Page 82 of On Edge

Or how warm his skin felt in that freezing water, and how hard and bunched his muscles felt when he picked me up.

He must work out.

I’m so cold I shove my hands into Troy’s jacket pocket, even if the material is sopping wet. In one pocket, the tips of my fingers graze sharp metal, just like last time. I snatch my hand back.What the…I glance down.

A razor?

Why does Troy have a razor in his suit jacket pocket? Slowly, I put my hand in and close it around the handle, gripping it tightly.

A weapon.

I have a weapon.

Kathy is waiting at the door when I get there. Troy isn’t. She takes one look at me and sighs, offering me a towel to dry myself with. “Oh my, look at the state of you. What were you thinking? Come on, let’s get you by the fire.”

I don’t know what she means by that.What was I thinking, falling into the lake? Or what was I thinking, wrapping myself around him like kelp?I feel like everyone in this house is always watching me.

The fire in the sitting room is kindling when we get in there. I’m stumped to see Troy facing the hearth, trying to poke the fire into submission with an iron. He’s still in his soaked clothes. His hair is dripping wet. My stomach knots. I force myself to look anywhere but at the way water beads at the ends of his hair. I focus on the fire instead. Inching closer, letting the dry, crackly heat envelop me from top to bottom.

Troy doesn’t turn around or say a word. Only the snapping and popping of dry wood can be heard in the hushed sitting room. Occasionally, the wind outside makes itself known, too. Soon, the room is toasty and warm, and Troy leaves, quickly moving away from the blaze like it might jump out of thefireplace at him. He glances at me once, as he goes, but it’s fleeting, his duty done.

“You look like you were dragged through a swamp,” is his only parting comment.

He’s still upset with me about the poison. It must be that. However, it could be a number of things. Talking to Tobias. Being in places I shouldn’t be. Leaving doors open. Wearing things that aren’t mine. I seem to be doing everything wrong.

“Is he mad at me?” I can’t help but ask Kathy when she brings me a cup of tea.

“Why would Master Troy be mad at you?”

“He only ever looks at me like that when he is.”

‘Like what?”

“Like he wants to murder me.”

She tilts her head back, lips pressed together, as though musing on the answer. “Yes, he can be…” She sighs and tries again. “He’s…” but trails off, staring at the fire as she bundles the wet towels.

“He’s what?”

“I was going to say not used to company.”

“But you and Mundel live here too?”

She sniffs. “We’re staff. There’s a difference.”

When Kathy has gone off somewhere to find me some dry clothes, from where I can only imagine, I hide the razor under a sofa cushion. I’m just checking it’s hidden when Troy’s big black dog comes ambling into the room.It stops when it sees me, sitting in one of the chairs. I pause too, the air in my lungs caught mid-breath. The dog,Ben, I recall, sniffs the air once or twice and then pays me no attention, and flops out in front of the fire with a groan. I breathe out too, feeling a smile ease onto my face at how cute he is, despite his size.

When Ben starts whimpering and running in his sleep, the urge to go over and soothe him is too much. I shrug off the towel,place my tea on the side, and then go over to the hearth, kneeling next to him.

“Shhhh, Ben.”

I stroke his head until he stops having a nightmare or a dream about chasing rabid squirrels.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.”

He opens one eye to check who I am, but lets me pamper him. His fur is thick and soft, like a teddy bear’s. I settle beside him, letting him rest his head on my lap. For a moment, I just watch the flames dance and feel the warmth seep into my damp skin, my fingers moving absently through his coat.

“This house is so cold that it needs a fire lit every day, no matter what the weather,” I tell Ben. He grumbles, as if to agree with me.