Chapter Fifteen #2
He nodded, reaching across the table for a spoon of the cobbler, which sat between them to be shared.
He kept his eyes on the glossy berries in his spoon, examining them as he spoke.
“I remember it,” he said. “Like I said. We just need to gather our props. And I don’t think we can get away with just doing one trick. We should at least bring a few.”
“I still have the ropes,” she reminded him. “Though I’m taller and heavier than I was at fifteen. The dastardly captive act might need to be adjusted to save you the effort of subduing me for the performance.”
He paused, swallowing the cobbler as his eyes brushed over her. “I can manage.”
She gave him a little smirk. “You think so? I’ve been watching your sisters best you for decades. You’re not a fighter, Rhys.”
“No?” He leaned forward again, scooping up another bite of cobbler and then melted back in his chair as he chewed and swallowed. “What am I, then?”
She blinked a few times, shrugging. “A performer.”
“Before I ever learned to perform,” he said softly. “Before I even considered it. Before I could read or write or look a man in the eye, I learned to lie. And to thieve.”
“Mm, your tawdry past as a pickpocket urchin,” she said, still a little skeptical it was ever true. “Are you implying you’re still a thief and a liar?”
“No,” he said. “I am outright stating it. You know I’m lying when I’m doing it for show. The real lies aren’t detected because when I tell them, I’m not just lying to you. I’m lying to myself as well. If I convince myself, I convince everyone else. That is how a good liar operates.”
She shook her head, confused. “What does that have to do with your sisters knocking you flat?”
“Excellent question,” he answered. “I think you know the answer.”
She narrowed her gaze, turning this over in her head. “Fine,” she said, standing. “Prove it.”
He almost smiled. “What?”
“Prove it,” she said again, turning and grabbing a handful of fool’s gold from the new display of stones.
“In the act, you capture me and take my only weapon. We’ll call it this gold.
Magic gold, hm? That protects me. It is the only reason you are able to tie me up, but you miss a speck and so I escape. ”
“I remember,” he said, draping an arm over the back of his chair as she moved across the floor. “Are you going to go get the ropes?”
“No need,” she said. “I just want to see this secretive lying thief in motion.”
He flashed his teeth at her. “Are you certain?”
“Always,” she answered, lifting her chin.
He did smile then, a slow, curling thing that spread over his face, sparking a glint in the green of his eyes.
He pushed himself to stand at a leisurely pace, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of the chair.
He watched her pacing, shaking out his cuffs and rolling them up to his elbows, those eyes tracking her every movement.
“Shall I handicap?” he offered. “Shoes off? Blindfolded?”
“Don’t be an ass,” she replied, which only seemed to delight him more. “Do I need to turn my back?”
“Seph,” he told her, craning his neck side to side. “If I want to turn your back, I’ll do it myself.”
“Oh, indeed?”
He feinted at her, a quick, little lunge that only served to startle her and make him laugh, his hands running up over his hair and down the back of his neck as he observed her, following her pacing in opposing arcs across the floor.
“Imp,” she said, circling him, bracing.
“Witch,” he replied. “Shall I tell you which lies you’ve believed? Which ones have fooled you just as well as any of my marks?”
“None whatsoever,” she returned, curling her lip.
He lunged, snatching her about the waist like he were spinning her during a cotillion and then releasing her before she could react.
She stumbled, gasping in outrage as he held up the first piece of fool’s gold, swaying it in front of her like a taunt, and then tossed it to the floor with a clatter.
“There’s more,” she told him.
“Oh, I know,” he replied. “You can even take that piece back if you like.”
“I’ll consider it,” she said, rounding the till to put a barrier between them, her heart thundering in her ears. “I always know when you’re lying.”
“You often do,” he allowed, putting his hands on the wooden counter between them, palms down, fingers wide, and leaning toward her. “But you’ve fallen for a fair few. Just like any dazzled lady in the audience.”
She gasped, a barb of genuine outrage pricking her in the sternum.
He used the opportunity to leap directly over the wooden barrier, sliding over it like he were weightless, and taking hold of her wrist. In scarcely the space of a breath, he’d twisted her arm behind her back and pressed her into the wall, her cheek firmly against the cold wood.
He wasn’t hurting her, but he was shockingly strong.
She wriggled, attempting to stomp on his foot as he held her still, his hands running down her sides to check her skirts for pockets and pluck out the next chunk of glinting rock, tossing it to the floor with a clack.
She could feel the muscle in his body against her back, the tension and firmness that he hid in his lithe frame. It was truly, genuinely shocking.
“My sisters are stronger than me,” he whispered in her ear, holding her tightly. “Lie.”
She squirmed and he held her tighter.
“I don’t like blondes,” he said again, his breath hot against her neck, his cheek resting against the cloud of her hair. “Lie.”
“Rhys!” she squeaked, unable to wrench herself free.
He found the third piece of fool’s gold and withdrew it from her pocket, holding it up in the corner of her vision.
“Princesses do not heat my blood,” he said calmly. “Lie.”
“Yes, fine!” she managed, struggling to get air into her lungs for reasons far beyond the physical restraint he was exerting. Her cheeks were heating, her throat flexing around a sudden lack of moisture.
“I don’t see you that way,” he said again, this time pressing his hips into her backside. He dropped her wrist, which sang with the pressure he’d put there and dragged his fingertips over the bare flesh of her arms, still pressed firmly against her but no longer forcing her into place. “Lie.”
She shivered, no longer squirming or wriggling to be free, a delicious, tingling heat flaring up over the skin under her dress. She held her breath, waiting for him to say more, to do more, her eyes flickering shut so that she could give her entire being to feeling this. To experiencing this.
He inhaled her hair, his hands coming around to stroke at her throat. She could feel his arousal against the rounded flesh of her backside, could time the cadence of his pounding heart against her spine, but he was being gentle. So, so gentle.
“Do you know how many times I’ve had you, Seph?
” he whispered in her ear, touch trailing lower, over her collarbones, over the tops of her breasts.
“How many times I’ve closed my eyes to imagine the one I’m with is you instead?
How many times I’ve told myself I’m feeling you? Tasting you? Fucking you?”
She shuddered, heat flooding through her body, crashing and pooling deep in her belly. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”
“No,” he agreed. “You don’t.”