Page 18 of Hollow Court
Gallagher closed his mouth with a suspicious glance as the carriage jolted into motion.
“Best not to say her name just now,” Davin explained casually, settling in entirely too close to me on the narrow bench.
Not that there was anywhere else to go, but his body heat emanated uncomfortably to me, his elbow brushing my arm each time he shifted.
“I both feel compelled to ask and dread the answer,” the young duke said with a sigh.
“Both of which are fair,” Davin acknowledged. “But that will have to wait until the inn.”
“Davin Allesandra Jenine Pendragon,” the duchess drawled, rubbing her temples.
“That’s not my name,” he turned to assure me, as if I didn’t know.
Though, to be fair, I supposed it could have been. I had only ever known him as Davin.
“It is entirely too early for me to worry about defending your very precarious honor, so just answer me this; is anyone going to try to kill us for this?” Lady Gwyndolyn asked with far less concern than the question warranted.
Davin looked down at me, but I wasn’t sure what he was searching for. Permission to tell them the truth? My opinion on the matter?
There was a time when I could read him—or at least, I had thought I could. Then everything I believed about him turned out to be a lie, and it became impossible to trust my judgment where he was concerned.
I returned his gaze indifferently until he turned back to face his cousins.
“Probably not today,” he finally replied.
“All right then. I’m taking a nap,” she announced. “Budge over, Gal, and wake me if we get attacked so I can run away and leave Davin here to face it all alone.”
Her brother chuckled, making more room for her to lay her head on his shoulder.
“No one likes a liar, Gwynnie,” Davin shot back, not at all bothered.
“That’s not my name,” she echoed his earlier words.
“Apologies,Gwyndolyn,” he said with false sincerity.
She glared at him, and I surmised she didn’t appreciate that name either.
They continued with their bickering, both looking to Laird Gallagher for support. Though my heart pounded with each turn of the wheels, their banal chatter was oddly soothing. Familiar, even.
A memory came to me, unbidden, of a moonlit rooftop.
“Why do you keep coming out here?” I asked with a sigh, as soon as I spotted him standing in my usual corner.
“Because you come out here,” he said with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes, something I hadn’t dared to do since I was a child. “Yes, to be alone.”
“But wouldn’t you rather my sparkling wit to keep you company?”
“You aren’t half as funny as you think you are.”
“And you aren’t half as serious as you pretend to be.”
I let out a sharp breath that was definitely not a laugh, shaking my head.
“Fine. You can stay if you stop talking.”
He had not, in fact, stopped talking.