Page 12 of Scales and Sensibility
“On the second storey,” Elinor finished for him, sighing in relief.
His hazel eyes narrowed. “Yes. It is on the second storey.”
“What a fortunate guess.” Smiling weakly, Elinor shut the door on both of them. Then she slid directly to the floor and landed with a thump.
Sir Jessamyn was watching her from the bed. He cocked his head in curiosity as the men’s footsteps thumped down the stairs beyond the door, their voices fading.
“They’ve gone mad,” she told him blankly. “Completely mad. Both of them. They actually thought—well, I don’t lookthatdifferent in the mornings before I wash my face, do I?”
Sir Jessamyn chirped and craned his neck to look meaningfully at the door.
“I know.” Elinor sighed. “You’re hungry. I will find you breakfast. I’m sure that Sir John will agree to feedyou, at least. But…” She frowned and stood up to cross to the bed. “Your face.” She touched it with gentle fingers, stroking across his warm scales. “That’swhat’s different! You never had any gold streaks around your mouth before.”
Sir Jessamyn preened, half-closing his eyes, stretching his tail out luxuriantly along the bed, and clicking happily in the back of his throat as she inspected every detail. Round curlicues of gold swirled from the left edge of his mouth and along his chin, shining brightly against his glittering blue and green scales.
“Your new pattern is very beautiful,” said Elinor. “But what on earth caused it?”
He opened his eyes and looked up at her...and Elinor suddenly remembered: that feeling of strange intensity burning through his gaze; Sir Jessamyn’s scales glowing in the dark; flaming heat against her skin…
Her hand dropped away from his face as if she’d been scalded. “That was only a dream!”
Sir Jessamyn looked up at her steadily, his golden eyes glinting knowingly beside his startling new golden streak.
Elinor drew a deep breath. “Imustget dressed. There’s no more time for nonsense!”
She took the time to arrange every layer of her clothing with painstaking care, despite her uncontrollably trembling fingers. Finally, though, when she was fully dressed, she slowly turned towards the tiny, warped silver mirror that hung above her wash basin, a full five feet away and still angled safely away from her. She couldn’t arrange her hair for the day without looking at that mirror, but she couldn’t bring herself to move any closer to it, either.
It was utterly foolish to feel so nervous, she reminded herself. Even if the two gentlemen outside her door had somehow become confused…
She reached back to un-do her plait. A long waterfall of hair fell loose over her left shoulder.
Her throat clenched.
Her hair was an entirely unremarkable shade of thick, straight brown. To be kind, her mother had always called its shadechestnut.
Luxuriantly curling waves of black hair tumbled over her shoulder now. Elinor reached up to stroke them, numb with disbelief.
She stillfelther own hair, straight and thick, against her skin. But shesawher fingertip rise and fall over round curls that she couldn’t feel. The contrast made her stomach swoop. A low whimper sounded from her throat, against her will.
Elinor stepped towards the mirror, feeling as if she were floating outside her own body.
The woman whose eyes she met there was at least fifteen years older than Elinor. She wasn’t adorably beautiful like Penelope. Her nose was too strong for that and her chin too wide. No,shewasn’t pretty or soft. No one would mistake her for a china doll.
But there was something about the striking curves and angles of her face and the confident glint in her dark blue eyes…something that Elinor recognized immediately, even though she’d never glimpsed it in her own expression.
It was the look of a woman who knew that she held power...and no wonder. It was, after all, the face of the most powerful woman she’d ever heard of.
“Oh, my,” Elinor said faintly. “Oh, my heavens.”
She turned to stare at Sir Jessamyn. He chirruped proudly as he looked back at her. Gold glinted to the left of his mouth in the light that streamed from the square window.
“Oh, Sir Jessamyn,” Elinor breathed. “What have you done?”
Chapter 6
Elinor walked into the second-floor drawing room ten minutes later with a rapidly fluttering pulse hidden behind her gown and Sir Jessamyn perched alertly on her shoulder. Both of their gazes went straight to the big, scarred wooden table in the center of the room...but for very different reasons.
Shining platters of traditional English breakfast foods covered the table, from toasted cheese to eggs to slices of cold chicken and assorted jellies. Sir Jessamyn wriggled so hard with delight that he nearly fell off Elinor’s shoulder.
