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"I was told this place had been reserved for the party."
And so it was. Willow Lane - or this place, as she so unceremoniously put it - was an exclusive vacation club for his kind. But with the High Circle intent on reclaiming its place in society, the elders had decided to open its doors for a weeklong matchmaking party, in hopes of forging stronger alliances between Faes and other races.
"You were told correctly, milady. And judging your earlier actions, it appears we share the same sentiments towards it."
"Oh."
"The only difference is that I don't think escaping a matchmaking marty is worth risking my neck for." He slanted a meaningful glance towards the terrace she had fallen from, and it had the girl wincing.
"I'm kind of...clumsy."
"Extremely so, I'd say." She winced again, and it was cute enough to make his lips twitch.
"It's not that I haven't tried to be more...coordinated? But it's just not me, so in the end..." Her voice trailed off.
"In the end, what?"
She shook her head. "It's nothing."
"That's not fair, milady. Now, you'll have me so curious I'll be unable to sleep, wondering what it is you could have said." His teasing words had her giggling, and this in turn had him smiling. There was something about this girl, Lysander thought absently, that made him forget his worries, the way not even hours of sex with the most skilled courtesans could do.
She was smiling up at him now, and an elusive, almost coy hint of beauty flirted with his thoughts. She was going to be a hell of a knockout once she grew up and learned to conquer the world. The only question was if he'd be there to enjoy it—-
"I'm Star."
Her awkward but tentatively inviting tone cut through his thoughts, and his lips curved. He wouldn't be surprised if this was the girl's very first time to try making friends with a member of the opposite sex.
"Hello, Star." Frustration flashed in her eyes, and his smile widened.
"Oh!" Understanding dawned, and her own lips curved in a smile of exasperation. "You're playing with me."
"Am I?"
"You know you're supposed to give me your name, too."
"Is that so?"
A laugh escaped her. "Yes. That is so."
"Even if I'm no one?"
She shook her head without hesitation. "You can be anything except that."
"What if I like being mysterious?"
"But—-"
"It would be more exciting if I remain anonymous, don't you think?" He took a sudden step forward, but before she could back away in surprise, he was already running his knuckles against one pale cheek and felt her tremble under his touch.
When he drew his hand away, he saw that her cheek had turned pink, and the color only deepened into a dusky shade of rose when she saw him start to smirk. "Did I just make your heart race, milady?"
"Of c-course not!"
But she was blushing even harder now, and both of them knew he was aware that her words were a lie.
THE NEXT TIME THEY met, it was he who accidentally stumbled into her once more, with Star on the floor in one of the hidden corners of the library, an old thick book lying open on her lap.
"Ma belle étoile." The words were out before he had even realized what he was saying. French was the native tongue of his kind, but to use it was nowadays considered old-fashioned.
And truthfully, that was what he was: a throwback to the times, but it was also the part of him that he normally kept hidden.
And yet...
His lovely Star was proving to be an exception, and it was just more proof of how soothing he found her presence.
"Milord." She was blushing as she stared up at him, and he noticed the way her sweet bosom started heaving rapidly as she took the hand he offered. Unable to resist the temptation of teasing her even more, he made sure to have her body slide against him as he pulled her up.
She choked, and he laughed.
"Milord!" This time, her voice came out chiding and begging at the same time.
"I'm sorry, milady." But the wickedness in his gaze belied his repentant tone.
"What are you doing here?" she asked as he led her to the closest table and pulled out a seat for her.
"Escaping," he answered truthfully, "just like you."
"Mm."
"What is it?"
"I avoid parties because I'm shy, but I don't think you have the same problem."
"I don't. I avoid parties because I'm a grumpy old man at heart."
She laughed. "No, you're not."
"Only with you."
"Milord."
"Apologies." His voice was grave. "Did I make your heart race again?"
"Oh my God. Will you please stop?" She made a show of ignoring him and concentrating on her book, and it would probably have been convincing - if not for the sight of her still-pink cheeks and the way her bosom was still heaving entrancingly against the fabric of her dress.
