Page 84 of Summer of Sacrifice

She chuckled at his small attempt at humour, then sighed, moving to face him again. “Your father is too intelligent to think he’s not gravely ill. If he is pretending he doesn’t realise how ill he is, there must be a reason. However, my theory on the entire ordeal is that he knows or, at least suspects, that he isn’t going to heal.

“He is trying to get all his affairs in order before alerting you, or possibly even your mother. I would hazard a guess that he’s been sick longer than you know about, which is why he chose to quietly, secretly bring his family to Whitehall for the Summer. The staff doesn’t know who he is, so they can’t report to anyone of his illness.”

Cal had gone very pale. “And Dr. Pollock?”

She grimaced. “I believe he’s in on it. To keep you from worrying, like you are now.”

“Hades.” Cal exhaled. “Of course I am. This is why he wouldn’t tell me his symptoms, either.”

“He knew you would easily diagnose him.”

Cal shot from the bench. “Perhaps there is a cure Dr. Pollock doesn’t know about. We could find it.”

Seleste’s heart constricted. So few mortals could accept that death eventually arrived for all. “We could certainly try.”

He shot forward and kissed her hard.

A quiet knock sounded at her door around the time she expected to hear pebbles at her window.

Surely Cal hasn’t…

Seleste rushed to open the door. He had.

“Why have you come to my room?” she whispered as she pulled him inside and closed the door. “Someone could have seen you!”

“I wanted to see where you live,” he said, setting down two large tomes, she assumed medical ones.

She threw her fists onto her hips. “This is your house.”

Cal snickered. “Fine. I wanted to see you living in a room I used to avoid like the plague.”

With a scoff, she squinted at him. “Too much yellow for your delicate sensibilities, Lord Bardot?”

He tipped his head back and laughed, a deep rumbling that sent a rush of heat up her body. At the same time, fear that someone could hear him clutched at her throat.

“Hush!” she censured, running forward to clamp a hand over his mouth. His eyes sparked in challenge a breath before he snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She removed her hand and his mouth found hers.

Without breaking the kiss, he walked her backwards until the bed was against the back of her knees. Cal lifted her slightly and laid her on the buttery yellow comforter. With deft fingers, he untied the laces of her dress, groaning when his hands found her breasts.

“I’ll never get used to how beautiful you are,” he whispered huskily in her ear.

He took his time, kissing a line down her neck, her breasts, her stomach, then bringing her pleasure as she fisted the comforter in one hand, his hair in the other. When it was over, he looked up at her, grinning like a fiend.

Once she had returned the favour, the two of them lay naked and snuggled in her bed for a good long while before Seleste rose to don her peach dressing gown. When she turned around, Cal was smiling at her, his hands resting on his lap, only covered by a thin sheet.

“What?” she questioned, laughing.

“I know colour is becoming all the rage in fashion in Seagovia, but you are the only person who truly makes a room brighter for it. You are the most stunning woman I have ever laid eyes upon.”

And yet, she wouldn’t be allowed to wear colourful garments in Merveille. Not in polite Society. Not with the colour of her skin.

She couldn’t help but smile, anyway, at this idealistic man. His father thought him a fool for his moral beliefs, but Seleste only saw a realm shaker.

“Surely you came for more than a tryst.” A playful scowl was writ across her face and he laughed.

“You’re right about that.” Rising from the bed, he put on only his pants and padded across the room to the minuscule table where his books had rested since his arrival. “You noticed blood on my father’s kerchief after a coughing fit, but his eyes are also taking on a yellowish tinge.”

“Those two symptoms don’t go hand in hand,” she mused, and Cal eyed her with one brow raised.

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