18 Maerryl
MAERRYL
Dove walked away from the dining room and stood for a long moment in the wide, art-filled foyer, eyes closed. I stayed put, leaning against the wall. Fighting the ridiculous urge to go to her.
“How much of that did you hear?” she said quietly.
I snorted. “Enough. It’s not exactly a soundproof door.” And it helped that I’d had my ear pressed to the crack until a moment ago. Under my breath, I said, “Your parents are kind of dicks. You know that, don’t you?”
Her eyes flashed open, cutting to me. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I suppose they are.”
Without another word, she headed down the hall and toward the staircase. Not holding the door open for me, she stomped away. I heard her footsteps tapping on the stone, up and up.
Reaching her easily, taking the steps two by two, I touched her shoulder. She stopped. I moved in closer, obeying the traitorous desire that pulsed through me.
“Are you alright?” I said, my voice low.
Dove let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t know. I don’t know. What’s wrong with me?”
She turned on the stair, throwing her arms up. “Can’t even face my parents’ criticism, can’t be honest with them—” She choked off, hiding her face in her hands.
My irritation with Lady and Lord Wistrallo surged. I tentatively brushed a hand along Dove’s upper arm, trying for comfort. “Well, from what I could hear, I think you did a solid job of putting them in their place. Maybe getting a bit of space too.”
She shook her head, not denying, but as if she was still dazed from their conversation.
“You take care of things around here, don’t you? You do your best,” I said, trying to soothe her as if she were an upset child, my only frame of reference. “It sounded like you’ve been handling the family finances for a while. That must be really hard.”
Dove stiffened. Her shoulder went still under my hand, her breath a heavy huff.
“You don’t know anything. You’re just a bodyguard, a sword for hire. Literally paid to put your life on the line for mine,” she cut out, her voice a harsh rasp. “I don’t want your sympathies, Maerryl. And I don’t want your wonderful insights into my life.”
With a sharp movement, she slapped my hand away.
We stared at each other now, Dove’s fierce brown eyes boring into mine. The dim magelights of the stairwell barely lit her face in the darkness. But I felt like I knew every plane, every angle. She was spitting mad again and in pain. Hiding it poorly.
I moved closer, testing. Unable to resist. Her eyes widened. I brought a thumb to her cheek, brushing softly.
Dove pushed me lightly with both hands, making me stumble against the wall of the stairwell. I slipped a little, losing my balance, and she was on me. Steadying me against the stone, she held a hand to each shoulder, using her upper step as an advantage.
And then she kissed me.
It felt just as it had the first time, and the second—like a shock.
Like a miracle. Dove was kissing me. She seemed almost as surprised as I was, but equally hungry.
I wrapped my arms around her soft, warm curves, pulling her close to me.
Letting out a little squeak, she leaned into my arms. Consumed, I was utterly consumed.
This isn’t good. This can’t end well.
But I didn’t care. I couldn’t. All I wanted to know was the taste of goldenberries, the feel of her silken skin, the sound of her soft gasps.
Dove pulled back suddenly, breathing heavily, and I followed her with my mouth.
Leaning her against the opposite wall, I put all my energy into kissing the absolute life out of this woman.
Her lips were the softest, sweetest thing I’ve ever experienced.
How could someone even be this gorgeous?
Goddess, but she would be the death of me.
Moving one palm up her leg, I brushed her skirts aside until I could feel the real heat of her skin.
Her heavy thigh filled my hand, and I gripped her softly, then a bit harder.
Dove moaned against my mouth. My head spun, and I let my fingers drift between her legs.
She leaned into me, and I let myself hold her, feeling her heat.
Moving my hand slowly, firmly, I rubbed against her.
Oh, goddess. This was what I needed. This was perfection.
I felt one of her hands on my left breast, squeezing gently through my leathers.
I growled my approval, and the pressure increased.
Dove moved against my body, as if we were half fighting, half kissing, and all I wanted was to feel her bare palm against my nipple.
I thought it might be the best thing I’d ever feel in this world.
But suddenly she moved apart from me, this time firmly holding my shoulders an arm’s length away, taking care to avoid my injury.
Eyes huge, Dove and I just watched each other in the magelight, our breaths filling up the stairwell. Her lips were kiss-bitten red, full and luscious.
“Okay, wait,” she said. I tensed, moving back slightly. “Just—oh, goddess. Fuck. This is fucking crazy. Isn’t it?!”
I laughed, low and baffled, and her fingertips moved slowly against my shoulders.
“I don’t know how—why—this is happening. I think we need to calm down.”
“Yes,” I said, slowly brushing my palms along the length of her arms. So lightly. I moved along from her wrists down her soft forearms, then elbows, ducking into her sleeves to reach her upper arms. The pads of my fingers pressed against Dove’s skin. Her eyelids flickered closed.
“This is not calming things down,” she murmured.
“Well, it is calming you down. In a sense,” I said, evilly dipping my lips to kiss her bare arm. She hummed, beginning to arch up to me. Until suddenly she froze, eyes flying open.
“Someone’s coming,” she said. Lurching away, Dove fixed her clothes. I heard steps moving toward the stairwell’s top door. Petra swung it open, and I caught a deep frown on her normally cheerful face before she saw us and it smoothed away.
“Dove! There you are. I thought you were dead asleep, you weren’t answering the door. And Maerryl wasn’t in her room to let me in,” she said, seeing me behind her mistress and giving a little wave. I leaned against the stone and nodded, trying to look the part of a nonchalant bodyguard.
Dove tittered an unusual laugh. “Oh, felt like an early stroll! Visited Lightning in the stables. Soaked up the fresh morning air. You know me! And Maerryl here dragged herself along. Damn bodyguards, impossible to shake!”
Her maid looked askance at Dove, but she was quickly hustled up and out of the stairwell.
Linking arms, Dove led Petra back to her room, chattering nonsense all the while.
She magically unsealed the door, scooped up the breakfast tray, and threw a quick, apologetic look back at me before they disappeared inside. She slammed the door in my face.
For dramatic effect, probably. Just for Petra’s benefit.
Probably…
I couldn’t help the small—tiny, practically infinitesimal—sting of being snubbed by Dove. She did just have her tongue in my mouth not two minutes ago. And had her hands all over me like it was her personal mission to memorize the feel of my boobs.
Annoyed with myself, I headed back down the hall and stairwell, slipping silently to the dining room door again.
Maybe the lord and lady… ahh yes—sounds of lightly clinking silverware and a hushed conversation seeped through the doorframe.
They were still in there, discussing the morning’s events as I’d hoped.
Lady Iris’s peeved voice came through first.
“… just can be so difficult, and I’m exhausted from dealing with her.”
“I know, dear, I know. It’s just her moods; she can’t help it. You know what she’s like, and the, ah, financial stickiness these past years hasn’t helped things. Just a difficult time for our family, it is.” Lord Wistrallo sounded as if he was trying to soothe his partner’s ruffled feathers.
The lady sniffed. “At least we’ll have a break for a few weeks. And thank goddess you had the foresight to be putting aside some of the coin from those, ah, arrangements each time. It’s so nice to have a little nest egg building for us, just in case.”
“Too right, dear, too right,” the lord said with a chuckle. “Try as she might, our little Dovey can’t possibly handle all the estate’s finances. Keeping a bit from each sale tucked away is just good sense.”
“And she knows better than to go sniffing around my closet. Remember the time I caught her in there when she was, oh, thirteen or fourteen, trying on all my best hats?” Iris laughed, and the sound rankled me. “Learned her lesson after I didn’t speak a word to her for two whole weeks, didn’t she?”
Ugh, these people. I turned away from the door, feeling a bit disgusted.
The image of a small thirteen-year-old Dove, getting yelled at for playing dress-up, swam up in my mind.
Her little face. Our own ma had never treated Balfie or me the way the Wistrallos disciplined Dove—I couldn’t imagine Ma going a whole day without talking to me, let alone two weeks. Was that how she was raised?
Shaking my head, I made a quick decision and moved up the stairwell and through the hall to Lady Iris’s rooms before I could second-guess myself.
Using the gimmee, I unlocked her suite’s door and made my way to her massive closet, quickly but carefully rummaging around among the gowns, shoes, and yes, many hats, to find—yes. Gotcha.
Tucked under a pile of cashmere knitwear was a small safe bolted to the floor. The gimmee made quick work of the lock, and I peered inside.
Gold. Neat piles of gold coin, a small but respectable amount, maybe forty or fifty pieces altogether.
The sight of it nearly made me salivate.
I’d never seen so much coin in one place.
This was it—this was something real that I could offer Zephyra.
The guildmaster would be pleased, and I’d get my promised reward.