Page 39 of The Temptation of Roan Island

17

SHEMAIAH

Iknock at the door to Pippa’s rooms to escort her to dinner. It’s been a couple of days since our agreement, and so far, it’s done what I hoped—kept Anna at bay. It’s also forced me into Pippa’s proximity more than ever. I can’t deny the attraction I feel toward her, but I’m experienced enough to know attraction doesn’t equal love and wise enough to know acting on attraction would just ruin our friendship. I have no intention of doing that.

Her door opens.

My breath catches.

Fuck, why does she have to make this harder than it already is?

Tonight, Pippa isn’t in one of her usual frocks. She’s dressed in something pink that covers her petite frame. Her shoulders are bare, the sleeves a slice of fabric resting on her upper arm, the rest swooping low, offering an unhindered view of her neck and the upper swell of her breasts. The dress hugs the rest of her, draping and flowing around her like spun sugar. The skirt pulls tight around her legs and gathers into a bustle in the back.

My mouth dries out, and my fangs emerge.

I clear my throat, wrangling myself into control, and offer my arm. “You look beautiful. Is that a new dress?”

“Ruby gave it to me.” She takes my arm, her gloved hand sliding over my jacket.

“It’s lovely on you.”

“Thank you,” she says with a demure smile.

“Perhaps you would like to go for a walk after dinner?”

She tilts her head to look up at me, that tantalizing verbena scent hitting me as if I were the bullseye of a target. I still find the scent of her illness off-putting, though I’ve grown accustomed to it more and more. And there are some moments, like this one, when I’m almost glad for it. It’s a bucket of cold water thrown on my need to taste her.

“Alright,” she says.

When we reach the dining room, I pull out her chair for her before taking the seat next to her. With others around, my pursuit needs to be believable, so I tilt my head and speak into her ear, “What made you change your mind?”

She turns toward me. “About what?”

“Wearing one of Ruby’s dresses?”

I note Anna’s gaze, and commit to leaning closer, one arm resting on the table, the other across the back of Pippa’s chair. When my breath tickles her neck, I see the chills raised across her skin. My glance follows the fall of soft curls from her updo. I have a strange impulse to press my lips to the tender skin behind her ear.

Pippa shifts in her seat, adjusting her bustle. There’s a soft blush on her fair cheeks. “I figured it should appear I’m open.”

Open to me. To being a Roan. To the farce of my supposed love.

She turns away once more, leaving me to ponder her words. And though it’s not expressly forbidden, more a gray area in our agreement, one I justify because of our audience, I press my lips to her shoulder, breathing in her essence.

Her heart picks up speed. The sound excites me, but I straighten, drawing away, aware that micro-dose of her isn’t enough to quell my sudden craving.

Jafeth takes a seat across from Pippa and lifts his wine glass. “To the new lovers.” He grins and takes a sip.

“That isn’t necessary, Jafeth,” Pippa says dismissively, clearly not liking the attention.

“Oh but it is,” he answers. “It isn’t every day that a Mavarri falls in love. But Shemaiah. Twice?”

“Twice?” Pippa’s eyes jump to me.

“Jafeth,” I warn before taking a sip of my wine. “Be careful. You sound bitter.”

“Oh, but I am. I’m supremely jealous. And sorry, I thought you would have told your lady-love all your secrets.”

“What secrets?” Kay asks, all innocent curiosity.