"See?" She fell into step beside him as they aimed not for their room and ravishment, but for the hallway where food had been laid out. "You're starting to like the notoriety." Rowan arched a brow. "You think that everywhere I've gone for the past three hundred years, whispers haven't followed me?" She rolled her eyes, but he chuckled. "This is far better than Cold-hearted bastard or I heard he killed someone with a table leg." "You did kill someone with a table leg." Rowan's smirk grew. "And you are a cold-hearted bastard," she threw in. Rowan snorted. "I never said those whispers were lies."