She didn’t like being in the dark. A creature of fire and light never would. Pity for her, the dark was Thomas’ favourite place.
‘Because I asked. Just as I am asking you now, would you like to amend our rules?’
‘It was only meant to be one night.’ Clio raised an eyebrow. She was baiting him, the tricksy woman.
‘It can only be one night, if that is your wish. We never need talk of this again.’ He shrugged as if her answer couldn’t so easily shatter something inside him. If she didn’t want more, he wasn’t sure he could stay across the hall from her. He would need to abandon the investigation. Escape to London. Avoid Lachlan and anything else that reminded him of Clio. Parks would be out of the question. Toomany crows that looked like ravens. But he would do it. He would walk away if she did not want him.
She pulled free but continued down the hall. ‘We shall amend the rules. But when this investigation ends, so does our arrangement.’ Looking over her shoulder, her amber eyes glowed in the gloom. ‘Agreed?’
Absolutely not. Unless you break this spell you have over me.
‘Of course.’ Thomas schooled his features into stern lines to hide his lie.
‘And I shall take the lead when we interview Anna.’ It wasn’t a question, but he responded regardless.
‘I expected nothing less.’
‘Exactly.’ She paused at the stairs leading up. The dim light faded into total blackness. Holding her hand in front of her, a single flame, tall and unwavering, glowed to life in the centre of her palm. She looked at him, golden flickers spilling over her features. There was a challenge in her eyes. And pride. And a glimmer of fear. She could have been a fairy. Or a goddess. Or a witch. His witch. ‘Are you with me?’
She wasn’t asking about the stairs. He felt the weight of her question, but it didn’t crush him. It grounded him.
Always.
‘Lead on, my lady.’
‘I’m not your lady,’ she muttered before turning and stalking up the steps, her bottom swaying enticingly.
But what magic that would be. To claim a woman like Clio Blair as my own. To have her claim me as hers. Such sweet sorcery.
Because how could any man not lose himself in such a woman? Certainly not Thomas.
She was showing off. With her magic. In front of someone outside her coven and kin. It was unaccountable. But also a strange miracle. To be able to reveal such a visceral and sacred part of herself to someone, and instead of experiencing fear or rejection, he looked at her like she was something immeasurably valuable. A woman could become addicted to that kind of regard. Which was a rather large problem.
When Clio reached the top of the stairs, she clasped her hand in a fist, extinguishing the witchfire. She needed to focus less on impressing Thomas and more on solving this investigation. So that it would end. And she could leave. Because that is what she wanted. To return to her home and her life before Lieutenant General Thomas Grey came into her world and turned everything upside down.
Topsy-turvy moments were exciting, and new, and all good and well, but they couldn’t last forever. Nor did she want that. Because it would mean sacrificing an integral piece of herself. At least, she always thought so. But with Thomas, new questions formed. Was it possible to find a partner who accepted every piece of her and didn’t ask her to change? What an astounding thought. One she would need to ponder. Later.
‘Where do we go from here?’ It irritated her that she had to ask him. Based on his smug little smile, he was very aware of her frustration. And why did that cause a clenching awareness low in her belly? Since when did his arrogance inspire her arousal?
‘On the southern side. Over the family wing.’
Clio nodded as Sir Robin’s claws dug into her shoulder. He clacked his beak before rubbing his head against her cheek. ‘It’s all right, Sir Robin.’
But something felt very wrong. She hastened her steps along the corridor, passing too many closed doors to count. Grey’s quiet footfalls behind her assured Clio he was staying close. A girl’s voiceechoed in the stillness. A corresponding murmur from the nanny sounded before a door opened, light spilling far down the hall as a woman exited the nursery.
Clio froze. What would they do if she turned towards them? How would they explain their presence? Lady Langley had given permission the night before, but Clio doubted the woman had time to explain the plan to the nanny. She was far too busy chasing footmen. And Grey. And any other man on the short side of forty. The very idea of Grey doing any of the things he described to her the night before with Lady Langley inspired a sharp, unfamiliar emotion in her chest.
Jealousy.
She did not like it. Jealousy indicated some kind of proprietorship between herself and Grey. While they may have amended their agreement to include fidelity within the bounds of their fortnight together, it hardly signified any lasting commitment. Nor did she wish for that. She could not keep Grey. He might seem to accept her powers, but this was only a dalliance for him. A man as dominant as Grey would never accept such an affront to his authority in a marriage. That which he found exciting and unusual about Clio would quickly become threatening when facing a lifetime together. It was the same for her mother. And when her lover demanded she abandon her powers, she did so without hesitation. Such was the curse of love. A curse Clio would never cast upon herself.
Her mother gave up more than just her witchcraft. She gave up her daughters. Their futures. Everything that should matter most. And when her husband caught the fever, she had no power to save him. He died, and Aspen welcomed the illness when it came to her as a way to reunite with him. Aunt Rowan tried to help her. She went to their dirty little cottage, stinking of decay and despair, but Aspen would not let Rowan past the entrance. She had become so twisted by the views of her husband, she believed her magic was theDevil’s work. A sin from which her husband saved her. Aspen accused her own sister of being Lucifer’s handmaiden, trying to seduce her back into the darkness. Her own daughters, flesh of her flesh and blood of her blood, were spawns of men unworthy of God’s love, or Aspen’s. She would rather die than welcome evil back into her heart. And so, she did.
Clio would never give a man such control of her thoughts. Her powers. Her very self. Not even a man like Grey. The risk was too great.
His fingers wrapped around her arm and squeezed gently, bringing her back to the present. ‘It is all right. She has taken the far stairs to the family wing. Come, we should hurry. There is no telling when she might return.’
He misunderstood her hesitation. Which was best. As he was also correct. They needed to move swiftly.
