“Quintin.” Her grip shifted from sweet to supportive. “What’s wrong?”
He pulled away to rub his forehead. “I need to sit down.”
“Of course.” She looked left and right.
There were no logs or rocks nearby. Too tired to search for a better spot, he plopped down in the center of the trail.
Elkart slipped behind him and laid down to create a back rest.
“You should be taking your ease at home.” She paced the trail in agitated steps. “You were injured two days ago protecting me, and now I’ve dragged you off into the jungle again.”
He barked out a laugh. “If a bogbear stumbles upon us here, I will be most annoyed.”
I kill it. Elkart promised.
Quintin ruffled the waccat’s ears. You aren’t a match for a bogbear alone, my brave friend.
Em stopped pacing and crossed her arms. “I have no excuse for being so selfish.”
“Then make it up to me.”
Her brow wrinkled.
“Come here.” He patted the ground next to his uninjured side. “You’ve already got dirt all over your trousers.”
She bit her lip and gingerly sat where he indicated.
He slipped his arm around her shoulders, inviting her to lean against him. Her hair tickled his nose as he breathed in her scent. “Better. Does more for the pain than a good cup of wine and is twice as sweet.”
She pressed a hand against his chest and tilted her head back. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“My arm will be fine.” His heart, on the other hand, might never recover. Not wanting to dwell on such depressing thoughts, he moved on to the reason for her visit. “Now tell me, is your father robbing you?”
“Not my father. Violet.”
“Your maniacal cousin?”
She shivered and pressed against his side. “She stole my mother’s deed chain. Then after Mother died, she impersonated me and took over the lands. She probably expected to get away with it for only a few months. I’m such an ignorant fool it’s been six years.”
Nasty woman. Elkart bared his teeth. Should have bitten at market.
Silently agreeing with the cat, Quintin rubbed his hand up and down Em’s arm. “Ferel’s flatulence, what a mess.”
“My father won’t help me get it back. He’s terrified of a scandal and says the Novenary will punish me if word of this reaches her.” Em’s voice shook slightly. “Do you think the Novenary would strip me of my title?”
“She might. She would have to do something in recompense for such an abuse of her trust.” He sighed. He didn’t want to scare Em but she deserved the whole truth. “I’m more worried about what might happen if she launches an inquisition into your temple and finds out what you’ve actually been doing to support it.”
“It might be too late,” she said quietly. “A trio of inquisitors came by looking for Lucy, and one of them noticed my absent deed chain.”
His stomach plummeted. “You didn’t tell them your cousin has it?”
“No. I went straight to Merdale to confront Violet, and she laughed in my face. She said she’d rather give the chain to the Reeve than to me and plans to enjoy it when the Novenary humiliates me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “If she admits to bilking your temple lands for most of a cycle, she’ll be lucky to escape execution.”
“I think she’s bluffing.” Her fingers clutched his tunic. “My cousin is a dedicated gambler, and I’m sure she expects to frighten me into leaving her alone.”
“Then you must call her bluff.”
“Yes, but how?” She sighed, a world of despair in the sound. “Fighting the bogbear was easier than this.”
“Only because bogbears are simple creatures, whereas your cousin is a devious fiend.” He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “You need to start by getting your deed chain back and ending any speculation by the inquisitors. The missing chain is the only advantage Violet has. As it is, she’s free to gossip about you bartering away your holy trust without implicating herself. If you have the deed chain, then she has to divulge her own fraud in order to harm you, which is much more dangerous for her.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And how do you propose I force Violet to give me the chain?”
“The finest lockpick in Trimble has to ask such a question?” Quinton’s mouth twisted in a smile. “You steal it, obviously.”
Chapter 33
Em sat up slowly, hope blooming in her heart. “Do you think it would work?”
Quintin’s shoulder moved behind her as he shrugged. “I don’t see why not. She can’t report the theft of something which wasn’t hers to begin with. You don’t want to be caught in the act, so you’ll need to find the right time to go through her room at Merdale.”
She tapped her lips, considering. “She said she didn’t have it with her at our house.”
“Even better, as long as you know where she lives in town.”
Em nodded, dizzy with the possibilities. She grinned at Quintin. “This is brilliant. Oh, I could just kiss you!”
He ducked his head, a shy smile on his lips. “I wouldn’t mind. If you want to.”
Heat coiled in her belly at the memory of their other kisses. While she had intended her words as a jest, now she longed to kiss him properly. She rucked up her kaftan and swung a leg over his outstretched limbs, so her knees bracketed his lap.
His thighs tensed under her, though he made no move to hold her, letting her control their contact.
Heady with power, she framed his face with her hands. She ran her thumb along the edge of his bottom lip.
His breath hitched.
Dragging out the anticipation, she leaned close. She angled her head, their lips nearly touching. Her breath fanning over his face, she spoke slowly and deliberately. “Thank you, Quintin, for giving me hope.”
His lips parted, a sound of inarticulate need emerging from his throat. His uninjured hand gripped her hip.
She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Her body hummed with tension as she held herself over him, allowing only that single point of skin to skin connection.
He slid his hand around her waist, urging more contact.
Smiling against his mouth, she resisted the pressure. Instead she leisurely nibbled his bottom lip.
“Oh, Em. I want you so much,” he murmured, each word laced with longing.
Unable to hold out a moment more, she fused their lips together in a passionate kiss. Her tongue plundered his mouth, stroking deep before swirling against his teeth. At the same time, she undulated her spine to press her breasts and pelvis against him.
He groaned, deep and raw, while his arm squeezed her tight.
From their sizzling kiss to her legs bracketing his lap, their bodies fit together like a key in a lock. Never had an embrace felt so right, so perfect. Her pelvis rocked against his, frustrated by the layers of cloth between them. The rigid proof of his arousal sent her desire spiraling to new heights. Scheming to get rid of their pesky attire, she sat up and broke the kiss.
A smile full of joy and innocence danced across his face. “I ought to have good ideas more often.”
She stroked his cheek, her heart breaking a little. He would no more want to lose his virginity to her now than in the cacao vault. “You deserve it. And so much more.”
He did deserve more. He deserved kisses from a woman of honor and integrity. He deserved the love of someone as pure and good as himself.
Instead, the only one here was her, an outlaw with a checkered past.
Unable to resist, she leaned down. “Your idea was so good, it might warrant a second kiss.”
“Oh, yes, please,” he moaned. Then his body tensed as if in pain.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt yo
u?”
“No.” He tugged at his queue. “Elkart hears my mother calling. If we don’t head back she might come looking for us.”
Elkart heaved himself to his feet. Deprived of his waccat’s support, Quintin flopped onto the path, his head hitting the ground with a thunk.
Em winced in sympathy. She scrambled off his lap and offered him a hand up.
He staggered to his feet and shook out his kaftan. The voluminous garment did a reasonable job hiding his arousal. He gave her a wry smile. “My mother’s timing is abysmal.”
“Or fortuitous. Much longer and I might have had my way with you.” She smiled to show it was a joke, only it wasn’t, not really. Her need for him ached like a wound. She patted her hair. “Do I look respectable, or is she going to nag you for another month?”
“You’re lovely.” He stepped close enough to brush some dust from her skirt. “Which is why my mother will nag me for a month.”
She studied his beloved face, before capturing the back of his neck and pulling him in for one last kiss.
Elkart whined and pranced down the trail.
He sighed and offered her his arm. “Elkart is right. It is time to go convince my mother we are utterly indifferent to each other.”
“I don’t know if I’m up for such a task. Can’t we pretend to be friends?”
He smiled, though sadness clouded his eyes. “Oh, yes. I’m very good at being friends.”
~ ~ ~
Evening shadows stretched long hands across an avenue in the Reeve District. Em twisted her mother’s ring around and around on her finger. Her nerves hummed as darkness fell. She rarely took sneak work in this area and had only done so before on Taralday, when the private guards were tired from their vigilance on Taricday. To pull a job in the wealthy district on Taricday itself was pure foolishness, but she had no choice. Em had to get the chain before the Allgoday festivities ended and Violet returned home. Tonight was her only opportunity.
Dressed once again as a nondescript laborer, she tried to walk with the casual confidence of someone who belonged. Dread drummed in her veins as she navigated a route she normally traversed in the daylight. Darkness transformed the familiar streets into a strange and sinister maze. She sagged with relief when she spotted the fountain across from her aunt’s house.
Slipping down a side alley, she circled around the house to the back and crept along the wall, carefully counting windows. When she reached Violet’s room, she pushed on the shutters. Locked.
She slid her knife between the panels and drew it upward until it met resistance. Easing the blade higher, she unlatched the shutters. This time they swung open easily at her push.
The shadowy room contained only silent furnishings. With a final glance along the alley to make sure she was unobserved, she scrabbled up the wall into the room.
Once inside, she froze and listened. Footsteps shuffled in other parts of the house, accompanied by the low murmur of voices. With the family at Merdale, Violet’s private room would not be used at night, yet Em dared not light a candle. Her search had to be entirely silent. Any sign of activity would arouse suspicion.
She sidled over to the wardrobe and eased its door open, then made quick work of checking the shelves and drawers. No deed chain. Though she tried to leave the neatly folded saris and sashes as she found them, Violet would know someone had been through her things.
At the back of one drawer, she found a lumpy purse the size of a mango. She tugged on the drawstring, releasing a pungent aroma of cacao. After a moment’s hesitation she slid the purse down the front of her chiton and closed the drawer.
The gentle sounds of a household going to sleep faded. All the servants had retired to their quarters for the night. Even the guards were likely to be snoozing at their posts soon.
She knelt before a trunk at the foot of the bed and lifted the lid. Inside were more stacks of clothes and bedding. Em sorted through it all, searching for a jewel box, a lumpy sari, or the deed chain itself.
Nothing except a smaller pouch of beans, which she tied to her belt.
Swallowing disappointment, she rubbed her sweaty hands against the rough fabric of her chiton. She replaced the contents of the trunk as carefully as she had the wardrobe before soundlessly lowering the lid.
Em crept over to the vanity to check its drawers. Nothing. Painted boxes and glass bottles littered the top of the vanity. The boxes were the type to hold jewelry and hair pieces. Would Violet keep the deed chain with her other jewels? Her cousin might think such pieces made the best camouflage.
Slowly and methodically, Em opened the boxes. She found only cheap beads and bedraggled feathers until she tried the largest box.
It was locked.
Her pulse sped up. She pulled her lock picking tools from the pouch at her waist and laid them out on the vanity. With practiced fingers, she went to work on the jewelry box.
When the lock clicked, the rush of satisfaction was headier than usual. She paused a moment to calm her nerves before opening the lid and removing the top tray.
In the dim light, she sorted the jewels as much by feel as by sight. Her heart plummeted. A deed chain did not hide on the tray nor in the box.
She fingered a glittering necklace, sorely tempted to slip it into her belt pouch. Simon had always handled such sales for her, though, so she was unlikely to get a good price for it. Besides, jewelry could be identified and traced.
With a stifled sigh, she returned the necklace to the tray. She was about to replace the tray when she realized the depth of the box.
There was a second tray.
She removed it as carefully as the first. This time she was rewarded. With a shaking hand, she pulled a deed chain from the bottom of the box.
Blue-gray pumice disks set in silver marked it as a deed chain for an air temple, while crystals smaller than the tip of her pinky added some sparkle to its length. Even with the airy stones, the chain was heavy in her hand, and she could understand why her mother rarely wore it. It was not a pretty piece of jewelry, but the freedom it represented was beautiful indeed.
Slipping the chain over her head, Em replaced the trays in the jewel box. When she tried to relock the lid, her fingers trembled too much to manage it. It didn’t matter. Violet would know she’d been robbed soon enough.
Em crept back out the window and pulled the shutter closed behind her. Her heart thumped like it always did after a successful job, though tonight’s task was far more important than an ordinary theft.
She leaned against the wall next the window and raised her mother’s ring to her lips. “Finally, Mama, finally.”
Praise Fermena! She would be able to claim her lands and no one, not her cousin, not her father, could stop her. She was free in a way she had not experienced for the past six years.
A bubble of laughter escaped her throat.
She clapped her hands over her mouth and straightened away from the wall. Now all she needed to do was return to Aerynet and shed her sneak clothes for good. The task would be simple enough if she could stop herself from giggling like a drunken idiot who had never been on a job before.
As she left the alley, she clutched the deed chain in her fist. The links pinched her neck with the force of her grip, but she needed to cling to the tangible proof of her freedom.
In the morning she would talk to her father, or maybe Gregory. She would rather ask her brother for help than her father. She would rather never ask her father for anything ever again. Gregory could help her select a grounds-keeper and survey her land with her.
She would need to dress and act like Violet when she fired whomever had been working with Violet and replaced them. Did any buildings grace her land? It would be wonderful if she could move out of her father’s house entirely. She should not allow her dreams to spin too far ahead. Though in t
ruth, her heart overflowed with hope, spilling joy through her whole body. She felt better than she had since her mother died.
“Halt, who goes there?”
Em froze. Between one heartbeat and the next, her light and bubbling heart sank like a stone to the pit of her belly.
“I said, who goes there?”
She glanced over her shoulder, her feet poised to run. A waccat prowled alongside a pair of city guards. Em’s shoulders slumped as she slowly turned to face them. Running was hopeless with a waccat ready to chase her. She would have to talk her way out of this. “My name is Molly,” she said. “Molly of Farbank.”
“Farbank, huh?” The guard nearest the waccat stepped forward, her eyes narrowed to slits. “What are you doing here then? And in the middle of the night?”
“I’m heading home.” Em licked her lips. “I worked late.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a charmaid.” She could fake those skills well enough.
“For what house?”
“For Councilor Richard,” Em answered quickly. At least Curtis’s home was occupied, unlike her aunt’s residence. “I was only hired on for tonight, for a party.”
“A party?” the second guard muttered from the shadows. “On Taricday?”
Em shrugged, striving for a light tone. “Nobles have all kinds of odd notions.”
The first guard leaned closer. The torch in her hand cast ominous shadows over her sharp cheekbones. “What are you holding onto there?”
The blood drained from Em’s face as she realized she gripped the deed chain around her neck like a ninny. “It’s mine,” she whispered.
A muscle ticked in the guard’s cheek. She held out her hand. “If you’re telling the truth, I’ll be sure to return it to you.”
“It’s mine.” Em clutched the chain tighter. Her other hand rose up to cover it, instinctively protecting it. Her mind scrabbled like a lizard in a pot for excuses. “It’s my payment for tonight.”
Taxing Courtship (The Hands of Destin Book 1) Page 25
