close enough he could hear Gilda when she spoke. Close enough he knew the voice that had given him away in the square, and hear her say, “I’m here to see Rillen.”
* * *
Rillen waited impatiently for his Lady Laceflower in his rooms, watching over the avenue as the night waned to a pale, pearly gray. One more day, that was all. One more day and he’d have Josie at the least, hopefully Van Gast too. Then Old Toady would be dead, and so would be the two worst racks along the coast.
Lady Laceflower came along the boulevard, elegant, graceful and so very devious under the watery morning sun that was just now rising to burn off the mist over the river. Almost as devious as he was, and he was starting to think this time it wouldn’t be a battle but an unexpected alliance.
Something different about her now, he thought as he opened the door for her. A confidence that intrigued him, a sly look that brought his smile. He ushered her to a seat and poured hot mint tea, his heart lurching. No, he hadn’t expected this, but he welcomed it.
He sat next to her, close enough to touch, close enough to startle her. She soon settled and cast him a gaze from under her eyelashes, one that made his heart lurch even further. Made him wonder who had the upper hand in this war.
“It went well then?” she asked.
“Very well. Josie and Skrymir will be at the reception this evening, along with their associate, a Mr. Ibsen. Van Gast, I assume?”
She set her tea down. “Van Gast, indeed. Josie was aboard last night. He—well, he thinks she’s after something big. Like the Yelen perhaps?”
“But he doesn’t know?”
She shrugged, a smooth movement that showed off just how snug her dress was. Rillen reached out and traced a finger along her bare shoulder. So different from the others, who seemed to die at my touch, to wither away from it, to scorn it. Instead, her smile softened as his hand reached the tender nape of her neck.
“No, not truly. He’s trusting in her, because he has to if he wants her back. And he wants her back. Fool—he can never trust her. Besides, he doesn’t know who it is that’s against him. He’s got some girl called Tallia in his brig, thinks it’s her who betrayed him in the square. Was it?”
Rillen pushed away the sweep of her hair, watched the faint breeze waft the little tendrils that curled around her neck. Again she didn’t shy away or cringe. “I know Tallia. Best place for her, the little witch. Maybe Van Gast will get Josie,” he said. “But not for long. Then we’ll have what we want.”
He wondered how it would be to kiss her, whether she was as deadly as a laceflower to taste.
“He’ll die first, while she watches, knows it was her fault.”
“If you like.”
Her smile changed from sly to coquettish and she looked up at him from beneath feathery eyelashes in a way that made him want to kiss her forever. He drifted his hand up her neck, around to a soft cheek and leaned in. “And then what do you want?”
That did startle her, made her jump under his hand, the naive look back, making him want her even more. “I—I’m not sure.”
“Maybe I could give you an idea?” he murmured. Her lips were soft and warm when he kissed them, only briefly, a taste to show her. “You could have everything.”
“I shouldn’t, Rillen. I mustn’t—”
He kissed her again, harder this time, relishing the way she didn’t cringe from him as all the rest did. He kissed her down onto the lounger, felt the warmth of her through her dress, the softness of her, the slight tremble as he pulled away. “I don’t care about shouldn’t,” he said in her ear. “I don’t care about mustn’t either.”
Again the soft tremble of her, the sly hate disappearing before round-eyed naiveté, as though she’d never kissed a man before, never felt want or need or desire. An intoxicating mix, for someone like him. He kissed her again, let himself get swept away by it, by her. One hand trailed up her leg, bringing the hem of her dress with it, letting him in to clear, smooth skin.
She pulled away, breathless, with an “I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t,” but didn’t move from the lounger, didn’t stop his hand as it crept up her leg.