“Of course. He’s the sky father. We acknowledge that—just as the orthodox do. And we pray during Star Advent that Uros and all the angels, glorious and wayward, will be reconciled. It’s a time for us too to put away grudges and find peace.”
I watched the stars. “I’d like to find peace with you. I’m sorry for what I said after the gala.”
He sighed. “No, I’m sorry. You were right—Warren Doyle is a good match. His . . . approach rubbed me the wrong way, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything amiss.”
“Eh . . . well, that might not exactly be true.”
I told Cedric about the revelations at the party. Aghast, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at me. His body seemed to be only a heartbeat away from mine.
“What? Why are you only just mentioning this?”
“Well,” I said drily, “I was kind of busy saving you and your heretic friends.”
“Adelaide, this is . . . I don’t know. This is bad.”
“Yes . . . or is it?” I asked. “I mean, I didn’t like her manner, but I was already considering Warren. I don’t know.”
“Before, it was your choice. Now, it’s becoming blackmail.”
“If I married him, she’d have no motivation to sell me out.”
“But she’d always hold that over you. Someone who’s threatening to do it now will never let that go. And if she does tell now . . .”
“Then some enterprising scoundrel in hope of a bounty carries me back to Osfrid. Unless I get the security of marriage—with Warren or someone else.”
“I’ll marry you myself before I let you do that.” There was a hardness to his voice, no joking.
I still managed a laugh, but there was a catch in it. Maybe it was because of the earlier excitement. Maybe it was because we were lying out alone under the stars. Maybe it was simply the boldness of what he’d said—and what it would mean.
“Last I checked, you aren’t in a position to ‘let’ me do anything.” He was so close to me, his body leaning into mine. I could see the lines of his face, the shape of his lips. And of course, I could smell that damned vetiver. “Besides, what use could an art-forging, renegade noble possibly be to some tree-worshipping—”
I can’t say the kiss was entirely unexpected. And I can’t say I hadn’t wanted it.
There was a hesitancy to it at first, as though he worried I might protest. He should’ve known better. I parted my lips and heard a small sound of surprise catch in his throat. And then all nervousness between us vanished. I’d say I yielded to him, except I was every bit as aggressive as he was. I wrapped my arms around his neck to pull him closer, crushing his lips to mine. It was the great release of months and months of pent-up . . . attraction? Lust? A deeper feeling? Whatever it was, I let it sweep me away.
I’d shared a few polite kisses in ballroom corners that seemed to belong to some other world. There was nothing polite here. It was hungry and consuming, almost an attempt by each of us to possess the other. I felt my whole body respond when he shifted his over mine. One of his hands cupped my face, and the other rested on my hip. After years of virtue lectures, I’d always wondered how silly girls could give theirs up. Now, I understood.
When he brought his mouth down to my neck, trailing kisses to my collarbone, I thought I would melt. We clung to each other in the night, struggling to get closer and closer. Though all our clothes remained on, at one point I ended up on top of him, uncaring that it hiked my skirt up to my knee. He tangled his fingers in my hair as we kissed, freeing it from the carefully placed pins.
Then, at last, I paused for breath, managing to sit up—albeit in a very brazen way that still straddled his hips. He ran his fingers along the side of my face, tracing my cheekbone before sliding back to the unruly waves of my hair.
“Disheveled,” I said, smoothing his own hair back. “Just like you always wanted.”
“I . . . have wanted a lot more than that,” he admitted, voice husky. But he dropped his hand with a sigh. “But your future husband won’t thank me for this.”
“‘Future’ being the important word. I don’t have a husband yet. And until I do, I can make my own choice.” I considered that for a few moments. “Actually, I intend to make my own choices even after I have a husband.”
“I’m sure you do, but I’m also pretty sure my father would have some very, uh, strong opinions about this. We’re your caretakers—your guardians. We’re supposed to protect you and support you until you can move on to some extravagant marriage offer.”
Words I’d heard so many times. “And get you an equally extravagant commission.”
He sat up, gently shifting me off him. “I don’t care about that.”
I thought about our original plan. I thought about the riders in the night and the gunshots. Cedric needed to get out of here.
“I care about it,” I said softly. “Have you had any luck with the painting?”
“Not exactly. No one really doubts its authenticity. But Walter— my agent—is having trouble finding anyone with enough money.”
I stood up and brushed off my skirt, more out of habit than anything else. “Then I guess it’s up to me to secure your stake.”
“Don’t do anything you don’t want,” he warned, joining me and shaking out the cloak.
My heart still beat rapidly. I want you, I thought. I want you to kiss me again and lay me back down in that field.