Page 6 of My Fae Lady

“Oh, very well. Let’s get this over with.” She waved me closer.

Shuffling my feet so they were near to hers, but not so close I trod upon her slippers, I laid a hand on her hip and leaned in. Her head went back, and she lifted up on the tips of her toes, rising until her breath warmed my lips. That orderly Seelie scent of fresh snowflakes, manicured gardens, and tranquil ponds filled my nose. Then suddenly she fell away from me, dropping onto her heels.

“Hold on,” she said, stopping my descent with a palm pressed to my chest.

I sighed. “What is it now?”

“All those sharp teeth of yours . . .”

I ran my tongue quickly over one of the steeper points. “What of them?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Is kissing you going to hurt me?”

A chuckle rumbled in my chest, and my hand on her hip squeezed soothingly. “No.”

She squinted like she doubted my words very much. “I think I’d prefer the leeches and the bloodletting. It sounds safer.”

Another chortle slipped out, this one stronger than the first. “That’s not how bargains are done.”

Her brows, autumn-colored like her hair, drew together. “I would like it to be, though. Are you certain it’s not? Have you tried other things?”

“Have I tried leeches? No.” I shook my head, amused and exasperated. “But I won’t stop you if you’d like to have a go at kissing one. I don’t think it’ll seal our bargain, though. Same with all that royal blood you like to go on about, so you might as well keep it in your veins. It’ll do you more good there, Lady Barton.”

“Giselle,” she said with a huff of impatience. “The correct form of address is Lady Giselle. There is no Lady Barton. Even were I the duchess, I’d be Lady Plantagaia, not Lady Barton.”

“And the humans think fae are peculiar about names. I don’t care what the proper title is. It doesn’t matter in the forest.”

“On the contrary, Lord Scratch. It is exactly the type of thing that matters if we are to convince my family that you’re a gentleman, and not—”

I pressed my lips to hers, shutting her right up. She gasped against me, and then after a moment her mouth warmed and molded to mine. Surprise melted into consent, sealing the bargain and awakening the wild magic under my feet. It surged up from the roots of the house, no longer a leaky stream, now a raging river.

Doors opened and closed. The fire surged, crackling and sparking like fireworks. I tried to pull away to end the lingering kiss, and a strange external pressure, a magic both orderly and chaotic—Seelie and Unseelie—built behind me, pushing my body closer to hers. She flattened her palm against my chest, the touch warm and pleasant. I could taste the sunlight on her soft skin, could smell it in her mahogany hair, warm and ripe and summer-sweet. The study shrank around the two of us until we barely fit between its walls.

Giselle managed to separate from me at last, flushed and dazed. Her eyes had changed to a shade of lavender I couldn’t read. I was feeling a little breathless myself after all that, though I couldn’t recall a single time a bargain kiss stole the air from my lungs in such a manner.

“You . . . you shouldn’t have . . .” she stammered, struggling to pull herself together to scold me properly. Her hair was more out of order than it had been before. Had I done that? Overwhelmed by the moment, I couldn’t recall what my hands had been up to. “Lord Scratch—”

“Lord Sylvan,” I said gruffly. Unseelie titles weren’t recognized by mortals after the war of the Seelie-Human alliance, but that’s who I once was, a high lord—a general of the Unseelie army—before they combined forces to smother my kind and sent us into the trees. Not that we didn’t have it coming to some degree. It was only natural that the humans would tire of us trying to eat them. Though we wouldn’t have tried to eat them if they hadn’t insisted on trespassing. “If we’re to be proper, then you’ll call me Lord Sylvan.”

Her lashes fluttered, and her chest heaved. “I see. Lord Sylvan it is, then . . . Is it safe to assume our bargain is sealed?”

“It worked, all right,” I rasped, still trying to catch my breath. My heart thundered in my breast.

The house seemed to be gathering itself, too. The fire dimmed, and the doors creaked back open. The walls slid outward slowly, wood scraping and groaning against wood, returning to their original dimensions. Furniture appeared in its rightful place.

Silence descended between us.

“Good day, Lady Giselle,” I said, desperate to depart. I had no desire to remain in her presence, and I’d eaten only a quick breakfast that morning, of mostly nuts and berries. It wasn’t enough to sustain me after sleeping so long. Turning on my heels, I strode away on legs that felt like rubber.

“Wait! Where are you going, Lord Sylvan?”

“Back to my forest,” I said over my shoulder, marching for the archway. “You know where to find me. You can call on me when it’s time to travel to your drab mortal realm. I’ll attend the ceremony and sign the papers then.”

“Goddesses, no.” Her quick decisive footsteps echoed behind me. “Not when I’ve only got two weeks to pull this all off, and you’re here looking like . . . well, like you live in a tree.”

Scowling, I retreated from her faster, not at all liking where this conversation was headed. She pursued me with enthusiasm.

It could have been my imagination, but the room seemed to elongate, making the path toward the exit take an age to reach.