Entwined by Kristen Callihan Page B

Unease pricked at his spine, intensifying the queasy feeling that had been boiling away within his gut for hours. Days really.
    He cleared his throat yet again and tugged at his collar. “Lu—”
    “Everything going well with your project?” she cut in.
    “Yes. It’s fine. Lu—”
    “I must say I’ve had enough of this rain.” She placed a linen across her lap. “I explored the house out of sheer boredom.”
    “I’m certain the rains will ease soon. Lu—”
    “You do have the most interesting artifacts lying about Evernight Hall.”
    “We do.” Eamon braced his forearms upon the table. Sweat pebbled his brow and made his linen shirt stick heavily to his chest. His heart beat in his throat. If he didn’t say it now… “The thing is, Lu—”
    “And so many books.” She laughed, high and trilling. “I must say—”
    “I wrote the bloody letters!”
    The words rang out between them. Eamon deflated in his chair. “It was me, not Aidan.”
    She merely stared at him without expression.
    The door to the room opened, making Eamon flinch, but he said nothing as the servants poured in, one after the other, carrying dish after dish hidden beneath silver domes. So many that he began to frown. What the devil? As if performing a dance, the servants placed the dishes upon the table and, with perfect timing, lifted the domes as one.
    The scent of roasting meats, fish, and fowl filled the air. Crabs, three kinds of pigeon, sliced fish, hare, a jug of honey, a bulb of roasted fennel… Eamon’s head grew light, a strange buzzing sounding in his ears.
    Dimly he heard Lu’s voice. “I drew the line at rotted shark’s head. It sounds revolting. Though, really, where would one procure that on such short notice?”
    The buzzing grew louder, Eamon’s fingers growing cold as ice. Somehow, he made his mouth move. “My word challenge.”
    Lopado-temacho-selacho-galeo-kranio-leipsano-drim-hypo-trimmato-silphio-parao-melito-katakechy-meno-kichl-epi-kossypho-phatto-perister-alektryon-opte-kephallio-kigklo-peleio-lagoio-siraio-baphe-tragano-pterygon. He’d been so cocky.
    Lu’s dark eyes narrowed, and small flags of color pinked her cheeks. “An obscure, ancient Greek word for sixteen dishes? Really, Eamon, that was low of you. Though I will admit, quite inspired.”
    Despite the panic and terror, his lip twitched. “Yes, well.” He took a great breath. “You knew.”
    She sat so very calm and composed, her expression giving nothing away. “Only just today.”
    One domed platter sat at her side. She lifted the cover. Her letters to him, tied up with twine, lay upon the plate. Mocking him. She’d done a fine job of searching his room, that was certain.
    Next to the bundle was another stack of letters wrapped in a violet silk ribbon. His letters to her.
    “It occurred to me,” she said lightly, “that the man I fell in love with, the man in these letters”—her voice grew sharp as she pointed at the evidence—“could not possibly be the Aidan I met last week. Oh, no.” She laughed shortly. “No. What became even more glaringly obvious was that the man I was falling in love with this week was exactly like the man in my letters. My E .”
    At this, she threw her hands up in exasperation. “ ‘Would you be so kind as to humor your affianced and refer to me as E?’ And fool me thought you were referring to Evernight. How could I have been so bloody blind?”
    Eamon tried to formulate a reply but his mind was stuck on one particular. “You’re falling in love with me?”
    Her glare was a ferocious thing, and he might have recoiled, but his heart was growing bigger and bigger within his chest. He feared it might soon burst free.
    “Have care, Eamon Hollis Evernight. I am in a temper, if you hadn’t noticed.”
    He ran his fingers along the back of his neck and tried to look contrite. He failed. But then he caught her gaze. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. That was enough to bring him back. He moved to go