the Villainess they took for granted

Chapter 48: Chapter 48: The First Night

By the time they found shelter, Marian was cold, wet, hungry, and thoroughly offended by the entire forest.

The forest, unfortunately, seemed indifferent to her feelings.

Rain continued hammering against the roof of the abandoned hunter’s shelter.

Water dripped from the edges.

Wind slipped through the cracks in the walls.

The structure looked as though a strong sneeze might collapse it entirely.

Marian stared at it.

Then at Cassian.

Then back at the shelter.

"This is where we’re staying?"

Cassian followed her gaze.

"It has a roof."

"The roof is losing."

"It is still technically winning."

Marian sighed.

Deeply.

Dramatically.

"The standards for survival are appalling."

Cassian’s mouth twitched.

The traitor found that amusing.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.

The shelter was miserable.

But it was dry.

Mostly.

And right now, mostly dry felt luxurious.

The first challenge proved to be fire.

More specifically, the complete lack of one.

Marian watched Cassian kneeling near the center of the shelter, attempting to coax life from damp kindling.

For the third time.

The kindling refused.

Cassian stared at it.

The kindling remained unimpressed.

For some reason, this delighted her.

"You look angry."

"I’m not angry."

The answer came immediately.

Which meant he absolutely was.

Marian smiled.

A small one.

The kind that irritated people.

"You’re arguing with sticks."

"I am not."

"You are."

"I am negotiating."

Marian laughed.

The sound escaped before she could stop it.

Cassian looked up.

For a brief moment their eyes met.

Something strange flickered between them.

Then vanished.

Thankfully.

Because Marian had no idea what to do with it.

Several minutes later, the fire finally caught.

Cassian leaned back with the expression of a man who had personally conquered nature.

Marian applauded.

Once.

Slowly.

"You may stop."

"No."

"You are impossible."

"I’ve heard that before."

The warmth spread gradually through the shelter.

Not enough.

But enough to make survival seem slightly less unpleasant.

Outside, the storm continued.

Inside, another problem appeared.

Marian noticed it first.

Her cloak.

Still soaked.

Her gloves.

Soaked.

Her boots.

Soaked.

Everything.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

Cassian was looking at the fire.

Which meant he was also thinking about it.

The realization was immediate.

And horrifying.

Marian pointed a finger at him.

"Absolutely not."

Cassian blinked.

"I haven’t said anything."

"You were going to."

"I was."

"The answer is no."

"The answer to what?"

Marian stared.

Cassian stared back.

Then—

"Ah."

The infuriating man understood.

"Your cloak needs drying."

"My cloak can remain wet."

"That seems inefficient."

"My cloak and I are committed to suffering together."

For a moment Cassian said nothing.

Then he laughed.

Actually laughed.

The sound startled her.

Because she realized she had never heard him laugh like that before.

Not at a ballroom.

Not during a social gathering.

Not while being watched.

It was warmer.

More genuine.

More dangerous.

Marian immediately decided she disliked it.

A lie.

Eventually practicality won.

The cloaks were hung near the fire.

Then the gloves.

Then the outer jackets.

Neither mentioned how strange it felt.

Because mentioning it would only make it stranger.

The result was unfortunate.

Without his coat, Cassian looked less like a duke.

More like a man.

His sleeves were rolled halfway to his elbows.

His dark hair remained damp from the rain.

A few strands had escaped entirely.

Marian found herself staring.

Only briefly.

Then immediately looked away.

The problem was that she had already noticed.

The second problem was that she kept noticing.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

"Why are you frowning?"

Marian nearly jumped.

"I am not frowning."

"You are."

"I am thinking."

Cassian nodded.

"That usually produces the same expression."

The nerve.

An hour later, they had managed to gather enough dry wood to keep the fire alive.

Or rather, Cassian had.

Marian’s contribution had been less successful.

Much less.

Cassian looked down at the pile she had proudly collected.

Then looked at her.

Then back at the pile.

"Marian."

"What?"

"These are wet."

She folded her arms.

"How can you tell?"

He stared.

Actually stared.

Water dripped from one branch.

Directly onto the floor.

Between them.

Neither spoke.

Then Cassian pointed.

Marian followed the gesture.

Silence.

"I dislike you."

"You say that frequently."

"Because you deserve it."

Cassian smiled.

A real smile.

One that reached his eyes.

And suddenly Marian understood why so many women lost their minds around him.

The realization was deeply inconvenient.

The fire crackled softly.

Rain continued outside.

Darkness settled fully over the forest.

For the first time all day, they had nowhere to go.

Nothing to do.

No excuse to leave.

The realization sat quietly between them.

Cassian stretched his legs toward the fire.

"Can I ask you something?"

Marian narrowed her eyes.

"Historically, your questions have caused problems."

"Fair."

The answer came far too quickly.

Which meant he agreed.

Unfortunately.

Cassian glanced toward her.

"Were you always this dramatic?"

Marian gasped.

Actually gasped.

"I am not dramatic."

Cassian looked delighted.

The traitor.

"Marian."

"I am not."

"You declared eternal loyalty to a wet cloak."

"That was different."

"How?"

"It was eloquent."

Cassian laughed again.

The sound echoed softly through the shelter.

Warm.

Easy.

Dangerous.

Marian hated how much she liked it.

Then she asked:

"Were you always this annoying?"

"Yes."

The answer was immediate.

"No hesitation at all?"

"No."

"At least you’re honest."

Cassian leaned back.

Looking unexpectedly thoughtful.

"When I was twelve, I climbed the north wall of Ashbourne Manor."

Marian blinked.

"Why?"

"Someone told me not to."

Silence.

Then:

"That’s incredibly stupid."

Cassian looked offended.

"I was twelve."

"Even for twelve."

His expression suggested he regretted telling her.

Marian was delighted.

"What happened?"

"I fell."

"Good."

"I broke my wrist."

"Excellent."

Cassian stared.

Marian smiled sweetly.

The smile was entirely insincere.

"You’re cruel."

"You deserved it."

"That seems harsh."

"You climbed a wall."

"An impressive wall."

"You broke your wrist."

"A temporary setback."

Marian laughed.

Really laughed.

The sound filled the shelter.

For one strange moment neither looked away.

Neither broke eye contact.

The laughter faded slowly.

The silence that followed felt different.

Not awkward.

Something else.

Something softer.

Cassian cleared his throat first.

A tactical retreat.

Marian approved.

"What about you?"

She immediately became suspicious.

"What about me?"

"Tell me something embarrassing."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I have dignity."

Cassian looked unconvinced.

Eventually, after much suffering, she admitted the truth.

"When I was eleven, I cried for three days because I lost a ribbon."

Silence.

Then:

"A ribbon."

"It matched a dress."

"A ribbon."

"It was a very nice dress."

Cassian bent forward laughing.

Actually laughing.

Shoulders shaking.

Completely insufferable.

Marian threw a small piece of bark at him.

It bounced harmlessly off his arm.

"You are a terrible person."

"I cannot believe this."

"It was important."

"It was a ribbon."

"It matched the dress!"

That only made him laugh harder.

And somehow—

somehow—

Marian found herself laughing too.

Hours later, after the fire had burned low and exhaustion finally settled over them, Marian realized something alarming.

She knew things about Cassian now.

Small things.

Meaningless things.

The way he rubbed the back of his neck while thinking.

The way his smile appeared more often than he realized.

The way he became stubborn whenever he thought he was right.

Which was apparently always.

And somehow those things felt more dangerous than all the attraction that had come before.

Because attraction could happen between strangers.

This could not.

Outside, the storm finally began to weaken.

Inside, the fire continued burning softly.

Cassian tossed another branch onto the flames.

The orange light danced across his face.

For a brief moment Marian simply watched him.

Not because he was handsome.

Though he was.

Not because he was Adrian’s cousin.

Or a duke.

Or any of the things the world said he was.

Just because he was Cassian.

The realization unsettled her.

Because it should not have mattered.

Yet somehow it did.

Far too much.

And tomorrow, neither of them knew it yet, would be even worse.

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