He slowly straightened and stared wide-eyed, taken aback at the vehemence in my bitter tone.
Silence sat heavily between us as well as unease as he shifted from foot to foot, apparently unsure of what to say or do. The air carried with it a woodsy scent of burning wood from the fireplace, along with spicy notes of whiskey. White light spilling from a lamp crept over his shoulders, and the dying flames from the hearth cast amber across one side of his tall figure. The book he had been reading lay open on the rug at his feet, its leaves dusted in gold.
He was good-looking, I had to admit, with short hair the same color as his eyes, a dark brown sparkling with bronze and currently brimming with curiosity and some other emotion that I couldn’t decipher. His gaze ran across my messy bun with itshalo of fuzz and ringlets, the cream shawl wrapped around my neck that hid the magical collar, and skimmed down my too-large dress to the tips of my bare feet.
Sage kept close as I approached, wanting to get a better look at him too. The stranger’s navy suit conformed to a lean physique. He appeared to be my age, but I couldn’t be sure with the neatly trimmed beard, which wasn’t quite a proper beard but the beginning of one. He seemed pleasant enough, with an open face, full lips, and faint creases feathering from his eyes as if he smiled a lot, but I’d had dealings before with men whom I thought to be safe and easy-going, and that hadn’t worked out well for me.
“Who are you?” There was something familiar about him that tingled at the back of my mind. And judging by his uniform, he worked for another family, not the Crowthers. Maybe he could help me.
As he parted his lips to reply, an abrupt noise crashed through the library of the door shoved open and a high-pitched yapping. Sage loosened a low growl and bounded behind me right as someone arrived in a blur of speed.
“Dustin Reed, right?” came a furious voice. My heart erupted into a nervous creature to hear that menacing tone as the owner continued to speak. “You arrived with Aunt Addie’s retinue and then promptly lostthis.”
I swiveled around.
Jett wrestled to keep hold of a small angry dog who lunged, yapping and growling, wanting to bite his face off. Behind him, a soldier in black fatigues approached in a quick stride, carrying some kind of luggage. An overnight bag, perhaps.
It suddenly fell into place where I had seen Dustin before. This was the man I had spotted arriving earlier. I’d only snatched a broad brushstroke of his features, a glimpse of brown hair and brown eyes, but now I had finer details.
Dustin hurried forward, reaching for the little dog. “Ah, Fluffy. I was looking for you,” he gently scolded the Lhasa Apso as he took him from Jett. The dog struggled in Dustin’s arms, continuing to yap and snap its tiny teeth at Jett. I stifled a grin. Fluffy, much like Sage, was an excellent judge of character.
I tugged on Sage’s tail, urging him to retreat. My wraith-wolf was on edge with Jett’s appearance but also intrigued with the other dog.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Crowther,” Dustin apologized, running a hand down Fluffy’s spine, trying to calm the aggressive dog. “He got away from me. I got lost looking for him and found myself here.” He swept an awestruck gaze over the Crowthers’ impressive collection of books. “I love libraries. The smell of books is the best.”
I agreed.
My startled gaze darted to him, and as if he recognized a kindred spirit, he shared a quick grin with me.
Jett was too distracted by the dog, still wanting to sink its teeth into him, to notice. “Luckily for Fluffy the Fourth,” he hissed. “I found him in my wing before he chewed through every godsdamn cushion I owned!”
Dustin squatted down and pulled a small collar from his jacket pocket. “Yes, he does seem to enjoy cushions,”he replied while fastening the strap around the spitting-angry dog’s neck. The moment he attached the leash and let him go, the little dog raced toward Jett.
“Shit!” Jett yelped, skipping out of reach. The range of the leash tugged at Fluffy, and he strained against it, jaws snapping at Jett’s ankle.
I plastered a hand over my mouth as it was getting really hard not to laugh. So far, Jett hadn’t even spared me a glance. The tiny dog trying to bite him had completely captured his attention.
Jett leveled an irritated glare at the aggressive dog. “Fluffy doesn’t like us, and we don’t like Fluffy. Which my aunt knows, so why is he here?”
Dustin unfolded his body to stand. “Mrs. Lyon sent me ahead of her. She’s waylaid on business—”
“And out of contact so I can’t rip into her for being so godsdamned sneaky.” Jett interrupted with a scowl. “Because we both know whyAunt Rosa sent Fluffyhereto wait forher.”
Dustin gulped. “Mrs. Lyon thought while Fluffy and I awaited her arrival, I could assist Miss Crowther with the family reunion—”
“No fucking way!” Jett drew a deep breath and then exhaled it with a sigh. Briefly pinching the bridge of his nose, he dropped his tone to one a little calmer but loud enough to be heard over the yapping. “Listen, we love Aunt Rosa, but she’s a control freak with parties, and right now my sister is on top of everything.”
“Mrs. Lyon does love planning parties.”
“Way too much,” Jett volleyed back. “The last one she organized for us, she had the idea of breaking the world record for a Baked Alaska and when flambéing it, she set the fucking Banquet Hall on fire… A few years ago she coerced us intoborrowingcircus performers because she desired an ethereal theme for my sister’s tenth birthday… She wanted fireworks in the background while they flew across the sky on swings or twirled on ribbons as if they were fucking faeries or something.The carnage…” he breathed, eyes wide and faraway as if revisiting the moment. “It resulted in a massive cover-up, never mind the psychological damage done to my little sister when the fireworks went haywire and two of them fell and broke their godsdamned necks.”
Jett paced, and the chains clipped onto his belt and looped around a hip jingled with his furious movement. “And don’t get me started on the time she wanted to createherinterpretationof David Lynch’s Red Room. Hours, days, and weeks of being shoved into suits to find the perfect one with the perfect cut. They all looked the godsdamned same.The same,” he hissed, swiveling to a halt to stab a finger at Dustin. “And then the photoshoot with us all posed in stupid positions with stupid props on a set crafted of things entirely red. It fucked up my sight afterward. I couldn’t see anything without a veil of red for months!”
Holy hellsgate…
I wanted to sit back with a bowl of popcorn and watch this all go down. Jett was on a ranting roll.
Who the hells was Aunt Rosa? I loved her already for messing with the Crowthers. Rosa Lyon? Could he mean Rosa Lyon, who was married to Harding? The Lyons were a lower hunting house.
