by Shona Husk
He looked up from the screen. “I’d rather know about you.”
She automatically put up her defenses, then stopped herself. Wasn’t this what she wanted—a chance to get to know him better? The only way she could do that was if she let him get to know her. “Ask something then.”
“What is your favorite room?”
Of all the questions he could’ve asked, he’d picked that. She wasn’t sure what to say. Was there even a wrong answer? “It depends. In winter I used to like sitting in the kitchen. It was always warm and smelled of homemade treats. But in summer evenings Gran would open up the glass doors and the scent of jasmine would fill this room. I’d sit and read and pretend I was a princess in a palace. Do you have a favorite room yet?”
He blinked. His dark lashes rested against his skin for a heartbeat before he opened his eyes again to look at her. This time there was almost a sadness in his eyes. “Your gran might have let me in, but I couldn’t afford a drink in here. My mother’s a nurse. My father’s a mechanic descended from French pirates. I don’t have class, money, or artistic talent.”
Lydia titled her head. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? That she was out of his league? She would’ve laughed except he looked deadly serious.
Her hand covered his. Skin to skin, her breath caught.
“Callaway House was never about the money or mistresses. It was about the party. Sure, the rich spent up big when they came to play and make deals, but without the struggling artists and the musicians who played for a meal and drinks—and to say they’d played here—Callaway House would’ve been no better than the motel that charges by the hour. It was about atmosphere. People had to want to come here.”
“But they stopped coming.”
“Nightclubs and bars took over. No one wanted to spend a weekend listening to poetry and getting high, or hearing some up-and-coming blues guitarist work on his next album. I wish I’d seen it in action.”
“It would have been some party.” His hand trailed up her arm.
Before she could second-guess herself again, she leaned in and kissed him. Her lips brushed his, testing to see if she’d like the feel of his mouth. She did. She liked the way he smelled of soap and that his cheek was rough because he hadn’t shaved before coming around.
He didn’t respond. His lips didn’t move. She pulled back. Awkward. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually kiss men I’ve just met.”
“I don’t usually kiss while on the job.” This time there was only heat in his eyes, like someone had lit a match and held it to his soul.
She couldn’t move away as she waited for his next move. If he made none, that was it. She’d go and sit in another room while he worked and pretend as if it had never happened. Then he placed his lips to hers. Softly as if the kiss was something he shouldn’t be taking. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened, letting his tongue slip inside. Tasting and teasing. Her hand snuck around his waist, drawing him closer.
In return his hand swept over the curve of her butt. Pressed against her he felt good, his body was firm as if he spent his spare time keeping fit, not sitting. She relaxed into his hold as heat spread through her body. It had been too long since she’d had a man in her arms. He ended the kiss with a couple of slow ones as if he couldn’t bear to pull away. That made two of them. His breath caressed her lips as he took a final taste and then released her. Neither of them moved. All she could think about was her body and the way it melted in his hands like he’d seduced her with just a touch.
“That’s going to complicate things,” he murmured as he tucked a strand of her dark blond hair behind her ear. His lips still felt the pressure of hers, and his skin was hyperaware of every subtle move she made, her body pressed against his in a way that was far too intimate. He wanted her, he couldn’t remember wanting anyone quite so much, and he was sure she would have noticed his attraction.
A look of surprise lifted her eyebrows. “That’s not what I was expecting to hear.”
He let his hand fall away from the silken strands of her hair. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Caspian’s hand touched the desk and his head was filled with images of another night years ago and what had happened on the desk. Skin and sweat. Clothing being peeled off in a rush to find satisfaction. Driven by lust his heart pumped a little harder.
It was the house.
It was what he was seeing.
He looked at Lydia.
Hell, it was the woman.
“Will you get in trouble?”
He paused before answering. She meant with work, but he was thinking about the Grey who’d been making threats. Not that he could explain how he was mixed up in a deadly game of fairy politics. He hadn’t lied to her about his lack of social standing… in the human world. The fairy world was a whole other festering kettle of fish.
“Depends. Are you seducing me to get a favorable valuation?”
That could be a problem if someone thought he was fiddling the figures. Surely no one could contest a will that left the estate to the only child and grandchild?
“I didn’t seduce you.” She gave him a halfhearted push. “I merely took advantage of an opportunity.”
Had he looked like he wanted to be kissed? Had it been that obvious every time he looked at her?
“Okay then.” He nodded, then placed another kiss on her mouth, taking the opportunity to kiss the beautiful woman in his arms, before she changed her mind and realized that he was not the kind of man she wanted. His tongue traced her lower lip just once, then he drew back before the temptation took hold. The echoes of what had happened previously on the desk still filled his mind with possibilities he hadn’t wanted to explore in a while. That he shouldn’t be thinking about exploring now. He didn’t want to risk dragging Lydia into his problems. Maybe it was too late. He was here and for all he knew Shea had followed him. He was sure there was a Grey in the house, not that he’d seen it… but there was something. Something more than a photo of a fairy in the living room.
“Okay.” She didn’t move away.
He didn’t care. If he had to come back here every night for the next year because they kept getting distracted, it would be worth it and much better than being in his empty house. Lydia’s childhood had been odd like his, and while he couldn’t talk about it, she could and it made him feel a little less strange that even humans without fairy blood could have bizarre families.
The pause stretched out as if neither of them was willing to end the moment and yet neither was sure how to move forward.
He tilted his head at the laptop. “I should keep going.”
“Right.” She looked at him as if she was about to change her mind. He knew if she offered he wouldn’t refuse. She was under his skin and he wanted her to dig deeper. Then he remembered what would happen if she did dig deeper. He’d have to tell her about his real father, about psychometry and fairies. The heat in his blood cooled. He didn’t know how to tell her the truth. He’d never told anyone.
Above them came the sound of soft, scuttling footsteps. Caspian looked up.
“It’s just the ghost.”
If that was a ghost, he’d give Shea his soul and the damn mirror. He knew what small fairy footsteps sounded like. And since Dylis wasn’t here, and there were no Brownies here, that only left a Grey. No wonder no one had ever seen the ghost. Only those with fairy blood could see fairies—unless the fairies chose to reveal themselves. Until now he hadn’t seen or heard a thing, which meant it had been hiding. Why? And why was it here? He couldn’t sense anything fairy-made here that would attract it. Usually anything that came from Annwyn had a resonance of power that all fairies would recognize. Had the man in the photo been a Grey who had decided to stay on after he’d had to stop mixing with humans? It didn’t feel right. Something was… he couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was that same feeling he’d had when he’d first come here. It wasn’t like a Grey to hang around; they generally gathered and kept to themselves in run-down areas
of cities.
“Does it usually pace the floors?”
“Yes, and sometimes it opens drawers or cupboards.” She was smiling, as if she found it amusing that he could hear the ghost.
Okay, so he didn’t bring the Grey. It was already here. That was an even more unsettling thought. How long had the Callaways been sharing a house with a Grey?
“It’s nothing to worry about.” She touched his arm. “You’re not scared of ghosts, are you?”
“No.” Ghosts didn’t bother him at all; Greys, on the other hand… He smiled at her as if nothing were wrong. Maybe nothing was wrong. It had been here for years, maybe decades, without causing any problems. Maybe it liked the ambience, the space, and the solitude. Yeah, and maybe Shea was simply misunderstood.
“Good.” Then she stepped away and picked up the book, and went back to making the list.
He watched her for a moment then trailed his fingers over the desk. The older images disappeared beneath the new impression of them kissing. The heat hit him again and left him longing. He was too human to resist wanting to get to know her, and too fairy to resist the game of lust she offered.
Double damned as usual.
Chapter 6
Neither of them had mentioned the kiss, but Lydia could feel it simmering between them. An unresolved something that could be nothing and yet it had felt like everything. Now it was getting close to eleven and they both had work the next day, yet she wasn’t ready for him to leave. While they hadn’t talked about what had happened, they had talked about the house and the things in it. Caspian was more than happy to talk about everything except himself.
The one thing she wanted to talk about.
She couldn’t treat his time here as default dates. He was working. But he didn’t seem to mind her questions and she liked to watch him work, like the way he’d look at something with a slight frown before making notes. The way the light sometimes caught his features and for a moment he seemed sharper and more beautiful than possible, then he’d turn and look at her and she’d realize it had been a trick of the light, or her mind running away with the fantasy of doing more than kissing him.
However, at the back of her mind she couldn’t shake the sensation that he was hiding something, even if she didn’t know what it was. She kept brushing aside the feeling. Maybe the divorce had made him gun-shy. If she wanted him, she was going to have to make it clear.
He shut the laptop. “I’m going to have to call it a night.”
She nodded. “Are you sure you don’t mind coming over after work?”
“Not at all.” He gave her a rare smile. “You don’t mind me being here?”
Lydia shook her head. No, she couldn’t imagine any woman kicking him out. Yet one had cast him off. What was his flaw? Was he messy? Refused to do housework? Watched sports all weekend? Her gaze skimmed over his body—it had felt pretty good when she’d kissed him. Maybe he played golf all weekend. “More of the same tomorrow?”
“Afraid so, and the next day.”
“How will I survive?”
He touched her arm. “You will. You Callaways seem to be able to survive anything and come out better for it.”
She glanced at him. She’d meant it as a joke and he’d taken her seriously, and then complimented her family in the same breath. Gran would have worked out his secret over a few wines. It was a pity they had never met. Caspian was a boyfriend Gran would’ve approved of. Not that he was her boyfriend after one kiss.
These evenings were the closest she’d come to a date in a while and she was enjoying them. Which said more about her life than she liked.
They walked toward the front door in silence. The old house creaked and sighed around them. It had felt hollow after Gran’s death, but now it was starting to breathe again—much like her. Caspian was right. She would get on with living and be okay.
“Thank you.” She wanted to touch him again, to lean in and kiss him, but she held back.
“Just doing my job.” He looked at her with those eyes that saw everything, yet hid whatever he was thinking so well. She wished she could read him better.
“Yes. Um, okay. I’ll see you same time tomorrow?”
“That would be good.”
The front door was an arm’s reach away, yet neither of them moved. Her tongue darted over her lip, and his gaze lowered to her mouth. Her skin warmed as if she was burning from within. Then he brushed his lips over her cheek, his stubble grazing her skin. The scent of his skin and something else filled her lungs.
She turned her head, needing to taste his lips. His fingers brushed her neck, then threaded into her hair. Her eyes closed as she let herself sink into the kiss, her body easing closer to his, her hand sliding over his chest. She didn’t need to breathe. He took a step and she moved with him, her back hitting the wall as he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers. A moan lodged in her throat. She wanted more than a kiss. She trailed her fingers over his hip, then pulled him closer so she could feel him pressed hard against her.
He didn’t resist. He slowly moved his hips against hers and she wanted to start unbuttoning his shirt there in the hallway. She broke the kiss and took a shaky breath. His lips remained millimeters from hers. Again they were caught, unwilling to pull away and yet unable to go forward. She hadn’t planned for this. She wasn’t prepared—no matter what her body was screaming.
“It’s late.”
“I know.” He kissed her again, softly as though hinting at what could be.
“You shouldn’t be driving home this late.” Neither should she.
He drew back a fraction to look at her, and the heat in his gaze nearly burned away every rational thought. “What are you suggesting?”
What was she suggesting? That they use Callaway House the same way it had once been used? Why not? “Maybe you should think about staying here, so you aren’t driving tired.”
Yeah, not even she believed that.
He considered her for a moment and she resisted the urge to bite her lip and act like she was nervous, even though she was. It was too fast. She almost took back the offer, but then realized that just because he was sleeping here didn’t mean they had to sleep together. How else was he going to take the suggestion? This close he couldn’t exactly hide what his body was thinking.
Just when she thought it was going to be a no, he spoke. “That’s a generous offer.”
“Yes, well, there are plenty of bedrooms.” Shut up. She pressed her lips together and smiled.
Caspian nodded. She could almost hear the wheels of his mind spinning up possibilities, but his eyes were unreadable.
She started to backtrack, certain she’d blown it. But how many men would turn down an offer to stay and play at Callaway House? Once upon a time no one would’ve. Now? “If you’re not comfortable staying here, I totally under—”
He placed his lips against hers to silence her. She gasped and guessed that was a yes, he’d be staying the night. The kiss made her forget about all the reasons she shouldn’t and think about all the reasons she should.
As he drew in a breath she spoke. “So was that a good-bye or a yes?” She needed to know.
“Both, I think.” He pulled back a fraction. “If you’re sure, how about tomorrow night?”
She’d never been more sure in her life. “I’m sure.” She kissed him once more to be certain. Then smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“So am I,” he murmured near her ear before pulling away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He opened the front door and the cool night air swept in between them. He glanced out at the night then back at her. The moonlight cutting across his face made him seem sharper and colder than he’d been a moment ago. Then it was gone as he walked down the stairs and away from Callaway House.
“Good night, Caspian,” she said even though she knew he couldn’t hear her. She wouldn’t be sleeping well tonight. Her dreams would be full of him and the kiss and what hadn’t been said, but what they both
wanted. Her blood fizzed like champagne through her veins and then pooled in her belly. She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment.
She was acting like a lovesick sixteen-year-old. No. Not sixteen because she knew exactly what she wanted to do with Caspian. Her skin ached to be touched. There was a heat she hadn’t imagined as he whispered in her ear as if he knew exactly how she’d be spending her night because he’d be awake too. She hoped thoughts of her would keep him up all night. As she locked up the house and turned off all the lights, all she could think about was tomorrow evening and seeing Caspian again.
* * *
Felan lounged in his chamber. Bare feet, shirt undone. It had been a long day—even for him. Most of the lords and ladies at Court had avoided him as if they knew the anger that simmered, turning his blue blood red with fury. But he’d been calm. He’d danced and feasted as if nothing were amiss. He’d even managed not to question his mother the Queen over dinner, but then she’d been busy trying to goad his father.
“I have to return. Caspian is unprotected.” Dylis stretched and eased out of bed. She’d been waiting in his chamber as he’d ordered. Her hand feathered down his back. “You have to stop calling me back to Court if you want me to do my job.”
Felan caught her hand. “Do your job and I won’t have to call you back.”
Her smile froze in place. “What would you have me do? Kill Shea ap Greely?”
“We have to be smarter than that.” He released her hand, not sure how to deal with Shea just yet.
“This is more than I agreed to do.”
“You agreed to look after Caspian.”
“I agreed to ensure his safety in exchange for my lover’s freedom. How much longer, Felan?”
Felan stroked a tendril of her blond hair and coiled it around his finger. He drew her close enough to kiss her lips. “Do you still want Bramwel?”
“Yes. You are merely keeping me warm for him.”
Felan laughed. He liked her well enough, and she liked him. Dylis had been a secret set of eyes and ears for him ever since his mother had imprisoned Dylis’s lover Bramwel as a tree and left him in her private grove. He’d found it by accident some years ago and had been horrified that everyone there was alive, just frozen in place and hidden in plain sight. Now Bramwel had to spend his life waving his branches in the breeze and hoping someone would release him—before the power shift.
