She was no coward, but she hesitated nevertheless. Saturnino was everything she despised, akiller, but he had an enigmatic quality that drew her eye, an undercurrent of mystery that reminded her of the promise of uncut stone. His cold beauty was like marble, her favorite medium to work with. A mortifying thrill at his nearness spread through her. There was no helping it, she could only acknowledge it for the weakness that it was, andnevergive in to it.
Ravenna turned around.
Slowly.
Saturnino stared at her, one brow archly lifted as if he were asking,There, was that so hard?
Yes, it was.
Because for the first time, his eyes displayed a subtle hint of emotion.Nothing she could easily define, but if she had been forced to name it she would have guessed it was amusement that gleamed back at her. Ravenna furrowed her brow. Suspicion swept her senses into a whirlwind—what was the immortal up to now? Gone were his cold manner and latent malice, the hostility brimming underneath the pale skin. He was behaving like a human.
Acalculatinghuman.
“What were you and your maid speaking of, I wonder?” he mused.
Annoyance tugged at her. He must have seen her at the opposite end of the corridor, waiting in the shadows like the abominable sneak that he was.
“Spying on me?”
“Nothing so dastardly,” he said neutrally. “I’m on my way to share a meal with my family.” He frowned at her. “Have you met your maid before now?”
She flushed, silently berating herself. From here onward, Ravenna had to remember that she was trying to survive a game where everyone played to win, using deception and intrigue and gossip and secrets. No one was above suspicion, and to someone like Saturnino, who suspectedeveryone, a lengthy conversation with her maid would draw notice.
“No, I haven’t. We were talking about my ensemble,” Ravenna lied. “She thinks I ought to have gone with a different color.”
Saturnino’s dark eyes dipped from her face down to the expanse of skin the wool gown failed to cover; the column of her throat, her collarbones, the swell of her breasts. Then his gaze lifted, an unexpected gleam of interest shining back at her. A warm feeling spread through her, as if someone had poured a vat of honey over her head, and it was moving slowly over her body, delicious and sweet.
Ravenna was appalled by her reaction.
“You look presentable to me,” he said, and in his tone she heard how the bedroom door opened, beckoning her to enter.
“Stop flirting with me.”
“Why? Scared by how much you like it?” He winked at her.
“Actually, yes,” Ravenna said, and he blinked as if he weren’t expecting the truth from her. “You can’t mean anything by it other than to hurt me, which is cruel. So stop with your come-hither bedroom voice. You’re wasting your flattery.”
“Bedroom voice?” Saturnino repeated.
“As if you didn’t know,” Ravenna said, with an impatient wave of your hand. “And while there’s nothing you can do about your face, I’d appreciate it if youneverwinked at me again.”
He stared at her, incredulous, but the corners of his mouth tiptoed upward in an almost smile. “What’s wrong with my face?”
“Nothing, and that’s the problem.”
A beat of silence followed, buzzing with unexpected tension.
“There’s nothing wrong with your face, either,” he said softly.
Ravenna gave him a severe look. “You can’t say things like that to me.”
Saturnino’s smile was brief, but dazzling and real. “Do you mean the truth?”
She narrowed her gaze. “Is it the truth?”
A lock of black hair fell across his face, and he tucked it behind his ear. The gesture was so human, so soft, it felt incongruous with the sharp planes of his countenance, the hard line of his broad shoulders, the way he had rudely dismissed the steward from the day before.
His voice was a husky whisper. “It is.”
