٭I’m not moving out of sight.٭
٭Just out of range of getting us both into trouble.٭
Daemonar grinned and walked to the next shop, which had brooms in a barrel just outside the door. Nothing much there to tempt a Sceltie—she hoped.
They were drawing a crowd. She heard a woman asking, “What about the melons? Can you pick out the ripest melon for me?”
Jillian gave the grocer an apologetic smile. “They’re just visiting.”
“What about this one?” Another woman held up a different melon.
Morghann sniffed it. ٭Not ripe for eating today, but soon.٭
“That’s good. I wanted it for a couple of days from now.” She went past the grocer and entered the shop with the chosen melon and the rest of the produce in her basket.
“So those are Scelties,” the grocer said quietly, talking more to himself than to Jillian. “You hear stories about them, even here in the valley. Didn’t expect to see one.”
Jillian scanned the list Marian had provided. She swiftly chose the fruits she was supposed to buy, taking her selections from the fruit floating above the cart. “I have all the fruit we need. You should—”
“Oh, couldn’t they help a little more while you finish your shopping?” That was another woman. With a little shiver of dread and fascination, Jillian realized they had drawn a big crowd, and the grocer was looking a bit bemused by the entertainment value being provided by his fruit and vegetable carts.
٭You should finish up before the grocer offers one of them a job,٭ Daemonar said.
She hoped he was teasing, but just in case he wasn’t, she selected the vegetables using touch and her own nose.
٭Broccoli!٭ Tagg said. ٭Is Jillian buying broccoli for us?٭
“The last time I visited the Hall, Uncle Daemon said you weren’t allowed to have broccoli, because it makes you fart,” Daemonar said.
Tagg whined and gave the grocer a pleading look.
“I might risk Prince Yaslana’s displeasure,” the grocer said, “but I’m not going to do anything that could stink up Lady Marian’s home.”
Reminding herself that boys thought farts were an acceptable topic of conversation no matter where they were, Jillian ignored the chuckles from the men and tsks from the women as she took her basket inside and had the purchases added to the Yaslana household account.
“Come on, everyone,” she called as she headed back to the butcher shop. “We don’t have all day.”
٭We have to go now,٭ Morghann said, trotting between the shoulders of two customers. ٭We are chaperons today.٭
Approving nods from the women, along with a few “Come back and visit again” remarks.
Jillian vanished her basket. Without the broccoli being right in front of him, Tagg settled enough that Daemonar could put him down.
When they reached the butcher shop, she saw a flash of movement in the alleyway, there and gone.
٭Jillian.٭ The whisper of her name was so unexpected, she almost gasped. Dillon didn’t like using psychic communication. He said it didn’t convey half of what could be heard in a real voice—the difference between corresponding with a person and meeting face-to-face.
She looked at Daemonar. “Do you know what to purchase?”
“Jillian.” Daemonar’s voice held a warning.
A Warlord Prince was the most amenable he would ever be in his entire life during those years just before he began the change from boy to man—unless that boy had almost lost his mother and would no longer back down from a fight. “Five minutes. Right next to the shop in plain sight. I just need to tell Dillon about the arrangement I made with Lady Surreal.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “Please?”
“Out in the open, in full sight of people on the street,” he finally said, reluctantly yielding to her plea. “You promise?”
She should have agreed immediately. Making a promise to someone so much younger rankled enough to have her hesitate.
“Jillian, whatever you’re planning to do? Don’t,” Daemonar said. “You’ve already made a promise to Auntie Surreal, and she’s half Dea al Mon. Your friend’s life won’t be worth anything if you break your promise to her.”
Jillian swallowed the lump of fear that suddenly blocked her throat. “I won’t break my promise to her or to you.”
She watched him walk into the shop. A boy had given a prime roast to the Scelties for breakfast, but the young Warlord Prince who walked into the butcher shop didn’t sound like a boy.
٭Jillian.٭
She rounded the corner and stopped, checking that she would be seen easily by anyone walking along the main street. “Dillon?”
He appeared in front of her. Then he grabbed her hand a moment before she felt a whisper of power surround them.
“Sight shield,” he said. “Should have thought of it the last time.”
Before she could protest, before she could warn him, he pushed her against the wall, covered her mouth with his, and thrust his tongue between her lips. Startled, she did nothing, not sure if she liked the sensation or not.
Then fear cleared her head. She pushed him away, breaking most of the contact between them. But he still held her hand.
“Stop it,” she said, keeping her voice low. “You have to drop the sight shield now.”
“It’s all right.” He moved in on her—or tried to.
She pushed back, her hand on his chest.
“Don’t you want to be with me?” He sounded hurt, vulnerable. “If you loved me, you would want to be with me as much as I want to be with you.”
She felt the gentle brush of his thumb over the knuckles of one hand. Of course she loved him, wanted to be with him. But . . . She shook her head, struggling to remember why it would be wrong to have this private moment. Why it would be dangerous. “There’s not much time. You have to listen.”
“Kiss me first.”
Dark Opal power slammed against Dillon’s Opal sight shield. That power struck again, breaking the shield.
“What in the name of Hell . . . ,” he began.
٭No touching!٭ Khary’s voice boomed in the alleyway for everyone to hear.
٭He was touching!٭ Morghann’s voice, equally loud.
٭Bad dog! Grrrrr.٭ Tagg’s barks were loud enough to start a rockslide.
That brought a whole lot of people running to find out what had upset the Scelties—including Daemonar. And standing in the street, his hand around the hilt of his fighting knife, was Lord Rothvar.
“We’re fine.” Jillian gave Daemonar a pleading look and then glanced in Rothvar’s direction, but she didn’t dare meet the Green-Jeweled Warlord’s eyes. “Just a misunderstanding with the Scelties.”
Daemonar turned and went back to the butcher shop. Rothvar studied her a moment longer before continuing on his way. Everyone else went back to their own concerns, since she didn’t need help.
Everyone except the Scelties.
“Lord Dillon was just touching my hand. That’s allowed.” At least, that was all he’d been doing when Khary broke the sight shield and everyone could see them.
٭Daemon said no touching,٭ Morghann said stubbornly. At least she wasn’t telling the whole village now. ٭He didn’t say no touching except for hands.٭
“I need to speak with Lord Dillon.”
They stared at her.
“Privately.”
٭No,٭ Khary said.
It wasn’t lost on her that Khary outranked everyone standing in that alleyway right now, and if provoked, the Sceltie Warlord could hurt Dillon.
“You three stay here. Dillon and I are going to walk down there and talk for a minute.” Jillian pointed to the end of the alleyway.
Turning, she walked away. Dillon trailed behind her.