Part 31 (1/2)

”Why didn't you ask a servant where I was?” I inquired.

”Why didn't you come to our room like we agreed?” he fired back.

”We agreed on an a.s.signation, Noc, we didn't agree on a location.”

This, at least, was true.

He tossed an arm out wide. ”Have you been waitin' in here for me?”

No, guiltily I had not. I had been in that room somewhat avoiding him but doing it in order to brood and lick my wounds from dinner, which turned into me madly planning a variety of elaborate escapes I wouldn't be able to execute and losing track of time.

But mostly I was avoiding him, and I was doing this because he did simple things, like say two innocuous words, and doing such made warmth flood my belly.

”Well...” I said that word slowly and trailed off, attempting to find an inoffensive, slightly factual answer.

”f.u.c.king h.e.l.l,” he muttered, prowling to the cord in the room and tugging on it. He then turned again to me and crossed his arms on his chest. ”You gonna get your a.s.s over here and sit with me by the fire or are you gonna stand in front of that window until the cold coming through freezes you to death?”

”There's no need to be surly,” I noted (although there was), s.h.i.+fting from the window (which was indeed cold) and moving his way where there were two chairs with a table between them angled toward a hearty fire.

”Frannie, I waited two hours for you.”

G.o.ds, the guilt a.s.sailing me was going to make me bite my lip!

I managed not to do something so ridiculous and simply stopped in front of a chair, keeping my gaze on him.

I opened my mouth to say something flippant.

But, ”I'm sorry, Noc, I've got much on my mind,” came out instead.

Some of the ire in his face faded as me moved toward me.

I expected him to stop in front of his own chair but he was Noc. He didn't do the expected.

He did the affectionate.

This meant he stopped half a foot from me so I could smell his cologne, a fresh, spicy scent I quite liked, his head tilted down so his eyes could hold mine.

”This gig, you know, the one I'm tryin' to help you get used to?” he began.

I nodded.

”Part of it is bein' in a place where, when you got s.h.i.+t on your mind and you got someone who cares about you, they're there for you to unload it on,” he explained.

”There are things I need to work through myself.”

”I hear you, sweetheart, but from what happened at dinner, thinkin' that you might wanna stop doin' that for a while, unload your s.h.i.+t on me, someone who's thinking a whole lot clearer, and let me help you work through those things, maybe give you ideas of where you could go from here.”

I drew in breath to calm the additional warmth that p.r.o.nouncement caused in my belly.

One could say that Antoine was many things, nearly all of them good, and part of those many things was that he was intelligent and he was strong.

However, he did not have that kind of strength. There was much he depended upon me to do. His upkeep, for one, as before he came to be committed only to me, he was a Fleuridian prost.i.tute. Decisions about our home, servants, travel, money matters were other matters he looked to me to see to. He had a good deal saved from his earnings when he'd plied his trade, something which he was in great demand to do. Earnings I'd demanded he keep saved for no one knew what the future would bring and I was capable of taking care of us both, this something he had no qualms about accepting.

Antoine had been sensitive. He'd been caring. He'd been decent and kind to all, not only me. He'd had a flippant sense of humor I relished. And he, like Noc, had a way of seeing deeper inside me than I'd wished (at first) for him to see.

And he was exceptional in bed (obviously).

But he was not that man. He was not Frey to my Finnie, Lahn to my Circe, Tor to my Cora, Apollo to my Madeleine.

He might listen to my problems, but then he'd ask, ”So what do you intend to do, mon ange?”

He would never say, ”This is what you should think about doing.” And definitely never, ”This is what you're going to do because this is what's best for you.”

Living my life, I would never admit, even to myself, that I found making every decision-from the small to the grand-draining, and the very idea of living the whole of my life with that burden mine alone was exhausting.

To share a burden not simply with someone to listen to it, but to a.s.sist me in seeing past it, felt like a gift so precious, it outshone chests five times as large as the one I owned filled with Sjofn diamonds.

”Frannie,” Noc called and I focused on his face.

”I had my plans,” I blurted, ”and now they're thwarted.”

His expression grew understanding as he gently commanded, ”Sit down, baby, I'll order some whiskey and tell you my idea.”

He had an idea, and I a.s.sumed it was not aiding me in an intricate scheme to spirit Josette, Irene and I into the night taking us someplace no one would find us (until Frey found us, of course).

I sat.

Noc, bizarrely determined to carry on doing mundane things I suspected he had to do in his world but he didn't have to do in mine, went to the windows and drew the drapes. He then stirred the fire, added a couple of logs on it, and whilst doing this, ordered our whiskey from the servant who'd arrived.

I understood why he went about these efforts when the warm glow of the fire became a radiating blaze, taking away any chill, enveloping us in snug intimacy in a way neither of us would have to call for a servant (or in Noc's case, get up and do it himself) to add more fuel to the fire for some time.

The decanter of whiskey came quickly and the servant had barely laid the tray on the table between our chairs before Noc thanked him and started pouring.

”And close the door behind you, would you?” he called.

”Yes, sir.” We heard murmured and the door clicked.

Noc handed me my cut crystal gla.s.s filled with two fingers of whiskey.

Quite a dose.

And it was a dose that made me wonder with even more curiosity about his idea.

”All right, Noc, you stated you had an idea, so perhaps you'll break the suspense and share,” I prompted as he took a sip from his own gla.s.s.

I did the same as he lowered his and started speaking.

”Finnie and Frey have a few things they gotta sort out here before we take off, which I think is mostly her way of delaying 'cause she likes spending time with her mom,” he declared.

”This doesn't exactly end the suspense,” I replied when he shared no further.