Chapter 9: Thirty Days

Linnet's POV

Corwin did not ask me to sit. He pulled out the chair himself and went to the window.

"The whole file is on the desk," he said. "Read as long as you like."

I read the six letters in order.

They were short, written in a plain square hand, and each one began the same way.

Miss Ashworth, the match remains open. I will hear your answer from you, in person, whenever you choose to give it.

The last was dated three weeks ago.

He had never once asked for anything else.

I held the sixth page so hard that the paper edge split the skin of my palm.

Blood ran down my wrist before I felt it.

"You're bleeding," Corwin said.

He was across the room faster than I could follow.

He took my hand in both of his and turned it palm up under the lamp.

His hands were large and very warm. They closed over mine, and the cut stopped stinging.

He pressed a folded handkerchief to it and held it there.

Neither of us said a word.

His thumb lay across the inside of my wrist, and I could feel my pulse jumping against it.

He did not pull away.

I did not take my hand back.

I saw his throat move, and his pupils widen until the pale blue was almost gone.

It was concern, I told myself. I had bled on his desk, and he was a king with manners.

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