“Miss—good Lord!” He leapt to his feet, eyebrows rising precipitously. “I mean to say. Is that your nightrobe?”
Rose raised her own eyebrows as she glanced down at the plain blue cotton wrapper that covered her from her neck to her slippers with excruciating modesty. “What else could you imagine it to be, Mr Aubrey?”
“But, ah ... that is ...” Scraping one hand through his fair hair, he set down his book and took a quick step backwards, bumping into the side of the chair in his haste. “I mean, I shouldn’t like to take advantage ...”
“Don’t be absurd.” Rose strode across the small room, trailing dragons behind her, and set her solitary candlestick down beside the larger brace of candles on the side table. “I could hardly refuse to be changed into my nightdress tonight, not without giving an explanation, and you could hardly expect me to do that. This is meant to be a secret meeting, you know!”
“Yes, of course. I—never mind.” Mr Aubrey snapped his mouth shut, colour mounting on his high cheekbones. “Forgive me,” he muttered a moment later, his voice oddly constricted. “I cannot explain why I took any notice of such a frivolous detail. I never notice anyone’s physical appearance. In fact, I am notoriously unaware, and yet—”
“I’m sure you are.” It would have been rude to smile, so Rose forced her lips not to twitch, no matter how endearing his disgruntlement. “But if you could, please, turn your mind to dragons for a moment?”
“Oh, thank heavens.” His shoulders sagged with relief. “Yes, indeed. Dragons.” Then he paused, blinking down at her. “Do you know, I don’t believe anyone in my entire life has ever before had to ask me to turn my thoughts to dragons. In my experience, people are far more likely to beg me to speak on any other subject.”
“Well, that’s foolish.” Rose shifted her feet slightly to keep an eye on Rhiannon as the red dragon trotted alertly past them on her usual mission to investigate every nook and cranny. “Why ask you to discourse about something you don’t know or care about? That would be like expecting my sister Harry to talk about the weather instead of, oh, algebraic integers or number theory.”
Mr Aubrey’s head tilted. “Do you share her interest in such matters?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what she’s talking about most of the time,” Rose said frankly, “but I have a good deal of interest in her, which is what matters. I’d far rather listen to her talk about her true passions than become a person she can’t speak to with honesty. And she loves me and our other sister enough to share all of her interests with us, despite our lack of any mathematical abilities.”
“Hmm,” said Mr Aubrey. “I don’t know about that.” He was standing very close now, frowning down at her as if she were an intriguing new species of dragon that required detailed inspection. “I’m no expert in mathematics, nor in social interactions, but from my observations thus far, you have a good deal of skill at both organisation and rapid calculation. Those are certainly mathematical qualities.”
“Well ... thank you.” Rose’s cheeks warmed under the heat of his focused attention. Coming from the other end of the room, she could hear the soft clinks and thuds of Rhiannon’s ongoing investigations, but this time, she didn’t turn to look. “I’ve never pretended to share Harry’s genius, though. You would certainly find her more interesting than me.” And he would, one day; she would simply have to make certain that they met, somehow.
The poor man had suffered through so many discomforts through their association, even before Aunt Parry’s latest ultimatum. Once Rose made sure of the dragons’ safety and rescued Mr Aubrey from the betrothal she’d forced him into, he would deserve a great reward, and Rose could think of no one more deserving of the affections of a sweet, lanky, endearingly awkward and academically brilliant scholar than her equally brilliant younger sister.
They would be utterly perfect together ... and there was no reason for that thought to send a pang through her chest.
She took a hasty step backwards and nearly stepped onto the dusky gold dragon, who had silently curled up into a ball behind her legs. “Ahhh!”
Rose caught her foot just in time to prevent it from landing, but it was too late to catch her balance. She was lurching, tripping ...
Until, for the second time that evening, she found Mr Aubrey’s long fingers curling firmly around her upper arms to support her. This time, she landed with her hands spread flat against his lean, warm chest, where his heartbeat flickered against her touch.
“Oh, good heavens.” His breath was soft against her hair, but his chest ...
Sucking in a breath, Rose extricated herself as swiftly as she could, stepping to the side to avoid Griff, who had leapt to his feet and was flapping his clipped wings in agitation. “You must be careful,” she murmured as she knelt beside him. Her breath was still coming much too quickly; her hand shivered as she stroked gently along his neck. “I could have hurt you so badly if I’d landed on top of you!”
Golden eyelids lowering, Griff clicked his tongue between his teeth and turned his head to rest, as lightly and delicately as a butterfly’s touch, against her stroking hand. Her breath caught.
“Impressive.” Mr Aubrey sank down to kneel beside her. “You’ve already gained his trust.” The scholar’s fascinated gaze, of course, was fixed upon the dragon; Rose was clearly the only one who’d been affected by their brief encounter. “When last I saw him, he was still refusing to come close to anyone.”
“Griff is a darling,” said Rose, and firmly squashed her own unproductive line of thought. “He’s only shy because he’s been treated so badly. Whatever Sir Gareth did to him—”
“Have you been able to inspect his back legs yet?” Mr Aubrey curved his long torso at an uncomfortable-looking angle, craning his neck in vain; Rose was proud to note that Griff didn’t flee, but he did mantle his wings and wrap his long tail around himself to protect his sensitive lower areas from view.
“There definitely aren’t any markings like Rhiannon’s—the red dragon’s, that is.” She nodded to Rhiannon, who was busily clambering up on top of a display table and would need to be stopped very soon for the sake of Uncle Parry’s statuary. Rose couldn’t abandon Griff now, though, and she knew the answer to this question after the glimpse she had caught earlier, when he and Rhiannon had curled up on her bed together.
“Curious.” Mr Aubrey’s eyes narrowed. “So, Sir Gareth, along with anyone else he may have hired to aid him with his dragons, is aware of your first dragon’s particular abilities and used some sort of metal cuffs to leash them ... but didn’t think those same cuffs necessary to restrain Griff.”
“That’s because his abilities are different.” The reminder splashed cold water on Rose’s scattered thoughts, bringing her back to what mattered most. “And that’s exactly what I needed to discuss with you. Mr Aubrey ...” She drew a deep, bracing breath.
“Yes?” His gaze remained fixed upon the dragon as he crawled in a slow circle around Griff’s tightly curled body, studying every visible inch with care.
Rose moistened her lips. “I know that you don’t care for the use of the word ‘magic’ in conjunction with dragons, but ...”
At her words, three different things happened at once.
“What?” Mr Aubrey jerked upright with colour flushing his high cheekbones.
