Page 22 of Consort's Glory
Margot opened her mouth to answer in the affirmative, but the words stuck in her throat. Did it bother her?
It was weird, sure, but something in her relaxed at the sight of him there. His presence was huge, overwhelming, but it also felt reassuring, like nothing could get to her if he kept his post.
Which was absurd, obviously, but instinct couldn’t be reasoned with.
“No,” she finally answered, perplexed. “I don’t think it does.”
Theodore’s smile was slow, his eyes heavy-lidded in a way that made her bare toes curl against the hardwood floor. Oh, she thought, watching a lock of oil-slick hair fall into his eyes. Oh, he’s…
Stripped of his suit jacket, casually posed on the floor, his hair a mess and his gaze almost drowsy, Theodore Solbourne wasn’t just handsome. He was disarming.
“Are you going to invite me in?”
Margot flushed. “No.”
Theodore let out a long breath as he adjusted his position against the wall. “Worth a shot.” His smile softened. Gesturing to the door, he told her, “Go back to sleep, darling. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I thought you said I was safer here than anywhere else in the UTA.”
His fingers curled tighter around one another. “You are, but I thought that after everything you might not feel that way tonight. So I’m keeping watch.”
Margot felt the air wheeze out of her lungs. “To… make me feel better?”
“Yes.” Theodore looked away. She thought his throat might have bobbed under the high, starched collar of his shirt. “It’s important that you feel safe.”
She was too tired, too confused to see past any machinations. Was this a game? An elvish cultural practice she had no way of knowing? Was it just him? Margot couldn’t make heads or tails of it on her own, so she didn’t bother withholding her questions. “Why? Why does it matter? You don’t even know me.”
Theodore shook his head. “Sleep, Margot. You’re safe. I promise.” As if he couldn’t stop himself, one hand slid away from the other to dart towards her. Without looking, he gave her calf a gentle squeeze through her robe. “Rest.”
Unsettled by the sight of him, by his touch, by his baffling concern for her comfort, Margot didn’t dare argue anymore. Nodding mutely, she shuffled back into the suite and shut the door.
Abandoning her tea, Margot dimmed the lights, fetched a blanket from her bed, and curled up against the door. Just in case, she thought. Just in case.
* * *
“I can’t sleep knowing you’re out here.”
Theodore looked up from where he was very deliberately focusing on a nearly invisible seam in his gloves. He took in her rumpled state, the comforter hugged tight around her shoulders, and her loose, waist-length hair with a small appreciative sigh. Even bruised and annoyed, Margot Goode was just… perfect.
Even so, Theodore didn’t like the idea of robbing her of rest. The wan set of her cheeks and the livid bruising around her hairline were vivid reminders that his consort needed coddling. And gods, he wanted to coddle her.
Flattening his palms against the floor, he began to push himself up. “Do you want me to—”
“Sovereign, I…” Margot looked away from him, her gaze briefly fixing on one of his sister’s behemoth paintings on the opposite wall. With the quick, nimble fingers of one hand, she smoothed her hair back behind her round ears. Her eyes darted back to meet his. “Come in for tea.”
Theodore was halfway up when he froze, leaving him hunched against the wall as he stared up at her with open surprise. “What?”
“Come in for tea,” she repeated, firmer. “I don’t feel good about you sitting out here all night to make me feel better. Maybe if we… if we just talked a little, I’d feel more comfortable, and you and I could finally get some sleep.”
He straightened to his full height. “You inviting me to bed, darling?”
Margot cast him a surprisingly withering look. People didn’t often look at him like that. Very few could get away with it. His consort, though… She could look at him any way that pleased her.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
Theodore smoothed a hand down the front of his button down and watched, pulse thundering, as Margot’s eyes tracked the movement. Maybe not so far from what you meant, then.
“Tea,” he said. “Just tea.”
