Winterly (Dark Creatures Book 1), стр. 55
“Yes, demons,” he continued. “The incubi and succubi that prey on dreams.”
She felt the chill of ghostly fingers burrowing beneath her flesh—he had ventured far too close to the truth for her liking.
“You have lost your color, Miss Rose.”
“I did not sleep well, that is all.”
“I am sorry for it. You ought to sit down, have a little something to eat.”
“Perhaps later.” Cannibalism and demons had waged war on her appetite.
He guided her to the chair facing the one in which he had been reposing when she entered. “That is a very intriguing scent you’re wearing today, Miss Rose. A new…perfume, I believe.”
The sudden change of conversation left her momentarily befogged. “A gift,” she replied tersely, aiming a finger at the wall of cannibals. “I was told it would deter…nightmares.”
“An apotropaic?”
“Yes.” She folded her arms, alive to the fact that she must appear a superstitious naif.
“An ineffective safeguard, I shouldn’t wonder.”
She looked a question at him, her brow furrowed.
“Your restless night is proof of that, is it not?”
She lifted a shoulder, for the moment unwilling to embark on the subject of what—who—had truly disturbed her sleep. In the light of day all was as it should be and she was merely a guest in the house of a very handsome viscount. She was not ready yet to know his secrets.
Suddenly his face clouded with disdain and a moment later the library door was thrown open.
“Miss Rose,” said Mr. Black jovially, “good morning.” He glanced over his shoulder as Mr. Grimm stalked into the room. Victoria was right, that gentleman really never had learned to smile. Even the bow he made her was terse.
Emma could not help feeling as though she was intruding, despite Mr Black’s amiability. Grimm’s scowling defied her to stay. She stood directly and excused herself.
Lord Winterly rose gracefully from his chair. “Miss Rose, I imagine you sought the library out for a reason. May I save you the trouble of browsing and make a suggestion?”
“Please,” she answered, smiling gratefully.
His lips curled as he left her to retrieve a book from the shelf. He placed it in her hand, holding fast when she moved to take it from him. “I look forward to discussing it with you later.” Finally he released the book and she stepped back.
All too aware of their audience, Emma thanked him and left the men to their business. She nearly stumbled over her own feet as she stepped around the scowler (what had Victoria called him? A growler?). His eyes were fastened to the book she clasped and his lips were strangely animated with humor. So he could smile after all; it was frightening and she wished he never would again.
As soon as the library was behind her, she glanced at the front panel of the book and the title thereon. Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure. Good God! The man truly was a shocking beast.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Black Moon
Milli could scarcely believe that she’d been at Winterthurse an entire week. How swiftly the time had flown and if not for Emma’s imposing an occasional dark cloud upon Milli’s felicity, she’d have esteemed each day a perfect success.
Today had exceeded her every expectation, for Mr. Valko—Nicholas, as he was known in her private thoughts—had been most generous with his compliments and attention, making love to her at every opportunity. She could not remember a more wonderful day.
Nicholas had even refused a game of billiards with Mr. Black and Mr. Morris before dinner and had, instead, offered to take the sisters on a tour of the castle. They had even explored the chapel crypt!
Milli would have been better pleased if Emma had declined and left her alone with Nicholas, but it seemed her sister was determined to play chaperone tonight. Milli supposed it was all for the best, for she was too busy admiring her beau’s athletic physique to attend the history lessons or to ask any particularly pertinent questions; she left that duty to her highbrow sister. So long as Milli answered with the occasional, “How fascinating,” her companions appeared satisfied.
They were in the south wing, exploring the old armory, and Milli was pretending to examine a curious set of black swords and daggers of various lengths, some straight and others curled most viciously. She had positioned herself so that Nicholas might best admire her figure from his vantage point beside Emma. The two of them were poring over some old military map on the wall.
“Ah,” said Nicholas, coming to stand beside her, “I thought those might draw your notice.”
Milli arched her neck as prettily as she could and affected a scholarly nod of interest. “I was struck at once by their strangeness,” she said.
Emma joined them, coming to stand on Milli’s other side. “A very peculiar set of weapons, I daresay. I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“Nor I,” Milli agreed, stifling a yawn.
“No, you wouldn’t have, I shouldn’t wonder. The Horeb blades have a very interesting legend attached to them.”
“Oh, I do enjoy a good legend!” Milli’s interest was finally piqued.
“It is said that these holy blades were all that stood between the immortality and omnipotence enjoyed by the old gods—or titans, I suppose they were.”
Milli’s brow lowered thoughtfully. “Then why not destroy them?”
“Perhaps,” said Nicholas,” they possess some unimaginable, illimitable power and cannot be destroyed.” He then smiled and glanced down at her, the action promptly warming her cheeks. “But I like to believe that these holy blades were revered by those gods rather than despised, left intact to remind them that, though they esteem themselves infinite and powerful, there exists in the world such things yet more infinite and more powerful still.”
“What is more powerful than a god?”
Nicholas searched Milli’s face, his features gentling. “Is not love?”
“Or another god,” said Emma, obtruding. “God himself, in fact.”
Milli was sorely tempted to stamp her heel down on Emma’s foot.