She tried to hide her smile, then allowed it to bloom. He was ridiculous.
“I’ll let Deryn in on the rules of this game.” She looked at the bank of windows and the forest-flanked road that wound its way into the small, sleepy town. Her heart did a silly little roll, the inexplicable desire to stay, to belong, returning with force once again. Well, she would do her best.
“Draft an agenda. Events, meetings, door-to-doors. A town hall? Debates?”
“He won’t debate you, ma’am. I don’t see him agreeing.”
She knew he might be right. What would John Moss have to gain from debating her? Why would he expose himself to the humiliation of having a woman wipe the floor with his ego? But there were ways…
“Moss might not have a choice. There are laws and procedures, and I have the right to face him. I’ll sue otherwise. Judge Astor is a fair man and a rule-follower. Draft me a timeline, events and make some concrete plans, including a debate. Talk to whomever you talk to…” Then Paloma paused and speared him with her gaze. “Who do you talk to, Lachlan?”
She could see by his deer-in-headlights expression that she’d caught him off guard. Good. He was a smart guy. But was he this smart?
“Rhiannon. Victoria. Um…Magdalene Nox.”
Paloma smiled. She had been dead on the money. And he proved that he was smart enough not to deny anything.
“Of course. I assume they are heavily invested in my winning the mayoralty?”
“They hate Moss—or, more likely, what he represents—and would hate to see him, or the likes of him, become mayor. They love you and would love to see you become the first woman to lead this town. They asked me to help you?—”
“And to keep them apprised of my campaign? Did Rhiannon and Victoria come up with the Deryn plan? Seems rather callous to sacrifice their sister and niece like that…”
Lachlan tilted his head, and his eyes widened.
“Sacrifice? On your altar? Please, she wishes—” Then he stopped abruptly and shook his head, clearly incredulous. “They did suggest that I offer my services as a PA and campaign… handler. But this whole thing was my plan. And they don’t know about it.” Before she could express her own incredulity, he waved his hands vigorously. “No, no. I swear. They don’t know. It was that damnCawarticle that gave me the idea, and as soonas I read it, I knew. Also, I haven’t really been a good spy for them.”
“Why do you like my shoes better?” She smiled, and he answered with his own goofy, open grin.
“I do love your shoes. And your mind. Still…” He seemed to struggle with whatever he wanted to say, perhaps afraid to offend, or maybe simply afraid of her. She didn’t particularly care for the former and wasn’t too fond of the latter either. But she needed him.
“Your luck is that I happen to like all three of the people who appear to be so interested in my success. Or maybe that’s my luck. Still, I won’t be their pawn. I want to win, I want to…”
Stay. She almost said it. She didn’t know it was that simple a wish. And yet… Paloma shook her head. She’d have to think about it. Shame she had no one to talk to about this strange impulse of hers, which she hadn’t been able to explain even to herself since she had set foot on this island and walked the streets of this town.
“I want to win,” she repeated, if only to finish this conversation. If only to send him away and to be alone. She liked being alone best. “For myself, Lachlan. But also for a few reasons that are bigger than me. Or the Crowharts, or even the indubitable Headmistress Nox. So, as long as my interests align with Rhiannon, Victoria and Magdalene, we can all play in this sandbox. Once they don’t, we will have to reconsider this arrangement.”
Lachlan nodded and lumbered away as only an exceptionally tall and somewhat clumsy individual could. The sound of the horn rang in the distance, splitting the ocean fog. The eleven o’clock ferry was coming in. As soon as the thought popped into her mind, Paloma closed her eyes. She knew the ferry schedule. All the arrivals and departures. Wasn’t that a sign that she had tostay? That she belonged? She pushed from the desk and stepped to the windows once again. She had a lot to think about.
8
DERYN, 1326 & RETURNING
1326…
Deryn blinked, and the memories flickered brightly in her mind, taking over her senses for a moment. Vivid, intense. Overwhelming. So real. So fragile… Ice in the hands of Fire Herself, melting away, cold water running down her fingertips.
The lights were dimmed, their breathing loud in the quiet of the night.
“You’re amazing,” Deryn whispered, eyes closed, naked back against the leather of the sofa. She’d just had this woman a third time. They’d barely made it through the door to the massive, open living room. She didn’t even have time to look around. Neither did she care then, three fingers deep into a tight, trembling pussy…
In her lap, the still-shaking thigh was warm. Deryn bent down to kiss it, and that’s when she spotted it.
The grand piano. Black, gleaming in the shadows, a monument to art and skill… Under her mouth, the warm skin suddenly grew warmer. Maybe it was the smile that bloomed on Deryn’s lips, maybe it was the gasp at seeing the instrument, maybe they were indeed very much in tune…
“You’re not thinking…” The damned low voice held a note of incredulity, a slight change in register, as if utterly disbelieving even the possibility.
Deryn caressed the seemingly endless legs, lifting one to bring the ankle to her mouth, and nibbled. The gasp grew a fraction louder.
