CHAPTER FORTY-ONE #2
He froze as she touched first his jaw, then his cheek, then his lips.
Maximus knew she wouldn’t kiss him. Instead she traced the tips of her fingers over his upper lip, brushing it gently before pulling it up—just barely—to expose his gold incisors.
Maximus stayed perfectly still as she did this, afraid that if he made the slightest movement, she might stop touching him.
Instead she lingered there, her fingers on his mouth, her flesh against his.
Maximus could see a thousand emotions warring in her eyes.
For the first time since he’d known her, desire was among them—a flash of it burning brighter than the fire.
He knew they were reaching a tipping point, knew in his gut that this was the moment things might change for them.
When she dropped her hand, he caught it.
They stayed there, suspended in the moment. Time slowed to a crawl. Maximus was not interested in this being over anytime soon.
“You didn’t eat tonight,” he said. It didn’t matter what they talked about—he just had to keep her here.
“We were busy dancing.”
“Would you have eaten if we hadn’t danced?”
She shrugged, her shoulders shifting across his lap. “Your food is fancy.”
“Is fancy a bad thing?”
She shrugged again. “Sometimes.”
Maximus was tempted to ask whether she thought he was fancy, but then he remembered that she already thought he was a prat and decided against it. Instead his other hand went to her throat, brushing his fingers over the gold chain around her neck.
“You’re rather fancy tonight too, you know.”
He’d meant it in jest. But for some reason, this was the wrong thing to say.
Daphne stiffened immediately, pulling her hand out of his.
Maximus froze, suddenly terrified that she would leave.
To his intense relief she remained in place, albeit her usual guarded expression returned to her face.
He knew he needed to alleviate the moment and quickly.
So he said, “I’m only fancy when I’m at the castle. ”
“You’re always at the castle.”
“That could change. We could go somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
Daphne gave him a suspicious look. She pointed at him. “Something tells me you’d still be fancy anywhere.”
“And something tells me,” Maximus said, touching the tip of her finger with his, “that you do not know me very well.”
Daphne allowed him to touch her finger. That simple gesture fed him just as food would. “That’s because you haven’t told me anything about yourself.”
“Of course I have.”
She shook her head emphatically. “No, you haven’t. All I know about you is that you like red wine.”
Maximus rolled his eyes. It was hardly an illuminating fact about himself. But Daphne was right, he realized. What did she really know about him? Why had it taken them so long to have a conversation like this? In the past, Maximus might not have been open to it. He was now.
“Fine,” he said. “What do you wish to know?”
“Hmmm.” Daphne pressed her lips together, clearly deep in thought. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Green,” Maximus answered automatically.
“Why?”
He paused. He hadn’t expected to need a reason. But he supposed he could conjure one, now that he’d been asked. “It’s the color of trees. And grass. And nature. It’s…wild and free.”
“Like horses.”
“Yes. Exactly like horses.” He looked down at her, and from her expression, could see she was satisfied with his answer. “What’s your favorite color?”
She shook her head, and her curls bounced across his leg. “I’m not done asking you questions.”
“Very well.” He shifted slightly, making it clear she had his full attention. “Ask away.”
The corner of her mouth turned up. “Why do you drink red wine?”
Maximus considered the question, realizing he had never been asked to explain his vice of choice.
Why did he drink red wine? The answer was obvious, even if he did not care to say it out loud.
But he was wise enough to know that this was a moment of intimacy between him and Daphne—and more importantly, a moment of trust. “Because it was Lilibet’s favorite drink. ”
It hurt to talk about Lilibet, but he wanted Daphne to know this part of him. It was not a burden to be vulnerable with her. It was a privilege.
He expected Daphne to ask another question about Lilibet, but she didn’t. Instead she merely stared up at him, looking oddly peaceful. It was different than the way most people looked at him when Lilibet was mentioned: with pity. Maximus greatly preferred Daphne’s expression.
“Can I ask you something else?” she murmured.
“Of course.”
“It’s a little silly.”
He smiled. Even better. “Fire away.”
She raised her hand, touching a strand of hair that had fallen loose over his face. “Do you style it this way?”
“What way?”
“So that a little piece comes down?”
Maximus let out a laugh.
Daphne tugged gently on the strand, laughing too. “Do you?” she insisted.
“No.” He shook his head, and she released the strand. “I don’t.”
“Hm.”
“How long have you wanted to ask that?”
She gave him a mischievous smile. “Since the night we met.”
Maximus remembered that night well. He remembered the way he’d felt when he’d seen her holding this child. He remembered the way Daphne’s mouth had puckered in surprise when she realized she wasn’t alone in the room.
“You were so mad at me that night,” she whispered.
Maximus frowned. Was that really what she thought? If so, their memories of that night were vastly different. “I wasn’t…mad. I was surprised.”
She tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. “You were mad. But that’s fine.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Because?”
“Because I was mad too.”
“You were?”
She nodded.
“What were you mad about?”
To his surprise, her face darkened. Her answer seemed to slip out before she could stop it. “Benjamin.”
Maximus frowned. “Who is Benjamin?”
Daphne pursed her lips. He knew that look. It was the expression she wore whenever she wanted to say something but was choosing to hold back. That wouldn’t do at all.
“Daphne.” He leaned closer. “Who is Benjamin?”
The second iteration of his question only made her purse her lips tighter. He held eye contact, determined not to back down. He had just been vulnerable with her. She owed him this.
“Tell me.”
Daphne lifted her chin. “He’s not important.”
“He made you mad. That’s important.”
She shook her head. It seemed as if she were fighting some demon within herself. Clearly there was something she wasn’t telling him, and Maximus couldn’t think of anything else to do to make her say it.
“You can talk to me.” He brushed a curl from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “You know that, right?”
“Just drop it,” she whispered.
“No.”
“Max.” She placed her hand flat against his chest. “Drop it.”
But he couldn’t. Maximus had thought he only needed to worry about the basilisk, and now there was another suitor in the mix.
“Daphne.” He stared down at her determinedly, trying to stay calm. “If there is someone walking this world who hurt you, it’s my responsibility to do something about it. I want to protect you.”
“I don’t need you to protect me.”
“You don’t need me at all. And I’ve accepted that. But I need to protect you. So tell me who he is.”
A pause. They stared at each other.
Was Benjamin one of the imbecile village boys?
Maximus remembered the group of boys who had chanted cruelly when Maximus had kissed Daphne onstage.
If Benjamin had been one of them, he would order a search party to bring him to justice.
He would demand his head on a stake. No punishment was too severe for hurting Daphne.
“If you don’t tell me who it is, I shall scour the entire village for him anyway. So you can either tell me now, or I will find him on my own.”
She closed her eyes, and he felt the tension in her shoulders.
She was stiff in his lap, clearly bracing herself through this conversation.
He hated it. Maximus fought the wild urge to shake her.
He wished he could extract her thoughts from her brain.
Daphne had always been a mystery to him—she was an unsolvable riddle, a safe he could not crack.
Perhaps he didn’t dare to. Perhaps she would never let him.
The thought of her shutting him out was unbearable, but the thought of not getting to the bottom of who had hurt her was even worse.
“He’s nobody,” Daphne whispered finally. “And there’s no need to scour the village.” Her next words came so quietly he barely heard them. “He works for you.”
Maximus went still. The thought of employing someone who had hurt the angel currently lying in his lap was enough to make him want to punch a hole in the wall. But he knew that wouldn’t help anything. All he could do was fix it the only way he knew how.
“A footman?”
She shook her head, her eyes still closed.
“A butler?”
Daphne opened her eyes. “A server,” she whispered. It looked like it cost her everything she owned to divulge that.
“Very well. He is fired.” Maximus did not know how she would react to this information, and he hardly cared. “More importantly”—his grip on her tightened—“are you hurt?”
She looked up at him. “Emotionally or physically?”
He gritted his teeth. “Either.”
Daphne sighed, and the sound was devastating. She sounded completely defeated. “He hurt…my feelings. That’s all.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Maximus wanted more details but didn’t dare ask for them. There was no point in pressing her for any more information. She had already given him more than he deserved tonight. He had no choice but to believe her. “Very well,” he said. “You never have to see him again.”
For some reason, she smiled.
“Why are you smiling?”
“I’ll never have to see him at the castle,” she said. “But I can guarantee you I’ll see him in the village.”
Consequences be damned. He was going to have to kill Benjamin.
“Daphne.” Maximus brushed another curl from her face. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Do you understand that?”