Page 182 of Immortal Rose

“I’m going to gather what we’ll need tonight,” I told him. “And then we’re ending this.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

We rode to Summerland Palace in determined silence, lost to our own thoughts as the dark city unfolded around us. Without the light of the moon, there was a heavy, ominous feeling to the cool air.

Hugh held my hand tightly between his own, his gaze fixed on the window, his thoughts pouring through him so violently I could have sworn I caught a reflection of their furor in the shadowed glass.

I would be certain for the both of us, then. “It will work.”

He turned to me slowly, forcing himself to relax—for my benefit, I knew.

“Indeed.” Hugh inclined his face toward mine. “But . . . perhaps a kiss for luck might be in order?”

The cheeky bastard stole it before I could reply. And another hot, lingering kiss at the corner of my lips for good measure. And a third that left me breathless, because everyone knew it was Fortuna’s number. A fourth, because he wanted to drag me across his lap and hold me there for a deeper, devouring kiss.

“May I have the honor of your first dance?” he asked, a bit mischievously.

“You ask as though you’ll have competition,” I said, still a bit breathless. And as if that wasn’t what we’d been doing all along. Every day with him had been its own surreal dance.

His thumb stroked my cheek. “I won’t, but only because I’d break the knee of any man bold enough to try.” His tone turned cajoling. “One dance?”

I flushed. “I don’t . . .” God, it was mortifying to realize, let alone admit. “I don’t actually know how.”

“A problem easily remedied. You’ll only need to follow me,” he said. “Just this once.”

He kissed me again before I could protest.

I was dazed and aching for him by the time the coach arrived at the main gates of Summerland Palace, joining the long line of stately carriages cutting through the forecourt, rounding up to the porte cochere. Torches blazed between the palace’s many columns, bathing the dark interior of the coach in golden, primordial light.

His stiff cock pressed against my hip as he buried his face in my neck, content to merely hold me. I took in his essence, unsurprised to find the notes of unease had brightened to the citrus bite of confidence. My breath caught as one of his fingers teased along the edge of my bodice, toying with the small rosettes there.

“Will you come to me tonight?” I whispered in his ear.

He lifted his head slowly, his eyes searching. I felt unbearably tender toward him then, seeing that uncertainty. “Is that what you truly desire?”

I wished then that I had his eloquence, but the only poetry that dwelled in my heart was perfume. I nodded and kissed him one last time, for six was twice the luck of three. With a noise of reluctance, he allowed me to slip back into my seat beside him. Taking fastidious care, we straightened each other’s clothing and hair. There was color in Hugh’s face now, for which I was grateful.

The coach rocked as it came to a stop and both Longmount brothers leapt down from their seats at the back. Willie gave us a quick, nervous smile as he opened the door and set down the steps.

Hugh climbed out, turning back for me, his hand seeking mine. “Shall we?”

“Yes . . . but there’s something I need to tell you,” I murmured.

His expression fell for only a moment before he caught it. Steadying me as I negotiated with my dress down the steps, he sent me another look of concern. I leaned in closer to him, forcing him to stoop slightly.

“A nib is merely a lesser nob,” I whispered. “And you, my lord, are a nob.”

He swallowed a laugh with a cough, shaking his head.

I was dimly aware of a faint gasp of surprise from one of the sparkling women who had emerged from the carriage just ahead of us. It may as well have been a clarion call. Startled and reproachful gazes pierced me from every direction, flying like arrows. Leathery shock and the garlic of disgust turned the otherwise clean night air fetid.

“What gives you the nerve, I wonder?” a lord wearing a wreath of laurel sneered as he and his wife passed us.

“The same thing that gave me the good sense not to wear that silly flower crown, I suspect,” Hugh answered good-naturedly. “Enjoy your evening, Landsdowne. I certainly will.”

Taking Hugh’s arm, I set my shoulders back, swallowing to ease some of the dryness of my mouth. He waited for my nod before leading us to join the tittering Patricians bottlenecked at the palace doors. The spangles and gemstones made the lot of them sparkle like fairies in the torchlights, giving the moment a dreamlike feel.

But the whispers followed. Now and then I caught one like a wasp between my palms, each stinging more viciously than the last. Poison. Baseborn. Witch. Arriviste. Rosebourne.