“Well, like I said, I thought we could rest until morning, and—”

“No,” she said impatiently. “Why didn’t you lock me in with the others back at the temple?”

Han had to admit, she had starch. It was a risky question to ask, when she didn’t know what the answer would be.

“I thought I might need you to get across the bridge and…”

She hunched her shoulders and glared at him. She wasn’t buying it.

“I don’t know,” he said simply. “Just a spur of the moment thing, I guess. Does everything have to have a good reason?”

In fact, he’d been asking himself that same question. There, in the study, she’d come toward him, saying, “What happened to you? Who did this?” with this kind of fierce look on her face, like she was totally on his side, ready to do battle on his behalf. She’d touched his arm, and it had warmed his center like a coal fire.

Then Byrne had named him a murderer, and she’d yanked her hand back with this look of revulsion. And the next thing he knew, Han was dragging her across the bridge. Like he might somehow drag her back into his corner.

Well, if she was on his side before, he’d ruined it now. Six or eight murders was a big hurdle to overcome. Plus, he’d end in gaol if he showed his face in Fellsmarch again. There was another barrier, right there.

To what? What did he expect from this girlie? Did he think they’d go walking out together? Would she call on him in his palace over the stable?

Rebecca kept sliding glances at him, as if memorizing every detail. Probably so she could pick him out of a lineup.

“Where’d you get the wrist cuffs?” she asked unexpectedly. “Did you steal them from somebody?”

It was almost like she was trying to provoke him, to end the suspense.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t.”

“You know they’re looking for us,” Rebecca said, just full of good news. “They won’t rest until they find us.”

“Try and get some sleep,” he suggested. “That’s what I’m going to do. Tomorrow, I’ll figure out a way to turn you loose.” He rooted in his trunk and tossed her a blanket that wasn’t too smelly. And a pair of breeches and shirt that were way too small for him now, just in case. Then he dragged one of the cots over to the bottom of the stairs and curled up resolutely.

Sleep was a long time in coming. He heard rustling from Rebecca’s corner, the whisper of fabric sliding over the floor. She’d apparently decided to change out of her wet clothes after all. He stared out into the darkness, trying to keep that image out of his head. It would only cause trouble.