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" Thank you,” I managed to say.
Replying with a nod, he approached my horse. “Here, let me help you—”
I slipped down myself before he could lend a hand, keeping the fur hide in my possession. “I’m not suddenly incapable because I wear a dress, Thaddeus.”
“I wasn’t suggesting….” Wisely, he let the issue drop.
Lifting an arm, he offered it to me. That’s when I noticed my sword in sheath belted to his waist.
“That’s mine!” I declared, reaching for the hilt.
Thaddeus managed a quick side-step. He hardened his jaw at my look of incredulity. I would only wait momentarily for an explanation.
“I know the sword is yours, Catherine, everyone knows that. But you’re too beautiful tonight to ruin that radiant look with an ugly, leather belt strapped about you.”
I was starting to think the man was using compliments as a weapon to defend himself against me. It did work to temper my anger somewhat.
“I brought the sword as a cautionary act, just in case those nasty werewolves show up. Seeing how I’ll be standing beside you all evening, the blade will be at your disposal if needed.”
I accepted his reasoning and stood down.
“Besides,” Thaddeus added, apparently feeling safe, “what’s yours is mine now anyway.”
I glared at the fool. “That works both ways, you know.”
He rolled his eyes and shrugged. “If it must.”
Again, he offered me his arm which I grudgingly accepted. "
― Richelle E. Goodrich ,
