Page 26 of Rook of Ruin
“Simon?” He turns back, fully expecting me clothed, but my tunic falls just below my hip. He stares at my naked legs for a moment, then grabs my leggings off the floor. He gently takes one leg at a time and pushes the soft fabric up to my thigh. Simon pulls his hands away and abruptly turns his back to me again while I shimmy the leggings up the rest of the way. “Thank you.”
“Yep,” Simon curtly replies. “Ready?”
“Yes.” Instead of allowing me to walk, Simon scoops me up into his arms. There’s a fire roaring in my sitting room fireplace, and Alec stands next to it, examining my swords. I would love to know what he is thinking.
Simon gently sets me down onto the leather sofa and pulls a soft blanket off the chair and onto my lap. He walks around the room, studying the paintings on the walls.
Patsy barges in with a cart laden with all kinds of food and two packages for the men. She looks down her nose at me. “I see you’ve cleaned up. Should I ask how you managed by yourself?”
I stifle a laugh and glance at both men, who bristle at the underlying accusation. They stare at her with a challenge to call them ungentlemanly. Patsy clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “Thunderous mercy.”
Simon leaves first to change and returns in black slacks and a shirt with silver embellishments, looking quite comfortable, relaxed. Alec stalks back in from my bathroom wearing a royal blue tunic and slacks that are a bit tight, showing off his muscular physique. He sits down smoothly in my leather chair. I hate to admit it, but Alec looks quite distinguished.
Patsy piles our plates with food and practically shoves it into our faces. She uncorks a bottle of wine and pours each of us a generous amount, and then one for herself. She gulps down the wine and sighs. “The kitchen is abuzz. The queen is sending out messages to notify eligible men you are now available to marry, and there will be invitations issued for a ball in your honor.” She laughs to herself. “Not only did you prove your loyalty, but you also survived the Spider.” She makes a sour face and drinks the rest of her wine. Alec has his unemotional mask on tight, as if her words have no affect on him . . . and maybe they don’t. “Apparently, there have been several offers of marriage already. None I think you would want.” She pours another glass. “Unless you want to marry a man who is older than all of us combined?”
I cringe at the thought, and an awkward laugh gives way. “No, thank you.”
Simon clears his throat in disapproval, but Alec is rigid in his chair. Only the slight flex of his fingers tells me he finds something frustrating. I tilt my head, trying to catch his eye, but he ignores me.
Patsy grins and takes another large gulp of wine. “Then again, given his age, he wouldn’t last long, and you could be a widow before long, doing what you please with all his money.” She gives a hollow laugh and drinks the rest of the wine.
“Alright, maybe you do have a point.” I laugh, although neither men in the room join.
Patsy walks over to me and brushes my damp hair from my face. “You’re so much like your mother, you know.” She pats my cheek lovingly. For a moment, I feel like she will say something more, but she turns around, stalking back to the door. “The queen has not deemed it necessary to have a guard outside her door, and since she placed you both in charge of her care, I think that means I will be seeing a lot more of you two.” She opens the door and slams it shut.
“I’ll ask the queen if Tess can stay with me,” I offer, embarrassed that I must have someone in charge of my care.
Alec shakes his head and pulls a face like he has been told to babysit the most annoying child. “Tess is on a mission.”
I frown. “I didn’t know. I thought she would have said something.” It’s very unlike Tess not to ask me to check in on her parents. Maybe she asked Paul.
I drink another sip. The red wine tastes of oak with notes of chocolate and blackberry. Not my favorite; I lean towards white or dessert wines. We settle into a comfortable silence, finishing our roast with vegetables and mashed potatoes. Without asking, Simon takes my plate and pours tea.
“Should I be concerned that you know how I like my tea?”
Simon gives a lazy shrug. “I know how most women in this court like it.”
I laugh. “I bet you do.”
Simon lifts an eyebrow and gives me his dimpled grin. He is so hard not to like.
A few moments pass, and I note how Simon and Alec prepare their tea. Simon takes his with a small dollop of milk and one sugar. Surprisingly, Alec takes three lumps of sugar and a generous amount of milk. I thought he would prefer his tea bitter, like I do.
“You have some interesting taste in art.” Simon looks around my room again.
I shrug. “I like what I like.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” His brown eyes graze my body, assessing. “Where did you get that one?” He points to the painting with the blue-haired ladies and the men with pointed ears.
“It was my mother’s.”
I feel Alec’s eyes on my face, but I don’t look at him. I’m still unsure what exactly it is I did wrong. I didn’t want to hurt him. I followed the queen’s advice—I let him in. It’s his own damn fault if he can’t control his power. I scowl.
“O, if I have brought something up that you do not wish to discuss—”
I cut Simon off. “No, Simon. Not at all.” I give a small laugh. “I was thinking of something entirely different. I love that painting. I used to stare at it, wishing I could be there with them. It’s one of the few things I have of my mother’s. She died—both my parents died when I was very young.”
“You wished you could be with the nymphs and fae?” Simon asks slowly.
