Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 48853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
“Do I wish the future were more certain?” I think for a moment. “No, but I’m not like you. You already know what you want. I have no idea.”
Cassian’s gaze slides to my mouth and stays there. I wonder if he’s thinking about kissing me. A proper kiss of affection, not because he’s annoyed with me and it’s the only way he can express his feelings.
Still looking at my mouth, he says, “Bye, then.”
He gets to his feet and walks away. I watch him go, his tanned fingers rumpling his hair and the breeze lifting the hem of his shirt to show a glimpse of his smooth lower back. I pick a blade of grass and rub it between my fingers.
That was strange. I wonder if he was trying to make friends with me, but he’s rusty at it. Or he just never learned how.
I spend the hours before the engagement party riding Cinnamon at Bellerose Stables, taking her through trots, flying changes and half-passes. She’s perfectly at ease, but I can feel that I’m too stiff in my seat and things aren’t flowing smoothly. Dressage is like ballet with horses: intense training and difficulty with the aim of it all seeming effortless, and above all, flawless. If I seem stiff or hold myself wrong, we’ll lose points, and I dearly want to do well as the whole city will be watching.
I leave the stables feeling out of sorts, irritated with myself over my performance and dreading the party tonight. I love Daddy and Wraye separately, but I still don’t know what to do with them as a couple.
The evening is warm and clear; all the doors and windows of Levanter House have been thrown open and the lights are blazing. Guests fill the downstairs’ rooms and spill out into the moonlit garden.
Wraye is luminous in a pale pink chiffon gown, and Daddy is handsome in a black tuxedo. I move from one group of people, sipping champagne, to the next, doing what’s expected of me as the daughter of the groom and keeping a smile plastered on my face.
The only time my smile falters is when I come face-to-face with Lady Rugova. She nearly destroyed Daddy by selling gossip about him to the papers. I can still see the guilt and despair on his face as he confessed to me what was being said about him. I told him it didn’t matter what was printed, and I know he’s a good man and soldier. Lady Rugova made Wraye lie to us about her circumstances, and it’s only thanks to the King that they’re living in Rugova house and not in the slums. Wraye deserves to be at Court, but I don’t think I can manage two civil words for her mother.
I give Lady Rugova the briefest of smiles and then pretend that someone needs me on the other side of the room. I keep walking, straight down a side passage, and toward a smaller sitting room that’s closed off from guests. The bride and groom are happy, so I can take a few minutes’ break from the party.
As I head down the darkened hallway, an arm sneaks out of an alcove and snags me around the waist. I give a squeak of surprise, but I know who it is even before he pulls me to him. The scent of hay and arrogance is thick around him.
“Let me go. What do you want? You’re not meant to be here.”
My fingers flex on the muscles of his chest. He’s here. The only person I actually want to see.
“I came to see if you were all right.”
The softness in Cassian’s voice makes me stop struggling. I look up into his face, which is cast in shadows. His gaze drifts from my red lipstick to the sheer red blouse I’m wearing, and down to my high-waisted red trousers and stiletto heels. He gives a low, admiring whistle. “Damn, girl.”
My nipples tingle at the appreciation in his voice. His blond hair is falling into his eyes, and he’s wearing a black shirt and black jeans. I suppose the dark clothes helped him sneak in here.
“I thought you said we’re not friends. Why do you care if I’m all right?”
Cassian doesn’t seem to be listening to me. He hooks a finger in the waistband of my trousers and gives it a tug. “These look fantastic, but why did you have to wear them? Makes it harder to get at your pussy.”
My sex clenches at his crude words. “That’s never stopped you before, but who said I was going to have sex with you?”
He bites his lower lip and smiles. “Say fuck. Who said I was going to fuck you?”
“No. I have to get back to the party.”
“Then say cock like you did the other day.” He looks like a devil, his eyes glimmering with amusement and mischief. He starts to unbutton my blouse, and I watch the path his fingers take down my body. He gets the silky fabric open, and then dips his head to kiss my collarbone.