Page 37 of The Captive's Curse
I swallowed hard. “I hope all of your men are all right,” I managed—completely sincerely, but somehow not sounding sincere at all. “And I do want to know. I just, I—”
“You were almost eaten by a ghost,” Enzo said softly, his tone kinder than I’d ever heard it. He shifted over, rolling onto his side, his face now only a couple of inches from mine, his eyes gleaming. “It’s all right. Besides, after the way I bit your head off yesterday when you tried to talk to me about it, I don’t blame you for not bringing it up again.”
“That’s not why,” I said, softly too—hushed, almost, in this tiny space belonging only to the two of us. When had it begun to feel like intimacy, rather than the inconvenience of being crammed into the same bed? “I don’t really shy away from an argument.”
His sudden grin and the sparkle in his eyes nearly blinded me. Oh, gods, I could kiss him. His lips wereright there. He hadn’t kissed me yesterday, or the night before. I knew what those lips felt like eating me out until I screamed, but I had no idea how they tasted.
“I’ve noticed that,” he said dryly. “Anyway, it wasn’t an invasion, as you feared. It was a small group of men—professional soldiers, though they weren’t wearing insignia.They were here to kidnap someone, and they succeeded, damn it all, although I arrived soon enough to keep them from slaughtering their target’s escort. I sent men with them in pursuit, and I think they have a good chance of catching up, hopefully before the prince suffers any real harm.”
It took a moment for that to sink in. “Prince? What—Prince Markus is nine years old, and his brother’s only a baby! They couldn’t possibly be wandering about this part of the—”
“Prince Nikola of Surbino, not one of ours,” Enzo said. “Lord Nikola, they were calling him. But his personal guard slipped up and said ‘His High—’ before he caught himself. And it was a reasonable guess anyway, given they weren’t trying to hide that they were from Surbino. Except the guard. He’s as Calatrian as I am. Which is to say, formerly and bearing a grudge.”
Enzo stopped abruptly, an odd expression crossing his face, his mouth hanging open. He shut it with a snap and shook his head.
“I have no idea why I’m telling you any of this,” he finished.
“Maybe you should go and complain to your horse, instead,” I said tartly, unreasonably hurt by the implication that I wasn’t important enough to confide in.
“Or yours,” he said, smiling in a crooked way that did strange things to my insides. His breath fanned my face, faintly scented with wine and spices. He must have had a drink with his men before he came upstairs. I wished he’d brought me one, too. Or that he’d at least kiss me and let me enjoy it second-hand. “Poor thing’s used to it already.”
“I told you I wasn’t—hmmph!” His hand across my mouth kept any further words in, and his sword-callused fingers delicately stroking my lips made them evaporate from my mind.
“And I told you I’m too tired to argue,” he said. “Go to sleep, Lord Cyril. The ghost can’t eat you while I’m here. Unless you hog the pillows, and then I’ll let him have at it.”
“Too uff ve piwwows awe mire,” I insisted, despite the pressure on my mouth.
With a roll of his eyes, Enzo said, “Fine. Fair’s fair. Now go to sleep.”
He took his hand away and rolled onto his back again, instantly closing his eyes.
I stared at his profile for a long minute, at the strangely vulnerable way his eyelashes lay fanned over the shadows under his eyes, the contrast with his bold nose and his rough, bristly cheeks and jaw, the latter firm and decided even as he softened into sleep. My gaze wandered down over his neck, also stubbly, and then to his bare shoulder. How could he go to sleep like that? It really was cold in here. Maybe he’d be warmer if I curled up against his arm. Maybe I’d be warmer, actually. But I didn’t want to risk a rebuff. If he shoved me off or turned away, I’d be left looking and feeling remarkably foolish.
Instead, I rolled over onto my other side, curling up and making the most of my two fluffy down pillows. And if I wondered, silently, whether a hard, muscular arm might not have been more comfortable after all, that was my business.
Eventually I fell asleep, lulled by Enzo’s light snores and the gusts of rain against the windows.
Chapter Fourteen
Enzo’s attempt to extract himself from the bed without waking me woke me up.
As we slept, he’d wrapped himself around me like a particularly amorous octopus, legs tangled through mine, one arm shoved under my pillow (I filed the information away for later: a pillowin addition toa muscled arm was infinitely more comfortable than either alone) and the other firmly around my chest.
The arm over me had started snaking slowly away, but when I said, “Mmmph,” he froze, his hand splayed over my lower ribs. I licked my lips, blinking blearily. The room had gotten somewhat brighter, but the persistent overcast made it impossible to tell the hour by the angle of the sun. And my internal clock really only gave me the options of “still tired” or “ready for tea” in the mornings. At the moment, I thought I might be a quarter ’til ready for tea. Another light doze first would be ideal.
“Is this why you snuck out the other night?” I mumbled. “So I wouldn’t know you like to snuggle?”
Silence fell for a moment. “I do not snuggle,” he said, in a tone of the deepest disgust. “This is just…”
More silence.
“Yes?” I prompted helpfully. “This is…?”
“This is what I get for trying to be thoughtful and let you sleep. How about some gratitude, Lord Cyril?”
“Trying to sneak out again and leave me at the mercy of your pet specter, you mean,” I groused. “No, I’m not grateful. You probably weren’t even going to build up the fire before you buggered off. I’d have been left here all frozen and miserable to be ghost food. Also, I’m as hungry as he is.”
“I suppose you’d like me to send a servant with wood for the fire, hot water, and a tea tray?” he asked, his tone dripping with the heaviest, most vulgar sort of sarcasm. Ugh. “Oh, and a selection of dainty pastries for His Growling-Bellied Lordship. Or given the not-so-dainty sounds your stomach’s making, maybe you’d prefer a raw haunch of venison to gnaw on?”
