Page 11 of Griffin Food

My hand goes back to my throat. I feel very much like a startled rabbit. Why does the air in the room suddenly feel parched? Why have I never noticed quite how broad-shouldered they both are? Lark, with his bright blue eyes and hair a little unfashionably long. Rafe, with his sandy hair cropped short, and who is half a head taller than Lark.

I glance between them, only to realize that Lark is staring at my chest.

Rafe thumps him on the shoulder, which snaps him out of it.

“I’m feeling a little unwell,” I say. “I’m going to take to my room.”

Rafe’s eyes narrow. “You do look a little flushed.” He steps closer, bringing all that warmth with him.

I take a hasty step back.

He halts immediately, frowning. “Not going to hurt you, lass. Just want to check your temperature.”

No. That would not be a good idea. At all. His hands on me. I can scarcely breathe with him a pace away. Their scent is all up in my nose. It is all I can do not to lean into him.

My gaze drops of its own volition, and my eyes fix upon the faint bulge in his leather pants.

Not aroused. Merely the evidence of his manhood. A part of him I have, until now, chosen to ignore.

I swallow thickly.

Some distant part of me feels I ought to be more afraid. I am alone, many miles from home, far from anyone who knows my name. These men could do anything they wanted.

And yet I am not afraid at all. These two men are nothing like my sister’s mate, Elijah. Not once have they ever made me feel unsafe. Even now when I am staring at him in a way that is inordinately rude.

I shake my head, trying to rouse myself and tear my gaze away, only to catch Rafe’s eyes.

Tension is written all over his face. Underneath it is worry.

I steady my breathing. Remind myself that I know him in ways that go beyond mere acquaintance. I knew him that very first day, when he saved me from a runaway horse. When he pulled down my riding pants and spanked my bottom.

No, don’t think about that now.

“Mayhap the lass is thinking about that time you spanked her?”

“Shut the fuck up, Lark,” Rafe grits out.

Thankfully, it works.

“My apologies for… for the window,” I say. There. It’s out. Hopefully we can all move past it.

“No need,” Rafe says gruffly. “We’re simple men. You’re a beautiful woman. And while we should have looked away, we were momentarily stunned. But I don’t ever want you to be afraid of us.”

“I’m not,” I say quickly.

“Do you need us to send for a healer?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m just… tired. And not hungry. I really do think it’s best if I take to my bed.” Goddess slay me, why did I bring up the bed?!

“You’ve been riding all day. You need something to eat. And it might be many days before we’re in a comfortable bed again.” Rafe pauses. “Perhaps we should ask the innkeeper about extending the stay. A day or two, until you’re feeling better.”

For a supposed subordinate in my employment, he has a mile wide stubborn streak and overly firm disposition where my safety or wellbeing are concerned.

I nod.

“Aye,” Lark says, already moving toward the door. “And I’ll order supper. Even if you don’t eat now, I’ll have them bring something cold for later.”

The door opens and closes.