“If you don’t mind waiting. I know how you feel about waiting,” he teased.
She looped her arms around his neck. “So, don’t make me wait.”
“As you command, Your Highness Princess Lilythorn.” He swooped her up with an arm under her knees, making her shriek in surprise and delight. “Point the way.”
She pointed to the stairs to her attic room, abruptly aware of how narrow and unstable they looked. Sebastien took the steps three at a time, as vigorous as if she weighed nothing, though the wood creaked alarmingly. Only her room sat at the top of the stairs and he strode in, then paused.
She felt that pause, his sheer astonishment, all through his body and hers, seeing it all through his eyes. The tiny room with its single window under the eaves. The threadbare quilt faded to colorlessness and showing the filling through the various threadbare spots. The floorboards worn to white and the utter lack of anything else.
“Where are your things?” he asked quietly.
She wanted to hide her face against his chest, the shame cut so keenly. “Can that be my one story, after?”
“Oh, love, of course. I apologize.” Unfolding her knees and lowering her feet carefully to the floor, he cuddled her against him, cupping the back of her head with his big hand. “This isn’t about you, sweetheart. It’s about what’s been done to you.”
She nodded, blinking back the tears. He kissed the top of her head, then coaxed her with more kisses on her temples andcheeks to lift her face until she looked at him. Framing her face, he solemnly brushed the tears from under her eyes with his thumbs. “It’s a lovely bedroom,” he told her, very seriously. “I like this bedroom better than any I’ve ever seen in all my life.”
A watery laugh burst out of her. “You shouldn’t tell lies like that.”
“Not even little white ones that pass as charm with everyone else?” His green eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Well, maybe one per day,” she allowed, “and never about anything important.”
“Deal. Now.” He sat on the bed, rather gingerly, as if he feared it might collapse under his weight, which—come to think of it—wasn’t unreasonable. Splaying his hands to span the curve of her hips, he drew her near until she stood between his spread knees. “Where were we?”
Chewing her lip, she surveyed the size of him compared to her little bed. She’d had it since childhood and had long since learned to sleep curled up on her side, so her feet didn’t hang off the end. “I don’t think we’ll both fit.”
“Is there another bed?”
“Just Jada’s.” She wrinkled her nose without meaning to as she said it, making him laugh.
“How about not in a bed?” he suggested with raised brows.
“Like where?” She hadn’t really known people could make love not in a bed. But then, all the things she didn’t know could fill a castle.
“The garden—back under that lovely weeping willow?”
She loved that idea, but glanced out the window. “It’s started to rain.”
He flopped dramatically back on her little bed, wriggling around as if to make himself comfortable, peering thoughtfully at the sloped ceiling angling down to one side of it, most of his legs hanging off the end. “We can make this work,” he declared, and she burst out laughing.
“The library,” she decided, “if a rug before the fireplace is all right?”
He turned on his side, crooking his elbow and propping his head on his hand. “I love a rug before the fireplace.”
For no good reason, she blushed. But then, she seemed to be in a constant state of fervent desire and heightened awareness of him that made her feel unbearably shy. “It’s downstairs,” she offered, foolishly.
“I didn’t think it could fit up here.” He stood, immediately banging his head on the sloped ceiling because he wasn’t in the direct center.
“Oh, Sebastien,” she cried. “Are you all right?”
He rubbed his head ruefully. “I seem to suffer a great many injuries in your service, my lady.”
“I’m so sorry!”
“Teasing, Lilythorn. I’m fine. But I think I’ll let you walk down the stairs, lest I encounter an accident so debilitating I am unable to performfurtherservice.”
She clapped her hands to her cheeks to cover the burning blush and nearly ran from the room. He followed behind, chuckling. In the library, she lit the fire she’d laid as one of her habitual chores. The change in weather had brought a chill, the fresh breeze flowing rain-wet through the partly opened windows.
