Page 26 of Bluebeard’s Key

“I’m all good with that,” he answered, improvising as he went. “I have a, um, more personal matter to discuss.”

Thierry completely misunderstood, perhaps with a twist of mischief, suggesting, “There is an excellent doctor in Riverford. I’ll be happy to summon him if…”

Tom waved his hand and said, “Nothing like that. Sorry. This is coming out wrong. I’ve been learning about the local flora with Hoyle and trying my hand at extracting scents. That was my thesis work, after all, and I’ve been missing it. But that’s not the point. I found this nice local thyme.”

“Yes, I know it well.”

“Great. So, I extracted essential oils from it. It was a lot of fun. I haven’t done that in years.”

He was blathering, but Thierry brought him back on track, coaxing, “And…?”

“Sorry. You know how I am when I start talking about chemistry. So anyway, I saw that the weather has been dry lately.”

An impatient tightening of the lip. “Yes, and…?”

“Sorry again. I get distracted so easily. I made some scented oil. It’s good for beards, keeps them soft and conditioned. I was wondering if you’d like some.”

Thierry looked mystified, since he was, and probably always had been, impeccably clean-shaven.

Tom added, breathless, “For the Mage. I think he might like it, but I don’t know how to approach him about it. He’s been so grouchy lately. Maybe from you…”

Thierry raised his eyebrows, and the slightest smile touched his lips. It was clear he was trying to remain his dispassionate self, but not quite succeeding.

“I’ll be happy to help.”

“Oh good! I think he’ll like it.” Tom extracted the bottle from his pocket and handed it over, and Thierry instantly slipped it into his own pocket. “It’s been such a pleasure working with some of the local plants. That’s how I got started, you know, back home.”

“I will make certain that he gets it,” Thierry said. “Is there anything else that you require?”

CHAPTER 19

Bluebeard lounged in his bed, sprawled out naked on the sheets and enjoying the warm summer breeze wafting through the window, allowing his current wife to fuss over him.

She took his beard in both hands, stroking it out to full length. Her attention to his beard mystified him, but he liked it. It had always been a wedge separating him from his previous wives, something they tolerated in return for their (tragically temporary) position as lady of the house. By contrast, this one exulted in his beard, gripping it tightly when they kissed and demanding its whiskery caress in her most private places. He didn’t quite know how this made him feel. He’d always been proud of his beard. The color was rich and royal, a happy consequence of his centuries of exposure to alchemical tinctures and vapors, and it set him apart, rather, set him above all others. In negotiations, his blue beard dared his opponents to comment, and they rarely did. By the mere presence of his uniqueness, he entered any competition at an advantage.

“Mmm,” she sighed, dipping close to rub her face through the soft strands. He stifled the desire to comb it all back in place, letting her have her fun. “You smell so good. So masculine.”

He had his steward to thank for that. Strangely, Thierry was the only other person who appreciated the unique advantages of his beard. Thierry and Thomas had concocted a restorative beard oil, designed to counteract the harsh summer sunlight. He’d been talking about his miserable clients as Thierry helped him dress for his meetings in the capital, when his steward produced the crystal bottle from his pocket and said, “This might help tip the power balance in your favor.” He was skeptical at first, but damned if it didn’t work. Thierry had requested, “Allow me,” and proceeded to stroke the faintly fragrant oil through his beard with his expert fingers, and sure enough, it brought out the color beautifully, like a shining sapphire, and completely threw senators and CEOs off their game the entire day.

Remarkably, it was having exactly the opposite effect with Beatrice. He could see the desire kindling in her eyes as she said, “Your beard is so shiny today, and lustrous.”

Thierry had suggested the oil would also have this effect. The scent was decidedly spicy with the scent of wood thyme, with no hint of sweetness. Like himself, it was wild and natural, and was bound to attract the fairer sex with promises of vigor and domination.

“Are you using something on it?”

“Something Thierry found.”

“It’s doing wonders,” she said, returning to stroking his beard. “Let me see it. Where have you been hiding it?”

He extracted himself from her hands and strutted over to the dresser, retrieving the small blue bottle and tossing it on the bed. She unscrewed the lid and made a great show of sampling the scent, saying, “Lovely. Come here, darling. You’re looking tense. Let me rub some of this on those strong shoulders.”

She arrayed the pillows and guided him down onto his stomach. He felt the dribble of cold drops on his shoulders and back, delicious in the warm summer air. Then he felt her long fingers, soft but strong and supple, kneading out the knots. He let himself relax, ceding control to her for this short time, letting her hands drive away the worries of his greedy clients and erring apprentices. Thoughts of Zayan banging away in the dungeon, still barely competent, prickled through the slide of her fingers, but he let her smooth the disapproval away.

“So tense,” she said. “Is something worrying you?”

“No. Nothing. Maybe my work with Zayan.”

“Oh?” she said, moving to his triceps, spreading on more oil and taking the thick muscles in hand. The scent was entrancing, reminding him of his walks up to the promontory. Those walks, so reminiscent of the many walks he took with Annabella, were the only times he could truly relax, gifting himself a few moments to let the disappointments of the world go.