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I nod and let him pull me into another dance. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. Alaric and I are not of the same mind yet. And I wouldn’t want to be rushed if I were in his place, so I must be patient.
“Congratulations on your bond, Miss Valmont. Forgive me for not saying so earlier.”
Caught off guard, I feel warmth rise to my face. “Oh, umm… is that something people are usually congratulated for?”
Oliver gives me a bemused grin. “I don’t see why not. It is something rarely seen.”
Before I can thank him, the music changes, and all the couples split up. The dance transforms, and I’m pulled in the opposite direction. At nearly every turn, we have a new partner. I take Oliver’s advice, and soon, I lose myself in the music and the joy of those around me.
Between songs and glasses of honeyed wine, it’s all too easy for time to slip away. Eventually, the rhythm changes again, and everyone pairs off. Oliver finds me and sweeps me into another dance. This one slower than the last several.
I finally have a chance to catch my breath. My head swims pleasantly. When I look around, we are on the outer fringes of the crowd. Somehow, he guided me out of the throng without my noticing. Those drinks must be stronger than I realized.
Oliver pulls me in close, his arms wrapping around me intimately. “I am glad you decided to stay and enjoy yourself, after all.”
“What are you up to now?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
Oliver lowers his mouth to my ear, cupping the back of my neck with one hand. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you for a moment.” He laughs softly. “I thought perhaps a little jealousy might spur him into action.”
I groan at his antics.
“You should do that again, it might hurry him up.”
Demons take me.“You shouldn’t tease him,” I admonish. “He’s been through enough already.”
Oliver pulls his head back. “It is unavoidable that we must all deal with unpleasant things to get the reward we seek.” He turns us and winks, mouthing, “It’s working.”
The song ends, and he releases me. Bowing, he brings my hand close to his as if to kiss my knuckles. Instead, he whispers against my skin. “You can thank me later.”
And then he’s walking away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CLARA
Now that Iam no longer moving or surrounded by a host of other bodies, the night air chills me, sending a shiver skittering over my skin. My fingers trace over a beaded detail of my skirt as I try to keep from searching for Alaric. Though I can only keep my hands busy like that for so long before it will look conspicuous.
Minutes pass, and uncertainty creeps in. When Oliver rushed off it made me think Alaric was already on his way over.
Not wanting to give myself time to wonder if he changed his mind, I meander toward the pavilion to grab a drink, then sit on a bench where I can watch the revelers from a distance.
I sigh and drop my head back to gaze at the moonless sky through the opening in the canopy. Two pools of midnight ringed in crimson peer down at me.
My heart flutters, trapped in my throat. Alaric shifts, moving to the side. I set my glass down as my gaze follows him. He clasps his hands behind his back and watches the celebration for a long moment. When he looks at me again, his expression is impossible to read.
“Your willingness to move on, despite your claim of being oath bound, is quitesingular.” His tone is barbed and stings. “I shouldn’t be surprised, and yet I am.”
Heart sinking, I lower my head, unable to find the words to respond. What did I expect when we parted on bad terms the last time we spoke? It was naïve to believe things would be better between us simply becauseheapproachedme.
“I… apologize,” Alaric says haltingly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
My head jerks up. “What?”
“I can’t put my finger on it, but there is something about that man that strokes my ire.” He gestures in the general direction Oliver had walked in. Alaric’s midnight eyes flick to my face, looking like he wants to say something more, but hesitates. Clearing his throat, he shoves his hands into his pockets.
He’s probably waiting for me to respond. Or breathe. But I am frozen with warring uncertainty. The biting comment wasn’t directed at me, but rather at Oliver.
Alaric sighs in concession, then lifts his arm, holding his hand out. “Shall we call a truce?” he asks almost grudgingly.
