He would? Sophie raised her eyebrows as she looked at him pointedly. Thanks for asking, asshole.

He looked magnificently impervious to her speaking glance. Actually, truly magnificent. His innately elegant, erect carriage and the imperious tilt of his head drew glances from everyone around them. The fact that Sophie was affected by it irritated her to no end. With an effort, she had to restrain herself from making a face at him.

“Well… all right,” Maggie said reluctantly. “But at least let me gather some things together for you, love.” As Sophie started to protest, the other woman insisted. “Just a small box to get you started.”

Let her help you. Nikolas’s deep telepathic voice sounded unexpectedly in her head. It’s a small thing, and it will make her feel better about your leaving.

Sophie glowered at him, and when that look rolled off his broad shoulders too, she said to Maggie, “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

“I won’t be just a minute.” Maggie hurried into her shattered kitchen, muttering under her breath at the mess.

Silent as a wraith and just as deadly, Nikolas followed Sophie up the stairs.

There was no need for her to unlock the door to her room. Like the front entrance to the pub, there was no door. She paused in the doorway to take in the mess inside.

The furniture had been knocked askew, and the bed had been shredded.

She took in a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder. Nikolas’s expression was grim. He nodded in the direction of the rest of the hall. As she looked down the hall, she realized all the other doors were still intact and closed.

Her stomach clenched. Either the Hounds had been hunting for the puck, or her, or both.

Nikolas said, “Let’s hope this cell of Hounds didn’t have a chance to relay information up the chain of command.”

He didn’t sound very hopeful, and she didn’t blame him. It sounded too much like unrealistic optimism to her as well.

She limped into the destroyed room. Since she’d been planning to stay only for one night, she hadn’t unpacked very much, and the pieces of her sturdy Samsonite luggage had been knocked around, but at least they were intact. Picking through the mess, she collected the rest of her things—a cell phone charger, clean set of clothes for the morning, and her travel toiletry bag.

Straightening with an effort, she pressed a hand against her aching side and said breathlessly, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Nikolas had collected her suitcases. He waited by the door, watching her with an inscrutable expression. As she reached him, he picked up the luggage and led the way down the stairs.

Maggie greeted them down below. She held a cardboard box. Sophie caught a glimpse of tea bags, a bottle of milk, and a loaf of bread tucked inside, along with other items. Maggie said, “It’s not much, but it will get you started in the morning.”

“It’s terrific, thank you.” Sophie set her toiletry bag on top of the box and accepted it. “It was kind of you to think of this with so much else going on.”

“It’s the least I can do in return for what you did for us.” Maggie’s eyes glittered with wetness. “You not only saved my life, but Arran says you saved his too.” She turned to Nikolas. “Thank you, both of you.”

He didn’t appear to look uncomfortable at all, while Sophie was barely able to keep from blurting out the truth. She swallowed the impulse down. It wouldn’t do anybody any good, and the knowledge could possibly put them in more danger.

Instead, she said, “I’m sorry for the people you lost tonight.”

“It’s a hard blow,” Maggie said. “It’ll be hard for the whole town. They were good men just enjoying a bit of an after-hours card game, you see.”

“I do see,” Sophie said gently.

Maggie turned back to the shambles of her pub. As Sophie and Nikolas walked to the Mini, Sophie muttered between her teeth, “I want her dead for this.”

Nikolas said, “As do I, and mine.”

Chapter Eight

When they reached the Mini, they discovered the puck, still in the form of a monkey, waiting inside.

No doubt Robin found opposable thumbs more useful than dog paws. After setting the box and the luggage into the boot of the car, Nikolas stood back and watched Sophie drive away, then he walked down the side alley where he had parked his Porsche and followed.

He didn’t like how she had looked. Underneath the thorough dousing of blood, her skin had turned chalky, the freckles standing out in stark contrast, and the shadows underneath her spectacular eyes were as dark as bruises. She didn’t complain, but she moved like she was in pain, stiffly and off-balance.

He pulled into the property drive and parked beside the Mini. By the time he had switched off the engine, Sophie was already at the entrance of the cottage, unlocking the door by the light of her slim flashlight.

He pulled his go-bag out of the car and retrieved her luggage from the Mini’s boot. When he stepped inside an aged but comfortable-looking kitchen, she had turned on all the lights and stuck her head into a cupboard.

“There’s some way to turn on the water heater,” she said, her voice muffled. “The solicitor told me how to do it, but I don’t remember.”

“Sit down,” Nikolas ordered.

That made her emerge so she could glare at him. He could almost hear her say it: Thanks for asking, asshole.

“Seriously, sit,” he told her impatiently. “I’ll take care of the water heater.”