Glory said. “Elyse is the worst. She’s more powerful than Frona ever was , but she’s bitter.” She touched his face indulgently, as if he couldn’t be expected to understand such things—which was a relief. “It doesn’t matter.”
She was as perfect as porcelain. He pressed her hand to his cheek, expecting it to feel cold to the touch, her fingers hard like fine china. But she was warm. Soft. He kissed her palm. “I’ve thought of you every day since Mischief Night. Why haven’t you come to see me at Faeview?”
“King Idris has forbidden it,” she said.
“A fairy king,” he said. “Imagine that.” That Dandelion fairy had chanted something about becoming king. “Fairy politics and intrigue too.”
“Do not mock us, Lord Tintagos.” She withdrew her hand, and the green of her eyes darkened. A thrill of fear stabbed his heart. She was so darling he wanted to kiss her pouty lips, but he had sense enough to tread carefully.
“Morning Glory,” he changed the subject. “Can you tell me what this means?” He repeated Dandelion’s last words:
“If this cup does shatter or crack,
Bausiney’s line will meet its lack.”
“Prince Dandelion was angry when he laid that curse,” Morning Glory said.
“Curse?” Uh-oh. That couldn’t be good.
“The cup is sacred to the Dumnos fae. You never should have gained its possession, but you did. Dandelion cursed your line, the house of Bausiney, should the cup ever come to harm while in your care.”
“ Bausiney’s line will meet its lack . You mean there will be no sons, no heirs?”
“Exactly.”
“What if someone else, not a Bausiney, shatters or cracks it?”
“I’m sure you’re safe.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring, Morning Glory.”
“As long as you keep the cup safe, you will be safe .” She looked at him sideways. “Or you could give it back, but I doubt you have the strength.”
Give it back! The very thought was repellant. Impossible. She might as well ask him to stop breathing. She laughed at his consternation, and he felt his face go hot.
“I’m a bounder, I know, but I…” He could never let the beautiful object go.
“Don’t trouble yourself. Prince Dandelion will retrieve the cup, no matter how long it takes. You’ll be all right,” she said. “I heard you tell the others it’s locked up in a glass case with a Dumnos steel frame. Keep it there. Don’t let anyone touch it.”
“But won’t the fae break in and take it?”
“Faeview is a fortress against us.”
“But you danced on the roof.”
“On the roof, yes. But all the mansion’s openings are lined with cold iron. No fairy can enter.”
“ Cold iron?”
“Steel made with iron from outside Dumnos. We call it cold iron.”
“Imagine that.” How puffed up Nanny would be to learn her remedies against fairies were effective.
“Cold iron is the only thing that can kill a fairy, if you know how to use it.” Her hand flew to her heart protectively. So beautiful, even when she pouted. Especially when she pouted.
He said, “I’d rather not talk about fairy politics.”
“Good.” She brightened and kissed him, and the world slipped away. He tingled at every place she touched. He couldn’t stop smiling, even as his urgency for her kept building. He had to have her—and oh, the wonder and the joy of it, she wanted him. She loosened his cravat and tossed it aside, kissing his neck and throat and ears. Somehow she removed his waistcoat, his shirt—everything.
She was everywhere with her fingers, her lips, her tongue. His legs, his belly, the back of his neck. Everything was hers to taste and kiss and caress. This was what it was like to be wanted by a woman. Worshipped. Adored. Desired. She gave him everything, and she took from him until he had nothing left.
“I have a present for you, Donall.”
He was sitting on the marble floor, leaning against the pillar, fully dressed, his cravat neatly arranged in a fantastic
She was as perfect as porcelain. He pressed her hand to his cheek, expecting it to feel cold to the touch, her fingers hard like fine china. But she was warm. Soft. He kissed her palm. “I’ve thought of you every day since Mischief Night. Why haven’t you come to see me at Faeview?”
“King Idris has forbidden it,” she said.
“A fairy king,” he said. “Imagine that.” That Dandelion fairy had chanted something about becoming king. “Fairy politics and intrigue too.”
“Do not mock us, Lord Tintagos.” She withdrew her hand, and the green of her eyes darkened. A thrill of fear stabbed his heart. She was so darling he wanted to kiss her pouty lips, but he had sense enough to tread carefully.
“Morning Glory,” he changed the subject. “Can you tell me what this means?” He repeated Dandelion’s last words:
“If this cup does shatter or crack,
Bausiney’s line will meet its lack.”
“Prince Dandelion was angry when he laid that curse,” Morning Glory said.
“Curse?” Uh-oh. That couldn’t be good.
“The cup is sacred to the Dumnos fae. You never should have gained its possession, but you did. Dandelion cursed your line, the house of Bausiney, should the cup ever come to harm while in your care.”
“ Bausiney’s line will meet its lack . You mean there will be no sons, no heirs?”
“Exactly.”
“What if someone else, not a Bausiney, shatters or cracks it?”
“I’m sure you’re safe.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring, Morning Glory.”
“As long as you keep the cup safe, you will be safe .” She looked at him sideways. “Or you could give it back, but I doubt you have the strength.”
Give it back! The very thought was repellant. Impossible. She might as well ask him to stop breathing. She laughed at his consternation, and he felt his face go hot.
“I’m a bounder, I know, but I…” He could never let the beautiful object go.
“Don’t trouble yourself. Prince Dandelion will retrieve the cup, no matter how long it takes. You’ll be all right,” she said. “I heard you tell the others it’s locked up in a glass case with a Dumnos steel frame. Keep it there. Don’t let anyone touch it.”
“But won’t the fae break in and take it?”
“Faeview is a fortress against us.”
“But you danced on the roof.”
“On the roof, yes. But all the mansion’s openings are lined with cold iron. No fairy can enter.”
“ Cold iron?”
“Steel made with iron from outside Dumnos. We call it cold iron.”
“Imagine that.” How puffed up Nanny would be to learn her remedies against fairies were effective.
“Cold iron is the only thing that can kill a fairy, if you know how to use it.” Her hand flew to her heart protectively. So beautiful, even when she pouted. Especially when she pouted.
He said, “I’d rather not talk about fairy politics.”
“Good.” She brightened and kissed him, and the world slipped away. He tingled at every place she touched. He couldn’t stop smiling, even as his urgency for her kept building. He had to have her—and oh, the wonder and the joy of it, she wanted him. She loosened his cravat and tossed it aside, kissing his neck and throat and ears. Somehow she removed his waistcoat, his shirt—everything.
She was everywhere with her fingers, her lips, her tongue. His legs, his belly, the back of his neck. Everything was hers to taste and kiss and caress. This was what it was like to be wanted by a woman. Worshipped. Adored. Desired. She gave him everything, and she took from him until he had nothing left.
“I have a present for you, Donall.”
He was sitting on the marble floor, leaning against the pillar, fully dressed, his cravat neatly arranged in a fantastic
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