Page 14 of A Taste for the Peculiar

Embarrassment sears through her. She leans back against the cool brick and tries to regain her bearings. Lord Riften’s letter might have infused her with a little unearned bravery, but she was kidding herself. She wipes her clammy palms on her light green dress. She is not some confident rebel; she’s a silly child playing dress up, and that will soon be clear to everyone around her.

“I should have known your beauty would upstage mine.”

Lord Riften’s voice startles and soothes her all at once. She spins toward them in relief, but her thoughts are wiped quickly from her head.

Black tattoos peek out from the top of Lord Riften’s dress, the fabric as teal as a drake’s head. It is not what she expected him to wear. Moreover, she did not expect to be so moved by it. Seeing Lord Riften like this does more to her than seeing him in his finest suits. The gown is perfectly tailored, the ruched neckline bunching at their chest and complemented by long sleeves that accentuate the muscles of their arms. It reminds Avirin of the shapes other women cut in their dresses, bare clavicles and pert breasts…

God, she’s staring.

Warmth rushes to her cheeks, but Lord Riften is staring at her, too. Their gaze wanders her curves like she’s a heady drink they want to take their time with.

“I was hoping we’d blend in tonight,” he says, offering his arm, “but clearly, I forgot who I was meeting. You shine everyone else down. No one will pay any mind to the opera once they catch sight of you.”

Avirin’s cheeks grow redder. He means to flatter her, to be sure, but she feels lighter nonetheless. She loops her hand around his elbow as if he is the buoy keeping her afloat. “I dare say you’ve never wanted to blend in a day in your life.”

Lord Riften chirps a laugh, a delightful sound that rings in Avirin’s ears. He lowers his voice between them. “How did you find our previous lesson? Was it…applicable to your private studies?”

Avirin’s nails dig into his arm as she waits for them to pass a crowded store entrance. Her throat is tight, but she wants to speak. There is something dangerous and thrilling about disguising their words and speaking on such a profane topic out in the open. “Your teaching was…quite extensive. I’ve gone over the material more than once. To ensure I understand it intimately.”

Lord Riften hums in the back of their throat. “And how did you fare for the rest of the party? Were you missed during our little liaison?”

That memory is a rude interruption from her other thoughts. “My mother was unhappy. I was conspicuously absent for some introduction she wanted to make. She threatened to tie a lead to me next time to keep me in sight.”

Lord Riften clucks his tongue, but there’s a spark in his eye. “We’ll have to continue our meetings in more creative places, then.”

When they approach the opera house, the vestibule is nearly empty, and Lord Riften turns to speak with the usher. Avirin can’t help but be enchanted by how certainly he moves. Even when the usher gives his dress a sideways look, Lord Riften does not cower. They look…beautiful and free. They look like themself.

The usher hands Lord Riften an envelope of bills, and Lord Riften returns to Avirin, noting the cloak still situated over her head. “You needn’t worry about being seen, Lady Avirin.” He leads her toward the stairs and tucks the envelope away. “Since the members of ‘fashionable society’ are more interested in themselves than the arts, half of them won’t arrive for another hour yet. The rest will be too drunk on cider and gossip to notice if we kick up a lark.”

But only once they ascend to an empty landing does Avirin pull down her hood. Curtains line the corridor, leading to private seats that are far more secluded than the ones below.

“I’ve rented a box for this evening,” Lord Riften murmurs. “Somewhere far away from any twittering birds that might like to print your name in the scandal sheets.”

Avirin’s nerves flutter like wings swarming up her throat. Tonight is the night. Tonight, Lord Riften will take her behind one of these curtains, and she will finally discover the truth of what she’s been imagining. She will learn everything there is to know.

Despite the furious desire inside her, there is another melancholy part of her. She hasn’t spent much time considering what happens after these lessons are over, but it sinks into her stomach now. On one hand, the thought of Lord Riften finally touching her so thoroughly is palpitating. Yet by the same turn, she doesn’t want this to end. Will this be the last night she speaks to them? Feels them? Sees them at all?

“Is something on your mind?” Lord Riften asks.

Avirin’s teeth dig into her lip, and she pulls the emerald green fan from her reticule. “Admittedly, I’m a bit quailed since tonight is our final lesson.”

He comes to a halt beside her, but Avirin continues, lowering her voice.

“Since tonight, you will show me what married people do. You will show me how to please y- a husband.” Her eyes dart between his and the column behind him. “Truthfully, I hadn’t considered how quickly these lessons would pass — but I do not impugn your teaching!” she adds quickly, praying she has not offended him. She adds a diplomatic nod for good measure. “You have been exceptionally thorough, Lord Riften. You have shown me everything there is to know.”

SEVEN

Avirin

Lord Riften frowns as they regard her. There is something almost sad in their expression, but when another couple passes behind them, he steps out of the path to be closer to Avirin.

Breath tightens in her chest. The hard plane of his body is close now, and Avirin remembers how it felt pressed against her. She remembers the way it responded to her, even with layers of clothing between them. There was no denying the way their bodies called to each other. Is that the nature of all intimacy? Will her body sing no matter who is touching her?

Lord Riften meets her gaze, and his voice dips lower than she’s ever heard it. “I’ve hardly begun to show you all that there can be, Lady Avirin.”

Her knees threaten to buckle.

Lord Riften lifts a hand to her cheek. “There is an entire world of possibility. I want you to see all of it. I want you to know all of it. I want you to experience it, so you never convince yourself it doesn’t exist.” His eyes drift to her parted lips. “So you know there is always a way to seek your own pleasure.”