, and moved to take them back to the river to clean them.

“Where are you going? That’s not what I meant, at all.”

“What part of ‘I’m trying to get away from you,’ doesn’t sound like you want me to go?” He kept walking.

“I don’t want that,” she called after him.

“That’s okay, Tarley. I get it.” He turned and started back into the forest, holding up the fish. “The fish have to get cleaned.” And he walked away, though the light had faded quickly. He needed to recenter his thoughts. The normalcy of just being a regular man in the woods with a regular woman had gotten away from him. He was Prince Lachlan, the useless prince, sent away by his father and now by a peasant woman.

“Wait! Ollie. It’s getting dark!” she called.

“Giving you some space,” he yelled back and pushed through the brush, leaving her and the camp behind.

11

Tarley watched Ollie disappear, angry with herself for pushing him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and she’d been purposefully antagonistic. Forgetting to clean the fish at the river was a minor thing, and she could have overlooked it. And now he was angry with her, but worse, she’d hurt him, had seen her words had hit their mark in the dejected way his usually amicable countenance had sort of wilted. She found she hated knowing she’d caused it, especially because his hurt was justifiable. She’d been mean.

Now, she sharpened the skewers, angry with herself for being so hostile. She’d pushed him away because that was what she was good at. And now it was dark. Her heart slammed up against her throat with a tremulous beat.

After finishing the skewers, she busied herself so she didn’t have to ponder Ollie in danger beyond their fire. She pulled the blankets from the bushes, hoping he was safe, then carried them to the tent, realizing how quiet the campsite was without him. As she laid the bedding inside the tent, her worry grew, wishing Ollie were with her so she knew he wasn’t hurt. The thought unsettled her even as she kept looking at where he’d disappeared.

She’d been sure keeping him at a distance was safest for them both. Once he’d recovered, he would leave. She would remain in Sevens, and the world would go back to being what it was supposed to be. Only she’d lost the dividing line somewhere, letting him in, and that was why she was angry.

At the sound of footsteps, Tarley hurried from the tent, figuring Ollie had returned. She was going to say she was sorry.

Only it wasn’t Ollie. It was a stranger.

She straightened, swallowed, and took a step back, but she couldn’t move farther without backing into the fire. She suddenly wished she’d taken more care. She’d spent so much time concerned with Ollie that she’d forgotten to remember the real danger. Yet with her very next thought, she wondered if he was okay.

The stranger stepped from the shadows into the ring of firelight, one hand holding the straps of his pack, the other on a dagger at his hip. He was of medium height and a stocky build, though it was hiding under dirty garments. His leather jacket was lined with fur, hinting he was familiar with being in the forest. Blond hair hung a bit long and unclean, obscuring his bearded face. He’d clearly been in the woods a while and had the appearance of a hungry, wild animal.

“I smelled your fire,” he said, revealing teeth that hadn’t been cleaned for some time, if ever. “And you’re a woman.” He smiled, his gaze raking over her.

Tarley shuddered. “I don’t have anything of value,” she said, looking at his sharp, lean face. “I was just getting ready to make some fish.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t say that.” He tilted his head, and his grin widened. “Looks like I hit the jackpot.” She knew he wasn’t talking about the fish. “You alone?” He glanced around looking for evidence that she wasn’t.

“No,” she said and lifted her chin.

“I don’t see no one,” he said, stepping toward her. “You’re unprotected. Makes me within my rights to take you in. Collect the coin. But if you’re her–”

“Who the fuck are you?” Ollie’s voice snapped the tension as he stalked into camp, his brow heavily weighted over his eyes with anger. His gaze jumped to Tarley, assessing her.

Relief flooded her, and she rushed to his side, taking the clean fish.

As the stranger watched Ollie, his feral gaze shifted to something less predatory. “I was just trying to keep her safe.”

“That’s my job,” Ollie said and pressed his hand to her back, his eyes asking if she was okay. “Not a stranger.”

Tarley tilted her head to look at Ollie, knowing she couldn’t take charge, that it was up to him to save her. But trusting him to do it warred with her sense of self. While it felt wrong on every level of her being, she was so used to relying only on herself, the relief when Ollie had arrived was a visceral charge moving through her body. The very real threat of what might have happened had he not appeared was taking root. And somehow, letting go and letting him take charge felt right.

“What’s yer relation if I may? Brother?”