Chapter 32 Nesrina closes a door.
thirty-two
Nesrina closes a door.
They were finally alone after dinner, just her, and the duke who—who— Nesrina glared at Kas, unable to even think a complete sentence as she focused on the collar of his shirt. A new style, she realized. Collarless. Different from the wings she was used to seeing him wear.
New styles. That’s what got them into this idiotic predicament in the first place.
Why had he insisted on buying her a bloody wardrobe?
She struggled to work through what was bothering her so much about the entire ordeal.
Coherent thought was made difficult by her racing heart, rising rage, and the deliciously overwhelming scent of autumn that seemed to cling to every fiber of his being.
His cozy aroma made her feel wrapped in a hug, in spite of the heat of summer, in spite of her anger.
Why did he lie? The question tugged Nes back to the present and away from that dangerous place where all she wanted to do was throw her arms around him and pull his face down to her.
Such a lavish gift . . . for what? Because she was too drab in her attire befitting a tutor?
Too embarrassing? Because he was attracted to her, but not her status?
Friends certainly didn’t gift wardrobes and keep it a bloody secret!
Not to mention, they’d been nowhere near friendly when the clothing turned up in her chamber.
Thoughts whirled through Nes’s mind, threatening to bowl her over as she stood with her back to the door of the stupid closet she’d forced him into.
She’d assumed it was a salon or something; somewhere that she could put distance between them, sit in a chair to gather herself, stand on a chair to unleash. But there was nothing for it now.
She would not, however, lower herself to the point of tilting her head a full ninety degrees to address the duke eye to eye.
With resolve, Nesrina lifted her hands to Kas’s broad chest and shoved him back a few steps until she could meet his gaze without fear of closing the gap between them and crushing her lips against his adorable mouth.
“Why?” After a few failed attempts to hone her first question, Nes decided to dive in.
And dive she did, splashing him with question after question after question: Why did he buy her clothes in the first place?
Why did he lie and make her think they were from the queen?
Why did he think it was appropriate to purchase a new wardrobe for a tutor?
“I’m mortified, Kas.” The confession was out before she realized what she was saying.
The words brought with them a surge of vulnerability, which Nes pushed past, urging the steel back into her tone.
She continued before he could answer the questions she’d already posed.
“You embarrassed me. Why? Because you were, what . . . ashamed of my low-class clothing?” This time she waited for his response.
It took a moment for him to realize he was permitted to speak. “No.” His voice was soft at first, then louder and more confident when he spoke again. “No, Nesrina. Absolutely not.”
“Then what? Why?” She sucked in a deep breath, trying to stop her voice from pitching up with every half-formed question she flung his way. “Were you trying to buy my affection?”
He looked wounded. Like she’d hit the mark.
“How could you do that? So many beautiful things. The gold dress is like . . .”
“Like the one you wore two years ago?”
“Exactly.” He understood. Wait, how? Internally, her heart plummeted. Externally, she scrunched her nose as the stench of manipulation intensified. “How do you know that?”
“I was there. I saw you.” Kas blinked, slowly, as if he hadn’t just dropped a stunning bit of truth on her.
What?
“How could I not have noticed you? I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, you were absolutely—”
“What!?” She found her voice, stunned. It was all planned!? Kas saw her three fucking years ago and never mentioned it? Not once, not during the conversations they had about the symposium? Not during their time at the symposium? He knew who she was—for years—and what?
She thought he’d wanted to be her friend.
She thought he wanted her, not some ghost of a woman he’d seen in passing.
Lord Kahoth waited until the opportunity arose to try and .
. . make her his whore? Bile burned up her throat.
She swallowed it down and called up words in its place.
“You bided your time until you could meet me in person, officially. Is that what you did? Waited until you could drag me back to the symposium? Dress me up like some sort of—” Whore.
The word stuck in her throat, again. “Doll? To show off and take advantage of, as you pleased?”
Kas blinked at her.
Nesrina spun on her heel, in signature style, and yanked open the door, storming out of the closet.
Intending to hide out in the library, she rushed for the stairs, and Kas caught her when she was halfway down, somehow silent, feline, in spite of his massive build.
She hadn’t heard his approach, but she certainly felt his hands as they encircled her waist, lifting her from her spot in the center of the tread and setting her down a foot to the left.
With that taken care of, he surpassed her, taking two stairs at a time. Reaching the floor, he spun to face her, one hand on either wall of the enclosed staircase.
Nes stopped two steps up, telling herself it was an intentional choice, although they both knew he had her trapped. She could retreat, of course, but was far too angry at his imposition for that.
It’s fine, she reasoned. The rise of the stairs put them closer to eye level than usual.
Nes was about to bestow another tirade upon him when Kas put a finger to her lips, shushing her. She snapped her mouth closed while swatting his hand away.
“Let me speak.” His voice was low, gravelly, rumbling deep in her stomach. It wasn’t anywhere close to a question.
She willed her glare to pierce him more sharply.
“First, I’m sorry for not telling you the wardrobe was from me.
It wasn’t meant to be a secret, or a transactional gift.
Furthermore, it was never my intention to make you feel like a doll—like an object on display.
It’s only that I . . .” He paused, his eyes drifting to the top of her head where he seemed to find something interesting with her hair.
“It’s only that you, what? Took pity on the daughter of poor dead Hothan Tarisden?
Decided to grace her with your benevolence?
Dress her in finery and give her a little outing to the Symposium of Prodigious Minds?
I may only be a tutor, Your Grace, but I’m perfectly capable of using my own income to purchase my own clothing!
” At the end of her outburst, she glanced down to find that she’d been punctuating each of her words by poking him on one of his well-sculpted pecs.
Kas wrapped her hand in his grasp, but didn’t move it from where her fingertip grazed his chest. “You are not and will never be ‘only a tutor.’”
She risked looking into his eyes, beseeching who knows what, but he still stared at the crown of her head.
He spoke softly. “You are, and have been a Guest of the King, ever since you arrived at the palace in your father’s stead.”
Ice flooded her veins. That wasn’t what she wanted him to say. “Enough of this Guest of the King bullshit.”
“It’s an honor?” He appeared genuinely confused as he scrunched his eyebrows.
Nesrina ignored Kas’s half-question and moved on. “Then what? I was too homely to make a proper Guest of the King?” If he wanted to lean on the honorific, so would she. “Had to spruce me up to show off at the symposium? Had to—”
“Nesrina.” He halted her again with a single finger to the lips. Then, Kas leaned closer, squeezing her hand, still pressed against his chest. His deliciously cozy smell threatened to undo her composure. “Please, let me explain myself?” His eyes implored beyond the end of his question.
Softening bit after jagged bit, egged on by his heart marching steady beneath her palm, by the scent wrapping her in the embrace his arms wouldn’t grant her, she nodded.
Sounding ashamed, he began, “I was selfish. I bought you all those things to satisfy my own self-serving whims. Yes, I first saw you at the symposium several years ago. Heard you first actually, you were in a session about birthrates, or abandonment by the gods, or something. You were shouting at the speaker for basing their entire argument on a false premise. I thought you were brilliant.”
She blinked.
“Then I saw you, and I was completely taken by your beauty.” His fingertips trailed, leaving a heated wake as he moved them from her lips to rest on her shoulder. Gently, he pulled Nes toward him, eyes pleading with her to remain present in the conversation—to remain in the moment.
Beneath her palm, his heart thundered. She dared not move, nor speak, nor take a single breath.
“I didn’t know who you were. I thought about you for weeks, obsessively, then months consistently, and suddenly two years had gone by and there you were again, asking me for directions—and I was an arse.
Overwhelmed, I panicked. But over the last few months I’ve come to know you.
And Nes,” he breathed, “I must admit, I find you more captivating than I’d ever imagined possible. ”
She blinked at him.
“As for the clothes . . .”
His words tugged her back to the issue at hand.
Angry. Oh, yes, she was supposed to be angry with the duke.
She made a half-hearted attempt to free her hand from its prison between the walls of his chest and bars of his long fingers.
He only held tighter, wrapping possessively around her.
She knew, deep down, if she was truly vexed, she’d weave a knife and stab him in the thigh, or perhaps a rope with which to throttle him. As it was, she scowled.
“I can’t deny it was selfish. But I assure you it was not because of your honorific.”
She nearly smiled at his avoidance of the phrase “Guest of the King.”
“It wasn’t because of your social class or because of your clothes. It wasn’t anything more nefarious than my own self-serving behavior.”
Again, she did nothing but blink, unable to speak as she found herself fully entranced by his straight nose and perfect mouth.
“Frankly, I thought you deserved finer things. I wanted to see you wear the golden gown that brings out the caramel tones in your hair. The deep purple and pink dresses that highlight the green of your eyes. The coppers and autumnal ones that call out the blue . . .”
She couldn’t believe the words coming from his mouth. She should be furious he’d spotted her two years ago and never said a damn thing, enraged he brought her clothing and lied. But there was something sweet about it, something distinctly Kas.
“You’re astonishingly gorgeous, like Appia herself, no matter what you’re wearing.
You’re intelligent and kind and worthy of all the pretty baubles in the world.
And I’m sorry, Nes. I’m sorry I made you feel objectified or like I had nefarious intent, when in fact I’ve found I’m quite besotted with you. ”
Oh . . . He was so close, his breath tickled the crown of her head. How did she keep getting herself in this situation?
The duke lifted one of his massive hands, crooking a finger beneath her chin and tipping her face up.
“Nesrina,” he whispered her name with reverence, a prayer, a request. His eyes were stardust: silver swirls giving way to oblivion. His nose brushed hers, he was so close.
Her eyelids fluttered closed and her lips parted as she waited with bated breath for his kiss.
The door behind Kas wooshed open, and Ataht’s animated voice cut through their dreamlike moment, the haze of lust dissipating in an instant. “Uncle Kas! There you are!”
Kas straightened and turned to face his nephew before he offered his hand to Nesrina and guided her down to the landing.
Friends. We are friends! Stop this immediately, she scolded herself for forgetting that important fact. She was angry at him for his secrets and the lavish gifts. A whole bloody wardrobe!
A tutor and a duke, Nesrina. Friends. Friends is all. And to ensure so, Nes promised herself she would not—absolutely not—be alone with Lord Kahoth again.
Ataht craned his neck to peer down the hall. “Della! I found them!” he bellowed.
“What can I do for you?” Kas gave his nephew a tight-lipped smile as he adjusted the tuck of his shirt.
“We’re going to play billiards! Mum finally agreed to teach us, and we want you to join.” He beamed from ear to ear. “You too, Miss Kiappa.” The little prince reached out with both of his arms to grasp their hands, attempting to bring the whole trio through the rather narrow doorway all at once.
After a quick bit of shuffling, they made it into the hallway and headed off toward the games room on Stormhill’s lowest level.
“Oh, I almost forgot, Mum said to tell you there are drinks. I’m not thirsty. But you can have some!” With that Ataht scampered away, leaving Kas and Nes to catch up on their own.