by Lisa Olsen
“You can hold any part of me you want,” I replied, eliciting a rare smile from him.
“The things you say…”
I was perfectly willing to muss my lipstick or any other part of me as long as he promised to put me back together again, but Rob let go of my hips, his attention focused elsewhere. “Someone’s coming.”
“The house is full of people, it’s probably not even for…” Someone pounded on the door. “… us.”
Rob gave me an I told you so look and went to go answer it. I smoothed my skirt out and strolled into my sitting room, stopping stock still when I got an eyeful of who it was.
“Sweet zombie Jesus… that is the best thing I’ve seen all year,” I gaped at finding Jakob decked out as Thor from the Marvel movies, with a red cape and everything.
Jakob’s chest puffed out with pride. “It does suit me, does it not?”
“Yep, you’re definitely a man who can live up to the silver screen image,” I nodded, my gaze falling to Nelleke, who stood beside him. I’d expected her to dress as a Valkyrie or a shieldmaiden or something, but she turned up on Jakob’s arm dressed like Tinkerbell from Peter Pan. Liberally sprinkled with sparkly fairy dust, the tough warrior looked positively dainty in her petite green dress, all the way down to the puffs of marabou on her slippers. “And Tinkerbell, you look absolutely adorable.”
“You are liking it?” she asked, a touch of uncertainty creeping into her voice.
“Oh yes, you definitely pull it off, Nell. Lee will absolutely bust when he sees you!”
Her brows crumpled in confusion. “Bust is good?”
“Yes, it’s very good,” I smiled, wondering not for the first time if there was a real spark between those two or not.
“I am feeling a small amount foolish now, dressed in this children’s costume.”
“Oh, Nell, trust me, there is nothing childish about the way you wear that costume,” I assured her. “Isn’t that right, Rob? Tell her she looks all kinds of grown up.”
“You do,” he smiled. “I would add that I’d love a dance if you have room to spare on your dance card.”
Nelleke immediately looked to me to see if I’d mind and I gave her an encouraging nod. “Yes, I like this very much,” she smiled shyly. “We are ready to go down to the dancing now?”
Jakob raised a hand. “Bide a moment, daughter, I would have a few words with my Anja.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “Uh oh, what’d I do this time?”
“Not a thing, petal,” he chuckled. “I had thought to speak with you in private. Perhaps Rob could show Nelleke down to the festivities and I might escort you myself?”
“Oh, isn’t Carys expecting you to escort her tonight?”
“It’s my understanding that Carys is already presiding over her guests with Ulrik by her side.”
“Ah.” Of course. “Well, I sort of promised Rob the first dance, but if you need to talk, that’s fine. Rob, do you mind?”
“Not at all,” he replied, holding his arm out to Nelleke. “I’ll be back to collect you for that dance,” he added with a brief wink.
Jakob didn’t speak again, even after they were both gone. “So, what’s up?” I prompted after a few moments of awkward silence.
“I have something to discuss with you, something difficult to broach.”
Uh oh. “Like what?”
“I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”
And yet he frequently managed it just fine. “Spit it out, Jakob. Whatever it is, I can take it.”
“I have given my word to leave the West until such time as you invite me to return.”
Good gravy, he wasn’t going to ask me to take him back, was he? “Jakob, we talked about this. You know I don’t feel that way about you. We agreed that you’d stay out of my hair and leave the West alone.”
“And I would not go back on my word once given. Except that I have promised to show Nelleke the world, and there is much I would show her in your province.”
“Oh.” Was that all? “You want to take her sightseeing in the West?”
“Yes, would it pain you much for me to do so?” The mighty god of Thunder reached for both of my hands, his blue eyes fixed to mine. It was hard not to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but I managed a smile instead.
“No, I think it’s incredibly sweet that the two of you are getting to know each other. Better late than never, right?”
“Then you don’t object?”
“No, of course not. That doesn’t mean I want you camped out on my doorstep either. You’re still banned from the house.” Most people were since we’d had Leila re-consecrate it.
“I accept these terms,” he grinned, dropping my hands to offer me his arm. “Shall we join the festivities?”
“Actually, I think I’ll wait here for Rob to get back, if that’s alright with you. I think it’ll mean a lot to him for us to walk in together.”
“Then the compulsion was a success? You are reunited with him?”
I wasn’t sure I could call our reunion a complete success, but the compulsion part had worked right enough. “Yes, for the most part. It made things easier, at least. I don’t think about Bridget at all anymore when we’re together.”
“I had feared I was too weakened to accomplish it. While I admit, I still don’t understand your choice in Rob, I’m glad if I was able to lessen your heartache. You have only to say the word if you wish me to remove your pain over Ulrik’s desertion.”
“I keep telling you, he didn’t desert me,” I started to say, but he waved me off.
“If you ask me, he chose poorly.”
“That’s sweet of you, Jakob. But it wouldn’t have mattered even if he did pick me, I’m with Rob now.” Or would it? What would’ve happened if he’d come to me that night at the campfire instead of going to Carys? Would I have chosen differently?
Jakob merely smiled and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “I’ll see you down at the ball. You look scrumptious, by the way,” he added with a wolfish grin as he moved to the door with purposeful strides.
“Thanks, I’ll see you down there.”
Rob stood out in the hallway as Jakob pulled the door open, and I smiled to see him there. “Perfect timing. Are you ready?”
Instead, he stepped into the suite, barely managing a nod to Jakob in passing and I could tell from the bunch of his shoulders that something was wrong.
“What’s the matter? Is everything okay down at the party? Did Carys do something?”
Rob didn’t mince words, his speech gruff and clipped. “You had Jakob compel you to love me?”
Frak! What had he heard? “No, of course not!” I insisted. “I already love you, I just asked him to make it more…”
“Palatable?” he bit out. “You’re not thinking of Bridget every time we’re together no more?”
“I didn’t want to keep getting hung up on the past, that’s all. You did what you did, and we’ve moved on, that’s all that matters.”
“That’s not all that matters,” he rasped. “You shouldn’t have to let him muck about with your head to make yourself be with me.”
“I didn’t have to make myself be with you, I want to be with you. I only had trouble getting past this one thing, and Luca said…”
I’d managed to shock him out of his anger. “Luca told you to do this?”
“Well, no, not in so many words. But he said we were doomed if I couldn’t give you my whole heart and that the only way to let it go was to surrender myself to another’s will. What does that sound like to you? Rob, I did it for us.”
Rob was silent for long seconds, deep in thought.
None of this was working out how I’d wanted it to. Instead of smoothing things over, things were choppier than ever. I had to make him see what I’d done was a good thing. “Look, we’ve both made mistakes in the past. What’s done is done, why not move past this together? You still want to be with me don’t you?”
His brows bunched together a
t the question. “Course I do, it’s all I want.”
“Then let’s go down to the party and start our new lives together.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely I am.” I looked deep into his hazel eyes. He of all people should understand how little I trusted compulsion. Letting Jakob into my head had to prove how far I was willing to go to make things work.
“Alright then. Let’s go have that dance.”
Chapter Thirty
“Can’t you get your men to dress in something less dreary, cariad? They’re positively ruining my party.”
It was the third time she’d mentioned the four members of the Order he’d tasked with keeping a low key presence in the ballroom. To Bishop’s way of thinking, they blended into the background just fine. Nobody blinked at the open carry, the Order was expected to be armed at all times. “I don’t think anyone’s noticed they’re even here.”
“Of course they have. It’s like we’re living in a police state,” she said, pink lips pulled into a pout. “Perhaps we could get them to dress in matching livery at the very least. There’s bound to be trunks of the stuff rattling around in this old mansion somewhere. Send someone off to find some.”
“They’re not here as your personal footmen, Carys. They’re working for me, not you.”
“But… Vetis is mine.”
“Not the Order, that’s not how it works. I explained all of this to you before, don’t you remember?”
“I forget some of the middle parts. We were distracted at the time, don’t you remember?” Those glossy lips curved into a tempting smile.
“Yeah, we were,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss her and she gave him her cheek, not wanting to muss her lipstick. Not that he wanted pink lips in the bargain anyway, and he had to admit, she was a knockout in that get-up. “Like I said before, the Order is its own entity, not subject to any of the Houses.”
“And you’re in charge of it all.”
“Yes, I am. At least until I get fired for spending all of my time with you.”
“But Jakob is the one who placed you in power and he wouldn’t do such a thing, would he?”
“He might if I couldn’t do my job.” More likely Jakob wouldn’t notice one way or the other, but one of his underlings might. They were a cagey bunch, and he had to watch his back. Brotherhood had its limits when they were talking about scrabbling for that kind of power.
“Perhaps you should take a leave of absence? At least for a while until I’ve found my footing as Elder.”
“You don’t need me for that, Aubrey’s the political animal in this family. Or Anja is, for that matter. You could always ask her for advice.”
“Why would I do that? The West is hardly in the same league as Vetis,” she sniffed.
“Still, Anja’s got a lot of pull with the other Houses. She’s really proven herself in the past year she’s been Elder.” Then again, he was probably only adding to Anja’s headaches by suggesting her as a possible advisor for Carys.
“I can’t imagine why,” she muttered, but Bishop decided to stay out of it. A decision he was coming to repeat daily when in Carys’ company. For the most part, it was easier that way since she did as she pleased anyway, no matter how solid the advice she got was.
Amunet approached, sinking into a deep curtsey as she reached the dais. Bishop was surprised to see her there, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her at Vetis. Her ample curves were tightly bound into the corset of an old west, dance hall girl costume of deep red, with lips stained to match, and her skirt tucked up on one side to reveal a shapely leg. Her raven hair was gathered up into an elaborate mass of curls with a single red feather bobbing as she bowed.
“Greetings, Carys of the Northern Lands. May your tribes prosper under the Sister Moon.”
“Amunet,” Carys smiled warmly, ignoring the rest of the formal greeting to hold her arms out. The women embraced, careful not to muss each other’s hair.
“Carys, you look well. Only you could return from the dead with such grace and style.”
“You flatter me,” she laughed. “You remember Ulrik?”
“Very well.” Amunet’s dark eyes set upon him, and he recalled the last night the three of them had spent together with an uncomfortable shift.
“Always nice to see you, Amunet,” he said with a polite nod and nothing more. Whatever he might’ve been up for in the past was definitely not on the menu for tonight, as far as he was concerned. “I’m surprised to see you here. The last time we met, I got the feeling you might not venture far from home for a while.” More like scared of running into Lodinn, but Bishop supposed the news of his death had traveled even to her corner of the world.
“You’ve seen each other recently?” Carys asked. There might’ve been a touch of jealousy in Carys’ voice, even though she’d been happy enough to share him among her friends before.
“It was in San Francisco, she came to see Jakob,” he said quickly before she read more into it than there was.
“Yes, and you were there on our hunting expedition. Such a lovely time,” Amunet sighed. “And I’m forever in your debt for the role you played in Lodinn’s demise.”
His hands came up. “Nope, that was all Anja’s doing. I was only there to watch.”
Carys’ brow puckered in confusion. “I thought Jakob slew Lodinn.”
“That’s the official story, but Jakob was down for the count before Anja saved the day.”
“That sounds like a fascinating tale,” Amunet smiled. She might’ve said more, but Bishop was utterly distracted by Anja’s arrival.
She came into the ballroom on Rob’s arm, but Bishop couldn’t have said what he wore, he only had eyes for Anja. He’d seen her in many a beautiful dress before, but never like this. Dressed in a nineteenth century costume, her gown seemed to be made of sunlight – she was that dazzling.
Once he’d wondered what she would look like in a proper corset and elegant finery, and this far surpassed any dreams. The dress accentuated her cinched waist and then swept over her hips and legs in yards of billowy fabric that she managed with elegant grace. Her hair was gathered back from her face with glittering pins, golden hair spilling down her back in soft ringlets his fingers ached to touch.
And there above the creamy swell of her breasts sat his necklace, the one he’d given her after his trip to the museum. She laughed then, her face alight with goodness and beauty and his chest tightened painfully.
She was magnificent.
“Ulrik…” Carys nudged him back to the real world when he didn’t answer. “Bishop, the story?”
“What?” he blinked, the spell broken, and he could breathe again. “Oh, sorry.” His attention drew back to Anja as if she’d pulled him to her with an invisible string, but when he found her again, she was swirling around the dance floor with Rob, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Shit… what was he doing? What was he supposed to be talking about? “The story, right.” Bishop managed to pull himself together and tell the bare bones of the story of Lodinn’s death. The agreed upon version, anyway, where none of them had dealt the killing blows but Jakob.
Bishop was about to excuse himself to go get a drink, when he felt a light tap on his shoulder and he turned to find Anja standing there with a huge smile on her face.
“Permission to come aboard, Cap’n Tightpants,” she drawled, snapping him a salute.
Anja was the first one to make the connection with what he’d dressed as for the party. Carys had called him a farmer when she’d seen the suspenders, and Rush had thought he was a cowboy from the pistol he had strapped to his thigh.
“Permission granted,” he grinned back, drinking in her smile like sunlight. “What do you think?” Bishop swirled the brown coat free and his hand hovered over the gun as if ready to draw. “Nothing combines the past with the future like space cowboy. Do you like it?” For some reason, it was awfully important to him to have gotten it right.
“Do I like it? Are you k
idding? I’m ready to stab you with a toothpick and steal it for myself,” she gushed, and a rush of warmth spread through his chest. “Is that what I think it is?” She pointed to the replica pistol he’d had to get overnighted to him at a huge expense, but it was worth it to see her face.
“Yep. Almost didn’t get here in time.”
“Can I touch it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled, handing it over to her butt first. Anja took it in her hands reverently, as if she held the Holy Grail, not a movie prop from a now defunct sci-fi series. “Rob,” he nodded to the man that he’d only just realized was standing there.
“Bishop.” Rob returned the simple greeting, nodding politely to Anja when she showed him the gun.
“All this fuss over a pistol that doesn’t work,” Carys sniffed. “How quaint you look, sister dear,” she added with a frosty stare.
“Beautiful,” Bishop was quick to add.
Anja’s eyes narrowed at Carys for a moment, but she kept her composure, turning to Bishop with a smile. “Thanks, I’m supposed to be Christine from…”
“Phantom of the Opera, I know.” He’d realized it as soon as he’d seen her dancing in it. A fitting costume if ever there was one – but did that make him the hero or the phantom?
Her eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t think that was one you were familiar with.”
“It was on the list you sent me.”
“So were a lot of things you didn’t watch,” she scolded and he had to agree with a self deprecating laugh.
“I for one decided to go with something more modern,” Carys declared, even though no one had asked. “Can you guess who I am?”
Anja didn’t have to think for very long before she replied. “Marilyn Monroe from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, right? Or are you going for Madonna?”
Was that who Carys was supposed to be? The pink dress had looked familiar, but he hadn’t put it together before. There were still a ton of movies he’d never gotten around to watching, and that one hadn’t been at the top of his list.
“Marilyn Monroe, of course! I thought to choose her because she is the most powerful woman in recent history.”
