“It’s rather fashionable these days. Isn’t that the aim of your set?” Aaron eyed her as his mind spun, working to process the concept of someone with all of Isabelle Lira’s power and privilege not wanting all its spoils. Especially when so many were digging for scraps.
She returned his gaze with a glare. “Perhaps I’m not interested in fashion.”
Not interested, his tuchus. He ducked his head to hide his smile. Even dressed down, or in whatever she called her costuming, the woman’s garments screamed “style” from the full skirt, which fell only to her ankles, to her winglike sleeves.
“Ephemeral emotions are more trouble than they are worth.” Her jaw tightened. “I need sureties.”
Aaron blinked. What had made her so cynical? After all, it wasn’t as if she’d reached for the stars only to be kicked down into the mud again and again. She had everything she could possibly want. She had all the community’s adoration and respect. She was literally the best of them.
“Which is why I need you.” She raised a gloved palm as if to stop whatever interruption he might make. “And in turn, I can give you what you want.” Her throaty whisper echoed in the small chamber, tempting him.
As if she really was the enchantress from a storybook.
“And what’s that?” he managed to ask, knowing he should be clever enough to run from such situations. However, once a schlemiel, always a schlemiel.
“Independence. A life that is only yours, where you are free to do as you please. That’s what you were looking for when you left the community, wasn’t it?”
Was it? He chewed his lip. Perhaps. In a way. He’d merely wanted to no longer be a burden. Or to not feel like one. To be respected, with a family of his own to share his life with. Things out of his grasp until now. Unless . . .
“What I want would cost a great deal of funds.” His voice was scratchy, an unfamiliar whisper over the impossible image rising in his mind—himself, well dressed and clean, welcome and sought after by matchmakers and families alike who desired him as a spouse and father.
Impossible. It had to be impossible, surely?
“If you get me what I want . . .” She trembled a little but puffed out her chest—which he wasnotimproperly staring at. “My grandmother and I are my father’s only living relatives. In addition to my dowry, there are trusts—ones that protect the property for us and pay expenses. From those additional funds, I could take, say, two hundred pounds without anyone’s notice or concern.”
Two hundred pounds.
With that he really could—well, he could rent a place of his own. More than rent. And perhaps—with the right advice, perhaps from someone like Moritz Seltzer, a minyan regular with a head for investing, who always looked him in the eye instead of pretending he didn’t exist—he could find a way to turn the funds into a living, one that would make him desirable as a partner.
So he could be the desired one. So he could have a family of his own—with a wife and children, for whom he could love and care and whom he could escort proudly to events like the Lira festivals, as a valued member of the community.
Hope danced in his belly. It was almost too good to be true—or more likely, very much too good to be true. He narrowed his eyes.
“And if they notice? What will you say? Will you confess or call a constable? Can you guarantee you won’t betray me?” He turned to spit on the dusty floor.
“As if I’d trust a constable. I may do business with gentiles, but I’m not one of them.” She gave a derisive sniff. “My family’s made a fortune buying and selling sureties, so I can say with confidence, there are no true guarantees.” The shadow of that tempting dimple dipped in her left cheek. “Nevertheless, if you are somehow injured due to your involvement with me, it will not be by my hand. I might be a witch, but I’m a fair one. And I protect my own.”
There was such a stern resoluteness to her tone that he could almost believe her. But before he could decide, she smiled at him once more, her deep brown eyes twinkling through the darkness. “Besides, I suspect that my offer is the best you’ve heard in a long while. Any additional protection is for you to build on your own. However, be warned: I do the extorting, not the other way around.”
Miss Lira had impressive guts—he had to give her that. Well, she had more than guts, but it was almost certainly hazardous to his health for his mind to wander in that direction. He folded his arms over his chest.
“Furthermore, none of this really requires much risk or effort on your part, only reward.” She threw him a charming smile. “You’re too recognizable to a significant part of the community to play a potential suitor or servant. However, each of the festivals will involve performers. Not much of a stretch for you, at least from what I’ve observed.” She tipped her chin. “I’m very resourceful, so I can outfit you appropriately. All you have to do is play the part, interact with a few guests, and we each get what we want.”
His heart thrummed. Not because her plan guaranteed success, but because she was offering him, well, everything. And while so much could go wrong, especially given their positions, he knew opportunity wasn’t a particularly lengthy visitor.
“You’re playing with fire.” He gave her a hard look and held his breath, half expecting her to think better of the whole thing and snatch away the gift she’d offered.
“I have a high tolerance for heat.” Her voice was calm and strong, but she still fiddled with her fingers. “No husband will take all my power. Not if I have any say.” She stuck out her hand. “Will you join me?”
“You shake hands?” He eyed her gloved palm.
“My family does for business.” She didn’t remove her offering.
Aaron drummed his fingers on his thigh. Oy, he wanted this. Too badly. And in his experience, desire led to tsuris. And trouble was the last thing he needed.
“I’ll consider it.” Taking her elbow, he guided her out the door. “You should too. You might enjoy flames, but those who taunt wolves still get bit.”
“You’re a wolf now?” Her eyes twinkled in the low light. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Besides, I bite back.”
