She was a coastal girl, then. He supposed there were probably people in the far southern isles with dark hair and tanned skin. That was more logical than believing the girl to be from Raascot, but though he tried to take matters of geography into account, he found his mind distracted from thoughts of her lineage. He could have sworn she leaned in to press her breasts together, which made discerning her origins rather challenging. How absurd that a woman so stunning would have to do more than glance at a man to have him at her beck and call. It was a bit too absurd.

Ash kept his voice casual, but a guarded caution had crept into his gut. The woman was art. Ash knew enough of the world to have learned that the prettiest flowers often had the moist, poisonous fruits. Vigilance aside, her presence remained immensely distracting.

He cleared his throat, offering, “How fortunate that two travelers’ paths should cross, then.”

He was thankful that their conversation was interrupted. The barmaid brought yet another ale for him, and a glass of red wine for the lady. He certainly didn’t need another drink, but he couldn’t have anticipated how the night would reveal itself. He slid the woman several pennies, and two extra as a tip.

The young woman lifted her wine glass in a toast.

The barmaid cut in, “It’s only silver if you’re wanting a room for the night as well.”

The dark-haired girl raised a conspiratorial eyebrow, amused at whatever foregone conclusion was being implied.

“Your friend said you were the one with the coin purse,” the woman clarified. The barmaid seemed a bit frazzled at the night’s crowd but waved a hand to where Malik watched from the bar. Malik raised two fingers in a mock salute as Ash spotted him. He must have seen the lovely young woman take a seat at their table and taken his cue to make himself scarce, ever the valiant wingman, despite his injury.

Ash procured a silver and the barmaid went on her way, presumably handing a room key off to Malik.

“And staying at this inn as well?” she purred. The woman’s lips twitched up slightly, eyelashes lowering as she looked into her wine, then back up at Ash. “Fortune smiles upon us. My room is just upstairs.”

Was she inviting him into her bed? Ash hadn’t bathed in nine days and had been scowling at the world for the hour leading up to their arrival. There was no way this stunning creature wanted his company tonight. Feeling a twinge of something that may have been an irritation for letting himself believe she could have been interested, he course-corrected by asking her, “Is there anything I can help you with, ma’am?”