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No, no, no.
An hour ago, I’d have reminded myself that I wasn’t going to be with someone who was with me for the wrong reasons, and whose life I was likely to screw up to a gigantic degree. I’d have pointed out that we probably didn’t even need to do this, because I’d been along for that crazy ride and I couldn’t have re-created it, so how could she? I’d have told myself to relax, to have another drink, to wait for Mircea to work his magic.
But things had changed in that hour, hadn’t they?
I’d gone from thinking I might someday find a way to conquer my demon, to having it almost conquer me. From struggling to finally get my life together, to watching it all fall apart. From yearning to be alone in my skin, to wondering if I was about to live my oldest nightmare, trapped in a prison of my own mind, unable to get out, to stop her, to—
From having a future, to living on borrowed time.
And suddenly a lot of things didn’t seem so important anymore.
I stared at the hand. It was fine-boned for such a large man, long-fingered and slender. A fencer’s hand, if there was such a thing, a duelist’s hand. Louis-Cesare’s hand. Waiting. Offering…
A chance that might never come again.
I drained my wine. Screw it. I’d had a lifetime of no. And can’t, and shouldn’t and don’t. I was sick of no. Tonight, just for once, I wanted a little—
“Yes,” I told him, and locked my fingers with his.
Chapter Thirty-seven
I thought the whole standing and bowing thing was just Louis-Cesare being, well, Louis-Cesare. But no. He grabbed the carafe of wine and the blanket and out the missing door we went. Jehan gave me a knowing smile as we passed, like he’d seen it all before. And then we were through the trees and into the next field, and up a gentle incline carpeted with clover.
The Milky Way was a river of silver overhead, glittering in between dark clouds laced with distant lightning. The clover was soft and cool, and so thick we could have left the blanket behind. The dancers were still flickering around the fire, orange-red shadows on the hill above us, like darker flames. But I thought there might be fewer of them.
Like we weren’t the only ones to slip away into the night.
But the musicians seemed to have gotten a second wind, or possibly a second barrel, and were really going at it, pounding out a throbbing beat that made the stars seem to pulse, the flames to leap, the shadows to jump, as if the whole hillside were dancing. It reminded me of that night in Claire’s garden, only that had been fey magic. And whatever was here tonight…was not.
Primal, earthy, human, there was nothing otherworldly about it. Or even necessarily magical, at least not in the way humans defined it. But I knew better. The people here were glorying in the simple things: not grand mansions and fine clothes, but food in their bellies, the taste of new wine on their lips, and a lover beside them, under them.
And there was no greater magic than that.
It was all I’d ever wanted, and had somehow never managed to find: a place of acceptance, peace within myself, someone to love. I might never get the first two, not now. But tonight…tonight, I had the third. And I intended to take full advantage.
I pushed Louis-Cesare down to the hillside.
He looked a little surprised, like he’d expected to run things. And then he tried, pulling me down on top of him. I pulled back. He started to follow but I pushed him down with a foot on his chest.
No. My night. My way.
He settled back again, watching me with fire-lit eyes.
His shirt might have gotten dirty, but his skin was clean. It looked incongruous next to my dirty toes, but it felt good, and the thudding heartbeat below felt better. I kept the foot in place as I unbuttoned my jacket.
It was short-sleeved with no shirt required, a Jackie-O-in-the-sixties kind of thing. But it did have those gloves. I paused to strip them off.
And Louis-Cesare made a disappointed sound in his throat.
I arched an eyebrow, but kept them on.
They were the only things I did.
Jacket, bra, skirt—I had to move my foot for the last, because it was a pencil-type and I couldn’t get it off otherwise. Just as well. Easier to wriggle out of the panties that way.
He reached for me again, before I’d even finished, but my foot was back in place and I stopped him. He stared up at me with dilated eyes and a fading smile. Good; he was beginning to understand.
“My way,” I told him roughly, and pushed him down again.
