Tavish drained his whiskey, then set down the glass with a scowl. “I’ve never met a witch who liked giving a straight answer to anything.”
He exaggerated, but not by much. Witches were known to meddle purely for the pleasure of watching others struggle with the consequences.
“The problem with interfering,” I said carefully, “is figuring out what, exactly, you’re supposed to interfere with. Messing with the wrong thing is probably just as bad as not interfering at all.”
Portia rubbed her temples. “This is giving me a headache.”
“You’re exhausted,” Tavish said. “You flew through the night.”
“So did you.”
“Aye, but I’m big,” he said with a wink.
Her cheeks turned pink as she reached for her water glass.
Tavish thumped the table gently. “That’s settled, then. We’ll stay here today and get some sleep, then try the spell again once night falls.”
“Agreed,” I said.
“Agreed,” Portia echoed softly, replacing her glass. Then she turned to me. “How’s your eye?”
Out of habit, I touched the corner of my spectacles. “It doesn’t pain me at all today.”
Her lips curved, and that damn little bow taunted me. “Good,” she said.
Tavish pushed back his chair and stretched his arms above his head, the knot on his dressing gown working hard to contain him. “Time to sleep.”
We all looked at the bed. It was triple the size of any I’d seen, but it was still just one bed.
Portia poked at a breadcrumb by her plate, the blush in her cheeks deepening. “I don’t know if I can fall asleep in broad daylight.”
“You need to try,” Tavish said. He went to the window and pulled the curtains mostly shut, leaving a narrow gap where sunlight slanted through.
I rose to help Portia from her chair, but she stood and started toward the bed before I could reach her. As I moved to follow, Tavish caught my arm.
“No.”
Confusion gripped me. He’d pushed for a day of rest. Wasn’t that what the three of us had agreed to? Sleep?
He released me and began stacking the plates from our meal. My confusion grew, and I looked at Portia, who’d shed herdressing gown and now sat in the center of the bed with her back against the pillows. She looked as perplexed as I felt.
“The staff will take care of that,” she told Tavish.
He continued piling the plates. “I don’t mind it. Besides, I need this space.” He met my gaze, and the lust and purpose in his eyes turned his irises to midnight blue.
Oh.
My heart sped up, and my dick tightened. Suddenly, I knew what he was about.
Tavish moved all the plates and cutlery to the far edge of the table. He left only the crystal decanter, the whiskey inside glinting in the sun that streamed through the gap in the curtains.
My gaze fixed on the stopper. The finial was large and shaped like a teardrop, the glass smooth and perfectly formed.
Heat crawled up my neck.
Tavish rounded the table and captured my fingers in his. Blue eyes never leaving mine, he brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles, darting his tongue out to wet my skin. I shivered, and he smiled as he pressed another featherlight kiss to the back of my hand. Then he released me and fingered the lapel of my dressing gown.
“Take this off.”
