Then his eyes went to the rune necklace around my throat. The dance ended, and we both applauded politely.

The orchestra started another tune, something a little jazzier.

I held my hand out to Dawson. “Could I interest you in another dance?”

“Perhaps you’d like to go somewhere more private,” Dawson suggested. “I hear Mab’s gardens are lovely in the moonlight.”

I thought of the secluded gazebos, copses of trees, and thickets of rose bushes I’d spotted outside. I easily could drop Dawson in the garden. With any luck, no one would stumble across him until morning. It was my best option at this point, unless I could somehow maneuver the dwarf back to the bathroom where I’d killed Jake McAllister. Given the way Dawson was staring at my boobs, I doubted he’d wait that long before he forced himself on me.

I smiled at him again. “I’d love to go out to the gardens.”

———

I put my hand on Tobias Dawson’s arm, and we left the dance floor. Across the room, I saw Finnegan Lane staring at me. He still stood next to Roslyn, but I saw the relief in his green gaze. Finn knew the longer I stayed the more risk there was of someone trying to proposition me for real—and the slimmer my chances got to take care of Dawson.

Finn wasn’t the only one staring at me. So was Owen Grayson. He nodded his head to me as we walked by. I smiled at him in return.

Tobias Dawson opened one of the double doors for me, and we stepped outside. The night air had grown even chillier since I’d been out here with Owen Grayson, and I shivered.

“Cold?” the dwarf asked, closing the door behind us.

“A bit.”

He smiled at me. “Don’t worry. What I have in mind will warm you right up.”

Dawson was saying all the right things, but again, his smile didn’t reach his pale eyes. But I brushed off my unease.

All I had to do was get him away from the doors, and the job would be done. Dawson offered me his arm again, and I took it. With my free hand, I palmed one of my silverstone knives.

We walked down the terrace steps and onto a stone pathway that meandered into the dark gardens. A woman cried out softly in a gazebo to our left. A moment later, another woman joined her throaty chorus.

Dawson ignored them and moved on. I let him lead me farther into the shadows that cut through the garden like black knives.

The dwarf didn’t stop until he reached a gazebo hidden underneath the tendrils of a weeping willow tree.