The Scorpio Races - Maggie Stiefvater [113]
Malvern nods at Holly and then strides away. In his absence, Holly says something to me that I miss, because I am looking at Mutt. Written on his face is furious rejection and disbelief. In just that moment, it doesn’t matter that both he and I have done our part to earn Malvern’s words. It’s only that they were wounding that matters.
I watch his stare become fearsome as he holds my gaze. Something demanding and uncompromising claws inside Mutt Malvern. He pushes his way back toward the house.
“Sean Kendrick,” Holly says. “What is it you’re thinking?”
“That this doesn’t sit easy with me,” I reply. Holly looks at the space Mutt has left behind and advises, “I would bolt your door tonight.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
PUCK
In the morning, before I head to the cliffs to train and possibly find Sean, Finn and I go to Dory Maud’s — him on his bicycle, me on Dove. The truth of it is that Finn means to do some odd jobs for them if he can and I’m hoping against hope that Dory’s sold some more teapots, because we’ve one lump of butter but no bread to stick around it and no flour to make bread.
We trudge into Skarmouth. I lead Dove at the moment to make certain she doesn’t turn a leg in a bit of uneven cobble. Finn leads the bicycle to make certain he can stare into Palsson’s shop without falling off a moving vehicle.
We both look mournfully in the bakery window as we pass, though I’d sworn to myself that I wouldn’t. Nothing says orphans like two kids breaking their necks looking at trays of November cakes and platters of shaped cookies and lovely soft loaves of bread still steaming the window they’re next to. Finn and I sigh at the same time and continue on our way to Fathom & Sons. I tie Dove out front and Finn tells his bicycle to stay. I’m not sure if the shop will be open or not; Elizabeth and Dory Maud might be at the booth by the cliff path instead.
But the door opens, and when we push inside, I’m surprised to find both Dory Maud and Elizabeth there, as well as a handsome blond man who is exclaiming over a stone grave pillow that Martin Devlin found in his field last year when he was digging for potatoes.
“— really put the head on this at burial!” he says.
Finn gives me a look. I eye the stranger. He’s a foreigner and in his thirties, maybe, but in the best possible way. I think the word for it is dashing or dapper or something like that. He holds a red flat cap in his hands.
“Ah, Puck,” says Dory Maud. “Puck Connolly.”
Finn and I exchange another look.
“Pleased to meet you,” I say to the stranger.
“Oh, but you haven’t met,” Dory Maud says. “Mr. Holly, this is Puck Connolly. Puck, this is Mr. George Holly.”
“Now I’m pleased to meet you,” I say crossly. “I was just dropping Finn off here and —” Elizabeth sidles up to me and places her claws in my skin.
“Just a moment! I need to steal her,” Elizabeth chirps. She whisks me into the back room and shoves closed the door behind us. So it is just us and four chairs and a table bigger than the floor and an audience of boxes filled with Dory Maud’s love letters to sailors. We are nose to nose and Elizabeth smells like a shipload of English roses. “Puck Connolly, you be your absolute level best to that man.”
“I was being nice.”
“No, you weren’t. I saw your face. I’m no fool! We need to encourage him. That American is richer than the Queen and we think he means to take a piece of Thisby back with him.”
I hope he’s taking the fertility statue. “What is it you’re trying to shove off on him?”
Elizabeth leans against the door to ensure no one interrupts. “Annie.”
“Annie!”
“If you’re going to repeat everything I say, I’ll give your tongue to him as well.”
“Does Annie know about this?”
“If only you had the brains to match your looks.” Elizabeth realizes she’s still holding my arm and releases me. “Now you go out there and be charming. As you can.”
I scowl and follow her back into the main room. All eyes turn toward me. Finn has somehow ended up holding the stone burial pillow.
“Done, ladies?