Page 13 of The Milliner and the Griffin Rider

Chloe nodded, gripped by a sudden reluctance to deceive either of them any further.

“Convenient timing,” Harrison muttered, and Chloe’s eyes flashed to him quickly enough to catch the significant look he directed at Fletcher.

She immediately flushed.

Fletcher ignored his captain, however, continuing to talk in a cheerful manner as he distributed the cups of tea. The mugs holding the drinks were large and lacked the delicate grace of the teacups usually employed by ladies of fashion. But Chloe was grateful to wrap her fingers around the warm cup and to drink all the liquid it contained.

“I wonder how long the storm will last,” she ventured, wishing she’d thought to ask Ammy about the storm’s length. “I don’t suppose any of you have a vendrillon to let us know?” She looked hopefully around the room as if one might be concealed somewhere.

Instead, her eyes fell on a nest in the corner of the room, considerably smaller than the ones she had seen in the mews. She gasped, and both men followed her gaze. Inside the nest, the smallest griffin Chloe had ever seen lay curled up, asleep. And at her side, sleeping on the ground, lay Ranger, stretched out and comfortable despite the lack of a nest.

“I don’t think the griffins would suffer any vendrillon hanging around,” Fletcher said with a chuckle. “None of the talking creatures like to share their chosen humans.”

“Oh, of course not. That’s silly of me,” Chloe murmured, but her attention and focus remained on the elegant golden griffin.

“She’s beautiful,” she whispered, instinctively grasping that the delicate griffin was a girl. “Is she a baby?”

Harrison sighed, and her gaze snapped to his, her brows drawing together. Was something wrong with the griffin?

“She’s young.” His eyes lingered on the sleeping creature. “But she’s also much too small and weak for her age. It’s why we have her nest in here. The men prefer to keep an eye on her. And Ranger checks on her regularly as well.” An affectionate smile curled his mouth and warmed his eyes, and Chloe tried not to imagine what it would be like to see that particular expression directed at her.

“He refused to go outside once the rain started,” Fletcher said with a grin. “You’d never think it to look at his solemn face, but he loves his comfort, does our head griffin.”

“He’d fly in the rain without hesitation if it was needed,” Harrison said shortly. “But he’s not such a fool as to go out in a storm unnecessarily.” His eyes flicked toward Chloe.

Ranger’s eyes opened slowly, and he fixed one on the captain.

Relax, Harrison, he said in a long-suffering tone. As you can see, the girl is unharmed by a little rain.

“I wouldn’t call it little,” Chloe muttered, but she kept her voice too quiet for the griffin on the far side of the hall to hear.

Fletcher, however, cast her a quick glance of surprise, his eyes moving from her to Ranger and finally to Harrison, where they lingered before they returned to Chloe. “Ranger said something? And you heard it?”

“You didn’t?” she asked, too distracted for caution.

The griffin’s words had suggested that Harrison’s anger stemmed from concern rather than suspicion. But she couldn’t entirely trust the idea, given the questions he had asked and the look he had given his second-in-command.

“No, I didn’t,” Fletcher said slowly. “Ranger never talks to anyone but Harrison.” His tone was thoughtful, but the look he threw toward Harrison was triumphant. Harrison wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“This cannot be a comfortable situation for a young lady,” the captain said abruptly. “I think Chloe will be more at ease with only the griffins for company.” He stood. “Come on, Fletcher.”

He fixed his lieutenant with such a stern glare that Fletcher rose to his feet with no more protest than a single, longing look at the fire. Chloe immediately felt bad and wanted to protest against their departure, but how could she do so when she only wore a shift beneath her blanket? It would seem much too forward.

And neither could she deny his words. While the presence of Harrison evoked all sorts of emotions, in the present situation, comfort wasn’t one of them.

Left alone in front of the fire, the warmth slowly seeped through her blanket, and the exhaustion of her experience overtook her. She dozed.

When she came awake, it was abrupt, and she held herself still, listening for the noise that had disturbed her. But it hadn’t been the noise so much as the absence of one. The rain had stopped. And from the way the fire had burned low, she had been drowsing in front of it for hours.

She leaped up, dragging the blanket with her. At least she had left the door to the storeroom open, so hopefully enough warmth had made it into the room to dry her clothes.

Hurrying into the storeroom and firmly closing the door, she dressed herself, shivering as the damp fabric touched her skin. But there was no way she was returning to the town wearing a blanket.

She abandoned her hat without thought, but she lingered over the slippers. Eventually she decided there was no point trying to salvage them. But as she slipped back out into the main room in bare feet, the issue occupied her mind. She could no more walk home barefoot than she could go wrapped in nothing but a blanket.

A figure stood by the fire, his back to her, but at her soft gasp of surprise, Harrison turned to face her. Dangling from one hand hung a pair of boots.

He held them out to her with a half shrug. “They’ll be too big, of course, but they’re the smallest we have anywhere in the barracks.”