My heart does a crazy skip and the room tilts. I’m not sure if I will ever get used to being seen like this. I like it. At least, I think I do. But it is still overwhelming.
“Th…thanks,” I stutter pathetically. “I know with the daisies and everything, it’s a summer dress, but I don’t have much of a collection.”
“Nonsense!” she exclaims. “Wear what you like, when you like!”
I love that philosophy. Hopefully, one day I will be brave enough to embrace it fully.
“And I’m sure Drew would be happy to take you shopping,” she adds.
I blink at her. She calls my husband, Drew? Are they lovers?
Her brows scrunch. Damn it, I thought I was keeping my face perfectly blank, but something of my shocked suspicion must be slipping through.
“Oh, while I think of it,” she says. “A parcel came for you. I had George pop it in your sitting room.”
“Thank you,” I reply automatically. “I’ll go see what it is and give you your office back.”
Heart pounding, I make my escape. This unexpected parcel has pushed all thoughts of my husband carrying on with his housekeeper out of my mind. For now. Which is probably absurd. It is only a parcel.
My anxiety is probably left over from when I used to have clothes delivered to me. That was always extremely fraught. It was only luck that nobody ever chose to look in them.
But I haven’t ordered anything since living here. And if I had, it’s no longer a secret. There is no need for me to be feeling this impending sense of doom.
An errant fleeting thought flits through me. Katy’s suggestion that Felford might take me clothes shopping is ridiculous. As is my flickering joy at the idea. It is never going to happen. So there is no point in thinking about it.
I reach my rooms and push the door open. The curtains are drawn and the winter light is too feeble to sneak around them. It’s gloomy and dark in here. Painted in shadows. The parcel is lurking on my writing desk. Simple brown cardboard, yet nothing has ever looked so ominous.
I approach it uneasily. The words ‘Count Consort Felford, Lucien Colville’ are scrawled on the address label. A proud smile stretches my lips. I haven’t been married long, so I haven’t seen my new name very many times. I like the look of it.
Then my world falls as I recognize my father’s handwriting. Now I know this parcel is nothing good.
With shaking hands, I open the box. I feel for all the world like Pandora, except unlike her, I have no choice at all. This must be done. At least that alleviates my guilt a little.
The first thing that greets me as I open the cardboard flaps, is shredded brown paper. Packaging. There is no note. Not that I was expecting one.
I take a deep breath and plunge my hand in. My fingers brush against cold metal almost immediately. As if the object rose up to seek my touch. I pull it out. Bits of coiled packaging scatter everywhere.
In my hand is a dagger. A six-inch blade. A metal that gleams like silver. Gorgeous carvings of ivy and oak leaves twist along it. It is very clearly of fey origin. If the style didn’t tell me that, the immense magic coiled within it would.
My gaze falls on a set of runes carved into the hilt. Shielding. The dagger’s power can only be sensed once it is being held. That is definitely going to make it easier to hide.
Gingerly, I place it back in the box. For now. I’ll find somewhere better in a moment.
A wave of disorientation washes over me as the endless power winks out of my ability to perceive it.
Oh my.
I don’t know what to think. I feel numb. I think my mind has shut down. Which is probably for the best. I don’t want to deal with this. I’d been doing an excellent job of not thinking about this at all. All my focus had been on trying to get my marriage stable.
I had assumed I’d get my honeymoon at least. Though why I thought that, I have no idea. Maybe some stupid, tragic part of me still held on to a glimmer of hope that they cared about me.
Clearly they don’t.
All they care about is that I’m now tapped. My magic has been unleashed. My powers are unbound. I can now do their bidding and it seems they see no reason to delay.
It’s time for me to perform my sacred task.
The only thing is, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be as bad at this as I am at being a vessel.
Heavens help us.
Chapter seventeen
Drew
Luci is holding my hand so tightly it is as if he thinks I’m the only thing keeping him afloat. We are only in a shopping mall, not even a particularly big or busy one. I’m not going to say anything about him nearly cutting off my circulation. I like the feel of his hand in mine far too much. I also like the neediness of his hold, because apparently I’m a sick and twisted bastard.
The possessiveness I get to display by holding his hand is a far more acceptable pleasure, and one I am also greatly enjoying. It’s clear Luci has absolutely no idea how utterly gorgeous he is. All the jealous looks being flashed my way, are going completely over his head.
He has no idea that people are looking at him and wanting him. None at all. It is so endearing.
He is dressed quite plainly today. Jeans, ankle boots and a cream-colored roll neck jumper. I’m assuming these are items from his conventional wardrobe. And it is fair enough that he is not brave enough yet to go out in a dress or a skirt. But I can’t wait until he is.
Imagine the attention he would get then? Being by his side would mean that I’d definitely get to puff up my chest and gloat. I’ll be fighting them off.
“Shall we try that shop?” I suggest as I gesture towards one.
“If you are sure there is time, my lord…” his beautiful green eyes flash up at me in alarm. “I mean…Drew.” His grip on my hand tightens even more.
