I could have wept with relief when Lady Cosgrave finally rose to signal the end of supper. The gentlemen, of course, were expected to remain at the table until a maid was sent to notify them that it was safe for them to join us in the parlor, meaning that the political conversations were officially finished for the night.
In the past, my feet had dragged as I’d followed the other ladies away from the table, abandoning the possibility of any glorious magical debates only to sit through a strategy session over the national economy in the parlor.
Now, I couldn’t hurry toward it quickly enough.
“Don’t worry, Miss Harwood,” Mr. Sansom said as I lunged from my seat. “There is far more to explain, of course, but I’m more than happy to continue your education. Perhaps tomorrow?”
The room was ever-so-slightly shimmering around me. I blinked hard as a wave of warmth swept through my chest and head.
Tea was what I would drink in the parlor, that was it. No more wine. Possibly not ever.
I decided it was safest, all in all, not to risk a curtsy. “Thank you,” I said to the weather wizard, and started for the door as gracefully as possible.
The room tilted around me with every step. By the time I emerged into the corridor, my head was spinning wildly. I only made it five feet beyond the dining room doorway before I had to come to a sudden stop.
“Cassandra?” Waiting just ahead for me, Amy frowned. “Are you—?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I just...need a moment. Alone.” Forcing a reassuring smile, I waved her ahead. “I’ll be there soon, I promise.”
“Very well.” She rustled forward to join the other ladies as their voices dropped from the higher-pitched social gaiety of proper supper conversation to the low intensity of real political work.
They were all gone a moment later, along with the servants who’d led their way. Even their hushed voices disappeared behind the closed door of the parlor in the distance, shutting out any possible eavesdroppers. Letting out my held breath, I sagged against the wall and closed my eyes.
I needed a moment to recover before I walked on and joined them. Just one moment...one more moment...
“Hmm,” said an all-too-familiar voice close to my ear, with wicked amusement. “Rather too much joy with the elven wine, eh, Harwood?”
“Oh, shush.” I slitted my eyes open just wide enough to glare at my ex-fiancé, who was leaning indolently beside me with one shoulder propped against the wall. “You would have drunk too much wine, too, if you’d been trapped in that conversation all through supper.”
“What, you weren’t fascinated to learn all of Sansom’s great secrets?” Wrexham shook his head at me, his mischievous grin shifting into something more wry...or even affectionate? No, that must have been the elven wine distorting my perceptions again. “I would have warned you, you know, if you’d only bothered to ask me first. I ran into Sansom at an incident up north last year, when he was chanting at the moon and ran afoul of a local group of fairies. He may be the most earnest and well-meaning would-be Druid of our age, but he certainly hasn’t the power to bring about our current snowstorm.”
“No one does,” I said on a yawn. “That’s the whole problem.” The corridor shimmered in my vision, and Wrexham’s strong shoulder was beginning to look dangerously tempting. If I could just rest my head there for a moment, while I regained my balance... “Even I never imagined that I had that much power. We’re not elves, damn it, we’re only human.”
“That’s why we work together, not alone,” he said softly. “But...ah.” He let out a sigh as I shifted infinitesimally closer. “Never mind. You’re tipsy on elven wine. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, would it?”
“What?” I frowned muzzily at him.
Were we fighting again? No, wait, of course we were—we must be, because I’d been forcing quarrels with him for over two months now, but still...
“Shh,” he murmured, as he reached out to run one long finger along the side of my cheek. “Just for once, let me help you. Just this once.” His voice dropped to a whisper.
His fingers had always been so clever.
But I’d been wrong earlier, when I’d thought that his rueful grin was his most appealing expression. How could I ever have forgotten?
The intent expression he wore when he was casting magic was even better.
His spell rippled through me like sweet relief, lifting the dizziness and the beginnings of nausea like a clinging set of veils that he was drawing gently from my skin.
The unnatural warmth of the wine lifted with them. But what remained, as my head and vision finally cleared...
His dark eyes gazed into mine from only inches away, his head bent over mine, with his soft, glossy black hair falling into his face...more than close enough to touch.
I knew exactly how it would feel against my fingers.
I had never been able to forget.
His shoulders weren’t propped against the wall anymore. He was cradling me—or so it felt, although he wasn’t actually touching me anymore. He had his left arm propped against the wall beside my head as he lifted his right forefinger away from my cheek.
My breath came quickly in my chest.
I wasn’t dizzy anymore.
But it had been so long since we’d done this. So unbearably long...
His head tilted, his gaze holding mine, warm and intent and even more focused now than when he’d cast his spell. It was breathtaking. He was breathtaking.
He always had been.
Slowly, carefully, he shifted toward me, lowering his right arm to his side and leaving me a clear space to escape.
If I only wanted to.
Holding my breath, I rose on tiptoes...
“Ahem!” A loud cough broke the silence.
We sprang apart. I was panting, my heart galloping painfully in my chest, as I stared uncomprehendingly at my older brother...who stood just before the open doorway of the dining room, watching us with barely-suppressed hilarity.
“So sorry to interrupt,” Jonathan declared, sweeping an elegant bow. “But I did think I’d better warn you, in case you hadn’t noticed the housemaid passing by, that the rest of the gentlemen are all about to come stampeding out here on their way to the parlor. So...” His lips widened into an outright, maddening smirk. “Don’t you think you two ought to find a nice cozy broom closet before you go any further with this sort of thing?”
I stared at him, wordless, for one frozen moment. Then Wrexham shifted beside me, drawing in a breath, and I began to turn toward him—
And my reason finally, finally came crashing back into me.
My jaw dropped open. Heat swept through my body. But this time, it wasn’t elven wine or excitement.
It was pure, unalloyed shame.
I swore that I would let him go.