٭Jillian.٭

She rounded the corner and stopped, checking that she would be seen easily by anyone walking along the main street. “Dillon?”

He appeared in front of her. Then he grabbed her hand a moment before she felt a whisper of power surround them.

“Sight shield,” he said. “Should have thought of it the last time.”

Before she could protest, before she could warn him, he pushed her against the wall, covered her mouth with his, and thrust his tongue between her lips. Startled, she did nothing, not sure if she liked the sensation or not.

Then fear cleared her head. She pushed him away, breaking most of the contact between them. But he still held her hand.

“Stop it,” she said, keeping her voice low. “You have to drop the sight shield now.”

“It’s all right.” He moved in on her—or tried to.

She pushed back, her hand on his chest.

“Don’t you want to be with me?” He sounded hurt, vulnerable. “If you loved me, you would want to be with me as much as I want to be with you.”

She felt the gentle brush of his thumb over the knuckles of one hand. Of course she loved him, wanted to be with him. But . . . She shook her head, struggling to remember why it would be wrong to have this private moment. Why it would be dangerous. “There’s not much time. You have to listen.”

“Kiss me first.”

Dark Opal power slammed against Dillon’s Opal sight shield. That power struck again, breaking the shield.

“What in the name of Hell . . . ,” he began.

٭No touching!٭ Khary’s voice boomed in the alleyway for everyone to hear.

٭He was touching!٭ Morghann’s voice, equally loud.

٭Bad dog! Grrrrr.٭ Tagg’s barks were loud enough to start a rockslide.

That brought a whole lot of people running to find out what had upset the Scelties—including Daemonar. And standing in the street, his hand around the hilt of his fighting knife, was Lord Rothvar.

“We’re fine.” Jillian gave Daemonar a pleading look and then glanced in Rothvar’s direction, but she didn’t dare meet the Green-Jeweled Warlord’s eyes. “Just a misunderstanding with the Scelties.”

Daemonar turned and went back to the butcher shop. Rothvar studied her a moment longer before continuing on his way. Everyone else went back to their own concerns, since she didn’t need help.

Everyone except the Scelties.

“Lord Dillon was just touching my hand. That’s allowed.” At least, that was all he’d been doing when Khary broke the sight shield and everyone could see them.

٭Daemon said no touching,٭ Morghann said stubbornly. At least she wasn’t telling the whole village now. ٭He didn’t say no touching except for hands.٭

“I need to speak with Lord Dillon.”

They stared at her.

“Privately.”

٭No,٭ Khary said.

It wasn’t lost on her that Khary outranked everyone standing in that alleyway right now, and if provoked, the Sceltie Warlord could hurt Dillon.

“You three stay here. Dillon and I are going to walk down there and talk for a minute.” Jillian pointed to the end of the alleyway.

Turning, she walked away. Dillon trailed behind her.

“Hell’s fire, Jillian,” he hissed. “What’s going on? What are those things?”

“They’re Scelties. They’re chaperons.”

“You’re joking.”

She shook her head. “Everyone is upset about what happened the other day.”

“I thought that was settled when I made nice at the cake shop.” Dillon did not look or sound happy.

“What was settled was that we can see each other and spend time together. Public outings with a chaperon present.” She gave him a wobbly smile.

Dillon stared at her.

“You can come up to the eyrie,” she said.

Now he smiled. “Oh, yeah?” When he reached for her, she took a step back.

He looked hurt. And maybe something else. “I thought you wanted to be with me.”

“I do.”

“You can’t let Yaslana dictate your life. He’s not your father.”

The words made her uneasy, even though she had almost said the same thing to Lucivar herself. “But he is the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih, and everyone who lives in this valley lives under his hand. And that includes visitors.”

“If I don’t kowtow, what’s he going to do?”

Dillon sounded defiant. That he would be willing to defy an Ebon-gray Warlord Prince to be with her was thrilling—and terrifying. Had Dillon ever had personal dealings with a Warlord Prince before, let alone a man as powerful as Lucivar Yaslana? “He is the law in Ebon Rih. He could banish you from his Territory. Or he could kill you.”

“For a kiss?”

She wasn’t sure Yaslana wouldn’t, so she said nothing.

Dillon sighed. Then, tossing a defiant look at the Scelties—and Daemonar, who now stood with them—he held out his hand.

Feeling like she had to draw her own line of how much she would let someone interfere with her choices, she took his hand.

Dillon stepped a little closer, turning his back on the Scelties and the boy. Warm excitement filled her.

“I’m sorry I . . . Well, the thought of not being able to spend time with you made me a little crazy.”

“I told you. As long as we follow Lady Surreal’s rules, we can spend time together. You can visit with me at the eyrie when there is an adult present, or we can have a public outing together, with chaperons. But, for your sake, we have to follow Lady Surreal’s rules.”

He nodded. “Fine. I’ll make nice. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” Now he looked embarrassed. “Remember when I paid the bill at the cake shop? I wanted to make a good impression because I didn’t think Lady Surreal thought much of me. And now I have a bill that I have to pay, and I can’t.” His thumb rubbed across her knuckles. “Do you think you could . . . ? Just to tide me over.”

“Oh,” she said when she finally caught on to what he was asking. Pulling her hand out of his, she called in the embroidered pouch she used as a wallet and removed all the marks. “This is what I have. You’re welcome to it.”

He started to smile until he ruffled the marks. “This isn’t enough to cover what I owe. Is there any way you could get a bit more? Maybe borrow a bit from your sister’s cashbox? Or from the Yaslana housekeeping money?”