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~6~
When Nic appearedto join him for dinner, Gabriel nearly did a double take at the sight of her. In fact, his surprise showed enough that she displayed uncharacteristic hesitation in her usually confident stride, pausing to run a hand over the sleek sides of her closely trimmed hair.
“Do you hate it?” she asked, eyes full of uncertainty. “I had the grooming imp trim it for me, and they only take fairly simple instructions. My hair was lopsided enough that this was the best way to even it up. But it will grow back,” she added. “It won’t be this short always.”
Recovering himself—and chagrined for giving her cause to doubt—he crossed to her and took her hands. “You look more beautiful than ever,” he breathed, knowing by the high flush on her arched cheekbones that she received the truth of his impassioned words. Raising one hand above her head, he coaxed her into turning a slow pirouette. The short black hairs defined the elegant lines where her skull met the back of her neck, silky and alluring, tempting him to kiss her just there in that hollow that made her shiver. Sharp points of slightly longer hair curved over her temples, framing her arresting features. Tamed curls atop her head waved in sensual abandon, all of it serving to set off her fiercely intelligent beauty, her deep-green eyes dominating her extraordinary face.
Unable to resist, he cupped the back of her neck, caressing those silky strands as he kissed her deeply, feeling as if he could sink into her and never emerge. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured against her lips, “that I want to commission a portrait of you, looking just like this, in case you do decide to grow it long again.”
She smiled up at him, arms languidly coiled around his waist, the scent of hothouse roses and fire-warmed wine twining around him with her potent magic. “The first time you called me beautiful, I accused you of trying to manipulate me with pretty lies.”
“I remember that accusation well,” he replied wryly. He’d been so dazzled by her, astonished at his great good fortune that the loathsome Convocation ritual had resulted in him finding such a gorgeous and fascinating woman to be his life partner. He winced for the naïveté of that self of not that long ago. No wonder Nic had been scornful of his earnest praise. “And I understand why you didn’t believe I was sincere.”
“I believe you now,” she said softly, surprising him. She hastily added, “At least, I believe in your sincerity, though I don’t at all understand why you hold that opinion.” She arched a raven-winged brow with sardonic humor. “Further evidence of your questionable judgment, no doubt.”
He was beginning to understand, too, how she used barbed humor and sarcasm to hold him off, to diffuse any tender emotions between them. “I may have questionable judgment in many arenas, but not in this.” He studied her face. “I wish I could describe what I see when I look at you.”
“I know what you see, because Ihaveseen myself in a mirror,” she replied in a very dry voice. “My forehead is too high, my Elal nose is as big as a beak, my jaw too square, and my mouth is way too big for all of it.”
“You do have a big mouth,” he agreed, kissing those lush lips he couldn’t get enough of.
“Ha ha.” She nipped his bottom lip, the shock going straight to his groin. “You’re the one always asking for opinions you don’t actually want to hear.”
“Idowant to hear them,” he replied gravely. “Even when I don’t like them. That’s how a marriage should be.”
Restless, she withdrew from him, taking in the long dining table in the partially restored hall, eyeing the planks nailed over the doors to the halls leading to the recently re-sunk arcade, but withholding comment. The dining hall was barely usable, but he’d wanted to have a more formal meal with her. The evening had turned chilly with the advent of a soaking rain, the nip in the air a reminder that winter had not yet fully withdrawn. Two place settings had been laid at one end, with a gleaming silver candelabra spilling warm candlelight.
“Just the two of us?” she inquired, sounding not entirely pleased.
“Yes. Everyone is giving us time to enjoy our honeymoon. They’re all taking turns sending over food for us.” Taking her hand, he led her around to the end of the table, holding out the chair for her.
She rolled her eyes and slipped into the other chair. “The head of the table belongs to the head of the house,LordPhel.”
“Surely we don’t need to observe formal manners when we’re alone.”
“It’s good practice for you,” she replied, pouring wine for him and handing him the goblet, though he still stood, hesitating. “These things should be become second nature for you. Be arrogant and assume that you are owed pride of place.” She pointed a finger at him. “Anddon’truminate on how acting like that might turn you into it.”
“I thought the moratorium on philosophy expired once we dealt with the threats on the breakfast table,” he reminded her, irritation rising that she dismissed his concerns so easily, even as he reminded himself that she’d been so thoroughly brainwashed by that loathsome Convocation Academy that she saw no problem with what she recommended he become. He saw the peril clearly, however. Since his magic had manifested, it had felt like he clung to a rapidly eroding slope of what had once been firm footing. With every step he took to embracing his magic and becoming Lord Phel, it seemed he lost sight of one more bit of integrity.This is how it happens. Give in to the power, and it gradually eats you alive until you have no humanity left.
Nic glanced up at him, craning her neck more than she needed to in a pointed reminder that he could be seated. “We haven’t dealt with them, not fully. Calliope sent a message that our order will be delivered in the morning, at which point we’ll have the proper paper to draft your final replies and send them.Thenyou can mope about and mourn the loss of your integrity.”
Not entirely certain how he could be both aggravated and amused by her, he finally sat and sipped his wine as she began filling a plate for each of them. “According to your latest plan, we’re raising the entirety of the manse after our missives have been sent.”
“Excellent point. We’ll have to schedule self-excoriating philosophizing for the afternoon.” She handed him the plate and arranged hers before her.
Knowing she wouldn’t eat until he did, he took a bite of the steaming baked potato before adding both fresh salted butter and sour cream. Nic observed him keenly, no doubt memorizing his preference. He set aside that irritation, too.
“You could add that to your repertoire as brooding Lord Phel,” she added pertly. “Perhaps you can drink heavily as you wallow in self-loathing, then alternate at dinner between sullenness and sudden explosions of anger.” Her green eyes danced with wicked mirth over the rim of her goblet.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, having to fight to restrain a smile.
“As a matter of fact, I am.” She slid him a sultry, teasing look. “And in the arcanium at night, you can release all that pent-up fury and passion upon my helpless body.”
That killed all humor, along with his appetite. Sliding the plate away, he raked his hands through his unruly curls. He should have gotten Nic to unleash the grooming imp on his hair, too. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. It’s revolting.”
Her eyes flashed with shock a moment before she lowered her gaze to her plate. Eating steadily, she focused on her food, not replying. Not meeting his gaze.
“It’s not funny to me,” he persisted. He’d developed a love-hate relationship with her quirky sense of humor. Her wit surprised and delighted him, but that sharp edge could flay him open with ease, leaving him bleeding. And she used it to deflect any serious conversation between them. She still hadn’t replied, so he caught her by the wrist. Stilling, she raised her tumultuous gaze to his, the green dark with emotions he couldn’t identify. Except that it was clear he’d hurt her. “I don’t know how to explain this to you.”
