“You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

“No,” Ned replied, glancing around the kitchen in the hope of spotting a handy weapon. The carving knife was still on the table, and the fire irons out of reach on the hearth.

“Yes you are.”

“All right, yes, dammit.” Ned straightened up, putting as much distance between them as he could without actually retreating. “Now say what you have to say and be done with it.”

“Good. We understand one another. So understand this.” Sandy leant closer, fixing Ned with his dark eyes that were so like Mal’s–and yet unlike. “If you ever betray my brother again, I will come for you.”

Ned swallowed, unable to tear his gaze away.

“In the night, whilst you sleep,” Sandy went on. “And if you are very lucky, I will only kill you.”