CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Show her? Dear God, show her, what? What was wrong with her that it took every ounce of her self-possession, to climb the ladder in front of him and sweep across the floor, calmly, decisively, and stand beneath the sloping beams in the corner, with her best neutral expression plastered to her face? The fact there were no shoes in sight so her mind drifted to other things? When, first things first, there were things she needed to sort?

“Fish, Drottin.”

“What?”

She nodded. “Yes. That is what we were talking about down the stairs in case you are wondering.”

“Fish? Elves ears, unless you were down at the river fishing. Seeing as you brought it up, what the hell were you—”

“I believe I said my name is Malice and I think you will find I am the owner of Strictly Business.”

“I don’t care if you’re the owner of King Cnut’s bridge.”

“I think you will also find the name is pronounced, Canute.”

“And I think if you don’t shut up, what you’ll find—”