“No.” He let his thumb shift a little on her collarbone. “May I kiss you now?”
“Oh, yes.” She turned her head back towards him and made it easy to bring their lips together. However out of practise she might be, she had a delicate and practical attention to the angle of her head, they didn’t bump noses. There was the brief taste of her lipstick, then her mouth was soft against his, her tongue inviting. His hand went around her back, to steady, as if they’d been dancing, and hers settled at his waist, making him arch a little at the touch.
Farran didn’t want to rush it. There was only one first kiss, one first everything, and he wanted to savour every single one. Like walking into a room and seeing a piece of art for thefirst time, in all its glory. Not as a print or photograph, but as it had been meant to be seen. There was nothing like that moment, even if all the moments that came later— the deep study, the examination of the tiniest details, the building of an understanding of the work on every possible level— also had their own glories and passions and delights.
When she finally pulled back, breathless, she leaned her forehead on his shoulder, and he let his hand come a little further up her back. “All right?”
“Very.” Vega took a deeper breath, let it out slowly, then lifted her head again. “You don’t rush.”
“No.” He’d never talked about this with anyone, even Uncle Cadmus. “The first time, the first moments. Those matter. And with you, even more. I hope we have many, strung out like brushstrokes of paint, tiny specks of pigment, all making some glorious epic painting. But the beginning, it sets the ground for everything else. No rushing.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him fully, then she let herself fall back on the bed, tugging his hand along with her. He got the hint immediately and stretched out against her. Some other night, he might have been embarrassed. Surely, she’d feel him against her, that there was a certain rather blatant bit of desire. And Farran wasn’t sure what she wanted. Or how to begin to ask.
“I am thinking.” Her voice was perfectly pitched, all of her own skills on display, and he could listen to that for hours. Years. Decades. “That tonight is for kisses and hands. If you want to take your time about the firsts. I don’t think either of us wants to stop at kisses.” She was watching him now, her eyes focused, and then her hand shifted to between their bodies, the back of it brushing deliberately against where he was hard. He couldn’t stop himself from grunting, or from pushing, just slightly, into that touch. “No, we don’t, do we?”
The next minutes, the next hour, were full of a steady exploration, done the way they’d gone about Greenwich and especially the caves. Both of them were paying attention to the small details, a gasp or a shift of body, or the way skin shivered when the touch was just right. She encouraged him to undo her dress, button by button. He took his time, wanting his fingers to learn how to do it with just the right amount of delicacy. Vega untucked his shirt, working her hand up against his skin, beneath his undershirt. In the end, he was rocking against her, both of them sprawled on the bed. Finally, he got his fingers in just the right place to rub and bring her off. Her fingers curled around him until he exploded.
He let out one last gasp, before burying his head in her chest, feeling Vega stroke his hair gently as he felt her breaths. They lay there like that, neither of them wanting to move for several minutes, before her fingers shifted to his shoulder. “Learning how to sing a duet usually takes some practice.” She sounded absolutely amused. “In your case, our case, together, not nearly so much.”
“Mmm.” He ought to say something more than that, and he couldn’t. All of him was warm and happy and content. Her fingers stopped for a second, then picked up in his hair again. In a few minutes, they’d need to move, to clean up, and she obviously hadn’t planned to spend the night. But for the moment, there was no reason to hurry, and every reason to soak in the moment.
Chapter 31
MARCH 22ND IN VIVIAN’S OFFICE, TRELLECH
“Here, sit. Farran, the sofa.” They were settled in the same office Vega had been in previously, but she was fairly sure the space was new to Aunt Ancha. Her aunt was glancing around, taking in the decorations. She was almost certain that Vivian had not been about to suggest the sofa, but had taken in some key detail as she and Farran entered the office.
That was going to take some thinking about. She’d not been able to see Farran for two days. There’d been the equinox rituals out at the family estate on Tuesday, and yesterday had been the new moon, so she’d stayed out there until midafternoon. And then of course, she’d needed to be at the club in good order, not flushed and rushing from a few moments with Farran.
He had, however, written her a lovely note by journal. Actually three notes, at different points. The first to make it clear he was looking forward to more time together. Then two more about various small things he’d come across during his day that made him think of her or continued a conversation they’d had. She’d managed to write back, though not until after she woke up and read the last note which also had includedwhere to meet him. That had been near the Trellech portals, so quite public. They’d not had time to do more than say hello and come directly to Vivian’s office.
Now, she glanced at him, settled on the sofa, and made sure her skirts were doing what older aunts thought skirts should do. Farran joined her a moment later, after a brief tussle with Vivian, all done in eyebrows and gestures, over who should bring the tea tray over. Vega rather liked what she saw of that, how he was deferential, but also not too much so. It suggested he’d be able to handle himself competently with her aunts as well. And her parents. That was something she’d have to think about a good bit more, and soon.
Once Aunt Ancha was seated in one of the two easy chairs, with Vivian taking the other, she nodded once. “And you are?”
Before Vega had to figure out the introductions, Vivian spoke, smoothly. “Ancha, I am pleased to present Farran Michaels. Farran, Ancha Beaumont. One of Vega’s aunts, as I’m sure you’ve learned already.”
Farran inclined his head. “A pleasure, ma’am. I believe I’ve read a paper by you, about dating certain artworks by the constellations? Three, no four years ago?”
Aunt Ancha smiled, the sort of expression that always made Vega a trifle wary. “Did Vega tell you to say that?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. I’d not want to place her in a difficult position regarding her family. Also, I’d already read it and made notes on it well before I met her. I’d love to discuss it with you at some point, perhaps by letter? There are a couple of paintings likely to come to auction at Ormulu later this year that feature a night sky. And where the provenance is not as clear as we’d like.”
Vega cleared her throat, and Farran spread out one hand to show he was deferring to her. “I gave Farran a gift on Monday of Uncle Belisarius’s book.” Her aunt’s eyes widened.
“Farran has sometimes been a guest on our estates,” Vivian said, her voice crisp. “So that we’re all clear about portions of the conversation. Farran, please let me know if there’s some detail that you feel needs clarification.”
“Of course, Vivian.” Farran shifted a little, leaning back just slightly. He didn’t move to touch Vega. That was the right choice. She would find it immensely distracting. They had particular points to discuss. “Vandermeer, then?”
Vivian snorted, genteel. “You are direct. I appreciate that. Yes. I have been inquiring about Thomas Vandermeer for a fortnight or so. Since Farran first raised a concern with me. My connections are rather less prompt in America, but I have some initial information.”
Aunt Ancha nodded. “Go on, then.” Not that this stopped her from watching Farran, apparently he was getting all her visible attention at the moment. Vega hoped he wouldn’t take it wrong.
“I have confirmed that a man matching that name and description has indeed come to London for various business dealings. That man hails from a notable and longstanding family in New York state. The nature of the business is somewhat obscure. He is nominally working for at least two of the wealthy families of New York. New money, of course, by their standards and ours. Oil and imports, I believe. He does not seem to have known connections to the Cousins in America, but I can’t be certain about that. Regardless, he is also known to be making a point of exploring art. Not directly at the auctions. Farran?”
Farran picked up smoothly. “He is not listed on the registers at any of the major auction houses, though he is listed at Clermont.” That was Ormulu’s principal rival for the magical auction trade. The way she’d heard it put, though not by Farran, he’d scrupulously avoided comment so far, was that they were determined in pursuit of the best options for their clients. Vegasuspected that meant a certain amount of not entirely legal manoeuvring. “But I’d expect someone working at that level to have a buyer.”
“Explain to me how that works.” Aunt Ancha’s voice was crisp, then she added, more gently, “Please.”
