The Beautiful Ones - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,91

forward and pulled her to her feet. “I want you to think of me and me alone,” he said. “When you wake up each morning and when you go to sleep, and as you lie in bed each night, I want you to think of me.”

Now he’d pulled her closer to him, and she felt paper-thin. It was hot inside and growing warmer, and the maid, she had not returned with the pitcher of lemonade. Perhaps she thought she ought to leave them alone.

“Luc, please,” she said.

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Please, what?” he asked, but then he did not allow her to reply.

He leisurely kissed her, a hand sneaking up to toy with a strand of her hair, the other at her waist. It was pleasant, the feel of his mouth and the elation she could now recognize as desire. She had demurred a few moments before, but she was young, infused with passion that often sought an escape and which at this moment had found him.

When he paused in his ministrations, he looked proud of himself. He was eager and he was admirable at that sport, she could tell. It might have embarrassed her if Nina had not been more intrigued than offended. Curiosity was her fault.

She initiated a kiss, attempting to imitate what he’d done, her hands in his hair this time. It was pleasant. The priest back home forbade such a thing, to be sure, but the church where they prayed was old. In the rafters lived beetles that bored into the wood, and Nina had spent more time trying to listen to their tapping sounds than to the priest. When the sun shone through the colored windows, painting martyrs upon the floor, all she could think about was the moment she might go outside and chase dragonflies by the river.

Nina had never had much appreciation for talks of damnation and sins. She existed, and had always existed, in a rather untamed state, which was facilitated by her family, who confused her intellectual inclinations with a wholesome disposition. They saw her explosions, when they took place, as a child’s tantrums and could not imagine she was like the rivers and streams and forests she loved, riotous and luxuriant.

“See? It will be a delightful courtship,” Luc told her. “You’ll want to marry me in a fortnight. Like the moon in the sky, I can already feel you magnetized by my orbit.”

Nina chuckled at his high-flown words. How silly he was, but it was all right. She did not mind.

“It’ll take more than a fortnight, and the moon cannot be magnetized. It is gravity that attracts a celestial object to another,” she said.

“Place a wager? Let us kiss again.”

“No,” she said, but she smiled at him.

“To a wager or a kiss?”

“To both.”

“You’ll rethink those words soon enough.”

She rolled her eyes at him. The maid came back at last and set the tray with the pitcher on a table. Nina poured the lemonade herself, willing the pitcher to rise and tilt with the movement of two fingers on her right hand. She did not spill a single drop.

Nina then grabbed the glass and handed it to Luc. He frowned. Roslyn asked them if they needed anything else, and when Nina said no, she bowed her head politely and exited the room.

Luc was still frowning, staring at Nina.

“What?” she asked.

“The movement, with the pitcher and the glass,” he said. “The maid saw you.”

“Roslyn? She’s seen me do that plenty of times. I can pour tea, lemonade, and any spirit you fancy. I haven’t figured out how to uncork a bottle of champagne.”

“Nina, if you want to play these games in the privacy of your room, I will not chide you, but in the presence of others, you should restrain yourself,” he replied.

“You’ll chide me only when others look at me, then,” she said.

“With your family, you may do as you please, but outsiders are another matter entirely.”

Nina crossed her arms against her chest and scowled.

“Look, you mustn’t take it badly. Surely people have explained this to you. Your cousin Valérie must have—”

He could not have said a worse thing. Nina snapped her head up, furious at the mention of the woman’s name. “I don’t care what Valérie thinks of me. What is objectionable about it?”

“It is not normal. It is a performance at a fair, like the freaks they display for a few coins,” he said.

“The freaks?”

“I don’t mean you. I mean, in general, these are carnival games,