by A. W. Exley
How she longed to be a part of the world again, to flirt with both desire and danger. To feel alive and not as though she were part of the furniture. To shake off the nightmare that pinned her down for forty years.
She curled her fingers in Byron’s. “I would love to dance. I have been inactive too long. I am sure that as a physician, my brother could have no objection to a little light exercise. I only hope you will forgive me if I tread on your feet.”
A smile warmed Byron’s face as he tucked her against him. His resonance tingled along Lettie’s arms, and a shiver worked down her spine.
He dropped his head close to hers and his lips grazed her ear as he spoke. “A creature such as yourself could never commit such a heinous crime as standing on her partner’s toes.”
He led her out to the centre of the floor. Other couples parted before them like water diverting around a rock. Byron placed a hand on her waist. For a cold sylph, his touch was warm even through the layers of silk and her corset. If Lettie struggled to remember when she last danced, then her last lover was a memory beyond recollection.
Lettie’s right hand rested on the sylph’s shoulder as the music began. They stepped simultaneously. Music and water were much the same to Lettie. Notes flowed into each other, and her body responded to the current. She didn’t need to analyse the steps, just trust in her partner and let the rhythm thrum through her body.
Byron whirled her away from Grayson, now dancing with Caprice, and they created their own world as they danced.
“You didn’t warn your family I was attending.” Lettie scanned the Soarers who watched her every move. She was a cat set among a pack of hungry dogs, and the animals all waited for the command to fall on their prey. Despite his best intentions, Grayson could never protect her if they turned on her. Only fragile chains of civility kept them back.
“No, where would be the fun in that? I do love springing surprises on my family, don’t you?” He revealed his teeth in a smile, but it looked more predatory than conversational.
“Not the unpleasant sort.” She certainly didn’t like surprises that could end both her life and Grayson’s. She needed to prove to Jasper that she could serve the family and was no longer the fragile woman who needed protecting from herself.
Byron huffed a silent laugh. “I gave you my word that no harm would befall you. Did you think I would renege on that?”
“I don’t know you well enough to judge. Nor do I know how much control you exert over your family.” Talking with Byron was a verbal dance as they spun around one another. Each word was weighted with hidden meaning and innuendo. Lettie needed to keep her wits about her lest she falter and fall. Such a lapse would prove fatal.
“Perhaps once you’ve seen more of me, you will know I keep my word.” He let the offer hang between them.
“We may be here some time. I might perhaps see all of you?” That made his interest flare, and a corresponding heat flowed through Lettie’s limbs. A slight hesitancy prickled her conscience. Could she really take a sylph to her bed just to advance her Warder family? Her gaze sought Grayson, deep in conversation with the delectable Caprice. “I hope Grayson’s presence in Whiterock might prove to be an asset to your shipbuilding company.”
“It has been convenient having a doctor nearby. Ship workers certainly have inventive ways of injuring themselves, and it reduces the amount of time they are away from their duties. I lost my best clerk when he let the hull collapse on his arm. Damn shame your brother couldn’t save the limb; I hate having to train a new man in how I like the office run.” Nothing flickered behind the cool sylph’s eyes as he spoke of George’s injury. Indeed, he seemed more put out that Grayson had failed to keep the man intact.
“George was fortunate it wasn’t more than his arm. He could have been killed.” The young man could have easily lost his life, all because his employer expected his men to work during a storm that lashed at the beams holding the hulls upright.
“We are fortunate he wasn’t more foolish. Injuries hold up production and cost money.”
Injuries were also bad for the workmen. If they didn’t work, they didn’t get paid. At least Grayson would ensure the men who laboured for Ocram and Lawson had the best chance of healing quickly so they could provide for their families. Another difference between Soarers and Warders. A Warder family would never abandon an injured worker, whereas Soarers only saw how it affected their pocketbooks.
Lettie closed her eyes and let the music drift along her limbs, washing away unpleasant thoughts. She trusted Byron to guide them, as his reputation for both gracefulness and skill at dancing would suffer if he ploughed them into another couple.
When next he spoke, his voice whispered over her cheek as he leaned closer. “We are made to be together—sylph and undine. We understand the elegance and refinement in a way that eludes the others. Salamanders and gnomes are somewhat cruder.”
Water and air shared many similarities, both more delicate than their sibling elements. They were known to be tall and slender with an ethereal beauty, whereas the other two were rougher made and sturdier. Why did their creators not pair them, or perhaps Gaia and Ouranus knew something about the mix that made it better to keep them apart?
She opened her eyes. “You know they prefer to be called gargoyles, not gnomes.”
He snorted a puff of air. “An even cruder and rougher beast. All stone muscle and a solid granite head that cannot be reasoned with. Could you really see yourself paired to such a monster?”
A tiny sliver of pain pierced her heart. Ava had stolen her Cor-vitis seed, and Lettie would never know her true mate. It could have been a fellow undine, gargoyle, or Meidh that touched her and germinated love in her body. But she would never know. Could a different type of love flourish between undine and sylph?
She was fooling herself. This was an illusion, a game they both played to advance their family over the other. She needed to remember why she was there and how Julian had died, before she lost herself to the game and allowed make believe to become her reality.
“What choice do we have in who we choose as our partner? You are a Soarer and I am a Warder. Our paths are predefined, and we are not meant to associate.” Perhaps it had been a mistake to come to Whiterock before she had fully recovered. Her long confinement made her desperate for companionship, and it blurred her judgement where Byron was concerned. She struggled to see the line she shouldn’t cross.
He bent his head, his cheek touching hers. “Yet here you are in my arms, delighting and confounding the captive audience who watch us.”
“Life is seldom fair. I find you excellent company, and I enjoy dancing with a partner who is light on his feet.” Did they even touch the floor? The sylph had it in his power to make them rise up and dance on the air. Although that would reveal to all in attendance that he wasn’t entirely human. Or did the people of Whiterock know, just as the residents of Alysblud knew about the Seton family?
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” Byron murmured as they glided around the ballroom.
Her parents had known Shakespeare. Her father would mutter darkly about the playwright while her mother gave a faraway smile. Lettie suspected there was an untold story in their association. For a mortal, William had achieved his own sort of immortality. For as long as his plays were performed or his words remembered, he would endure through time.
“You would liken us to Romeo and Juliet?” she asked.
Byron’s intelligent gaze caressed her face, and his fingers splayed over her waist. “Is not the feud between our families much like the Capulets and Montagues? The more time I spend in your presence, the more I find myself wondering why we can’t set aside names and see the truth of the attraction that grows between us.”
A sensual lassitude bloomed through her limbs, so long starved of attention, under his touch. Did she experience genuine attraction to this man, or was it a flirtation tinged with danger? Both made her feel alive, and both were a precarious path
to tread. “You are being rather presumptuous. I have known you for little more than two weeks. Unlike Juliet, I find such a brief association insufficient to induce me to make passionate declarations.”
His full lips twitched with a smile, and she wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. She imagined he would take full control, just as he directed the dance. He would mould her to whatever shape he desired. “Have you no romance in your soul?”
“I am quite romantic, but Romeo and Juliet had a brief, childish infatuation that resulted in several deaths. Including their own. I prefer romance that endures for centuries. Perhaps that is the difference between infatuation with a boy and loving a man?” Her gaze challenged him.
His fingers tightened at her waist. “You are an extraordinary woman.”
Lettie wondered why the light seemed dimmer, and discovered that while they flirted and danced, he had skilfully manoeuvred them out to the secluded balcony. Their feet stilled, but he kept his hold on her.
His head lowered and she tilted her face. Their lips met, and sure enough, he asserted his dominance. His hand slid from her waist to the small of her back and pressed her closer to him. His mouth covered hers as his tongue took up the dance. It was a pleasant kiss and languor spread through Lettie. She was no virgin or stranger to desire. Byron elicited a response from her body, and yet her mind stayed indifferent. Observing—even judging—his performance.
She lifted her hands to his shoulders as Byron pressed forward, bending her ever so slightly backwards and at the disadvantage. It made her cling to him for support as he ravaged her mouth and increased her feeling of vulnerability.
He plunged into her mouth, taking all he wanted with sweeping strokes. While he supported her with one arm, the other stroked up her side and cupped a breast. His thumb worked its way back and forth over the fabric of her bodice, and a moan broke free in her throat. She nearly sobbed in relief as desire awoke and tore through her limbs.
I’m alive. At last.
Byron would be a powerful lover, demanding all she had to offer. She had only to accept his invitation and she wouldn’t be lonely any more. She could finally scratch the itch that never relented day or night.
“Lettie? Is everything all right? I saw Mr Ocram bring you outside, and I was concerned you might have felt faint.” Grayson’s voice cut through the dark.
Byron was in no hurry to let her go. He nipped her bottom lip before lifting his head, but his hand still cupped her bosom. His other hand lingered on her back, his thumb making small circles.
It was Lettie who took a half step back to put a sliver of space between them. She pulled deep breaths into her lungs to bring her racing heart back under control and placed one hand against her temple. “I am quite fine, thank you, Grayson. I simply became a little too warm.”
“You do look flushed. Come inside and I will fetch you a cool drink.” Grayson held out his hand to her, his face expectant.
Did she stay with the sylph and the pleasure he offered, or go with Grayson for a cold glass of punch and a lecture about her behaviour?
She would put aside her desires and do as expected. She placed her hand in Grayson’s. “That would be lovely.” She cast Byron a sidelong glance. “Thank you for a wonderful dance. I do look forward to our next one.”
Grayson tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and walked her back toward the light.
16
Being in a room full of Soarers was akin to suffering through a recital given by someone only learning the violin. Their presence was like the young player who kept hitting the wrong notes and made Lettie wince. She still enjoyed her evening, and if nothing else they had gathered better intelligence for Samuel. They now knew at least twenty Soarers called the ornate mansion home, with another five Meidh weighting their side of the pendulum.
The lone Warder might be outnumbered, but now that the Seton clan was free of Ava, Jasper could find more Warders to support Samuel.
One or two Soarers emitted a sharper dissonance than the others, and a headache threatened behind Lettie’s eyes when one stood too close for too long. One woman in particular made of point of standing nearby to chat to her friends. The sideways glances and sneers she threw at Lettie made it all too obvious she didn’t share Byron’s opinion that the feud was between their families, not them.
The woman blazed in a dress of red and orange, a picture of fiery elegance. She was of slightly below average height, with more curves than a winding mountain track that drew the eye of many a man in attendance. There was a dusky hue to her skin, and her eyes were an unusual amber that glowed as though lit from within.
“Salamander,” Lettie whispered to Grayson when she pinched the bridge of her nose.
He drew her away to a quieter corner surrounded by humans. True to his word, he played the solicitous older brother, and she could not have asked for a truer friend.
When Byron returned to reclaim her, she found their dances a relief, as though his presence seemed to shield her from the worst of the effects from his family.
“Who is the salamander who appears to be trying to use the power of her mind to make me burst into flames?” Curiosity got the better of Lettie and she had to ask.
Byron spun Lettie to glance at the fiery woman she indicated. “That is Davina Lawson, my betrothed.”
No wonder the woman’s instant dislike of Lettie seemed to run deeper than a clash between opposing Elementals. “Shouldn’t you be dancing with her instead of me?”
He snorted. “Good grief, no. Ours is a business and familial arrangement, and she knows better than to stand in the way of my pursuit of pleasure. Just as I leave her to her proclivities.”
Lettie tried to understand what he meant. What greater pleasure could there be than sharing passion with your mate, that one individual the creators made just for you? “But she is your mate. How can you ignore her for me?”
Byron laughed and an amused blue gaze met hers. “Mates are an emotional attachment and why Warders are dying out—they make you vulnerable. Soarers use more practical methods to ensure our lines don’t just survive, but thrive. Davina and I will marry, and she will provide me with strong offspring, but I find my diversions elsewhere.”
He was wrong. A mate made you better. Jasper and Dawn were stronger as a pair than as two individuals. Her parents had a love that endured through centuries, and as a girl, she had longed to find such a match.
“Is that all I am to you, a diversion?” she asked.
He arched one golden eyebrow. His eyes were the clear blue of an early summer’s day and were perfectly complemented by the shade of his formal jacket. She imagined a tailor holding up hundreds of fabric samples before they found the exact cloth to use. “Did you think it was something more? I find you intriguing, and I suspect we could find a great deal of pleasure with each other, but that it is all it will ever be. Or did you expect some undying declaration?”
“And to think you accused me of lacking romance. What happened to your Romeo and Juliet analogy?” During their first dance, Byron compared them to the ill-fated lovers, and now she was cast in the role of temporary distraction. The sylph was fickle, blowing first one way and then another. He would make a woman’s head spin if she didn’t have something to anchor her.
Like a loving brother who would watch over her.
Lettie scanned the ballroom until she found Grayson, standing by the punch table with the voluptuous Caprice holding his attention.
“You said you’d rather have the love of a man over a childish infatuation.” Byron followed the direction of her gaze. “I would have thought the offer from an Elemental like myself would be far superior, or are you looking for an inferior human like your brother?”
She returned her attention to the handsome visage holding her. “I love my brother, and he’s a good man. Is it wrong to seek someone who has similar qualities?”
In that moment, one thought exploded in her mind. What if she didn’t want someone like Grayso
n? What if she wanted the good doctor himself? Except even when she was naked in the bath, he didn’t see her as a woman. At best he regarded her as a sister, at worst, his mad patient, worthy only of sympathy.
“If you want to take someone like your brother to your bed, then Romeo and Juliet isn’t the right comparison. I’m sure there’s a Greek tragedy that’s more apt. Being too close to family might also explain the weaknesses in the Warder strain.” His full lips twitched in laughter.
Byron’s words conjured images of Grayson waiting in bed for her. Would the gentle doctor likewise be a gentle and considerate lover? No, she couldn’t allow those images to take up residence in her head. Lettie summoned Dawn’s face and remembered her promise to find the truth behind what had happened to her friend’s parents.
Byron continued to talk as they twirled to the dance, gliding effortlessly around the floor. “It seems rather ghoulish of you, given the short lifespans of humans, to want to watch one wither and die while you remain unchanged.”
A Warder shared their life force with a mate, but only if that mate was a Meidh. Elementals rarely formed romantic attachments with humans because they couldn’t keep them alive long enough. Who wanted to live for a thousand years if the person you loved had only a tenth of that timespan? How many times could a heart be broken before it stopped working entirely?
Lettie tried to shake off such maudlin thoughts. “I prefer to have some conversation before and after the physical act. Is it wrong to search for a partner one wishes to converse with?” Perhaps fashions had changed during her internment and couples no longer spoke to one another.
Byron’s eyes widened and he looked horrified at the very idea. “I don’t pick my partners for their conversational skills. In fact, I prefer they don’t talk at all.”
“Well, now that you have scandalised your family by flaunting me in your domain, what do you intend to do with me?” She was no closer to learning what happened to the Esmeralda or her investors’ money. Byron was unlikely to answer Lettie’s questions, which meant she needed access to the financial records, and from what he said during her visit to the shipyard, those records were in Lawson's control.
