He mouthed the words to her that she could not see, and that she could not hear. It was all he dared tonight, strangers in a castle, strangers to this land, their future a great black question mark and an ending he could not foresee. He bent his lips to her ear and said without breathe:
Lia-heart. Little dragon. I love you too.
Stichwörter: zane
Whats it like, to be in love? The servants speak of it when they think I can't hear. I only wonder."
Lia turned around and tossed the cushion back to the chaise lounge. She found she didn't have an answer to Mari's question. She couldn't say what she'd heard her sisters always say, It's thrilling, or It's bliss, or He makes me so happy. She raised her head and swallowed the strangeness in her throat, walking to the fireplace, to the pianoforte, pressing a finger against the honey-buffed wood.
"It is," she said at last, "the most terrible feeling in the entire world."
And she meant it.
"Yes," the girl agreed, examining her face. "I think it must be.
Lia whispered, "I don't snore."
And the thief angled his gaze warm to hers, offering his lazy smile. "Aye, love, but if you did, I'd still treasure every one.
Stichwörter: love
She did what she could for him. She kissed him in return. She lost her breath and both her hearts, and finally Turned to smoke and back.
Shana AbeBut this man...this powerful, lovely man was not afraid of her. He was also a beast, and an earl, which seemed to be something like a prince in this country, and he was not afraid. And he was tender, and he was strong, and he was drakon.
Shana AbeDon’t allow yourself to waste that chance. Don’t succumb to any…distractions.”
I could only imagine my expression. Miss Swanston lowered her candy-red lashes and glanced back at Armand.
“Oh,” I said, swallowing. “No. Definitely not.”
“Forgive me. He seems quite taken with you.”
The bite of roll lodged in my throat; I coughed. “He isn’t, I assure you.”
“Eleanore, it grieves me to correct you, but he is staring at you even now. He hasn’t been able to tear his eyes from you since we arrived.”
I couldn’t tell her the truth. I couldn’t say anything like, Armand doesn’t count. Armand’s not even in the game. I’m in love with a boy made of stars, and we’re going to live together ever after on gold and smoke and moonlight, and that’s my happy future, no matter what any of you think.
I scowled down at my plate. “He’s simply…”
“Yes?” she prompted, very mild.
I searched for the right word. “I don’t know what he is,” I admitted finally, frustrated. “Bored, I suppose.”
“Yes,” she said again, just as mild. “I’m glad you’ve realized it, too.”
“But I’m not dense. He’s nobility. I know-I know what I am. I know what to avoid.”
“Good,” Miss Swanston said once more, and gave me her wistful smile.
You are, after all, Armand’s inamorata of the moment.”
I gave up on the titles. “I’m his what?”
“Inamorata. It means lover.”
“I know what it means.”
She took in my face and slanted a smile. “Dear me. Have I offended you?”
“Only by your ignorance. I’m not his lover. I’m not-anyone’s anything.”
“But you could be, if you wished it. If you looked at him the way he looks at you..”
“You’re imagining things.”
“I’m not. Everyone’s noticed.”
“What does it matter to you?” I flashed.
Sophia’s smile faded; she gazed at me thoughtfully. “It matters to Chloe. Isn’t that enough?”
I glanced around the room. Lillian and Stella were watching us from a table by a window, worry etched along their mouths. Mittie and Caroline stood taut nearby. What was their queen bee doing talking to the worker drone?
I smiled back at Sophia, pleased to etch their worry a shade deeper.
“You’re right. It’s enough.”
“I like you, Eleanore,” she said, straightening. “Believe me, I’m just as astonished by that as you are.” She took a couple of steps toward the others, then paused, sending me a pale-blue look from over her shoulder. “But my head is not tiny.
How long have you known about him?” I asked Jesse, using my free hand to gesture toward his guest.
“Forever. Nearly as long as I did about you.”
“God, Jesse. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“He was a shadow of you.” Jesse shrugged. “His background is diluted, his dragon blood les strong. Even with you in his proximity, I wasn’t certain any of his drakon traits would emerge. He hasn’t anywhere near your potential.”
“Pardon me,” Armand said, freezingly polite, “but he is still right here with you in this room.”
“Do you mean…I did it?” I asked. “I made him figure it out? What he is?”
Jesse gave me an assessing look. “Like is drawn to like. We’re all three of us thick with magic now, even if it’s different kinds. It’s inevitable that we’ll feed off one another. The only way to prevent that would be to separate. And even then it might not be enough. Too much has already begun.”
“I don’t want to separate from you,” I said.
“No.” Jesse lifted our hands and gave mine a kiss. “Don’t worry about that.”
Armand practically rolled his eyes. “If you two are quite done, might we talk some sense tonight? It’s late, I’m tired, and your ruddy chair, Holms, is about as comfortable as sitting on a tack. I want to…”
But his voice only faded into silence. He closed his eyes and raised a hand to his face and squeezed the bridge of his nose. I noted again those shining nails. The elegance of his bones beneath his flawless skin.
Skin that was marble-pale, I realized. Just like mine.
“Yes?” I said, more gently than I’d intended.
“Excuse me. I’m finding this all a bit…impossible to process. I’m beginning to believe that this is the most profoundly unpleasant dream I’ve ever been caught in.”
“Allow me to assure you that you’re awake, Lord Armand,” I retorted, all gentleness gone. “To wit: You hear music no one else does. Distinctive music from gemstones and all sorts of metals. That day I played the piano at Tranquility, I was playing your father’s ruby song, one you must have heard exactly as I did. Exactly as your mother would have. You also have, perhaps, something like a voice inside you. Something specific and base, stronger than instinct, hopeless to ignore. Animals distrust you. You might even dream of smoke or flying.”
He dropped his arm. “You got that from the diary.”
“No, I got that from my own life. And damned lucky you are to have been brought into this world as a pampered little prince instead of spending your childhood being like this and still having to fend for yourself, as I did.”
“Right. Lucky me.” Armand looked at Jesse, his eyes glittering. “And what are you? Another dragon? A gargoyle, perchance, or a werecat?”
“Jesse is a star.”
The hand went up to conceal his face again. “Of course he is. The. Most. Unpleasant. Dream. Ever.”
I separated my hand from Jesse’s, angling for more bread. “I think you’re going to have to show him.”
“Aye.”
A single blue eye blinked open between Armand’s fingers. “Show me what?
Im going to kiss you, Eleanore" he said quietly, still looking at her. "Not now. Later." His eyes cut back to mine. "I thought it fair to tell you first." I stilled. "If you think you can do so without me biting your lip, feel free to try." His gaze shone wicked blue. "I dont mind if you bite." "Biting your lip off, I should have said." "Ah,Lets see how it goes, shall we?
Shana AbeI pulled at the knot again and heard threads begin to pop.
“Allow me, Miss Jones,” said Armand, right at my back.
There was no gracious way to refuse him. Not with Mrs. Westcliffe there, too.
I exhaled and dropped my arms. I stared at the lotus petals in my painting as the new small twists and tugs of Armand’s hands rocked me back and forth.
Jesse’s music began to reverberate somewhat more sharply than before.
“There,” Armand said, soft near my ear. “Nearly got it.”
“Most kind of you, my lord.” Mrs. Westcliffe’s voice was far more carrying. “Do you not agree, Miss Jones?”
Her tone said I’d better.
“Most kind,” I repeated. For some reason I felt him as a solid warmth behind me, behind all of me, even though only his knuckles made a gentle bumping against my spine.
How blasted long could it take to unravel a knot?
“Yes,” said Chloe unexpectedly. “Lord Armand is always a perfect gentleman, no matter who or what demands his attention.”
“There,” the gentleman said, and at last his hands fell away. The front of the smock sagged loose. I shrugged out of it as fast as I could, wadding it up into a ball.
“Excuse me.” I ducked a curtsy and began my escape to the hamper, but Mrs. Westcliffe cut me short.
“A moment, Miss Jones. We require your presence.”
I turned to face them. Armand was smiling his faint, cool smile. Mrs. Westcliffe looked as if she wished to fix me in some way. I raised a hand instinctively to my hair, trying to press it properly into place.
“You have the honor of being invited to tea at the manor house,” the headmistress said. “To formally meet His Grace.”
“Oh,” I said. “How marvelous.”
I’d rather have a tooth pulled out.
“Indeed. Lord Armand came himself to deliver the invitation.”
“Least I could do,” said Armand. “It wasn’t far. This Saturday, if that’s all right.”
“Um…”
“I am certain Miss Jones will be pleased to cancel any other plans,” said Mrs. Westcliffe.
“This Saturday?” Unlike me, Chloe had not concealed an inch of ground. “Why, Mandy! That’s the day you promised we’d play lawn tennis.”
He cocked a brow at her, and I knew right then that she was lying and that she knew that he knew. She sent him a melting smile.
“Isn’t it, my lord?”
“I must have forgotten,” he said. “Well, but we cannot disappoint the duke, can we?”
“No, indeed,” interjected Mrs. Westcliffe.
“So I suppose you’ll have to come along to the tea instead, Chloe.”
“Very well. If you insist.”
He didn’t insist. He did, however, sweep her a very deep bow and then another to the headmistress. “And you, too, Mrs. Westcliffe. Naturally. The duke always remarks upon your excellent company.”
“Most kind,” she said again, and actually blushed.
Armand looked dead at me. There was that challenge behind his gaze, that one I’d first glimpsed at the train station.
“We find ourselves in harmony, then. I shall see you in a few days, Miss Jones.”
I tightened my fingers into the wad of the smock and forced my lips into an upward curve. He smiled back at me, that cold smile that said plainly he wasn’t duped for a moment.
I did not get a bow.
Jesse was at the hamper when I went to toss in the smock. Before I could, he took it from me, eyes cast downward, no words. Our fingers brushed beneath the cloth.
That fleeting glide of his skin against mine. The sensation of hardened calluses stroking me, tender and rough at once. The sweet, strong pleasure that spiked through me, brief as it was.
That had been on purpose. I was sure of it.
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