She tilted her head slightly, studying him with those intelligent dark eyes. “Something has upset you.”
“Not at all.” The lie felt leaden on his tongue. “I was merely thinking of the—the need to finalize the seasonal workforce allocations for the mines. There is still much to prepare.”
“Of course,” she said, though her expression suggested she didn’t quite believe him. “The mines reopen soon after the Bloom Season ends, do they not?”
“Yes. The dormant period coincides with the Bloom Season.” He struggled to maintain the thread of conversation while his mind continued to reel from his discovery. “There will be … uh, extensive inspections before operations resume.”
“That sounds like a significant responsibility,” she said, her tone gentler than usual. “No wonder you’re preoccupied.”
After another moment in which he couldn’t think of a single thing to say, she turned in her seat and faced her desk again. He was intensely aware of everything about her—the delicate arch of her wrist as she reached for her quill, the absent sweep of her other hand down the curve of her neck, the space she occupied as something wholly and unmistakably hers, as if the room had been shaped to fit her presence. It was as if he were seeing her for the first time, yet with the intimate knowledge of having held her in his arms while they danced.
His carefully ordered world had been upended. The woman who had challenged and irritated him for weeks, whose sharp wit had both frustrated and intrigued him, was the same woman whose laughter and conversation had captivated him at the masquerade. The realization struck him with unexpected force, and with it came an admission he could no longer deny: he was drawn to her, had been perhaps from the very beginning.
He wanted to hear her laugh again, her true laugh unaltered by enchantment. He wanted to touch her, to feel the warmth of her hand in his, to stand as close as they had been while dancing. The urge to reach out, to trail his fingers down her arm and over her wrist, to feel the softness of her skin beneath his touch, was almost overwhelming.
“Did you know,” Iris said suddenly, interrupting his perilous train of thought, “that one of the earliest tea scandals began witha fae merchant’s daughter who unexpectedly manifested the ability to infuse emotions into liquids? She unknowingly brewed a blend that made everyone who drank it speak with absolute honesty for hours—at a rather high-profile gathering, no less. Imagine the consequences!”
The sudden image of Iris serving such a tea to him, of truth spilling from his lips about who he’d danced with and how it had affected him, sent a jolt of panic through Jasvian’s system. “I should go,” he said abruptly, startling even himself with the urgency in his voice. “There are matters requiring my attention at Rowanwood House.”
Something flickered across Iris’s face, so quickly he couldn’t decipher it. “Of course,” she said. “I wouldn’t wish to keep you from your responsibilities.”
“Until tomorrow, then.” He gave a short, formal bow, desperate now for solitude in which to untangle his chaotic thoughts.
“Until tomorrow, Lord Jasvian.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Iris fell backagainst her chair the moment the door closed behind Lord Jasvian, exhaling a breath she felt she’d been holding since he first entered the room. It had taken far more effort than she had energy for this morning to maintain such perfect composure. After barely sleeping—the memories of dancing beneath enchanted stars replaying through her mind for hours—she should probably still be in bed. But her body’s natural rhythms had roused her at the same ridiculous hour as always, and she’d found herself dressing hastily, unable to banish thoughts of Jasvian from her mind.
What if he also arrived early at the tea house today? She wanted—no, needed—to be here if he did.
She pushed the large tome away with a groan. Despite the first few pages being deliciously scandalous indeed—full of tales of magical teas that had supposedly resulted in three engagements, two duels, and the temporary transformation of Lord Someone-Or-Other into a remarkably articulate squirrel—she hadn’t been able to focus on a single word after Lord Jasvian had entered the room.
And he’d noticed her tea! She’d never specifically told him about her ‘Autumn & Pine’ blend, certainly never mentioned itby name. Just as she hadn’t told him—hadn’t told anyone yet—about the true extent of her magical ability.
She pulled her notebook closer, glancing down at the ‘notes’ she’d been so diligently taking. They had absolutely nothing to do with the text she’d been pretending to read. Knowing that Lord Jasvian was unable, from his position at his own desk, to see the words she penned, she’d begun scribbling down her thoughts:
I cannot believe I spent half the night dancing with LORD JASVIAN ROWANWOOD. The man who called me a half-breed with diluted magic. The man who questioned whether I belonged in society at all. And yet, when he smiled at me last night—actually SMILED—my heart did the most peculiar little flip.
Beneath her words, the notebook had responded in its elegant script:
How very anatomically improbable. Perhaps you should consult a physician about these concerning cardiac acrobatics.
Iris had glared at the page before continuing:
You know perfectly well what I mean. And now that he is HERE in the room with me, I cannot seem to breathe properly. What is HAPPENING to me?
Based on available evidence,the notebook had replied,you appear to be experiencing a textbook case of romantic attraction. How disappointingly conventional of you.
It is NOT romantic attraction. It is … temporary insanity brought on by lack of sleep and excessive exposure to enchanted masks.
Of course. How foolish of me to confuse the two. They are so frequently mistaken for one another in medical literature.
Iris stared at the exchange, mortified by her own admission. She couldn’tbreathe? What nonsense was that? Her quillhovered above the page. After a moment, she pressed it to the paper once more.
Even if it were … that is, even if I did feel some momentary … something … it would be of no consequence. I have no intention of venturing down that path. I have seen where it leads.
Do enlighten me. What ominous destination awaits at the end of this particular path?
