Page 90 of The Duchess Curse

His lips caressed down her jaw, stopping right at her lips, his eyes warm and hazy. “I’d rather not.” Then he smacked her rear, turned her about and gently pushed her toward the plants. “You get the peppers, I’ll get the sunflowers. Those, at least, I know the look of.”

She laughed as she walked into the leaves with Bran, and for the first time in months, felt happy and hopeful.

20

SOFT DAYS AND WORRISOME SIGHS

Guin was on her knees, elbow deep in a bucket of flower petals and rainwater when Bran appeared at one end of the conservatory, a parcel under one arm. She’d felt him first, feeling only that she must look up, and when she had—there he’d been, wearing the glamour but watching her with warm green eyes. He started toward her with a steady, loping stride.

“Who is this?” he asked when he reached her. His eyes were golden now, to match the glamour.

“Braxton,” Guin said, standing and drying her hands on her apron, “meet Lady Maryville’s granddaughter, Lady Sophia.”

The little girl blinked up at Bran with big brown eyes, then she popped to her feet and performed a perfect curtsy. “Your Grace.”

Bran dropped to his knee. “No graces here, little one. What are you making?” He peered into the bucket.

“Potion.” Lady Sophia was missing a front tooth, and she smiled around it.

“Petals and rainwater,” Guin said, “to make the world pretty.”

“It must be working,” Bran said. “I’ve never seen two such beautiful ladies.”

Lady Sophia giggled. “It’s not even done yet! I have to stir it all together, but it’s an awful lot.” She narrowed her eyes. “You have terribly big arms. You should help.”

Bran laughed, handed Guin the packages (now she saw it was two) and rolled up his sleeves. “That I should.” Over the top of the little girl’s head, he winked at Guin, then chatted with Lady Sophia as Guin joined the other women.

“He’s good with children,” the baroness said.

He was. She’d not known that. In their years together, they’d never had cause to interact with children, but clearly he knew what he was doing. He’d called Artemis over and was letting Sophia pet a sleek wing, and some of his true face showed beneath the glamour. He never could hold it well when he wasn’t trying. His eyes crinkled at the corner, and she wanted to trace the delicate grooves.

“Are you barren?” the dowager asked.

Guin’s hands fluttered to her belly. “I… no. I do not know. That is a rather forward question.”

“Then beneath the glamour the man’s a frog face?”

Guin laughed. “No. He’s better under there.” She put a palm to her cheeks. They were so very hot.

The other women turned to look at him. A raven on one shoulder, elbow deep in water, a little girl pasting a pink petal to each of his cheeks. They sighed.

Guin realized she had too.

Panic hit like a sledgehammer, and she dropped the packages he’d given her on the worktable. She steadied her racing heart with purposeful breaths. The curse was a chemical reaction, a problem she could solve. She was trying to believe it, but the fear was decades deep and held on with cruel claws.

“Your Grace!” The words tumbled out of her like gunshots.

Bran looked up.

“Is there a reason you came to visit me?” she asked.

He tapped Lady Sophia’s nose and stood, shaking the water off his arms as Artemis flew away. “The one package is from the Biiras. Your requests, I assume.”

She picked up the smaller package shaped like a box and unwrapped it. “It is, and so soon. It’s not even been a week.”

Bran slipped the other package off the table. “They must have found something useful for you in the warehouse.”

“What’s that?” she pointed to the package he held.