‘I looked him up like any sane person would when you started your antics. I looked you both up, in fact. There is very little about him on the Internet.’
‘Because he is a private man. But our origins crossed at a crucial point which aided the forging of an unbreakable friendship.’
Curiosity sparkled in her eyes and Nelios couldn’t drag his gaze away. ‘What happened?’ She used that same soft, empathetic voice she always used when advocating for Agnes. He shouldn’t have fallen for it, yet he felt a certain…givein his chest.
Which he immediately suppressed by shaking his head. ‘This is neither the time nor the place for confessions,yineka mou.’
‘What does “yineka mou”mean?’ she muttered.
He felt that hungry flame burning brighter as he stared down into her eyes. ‘It means “my wife”. And I would rather talk about us, not Andreas.’
Was it his imagination or did a shiver run through her? Dropping his gaze, he saw the pulse at her throat speed up and his whole body felt charged, that anticipation building. Which was why he almost growled when a hand tapped his shoulder.
Speak of the devil.
‘It’s my turn to dance with the bride, I believe,’ Andreas murmured.
The right, civil thing to do would be to hand over his wife. But Nelios didn’t feel particularly civil.
‘No can do. I’m not quite done dancing with my wife. If you’re in need of a dance partner, Agnes is free, I believe.’
His friend barely managed to keep his surprise from showing, and after a moment nodded and turned to Vayle.
‘In case later isn’t good for your husband either,’ he said with a hint of a wryness, ‘I’d like to take this opportunity to apologise for my actions over the last year. I’ve been rather…over-zealous in my gatekeeping.’
Vayle watched him and let him stew for a few several seconds before she nodded. ‘Apology accepted. As long as you’re cordial to Agnes, we won’t have a problem.’
The baffled knot in Nelios’s gut tightened as his friend walked away to do his wife’s bidding.
‘You’re staring again.’
He bit his tongue against a trite response about her beauty, or something primeval, such as he was allowed to look at her now she was his. Instead he found himself blurting, ‘You really do insist on seeing the good in everyone, don’t you?’
She stiffened for a moment, then lanced him a challenging glance. ‘I’m hardly Mary Poppins, but really, isn’t stomping about gathering all the dark clouds around you exhausting for you and everyone else?’
For the wildest, most absurd second, Nelios felt laughter bubbling up in his chest at the image she conjured up. And perhaps she caught a glimpse of it, because her tension eased and her eyes dwelled on his face for much longer than he was strictly comfortable with. But the moment she glanced over his shoulder, her eyes softening at seeing Agnes on Andreas’s arm, Nelios wanted her attention back on him.
‘I assure you, it’s not a chore or burdensome at all,’ he drawled, then exhaled steadily when her eyes returned to his. ‘Thunderstorms keep everyone on their toes. But they also bring cleansing rain and new starts. In the past, I’ve had no choice but to forge several of my own.’
Her eyes softened further and Nelios felt the ground beneath him soften along with it, like clouds lifting him, making him feel…buoyant for the first time in a very long time. It was a deceptively addictive feeling. One he knew he needed to resist.
But maybe not just yet.
One song drifted into another as his new wife looked up at him. ‘As great as that may be, surely sunshine after all that rain makes things look and feel so much better?’
Again a touch of humour lightened his chest. ‘What next, Vayle—a debate about the benefit of rainbows?’
She blinked at him in mock annoyance. ‘I love rainbows, and I won’t have them disparaged. So why don’t I go about sunshining to my heart’s content and you thundercloud all you want? And if we happen to clash…’ She shrugged smooth shoulders, her body moving under his touch, reminding him what lay beneath the layers of satin.
Just a little while ago he’d speculated that this marriage would be far from boring, but maybe he’d underestimated that sentiment. Maybe there was room for…more. Such as renegotiating the no-sex clause he’d foolishly agreed to…
‘Thank you for allowing her to be here.’
Humour and thoughts of sex and rainbows fled as he followed her gaze to Agnes. ‘She has my wife to thank for that.’ Why did using that term settle something primal inside him?
‘I know. But you still could’ve objected. I know what you’re capable of.’
His eyes sharpened on her face. ‘Is that supposed to be an accusation?’ he asked with a touch of disappointment he sensed was directly connected to losing the pleasant connection they’d shared a minute ago. The dismaying hollow in his belly wanted that warmth back. He was disgruntled to admit that theexhaustingweight of this bitterness he harboured for Agnes—the constant anger-tinged shadows of grief for not being granted the opportunity to face his father and show him the man he’d becomedespitehim—was all so veryexhausting.Thee mou, there was that word again. His wife had planted it in his head, and now it was all he could feel.
