As they navigated the complex patterns of the dance, separating briefly to circle other partners before returning to each other, Evryn took a moment to savor how exquisitely vexed she was by his theatrics, mentally reviewing his growing collection of absurd endearments and wondering whether ‘my dainty doomblossom’ or ‘my shimmering snugglewump’ might push her further toward delightful exasperation.
The dance ended, and they bowed to each other once more. Before Mariselle could escape, however, Evryn captured her hand and raised it to his lips. Remembering Ryden’s ridiculous instructions, he maintained unwavering eye contact as he pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles, counting slowly in his head.
One … two … three …
Mariselle’s eyes narrowed.
Four … five … six …
A subtle flush crept up her neck, and Evryn found himself wondering if itwas manufactured or if he might possibly have provoked a genuine reaction from her.
Seven.
He released her hand but maintained his gaze, a slow smile spreading across his face.
Mariselle drew in a delicate breath, her lashes fluttering in a display of demure passion that looked remarkably convincing. “My love,” she murmured, just loud enough for those nearby to hear, “do remember we are in public. I know how desperately you yearn for me, but such lingering attentions are hardly proper.” Her blush deepened as she added, “Even if I might secretly wish them to continue.”
Evryn bit down hard on the cough that threatened to escape his throat. Damn her. Here he was, doing his utmost to discomfit her, and yet she remained utterly unaffected. Maintaining his ridiculously lovesick expression, he leaned closer and muttered through gritted teeth, “Tell me, do you enchant your cheeks to flush on command, or is that another natural talent of yours?”
She smiled sweetly, leaning closer. “A lady possesses many skills, my dearest. The right enchantment can do wonders for one’s complexion.”
“How impressive. You truly do excel in every realm of deception, my sweet venomous pixie of love.”
Her perfect smile wavered almost imperceptibly, the corners of her mouth tightening. “Your endearments grow increasingly nonsensical,” she hissed with barely moving lips.
“Nothing about this ridiculous farce makes sense, Lady Brightcrest. Yet here we are.” He drew back, his smile in place once more. “Would you care for refreshment, my luminous sunbeam?”
Her jaw tensed slightly, a muscle flickering beneath the smooth skin of her cheek as she fought to maintain her serene expression. “Yes,” she replied. “That would be lovely.”
Evryn glanced around the ballroom, spotting several attendants in white and gold uniforms circulating with trays of crystal glasses. He caught the attention of the nearest attendant, who glided toward them. With a graceful gesture, he caused two glasses containing a pale blue drink to rise from the tray and hover momentarily in the air before settling into Evryn’s waiting hands. He offered one to Mariselle.
“Luminous sunbeam?” she muttered under her breath as she took the glass.
“To match your perpetually sunny disposition, my dearest.”
“You need to exercise some restraint.”
“I’m merely giving our audience what they expect,” Evryn replied innocently. “The High Lady herself seems enchanted by our connection. Would you have me disappoint her?”
“I would have you maintain some semblance of dignity,” Mariselle countered as she lifted her glass to her lips.
“But my fluttering nightingale, how can one maintain dignity when swept away by the tides of passion?”
Mariselle took a rather large sip of her drink, her smile now looking decidedly strained. She swallowed and whispered, “You’re going to regret this.”
“On the contrary, my sparkling raincloud,” Evryn replied cheerfully. “I’m rather enjoying myself.”
“Rowanwood, Lady Brightcrest,” a deep voice interrupted. They turned to find Crispin approaching. “My congratulations on your unexpected union.”
“Lord Ironvale,” Mariselle acknowledged with a slight nod. “How kind of you to offer your good wishes.”
“I would not miss such a historic event,” Crispin replied smoothly. “A Rowanwood and a Brightcrest, united by magic itself. Truly unprecedented.”
“Quite so,” Evryn replied, noting that now would be a good time to slip his arm around Mariselle’s waist and draw her a little closer, but finding he simply couldn’t bear the thought. His theatrical abilities were already stretched to their absolute limit without introducing unnecessary physical contact. “We are both truly delighted by this unexpected turn of events.”
“Indeed,” Mariselle agreed. “Though I admit, had anyone suggested such a match a week ago, I would have questioned their sanity.”
“And yet here we are,” Crispin observed, his gaze flickering between them. “How … delightful.”
