Anne Bishop - Dreams Made Flesh

They were going back to the hotel for the afternoon. Marian could have hugged the High Lord for saying the morning had tired him and he needed to rest. Days spent doing heavy cleaning were less exhausting than a shopping trip with Jaenelle Angelline, and she welcomed the chance to get off her feet. They would have their midday meal at the hotel, and then…

"This evening I'll take you two ladies to dinner," the High Lord said as they waited patiently for a horse-drawn cab that would take them back to the hotel.

Marian's heart sank. They'd made it easy for her to forget she was a servant, that the social status between them was as wide a difference as her Purple Dusk Jewels were to the Black. But those differences would become painfully apparent even before they left the hotel, and she didn't want him to feel ashamed of being seen with her.

"You don't have to include me," Marian said. "I'm sure you and Lady Angelline…"

"You don't want to join us?" His words were gently spoken, but there was an undercurrent she didn't understand. "Why?"

She had an odd feeling that it wasn't their acceptance of her but her acceptance of them that was really being questioned. So she told the truth and hoped he was one of those males who understood female vanity. "I don't have anything suitable to wear." Which was true. She was wearing the skirt and tunic Jaenelle had given her, and they were the best clothes she owned…far nicer than the things Luthvian had handed down to her…but they weren't appropriate for dining out.

The High Lord froze, and Jaenelle, who had been watching the street for a cab, slowly pivoted to face her. The chilly anger in the High Lord's eyes made her nervous, but it was the cold fury in the Queen's eyes that scared her.

The next thing she knew, a cab pulled up, she was bundled into it, and the High Lord was giving instructions to take them to the clothing shops.

Not sure what she'd done to upset both of them, she hunched in her seat, her wings curved around her body since that was the only way she could sit in a cab that wasn't designed for winged passengers. She didn't dare mention that the High Lord had wanted to rest or that she didn't think she could afford a dress from any shop he would choose to patronize. She stayed quiet to avoid having that chilling anger focused on her.

Besides, even though he'd initiated this extra shopping trip, the High Lord was a man, and based on her observations of men who had escorted their ladies to her mother's shop, his interest wouldn't last long and they'd be heading back to the hotel in no time, with or without a suitable dress.

Marian stretched out on the bed, trying not to whimper. Who would have thought any man would have that much knowledge or interest in women's clothing? And when that man was the High Lord of Hell…

They'd walked into a shop that catered to Blood from aristo families. Within minutes, merchants from the neighboring shops came running, and she was tossed into the middle of a storm that made the furniture shopping seem calm in comparison. The High Lord found a green dress that complemented her light-brown skin. While she was in the dressing room being carefully measured to have wing slits made in the dress, the cobbler displayed his selection of shoes, other merchants brought selections of skirts, trousers, shawls…anything that complemented the Eyrien coloring of brown skin, black hair, and gold eyes was presented to the High Lord for inspection. He selected, Jaenelle bullied her into trying things on, and two hours later, when even Jaenelle's energy began to flag and the merchants were looking dazed and exhausted, she had a wardrobe of the finest clothes she'd ever owned.

The door opened and Jaenelle walked into the room they were sharing. "Papa just wants to sleep for a while, but I'm going down to the dining room to get something to eat. What about you?"

What about her? She couldn't raise her head off the pillow. "I'm not hungry."

Jaenelle smiled. "All right. You get some rest."

"Why were you so angry about the clothes?"

Jaenelle came over to the bed and crouched down so Marian wouldn't have to look up at her. "When you were staying with Luthvian, did she take you to any of the shops in Doun?"

There was something under that question, but she was too tired to be cautious. "For some underwear. She gave me some clothes that didn't suit her anymore." And had implied that even those were too good for a lowly housekeeper.

Jaenelle nodded, a mix of sadness and anger in her eyes. "I asked Luthvian to take you to the shops so that you could buy new clothes, and since I know her well enough to know she'd complain about spending any of her income on anyone but herself, I gave her enough gold marks to purchase those clothes. The fact that she chose to do otherwise…" She sighed. "Everything has a price. She made her choice, and the rest of the family will make theirs."

"I don't want to cause trouble."

"You didn't." Jaenelle gave Marian's arm a sisterly pat. "Get some rest. We'll have a lovely dinner tonight, and tomorrow we'll go to Dharo."

Jaenelle was at the door before Marian managed to prop herself up on her elbows. "Dharo?"

Jaenelle grinned. "We still have to buy carpets, and there's no one in Kaeleer who makes finer carpets than the weavers of Dharo."

Marian stared at the door long after Jaenelle was gone. Dharo. Carpets. Another day of shopping.

She pressed her face into her pillow… and whimpered.

Snarling softly, Lucivar paced the flagstone courtyard in front of his eyrie. Where in the name of Hell was she? He'd told Jaenelle he needed two days. Two days. All right, fine. He understood…eventually… why Marian hadn't come back last night. Maybe they'd finished their… whatever…he couldn't remember what he'd suggested Jaenelle do as a way to keep Marian out of Ebon Rih…too late to come back last night. And he wouldn't expect them at sunrise, since Jaenelle wasn't someone you dared talk to until she'd had her first cup of coffee. But it was almost midday now, and his sister still hadn't returned his hearth witch.

He missed her. He hadn't noticed her absence too much while the men were working all around him, but at the end of the day, when he went into the eyrie alone…

She warmed the place, just by being there. When he stepped inside, he could feel the comfort of her presence. There were days when he thought she was really getting used to him, and they were two people who were interested in each other and moving toward living together instead of living in the same place. And there were other days when she withdrew from him for no reason, when the way she held herself made it clear that he was the Prince and she was the housekeeper.

He'd been careful. He kept a choke hold on his body's response to her so that he wouldn't touch her in a way that made her think he required sex from her. But he wanted an invitation to her bed, wanted to take her into his bed, just… wanted. Not knowing what he did that made her turn away from him put a dangerous edge of frustration on an already well-honed temper.

She needed time. He would give her time. She would be skittish until she really trusted that he wouldn't hurt her. So he would be patient.

He. Would. Be. Patient.

He glanced at the empty stairs leading down to the landing place and snarled.

Where was she?

A few moments later, he felt her presence at the landing place, along with Jaenelle and…

He glanced up at the sky. What was Saetan doing here at this time of day?

His anticipation of having her home again suddenly tangled with an attack of nerves. What if she hated what he'd done here in the past two days? What if she was disappointed?