“Forgive you?”
My mind skipped. Was he asking for forgiveness for licking me like his brothers or for deceiving me with text messages?
Either way, I had no willpower to offer him absolution.
Did I take a wrong turn somewhere? Had I entered an alternate universe where I was no longer a prisoner, destined to be a plaything for bastards, and somehow became an…equal?
Kes moved closer, his body heat making me quiver. “I understand why you can’t. I was selfish for asking something you can’t give.”
A crashing headache squeezed my temples. “I—I don’t understand what’s going on.” I flinched as the words spilled from my mouth, raining confusion and vulnerability.
Kes didn’t twitch or move away, only twirled his fingers in my hair. “You’ll understand, soon enough.” Closing his eyes briefly, he released my ponytail and took a step back.
Instantly, the real world swamped into being: sunlight, the feel of luxurious carpet beneath my flip-flops, and the crackle of wood burning in the large fireplace behind Flaw.
If this was another game orchestrated by the hellish Mr. Hawk, then he’d just won because Kestrel had drained me more successfully than anyone. He’d made me pliant and submissive. He’d done what no amount of fear or arguing with Jethro could achieve.
And that made Kestrel deadly.
My heart thrummed with true fear.
Another huge difference between the brothers: one used softness to control me; the other wielded frost and fury.
How na?ve was I to believe Kes could ever be on my side. He was the polar opposite—the snake in the proverbial grass—just waiting for Jethro to fail, so he could sink his fangs of pity into me and bring me under his spell.
I knew without a doubt I had to understand my enemies, and quickly, before they manipulated my mind with falsities.
Taking a deep breath, I crossed my arms across my chest, wishing I had a jacket. The chill of my conclusions stole into my blood, making me shiver with trepidation.
What had just happened, and why did I feel as if I’d lost?
At least with Jethro, I saw him. We were evenly matched in will and temper. And we both conceded defeat with yet another challenge met head on.
Kestrel was dangerous.
Treacherous.
Skilled in manipulation so clever, my thoughts were enamoured and I had no hope of deciphering what truly occurred.
Flaw clapped his hands, completely dispelling the tense mood. “I’m glad that’s all resolved.”
Moving toward the wingback where a saddlebag revealed the muzzles of weapons, he plucked it off and patted the buttoned leather. “Sit. Hang out with us, if you don’t have anything else to do.” Shooting a look at Kes, he said to me, “Can I get a maid to bring you something? Coffee, tea, a snack?”
I looked into his dark eyes, utterly gobsmacked. “Is this a new strategy? Commiserate with the indebted girl—give her the illusion she has friends?”
Flaw shook his head. “Uh…”
“Everyone is to treat you with utmost civility, Nila. It isn’t a trick,” Kes’s deep voice rumbled.
Trick?
This was beyond a trick. It was an entire production of tricks.
But what could I do? Nothing. I just had to play along and hope I could see the truth through the lies.
Flaw nodded at the door. “You found us—remember? We have nothing to gain by inviting you in here and talking.”
Kes said, “He’s right. We’re not going to hurt you.”
But you did if you’re Kite. You hurt me by pretending.
I glared hard, hoping he’d get my unspoken message.
Kes looked away, hiding any hint he might’ve picked up on my temper. Stalking toward the groaning bookshelves lining the walls of the saloon, he cupped his chin, searching for something.
“Ah, ha.” Snagging an oversized tome with tatty bindings, he brought it back toward me with a twinkle in his eyes. “I think this might interest you.”
Beckoning me to take a seat, he pulled up an ottoman and sat beside the empty wingback. Quirking his eyebrow, he waited for me to deliberate.
Should I leave or stay? Should I continue to play whatever this was or go and hunt for the man who made me wet and terrified me?
Slowly, my feet moved toward the chair. Sinking down onto the firm leather, Kes placed the heavy book into my lap. “Relax and forget about this world for a while.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off the literature. A large gold filigree ‘W’ embossed the cover with what looked like an oak tree sprouting countless limbs of foliage.
“What is it?” I asked, tracing the majestic old-wealth of such a book.
Kes grinned, inching closer to open the first page. “It’s your history.”
My heart thrummed as his bulk seared my left side. My eyes devoured the beautifully scripted calligraphy.
“Every Weaver woman who’s stayed with us has made notes and shared her journey, along with patterns and fashions created while living with us.” He gently flipped a page, where faint sketches decorated along with the signature of one of my ancestors. Notes scribbled about what sort of fabric to source, along with diary-like entries of what life was like living in the nest of Hawks.
My hands shook. Leaning over, I couldn’t read fast enough.
Today was a good day. Bonnie had the chiffon I requested delivered, and I spent the afternoon in her chambers, creating a new crinoline evening gown. She’s a surly old bat, but when you get to know her…
The next paragraph had been scribbled out, so dark and determined, I had no hope of reading what was written. It continued:
The passion to create had disappeared. I lived in a void with no urge to sketch or pin or sew. I hate that I’ve found that passion here of all places, but at least…
As much as I do not wish to admit—I’m happy.