Madelaine: 308Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRqMHnVs17J
I walked down the stairs towards the dining room, moving my hips in time with my movements. I was wearing a deep red velvet dress that snaked around my body and highlighted my collarbones. It was more daring than most of my dresses, however it was impulsive and showed off my figure as much as our fashion allowed before a priestess of priority came to take me to her temple. Small diamond stars were sewn into the dipping collar of the dress, matching the raindrop earrings that twinkled in my ears.
I had slipped past the infirmary to see Hamish, finding him slumped over in the bed. The pillow was too high, so I carefully rearranged it into a more comfortable position. Sleepily he slipped under the covers under my hands, wincing at his wounds. This was not the man who had snapped at me in the garden, this was a man who had braved many wounds to come back to me. A chair was drawn to his side as though someone had sat there moments earlier. I sighed and ran my hand across his forehead, pulling myself out of the room and down the stairs. Hamish was going to be okay. Sarah had already sworn to watch over him and make sure he would recover.
“Lady Madelaine,” a servant said nervously, breathing hard through his nose, “if you would take a seat, we would be honoured to serve you. The master will be here soon.”
I smiled gently at the man and watched him melt under my gaze, leading me around to a seat at the end of the vast dining table. He pulled out the chair and I carefully sat in it, looking up when I felt hands on my bare shoulders. Tomas – when did I stop thinking of him as Lord Tomas? – smiled down at me, moving the seat closer to the table.
“Thankyou.”
His fingers grazed my collarbone as he left my chair to sit on my right side, “my pleasure.”
Tension flashed through the room, both remembering the moments within his study. Tomas tapped his wine glass absentmindedly and a woman appeared to fill it. The red liquid reminded me of Hamish’s wounds, but I smiled and nodded for her to fill mine.
He gazed at me over his wineglass, as though he was admiring a painting. “Must you always be exquisite Madelaine?” He asked me quietly, “I am a man gazing at a masterpiece, struck to the soul. I own no shield to protect me from you.”
I smiled at him, “pretty words do not show me the man within. Only actions do that.” He rearranged his cutlery, his blue eyes never leaving my face. Left-handed.
First course appeared. I spooned the soup into my mouth, taking small sips. We ate in silence. The tension swooped and dived within the room, covering the walls. Second course came and went. Servants silently crept around the room with food, murmuring behind their hands.
“You’re right.” He finally said, lifting a piece of beef to his lips. “Actions.”
He clapped his hands. The sound seemed louder after the soundless meal, as though he was punching through the rock walls of the castle.
A servant ran to his call, bending down to listen to his master’s order. Tomas fit his mouth against the man’s ear, whispering. The servant nodded several times and scurried from the room. I tilted my head in question and he grinned like a little boy, making me laugh.
He rose from the table, turning to me, and offering a hand. Tomas led me through the castle back to the hall. Doors opened and closed behind us, revealing a small band gently playing. The sound of the violin soared around the room, resting on my shoulders. He pressed a hand to my hip, the other gently gripped my hand and he moved us around the enormous room.
“You want to know what is in the letter,” Tomas said against my ear, “don’t you.”
“Why do you say that?” I murmured back, pressing myself against him.
“This dress isn’t the height of propriety Madelaine,” he smirked, eyes dancing over the fabric.
“Are you saying you don’t like it?” I asked mischievously. I looked up at his silence and found him staring at me, unabashedly taking me in.
“On the contrary,” he murmured, “however, you make me an indecent man. It is better to give you what you want, than see what card you will play next.”
I leaned in, pressing my lips to his ear, “I was always very good at cards.” I felt him shiver against me, leading me around the empty room.
“Cold Lord Tomas?” I asked innocently.
He growled deep in his throat and I laughed, meeting his wiry smile. He was a jungle cat dressed as a man.
“Come with me,” he said huskily, pulling me out of the hall, “read the damned letter before I combust.”
I scooped up my dress and allowed him to pull me towards the high seat at the end of the hall.
“The room will not disappear on us Tomas.” I said evenly, gently pulling back his surging pace. “Peace.”
He turned to look at me, raising his eyebrows.
“Heavy dress, little legs.” I explained.
He laughed then, pulling my hand so I tiptoed closer to him. In one smooth movement he bent to a half bow, slipped a hand under me, and lifted me up into his arms. Shock jolted through me like a lightning strike, gripping the ends of the dress to stop the instinct of inserting a dress dagger into his neck artery.
I looked up to see him staring at me, his eyes carefully taking me in. As he stared he walked us through the door into his study, putting me down but keeping one arm firmly around my waist. With the other he closed the door behind us, letting me go to push me onto the closed door. Gently gripping my wrist, he pulled out a thin dagger no thicker than a coin from its’ place along the veins of my wrist.
“Hmmm,” he murmured, turning the metal over in his fingers, “who would have thought.”
“How did you know that was there?” I asked him, eyeing him through my eyelashes.
“There was a moment’s stiffness when I picked you up and you looked at your wrist. Most men would not have noticed, but I have been watching you very carefully. What else are you hiding? You demand honesty, yet you hold secrets far deeper than any of mine.”
“I would invite you to look yourself, but I doubt you’d live very long.”
He watched me, running a finger down my cheek, “who are you?”
“Your betrothed.”
“Will you murder me in my sleep?”
I gave him a long, slow look, “Tomas, I have no intention of killing you. I am Lady Madelaine Ann Elwood, only daughter of Lord Adriel and Lady Tamara Elwood.” I watched his eyes, “I am no imposter, I am a lady deserving of rank and title. I have not lied to you.”
I left the unspoken sentence float in the air like a bad smell, but you have.
He leaned back, hurt flashing in his eyes, “how can I trust a woman with knives in her clothes?”
I threw back my head and laughed, resting my head on the door. Slowly my laughter turned to chuckles, pressing a hand to my mouth.
“A man, a sword strapped to his waist and a dagger in his boot asks me why I carry weapons.”
He frowned, “you are a woman.”
“I suggest you banish your biases, there are too many abnormalities in the world.”
“So,” he purred, pressing his hands into the door either side of my head, “you suggest I should trust no one?”
I ran a hand along his chest, tugging the fabric of his embroidered tunic, “if something can go wrong it probably will, be flexible. And if possible, always tell the truth.”
“Wise words from one so young.”
I smiled then, looking up into those exquisite eyes, “they aren’t mine.” I did not look away, but pulled him closer to me, forcing him to bend his elbows. In one smooth motion I took the letter slipped into the back of his belt and twisted myself out of his trap, curling myself into his favourite armchair.
He blinked and came over to me, crossing his arms. But his body language spoke of amusement rather than anger. His face had softened, leaving behind a man besotted. I knew I had won, the feeling burying itself deep into my confidence.
Looking down, he raised an eyebrow at my huddled form, “Madelaine your name may be, but a priceless rose with thorns you are.”
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