Please, Lachlan.
He sighs.Two pleases in the span of ten seconds?My defenses are sufficiently crumbled.His tone sharpens.Stay with Desmond.
He doesn’t wait for me to confirm before striding through the door. He knows I’ll obey when he uses that voice.
I address Desmond, loud enough for Torvil to overhear, “Well, since we are destined to be parted, yet again, perhaps you’ll accompany me to my quarters? I’d like to turn in early before the journey to Tír na Dubh tomorrow.”
“Yes, of course, darling,” Desmond purrs, taking my hand as I rise from my chair.
“A word before you leave?” Torvil takes my other hand.
For long seconds, neither lets go. Months ago, this might have been my dream scenario: a rakish, dark-haired duke and a sleek, silver-haired duke fighting over me.
But the reality is much different than I imagined.
I am not their choice. I am a prize. And I do not want to be won by either.
Desmond releases me, but lingers by the door.
Torvil slides a hand around my waist and cups my cheek. “It will be difficult to let you leave, Charlotte.” His voice is full of longing. Is it for Desmond’s benefit? The only thing I truly believe he’ll miss is me painting pictures of him.
Still, I know my role. “It will be difficult for metoleave, Your Grace.”
“I’ve had something made for you. Something to remember me by.” He snaps and a valet trots over with an oblong velvet box. “For the moon in my sky.”
He opens the box, and I give a watery little gasp. Dewy tears dot my lashes. I am getting quite good at this.
The bracelet is beautiful, an alternating pattern of round and crescent diamonds strung together on a thin gold chain. Torvil removes it from the box, then clasps it onto my wrist. “Promise you’ll wear it every day until we are reunited. During the Hunt, too. And think of me each time you look upon it.”
I hold up my wrist, admiring the way the shardlights bounce off the facets. The clarity is stunning, though there’s one gem that’s a little cloudier than the rest.
“It’s beautiful, Your Grace,” I whisper. “I will cherish it.”
He leans down, lids sliding closed and lips parting, andshit, I am notthatgood of an actress. I turn my face at the lastmoment, and his cool kiss lands against my chin, against which he huffs an awkward laugh.
“Shall we try again?” He leans down a second time, but I press my fingertips against his lips.
“I find the anticipation is more than half the fun, don’t you?” I say in my sultriest imitation of Lachlan before rising on my toes and whispering in Torvil’s pointed ear, “Kiss me when you claim me, my king.”
When I pull back, his violet gaze has deepened to a stormy indigo. “Give my regards to Cernunnos. I’ll see you again soon, Charlotte.”
There’s both a promise and a threat in his farewell.
I return to Desmond, who cups my elbow and walks me back to my quarters.
Chapter
Thirty-Five
As soon as Desmond opens the door, a small porcelain bowl smashes into the wall beside us.
“Howcouldyou?”
Across the parlor, Aowen snatches a candlestick and raises it above her head. “I trusted you! I’ve done everything in my power to support your bid for the monarchy, and this is how you repay me? Your own flesh and blood!”
She hurls the candlestick, and in an impressive display of his supernatural senses, Desmond curls a forearm around my waist, tucks me behind his back, and catches the candlestick in mid-air, all in less than half a second.
“Wen,” he chides in an unruffled tone, “you’re being hysterical.”
