Page 15 of The Musician and the Monster

“My housekeeper shall be along shortly to inquire after your needs.”

This got her attention. Ceridwen spun around, her skirts twirling around her legs. She stared up at him, almost as if she’d forgotten he was there.

“Thank you,” she said. “The room is— It’s so lovely.” Her eyes sparkled, showing the truth of the compliment.

That stubborn bit of pride grew behind his ribs again, and he was thankful he’d taken the time to show it to her himself rather than passing her off to one of his staff. For more of that look alone, he’d have given up a whole day.

Lingering close to her could be more dangerous than he anticipated.

“You’ll join me for dinner tonight and play after. Anything you need, my staff will acquire for you.”

Before he could give in to the temptation to stay, he turned from the room and closed the doors behind him.

Inviting Ceridwen to dine with him only seemed proper, but being unused to guests, he lost track of time and was late coming down from his room in the tower.

Kent stood at the base of the stairs, waiting. He opened his mouth to speak, but Drystan cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I know. I’m late.”

“Just so,” the young man said, stepping into pace at his side. “Miss Ceridwen is already at the table.”

Good. Something about that knowledge set him at ease. As they approached the dining room, Kent hurried to open the doors for his lord, but Drystan halted him with a whispered, “Wait.”

What a person did when they thought few were watching spoke volumes about them, and he was curious to see how the young woman staying under his roof handled his tardiness. The door was already cracked, light from within spilling out into the dimmer hall.

“He shall be here soon, miss,” Jackoby said from within. “Apologies, he is unaccustomed to keeping a strict schedule.”

Drystan huffed air through his nose.Accurate, as always.

Ceridwen sat in her assigned place at one end of the table, her back to the doors. She released a fork she’d been holding, and it clattered onto the porcelain plate. Hastily, she moved it into its original position, arranging it just so and then doing the same with the other pieces. Was she nervous?

His lips quirked up in one corner as he stepped away from the door. What a curiosity she presented. Drystan nodded to Kent, an order to open the doors and grant him entry as planned.

“My lady.” Drystan gave a short bow at the waist before sliding the chair out from the table and landing heavily between the armrests shaped like great paws.

“You’re quite late,” she said by way of reply.

Deep laughter rumbled from his chest before he could stop it. She wasn’t wrong—the candles had already burned down quite a ways, but he couldn’t help responding to her prod with one of his own. “And here I thought I might be greeted by a fearful mouse or meek silence.”

Color raced to her cheeks. “At least I don’t look like a wild man living in the woods,” she muttered. Her hand flew to cover her mouth, where it gaped open after the words fell free.

Not a mouse at all. Perhaps she had some of her sister’s snark, after all. What a pleasant surprise. He shouldn’t enjoy it the way he did, his grin stretching wide across his features in a way it hadn’t in months. Things would be easier if she were meek and quiet, but he quite liked this twist to his evening. He had the sudden urge annoy her more often, just to see how she would respond.

“Perhaps, from your perspective,” he replied. It had been some time since he’d shaved, but that was purposeful. His beard hid the scars on his chin and lower cheek, and he had no desire for that to become a topic of conversation. “But even wild lords need food, and so do sharp-tongued young women.”

Ceridwen flushed a deeper shade and stared at her empty plate.

Wild man, she mouthed silently, probably chastising herself.

Poor girl.It wouldn’t do to put her too out of sorts on her first evening.

Jackoby cleared his throat and announced, “Dinner is served.”

Servants filed in from the kitchen carrying platters of food. Generally, he wasn’t one for such formality, but it seemed appropriate with a guest in residence. Besides, the staff was eager to try out the set of fine platters trimmed in little roses. A bit feminine for his taste, though he always did love to grow things, roses especially. They required work to get them to grow just right, their blooms a beautiful reward for a job well done. If only that knack for patience and diligence had taken root in him during his youth, his life might not have taken the poor turn it had. So many things could have been avoided, so much death…

Dinner passed in mostly companionable silence. Where Ceridwen had been quick to speak and sharp-tongued at his entrance, she said little the rest of the meal, only giving brief answers to his questions about the weather and her opinion of the city. Perhaps shewas afraid of speaking her mind too openly and offending him. A wise fear. With most, he might have flown into a rage, but such a retort from her sparked humor in him rather than his customary emotions, though he couldn’t say why. So delightfully odd.

When he was certain she’d eaten her fill, and she no longer reached for her utensils or eyed the rich fare with barely disguised lust as she had at the start of the meal, Drystan pushed back his chair and rose. He circled around the table as Kent rushed to pull back Ceridwen’s chair. Silence over dinner was one thing. He didn’t pay her for witty conversation. However, a deep gnawing hunger ate at him from within for a different kind of sound, one that she could grant.

As she stood, he extended his gloved hand to her. “Will you join me in my study?”

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