“I’ve told you, niceties don’t mean I’m nice.”
He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he regarded her. “Do you mean to say all those polite manners and kindnesses of yours actually hide a cynical heart?”
“I’m not cynical,” she answered, busying herself with straightening the cover of the birdcage, beneath which the caladrius slept, its beak tucked snugly into its soft back feathers. “I’m realistic. If you’re nice to people, they won’t…”
“Hurt you,” he said into her stiff silence. She shrugged.
Devon brushed at a wildflower beside him in the grass, making its tiny petals scatter like fragments of dreams in the thickening dark. “So,” he said after a moment. “Who, exactly, hurt you?”
It sounded like a casual inquiry, but beneath the wordsBeth heard a coldness that evoked weapons, the gathering of addresses, and a plan for vengeance. Her stomach fluttered as if it were trying to fan her suddenly heated pulse.
“It’s not important,” she tried to say, but he interrupted her, his voice still so casual, so dangerous.
“Yes it is.”
Goodness, how was she supposed to talk again after that? She rubbed at a knotted thread in the cage cover, and her finger seemed to gleam slightly—from the firelight, she guessed, rubbing it against her skirt, feeling it tingle from the friction.
And then words began slipping from her throat, as if of their own volition. “You’re kind, but I must confess, ‘hurt’ is an exaggeration. I’ve never been beaten, or had my glasses broken—at least, not more than twice. I’m just not liked. I’m a weird know-it-all.”
Seeing Devon frown, she bit her bare thumb knuckle anxiously. “That’s a verbatim citing of what my peers would shout across the playground or write on the blackboard before class. I promise I’m not so unscientific as to falsify quotes!”
His frown darkened. “I don’t doubt you,” he said, and Beth’s brain spun confusedly as she realized he was angryforher, not with her.
“It really isn’t important,” she insisted. “And please understand, I’m not complaining. They didn’thaveto like me, or answer when I spoke to them, or give me a seat at their table. It wasn’t their fault I have no instinct for the principles of social behavior amongHomo sapiens sapiens. Birds are easy; people are utterly bewildering. At least etiquette rules provide a framework for how to act. They stop me from saying things like‘Homo sapiens sapiens’and mentioning over afternoon tea the fornication habits of sandpipers. They enabled me tobecome fr—associates with Hippolyta, and got us across the English Channel in a boat full of fishermen who had knives tucked in their boots. That is why I’m nicely behaved even though I’m not nice inside.”
The words stopped there, leaving a stunned silence. Even the moor had gone quiet.Oh God, had she really just exposed her humiliations like that?Appalled, Beth lifted her chin, smacked her hands on her thighs, and said briskly, “Let’s go look for birds.”
She began to rise, but Devon reached out, catching her arm, forestalling her. He let go at once, but Beth forgot that she had ever wanted to move.
“You have moss in your hair,” he said. “May I?”
She nodded mutely, and he leaned forward, his fingers gentle as they plucked bits of greenery from the tumbled strands. As he worked, not looking at her, he said lightly, “Ilike you. I like you a great deal. Frankly, anyone who doesn’t is a fucking idiot. And anyone who says cruel things, or uses silence as a weapon, is a bully who knows how to be violent without lifting a finger. Don’t blame yourself, sweetheart. It’s not your fault or your shame.”
And while her brain was trying to cope with that, her heart hyperventilating, and her memory preparing a full-on flood of tears, he added: “I promise I will never, ever want to hurt you.”
The words made such a warm glow within her, she saw it like stars in her eyes against the night landscape. But she had no idea how to respond.Thank you, Mr. Lockley, seemed too polite.Let me take off your clothes and demonstrate my gratitude, probably not polite enough. Finally, worried that too long a silence would offend him, she said, “Gosh,” and he smiled as he smoothed a stray lock of her hair.
“I know you won’t hurt me,” she continued. “You never have. You’ve been…” She paused, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek. “You’ve been aggravating, nettlesome—”
“Um,” he said.
“—and respectful, thoughtful, kind. I haven’thadto be nice with you. Perhaps that’s why I lov—”
She stopped, lacking the courage to finish that word. But Devon wasn’t a genius for nothing. He reached out again, cupping her face with his hands, looking almost distraught with emotion.
“No one’s ever said such things to me before,” he whispered, searching her gaze for a lie. “No one’s called me thoughtful or lov—” Now he stopped, swallowing hard.
“Loved you,” she dared for the both of them.
Something seemed to break in him, collapsing his expression. He closed his eyes, and Beth pressed her hand against the hard beat of his heart, wishing she could soothe it. “I’m not just being nice,” he told her, his voice as velvety dark as the sky. “I meant what I said. You can trust me.”
“I do trust you. You’re a good man.”
She leaned closer, wanting to kiss the humor back into him. But something flashed in the night behind his shoulder, closer than a star, brighter than a fragment of moonlight. Beth stared as the speck of light began to dance.
“What is that?” she breathed.
Opening his eyes, Devon looked only at her. He smiled. “That, darling, is my favorite bird.”
