Well, this is awkward. A happy family reunion plays out before my eyes, and I’m stuck with a raging hangover and a stranger at my side. I probably shouldn’t have participated in a drinking contest with Trinity—she’s a chipmunk—but I thought for sure I could outdrink her, considering I was in my seelie form while she was hardly bigger than my palm.
The detective clears his throat and faces me. Now that I’m looking at him head-on, I must admit he’s nice to look at. Broad shoulders, a fine suit, a stern expression. His hair is a rich brown and his neatly trimmed beard gives him a look that’s somehow rugged yet refined. His towering build isn’t exactly favorable, as I prefer men skinny and closer to my height. They look so cute and weak when I can look them in the eye without tipping my head back. “Miss…” he says, his words ending in another throat clearing. “Forgive me, we’ve yet to be acquainted.”
The last thing I want is to engage in small talk when my head is spinning, but I should be polite. It’s what we do in society, and I’m a public figure nowadays. I dip into an elegant curtsy, ignoring the way my stomach sloshes. “Lady Araminta of the Shining Waters.”
“Miss Waters,” he says, and I bristle at the shortening of my perfect name. “I’d like to inquire about your dress.”
“Oh,” I say, pulling my head back. I didn’t get the sense he sought an introduction out of interest or attraction to me, but as he scans my gown from neck to hem, he must be. I do a twirl to show off my figure and grace. “You mean this old thing? Do you like it?”
“Might I ask where you acquired it?” he says without so much as a smile.
I frown. That wasn’t at all how I expected him to respond. I shift side to side, trying to catch sight of his hands, seeking a wedding band. Perhaps he isn’t attracted to me at all and simply wants to procure a similar gown for his wife. Or daughter? Is this man old enough to produce children? I don’t know how humans work. Too bad for him, this dress was not found by usual means. I swish my skirt from side to side. “I got it from a dead woman.”
His expression flashes with something like horror—or anger?—before he steels it behind an icy mask.
I bark a laugh, realizing my mistake. “No, she wasn’t dead when she was wearing it. I got it from her closetaftershe died.”
His jaw tightens. “Did you know this woman?”
Another train pulls into the station at the opposite platform, the one that will head back to Jasper. My liquor-filled stomach lurches at the thought of boarding a train. Thankfully we won’t be catching ours for another couple of hours.
“Miss Waters?”
I blink a few times to clear my head, remembering the handsome detective’s question. “Yes, I met her through the obituaries. That’s where I do most of my shopping.”
There’s a glint in his eyes that might be excitement. Huh. So he can make other expressions. “What you’re saying,” he says, his voice low and controlled, “is that you regularly steal mourning gowns from the deceased.”
“No, I don’tstealthem. I take the clothing before the will has been read. When they don’t belong to anyone.”
His lips twitch at one corner, the ghost of a grin that looks almost wicked. I kind of like it. Is he attracted to me after all? “You strategically take these gowns before the will of the deceased has been read, after learning about their deaths in the obituaries, including but not limited to this gown—a precious family heirloom once worn by the Queen of Isola, featuring rare Isolan lace and black diamond buttons?”
I lift my sleeve, examining the dark jewels. “Huh. I didn’t know these were diamonds.”
“Miss Waters,” he says, “will you answer the question?”
I snap my gaze back to his. Oh, heislooking at me with desire, I’m sure of it now! He isn’t exactly my type—too tall and a bit older than the college boys I like—but it’s been a while since I’ve felt the thrill of being looked at this way. Like a prize. A conquest. I give him a proud smile. “Yes.”
In a single stride, he steps up to me and takes my hand.
My heart leaps. For the love of the All of All, he moves fast! Making a move on me after hardly a minute of knowing each other?
I tip my head back, admiring his dark hair, the hazel hue of his irises. Maybe he’s not too tall after all, if he can look down at me with such sinister desire?—
He steps away, and I find myself stumbling after him.
Not of my own accord, but…
I stare down at my hand where a metal cuff surrounds my wrist. What the…
To be honest, I’ve always wanted to be restrained during lovemaking in some way, but I’m no longer certain this is a love confession. Is he a deranged fan? Is he going to lock me in his basement and have his way with me?
My gaze falls on his backside as he tugs me toward the other platform, and I’m not sure I hate the visuals going through my head.
No, of course I hate them. I can’t go to his secret love lair until I’ve told my friends.
I root my heels in place and turn toward Daphne, Monty, and his mother. The three are too preoccupied in their conversation to notice me, especially with the platform growing busy again. I open my mouth to call out to them, but a large hand covers my lips.
“Not a word,” the detective growls in my ear. “You’re under arrest for serial theft. Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you, Miss Waters? You’re under my authority now.”
