Chapter Sixteen
SIR WILLIAM Black lay flat on his back in a cloud of fabric, the skirts of a grey gown surrounding him.
His broken glass lay above his head, while at his side was further evidence of his fall; a toppled small table, and a ceramic tea set scattered about, the white cups like snowballs against the dark hues of the rug, the scent of green tea coming from the dark stain spreading from the overturned pot, into the fabric of the gown.
‘Sir William, are you alright?’
Xian stepped into the room, and after a moment’s hesitation, closed the door behind him.
‘I have told Margaret that tea is a dreadful concoction, now I shall tell her it is bloody dangerous too.’
‘Are you hurt?’
‘By a tea set?’ The man scoffed. ‘I’m rather more formidable than that.’
He rolled onto his side, his oversized shirt doing little to conceal his torso.
But Xian saw now that he’d not fallen onto the dress as he’d thought, but was wearing the gown.
At least partly. He’d only fastened the waist, and so the sleeves hung around him; puffy and embellished with lace.
Lady Tian had such a gown in her collection; a dress imported from France, with so many layers her laundress had cried the first day it arrived.
‘Would you like to try it on?’
Xian realised he’d been staring and shook his head. ‘No, no. Do you need some help getting up?’
Here, where the light was much better, Xian saw the man’s eyes clearly for the first time. He knew his own violet colouring was unusual, but the Englishman too had eyes like no other; a light jade green, with hints of amber throughout.
‘Not really, but since you’re offering.’ A roguish smile played at his lips. ‘Rescued by a prince, how wonderful.’
The man was impertinent, and should have repulsed Xian far more than he actually did.
But his brazen manner intrigued, and his peculiar comments kept playing over in Xian’s mind.
Sir William raised his hand, and Xian clasped it with his own; it was like taking hold of a hand warmer that had just been filled with fresh coals.
Strange, considering how long they had both stood at open windows; the night air was temperate.
Xian tugged the man upright. Sir William had certainly not needed any assistance, leaping to his feet as though a coiled spring in him had unwound. He stepped in close, and Xian found himself swamped by the gown. When Xian sought to free his hand, he met a reluctance that had his throat tightening.
His discomfort must have been evident, for Sir William let him go at once, raising his hands. ‘I am not fond of restraint either. I meant no harm.’
‘Sir William, you are bleeding.’ He gestured at the man’s left hand; smeared crimson over the palm.
‘There’s none on the dress, is there?’ Willam peered down at himself, hands still raised. ‘Fuck, Margaret will kill me.’
Xian winced at the bold curse and took a step back, escaping the swirl of grey satin to survey the gown. The fabric shone beneath the touch of the room’s lanterns, and shadows shifted in among the folds.
‘Not so far as I can tell. It really is a beautiful dress.’
‘And you are fairly chomping at the bit, as we say in the land of queen and country, to ask me why I am wearing it.’
‘No. I was not at all.’
‘You really are a terrible liar. Which makes me even more curious to know what you are.’
Xian sighed, unwilling to begin this conversation again. ‘It is a decent cut you’ve given yourself.’ He scanned the room, searching for anything suitable to tend to the injury.
There were several travelling chests, tall and upright, in the far corner.
One was open, and another gown spilled from within; another from a far-off foreign court, with flamboyant puffs in the sleeves and tremendous volume to the skirt; the fabric a stunning lemon yellow with violet trim.
It bulged out of the chest like an escaping sun.
‘Are these your rooms, Sir William?’
‘William will do. And no. My travel companion stays here, I’m at the end of the corridor, but she knows I love her gowns and corsets far more than she does.
She’s playing that dreadful game, Fan-Tan.
I can’t abide it, no matter how drunk I make myself, and as I have already fucked most of the players at the table anyway, I thought I’d play dress-ups instead. ’
Xian bit his lip, determined not to appear bothered by the man’s obscenities, for he sensed they would only be delivered more frequently should he make an objection. He spied a washbasin, a cloth hanging over its lip, and hurried to where it rested atop a black lacquered cabinet with brass handles.
‘Here we are, we can clean that wound.’
‘Never mind all that,’ William said. ‘I’m not about to expire. And now I have you in my room, I can think of far more games to play than nursemaid and patient, though I am completely open to that if you prefer?’
‘I do not.’ Xian soaked the cloth in the basin of cold water. ‘I am not here to play any of your games, Sir William.’
He wrung out the cloth and turned to find the Englishman had laid himself out in the single moon-gazing chair near the window; the gown spilling over rosewood that had been carved to resemble bamboo, his feet resting on the retractable footrest, his bare toes wriggling free of the fabric.
‘Are you quite certain?’ William asked, lounging back against the slope of the chair; designed for moon gazing as its name suggested, but in this case its position only offered a view of the fretwork in the ceiling above.
Xian handed William the cloth. ‘About games? Yes. It has been an endless day. I should like to go to bed.’ Xian held up his hand. ‘Alone, sir.’
‘You’ve made that very plain.’ William pressed the cloth to his bleeding hand, though the wound did not seem to run so badly as before.
‘But as I said, I shall easily move on.’ He gestured with both hands, the cloth tight between them.
‘I mean, look at me. I spent a lot of time making sure this body was irresistible, and have done rather well at it, I’m sure you’ll agree. ’
Xian would not deny the man’s body a remarkable specimen; he appeared delicate, fine-boned with sharp lines, pale skin with the right hint of pinkness at high cheekbones, and there were those lips, of course, and the lovely tilt of his nose, but his muscular arms and defined torso spoke of robustness and vigorous health.
Beautiful. But irresistible? No, not so far as Xian was concerned.
Even if he were not so slow to develop his desires, the Englishman had made too many strange comments for Xian to be thinking about anything else; with the suggestion his mother was unnatural, and all his strange talk of purebreds, forest sprites, incubus and naturals.
‘Shall I find an attendant to come and clean up?’ Xian gestured at the shards of glass and pottery. ‘Your friend shall likely not be happy to see the state of her room.’
‘She’ll likely not be using her room, her legs will be spread elsewhere. Margaret is the closest in nature to an incubus of any human I’ve ever met.’
Xian could not help but blush at the dishonourable way he spoke of a woman he claimed to be his friend.
‘I shall leave you then, Sir William.’ He reached to touch his veil, as he did so often when he was uncomfortable, and found that it dangled at his ear.
He’d been uncovered from the moment they met.
Xian hooked his finger through the slackened loop.
‘No need for that, your highness. And are you sure you wish to leave me so soon? Would you not like to know who you are beneath that skin, with all its wonderful flaws and lovely perfections?’
Xian ignored his suggestion to leave himself exposed, and quickly slipped the loop over his ear. ‘Sir William, I am truly too tired to go around about in this conversation with you again.’
Tired, and annoyingly clear-headed. How had the tincture worn off so readily?
‘I’m not seeking to bed you, your highness.’
Xian slid his hands over his robe, his palms damp, his pulse quickening at the man’s words.
It was not fear that held him, not exactly.
‘Then speak plainly of what you intend, Sir William, for I’ve barely understood a single word you’ve said tonight.
How can you show me who I am, when I already know? ’
‘Judging by your ignorance, I’d say you know very little.’
Irritation flared, like a wick had suddenly burst to life in his chest. ‘What I do know is that I cannot be so carefree as you. I know that I am treated cruelly by those who are supposed to protect and guide me, I know I frighten people with my scars and the stories they carry. I know that I am ridiculed because I believed a carp to be my truest friend, a creature who listened to me, who made me laugh when I despaired. I know I mourn her loss as deeply as I mourn my mother’s.
I know, Sir William Black, that I am frightened I’ve lost everyone who cared for me, and none shall ever replace them.
’ Xian balled the fabric of his gown in clenched fists.
The loneliness had always hurt the most. ‘Go on, laugh. I can see that you want to. Mock me, you’ll do no worse than any of the others who treat me as less than a man. ’
William’s smile spread slowly and sensuously. ‘I doubt very much that was just a fish.’
Xian had been braced, ready for some teasing dismissal, a taunt or a scoff. ‘What did you say?’
The Englishman peeled the cloth away from his hand. ‘I would bet my favourite tiara that your carp was not just a fish. Because you, my lonely prince, are as much just a man, as I am.’ He held up his hand. The cut was gone. Not just no longer bleeding, but entirely absent.
William rose from the moon-gazing chair; bare from the waist up and engulfed below by the storm-cloud grey of his gown.
‘How is that possible?’ Xian whispered.
‘I have been telling you, you just haven’t listened.’