Free Heart of Fire by Kristen Painter

Ertemis gave her a half-hearted smile.
    “That will not be required.” This
was going to be a long journey with such company. “Will you fetch
Dragon and Petal and bring them to the house? I’ll bring my bundles
outside to meet you.”
    “Bundles? Perhaps I should educate
you on packing for travel. Let me see these bundles.”
    Despite her misgivings, Jessalyne
led him into her bedroom, dumping the coin pouches onto the bed
next to a mound of parcels—rolled and folded, tied and ready to
go.
    “Hah!” Ertemis surveyed the pile
with his hands on his hips. “Surely, you jest. Not half of this
will be coming.”
    “What? Why?” Jessalyne watched
Ertemis rifle through her things, appalled with his lack of regard
for what she considered necessary. After she stopped him from
discarding an item for the third time, he growled at
her.
    “You cannot take all this! You have
coin enough to purchase what you need.” He sighed. “Petal may be a
donkey, but there is no need to overload her.”
    “Fine. But this goes with me.”
Jessalyne patted the box holding her mother’s letter and the
dagger.
    “Just the contents.” He shook his
head. “Not the box.”
    Resigned, Jessalyne folded her
mother’s letter and tucked it into the pouch on her belt. She
lifted the sheathed dagger and stuffed it into her bedroll. Ertemis
caught her hand, his rough fingers gently snagging her
wrist.
    “Always keep your blade handy.” He
unlatched her waist belt and ran it through the loop on the
dagger’s sheath, then refastened the tooled leather around her
hips. Heat flared over her. For a man with such large hands, his
fingers were surprisingly nimble.
    * * *
    Ertemis struggled to concentrate as
Jessalyne’s scent curled around him. The gentle rhythm of her
beating heart filled his ears. She smelled of flowers, sunshine and
sweetness. Heat radiated off her like a blacksmith’s
shop.
    “Thank you,” she said, her voice
small and breathy.
    He lost himself in the liquid
lavender of her eyes. Less than the length of his Feyre separated
them. Her lips moved. He realized she had said something else. The
urge to kiss her overwhelmed him. He stepped away to give himself
recess. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. “What?”
    For the first time, she smiled at
him. “I said that is better than having it hidden away in my
bedroll.” She patted the dagger.
    The smile lit her face from within.
Ertemis just nodded. Saladan’s britches, she bewitched him. This
was going to be a very long trip. Think of the coin, he told
himself. Being paid to go somewhere he needed to go anyway was no
burden.
    “I’ll go pack what little you left
in the larder.” She almost laughed.
    “Uh, good, the animals.” Ertemis
gestured toward the outside, stumbling over his words. “I’ll be
back.” He needed fresh air. His head swam with her perfume. Perhaps
she had magic after all. He felt utterly bespelled.
    The air cooled his blood as he
brought the animals down from the stable. He finished adjusting his
saddle. Dragon stomped the ground, eager to be off.
    He turned to ready Petal and
frowned. There was no saddle for Jessalyne. He doubted she was
schooled in riding or had ever ridden at all. Without proper tack,
she would suffer more than necessary. He could share his saddle
with her but having her so near, her backside pressed against
his—he started calculating sums in his head until his blood
cooled.
    They would stop at the first town
and purchase a decent saddle. He would buy it using some of the
too-generous sum she’d paid him.
    Jessalyne came out of the house,
bedroll tucked beneath one arm, rucksack in her hand. Her hair was
braided in a plait down her back.
    He hooked the clasp of his cloak and
tugged his hood down over his eyes. Without asking, he knew she
would not be willing to wait until nightfall to travel. “There’s no
saddle for Petal. Do you know how to ride bareback?” He already
knew the answer to that question as well.
    “No.