Page 21 of The Gargoyle and the Lady
He was still flexing them at his side when, to his astonishment, she cut a piece of venison from her own plate and held it up for him. He had to dip his head to take it from her. Was it his imagination, or was the venison the most juicy and flavorful he’d ever eaten?
“It tastes better from your hand,” he told her gravely.
Her cheeks flushed, and she poised her knife above her plate. “Would you like some more?”
“I believe I would.”
Eventually, after the highest-ranking gargoyles and humans left with their retinues, the feast gave way to a human-style ball. Musicians played from a raised dais in the corner, and part of the courtyard had been cleared for dancing. Gargoyles perched above, watching the human spectacle with varying degrees of interest and disdain, while the more rebellious ones descended to mingle on the ground.
Rikard did not dance. He sat at the high table with Hannalinde. Neither of them suggested joining the floor. He suspected she could dance very well, given her upbringing, but he did not ask her to dance because he did not know the steps.
Thankfully, she did not demand that he stumble through a human dance while the upper tiers watched. Perhaps her dress was too unwieldy or her constitution too delicate due to the pregnancy, or perhaps she wished to spare him theembarrassment. Whatever the reason, he was not sorry to remain seated.
Hannalinde’s human friend Carlijn threw herself into the festivities with abandon, cajoling humans and gargoyles alike to dance with her. Her brown ringlets bounced as she spun through a reel, her cheeks flushed and her laughter carrying above the music. She danced three more in quick succession before she made her way to their table, where Rikard’s friends had gathered to visit with them.
Bastien greeted Carlijn with polite disinterest when she introduced herself, his large hands clasped behind his back. But before she could even take offense at his dismissal, Lucan swooped in, materializing at her side. His curly hair gleamed with fresh oil as he bent over her hand to kiss it. It was obvious from her giggles that she was flattered by his attentions.
Rikard watched them leave for the dance floor with the grim knowledge that Lucan was going to break her heart.
“Your friend should stay away from him,” he warned Hannalinde.
“Who?” She followed his gaze. “The tall one with the pretty horns?”
He frowned at her description. He found he did not like her frank admiration of other males and was eager to quash it. “Yes, Lucan. He’s an unrepentant, insatiable, catastrophically charming rake who collects female conquests. He will tell her anything she wants to hear to bed her, and then he will tell anyone who wants to hear what it was like.”
Hannalinde watched the pair twirl their way across the courtyard. Carlijn spun under Lucan’s raised arm, her skirts belling outward and her face bright with reckless joy. “I don’t know. She looks happy.”
“I imagine so.” Like an animal tasting the bait, right before it’s snared.
“I’ll tell her, but I doubt she’ll listen to me,” Hannalinde sighed. “Carlijn doesn’t listen to anyone. It’s her worst quality and her best.”
“Her best?”
“If she listened to other people, she’d never have stayed friends with me.” Hannalinde glanced at him, and the look was wry and unexpectedly warm. “Or attended my wedding, for that matter.” He felt a stir of resentment toward his own friend, conspicuously absent. It was disappointing that Drogan could not put aside his personal feelings for one night.
Across the courtyard, Lucan bent to murmur something in Carlijn’s ear. She threw back her head and laughed so hard that two nearby humans clutched their wine goblets in alarm, and Rikard could practically hear Lucan’s purr from the high table. Bastien caught Rikard’s eye and gave a small, resigned shrug.
Rikard nodded. Some battles weren’t worth fighting. Lucan would do what Lucan did, and Carlijn seemed more than capable of handling herself. At least the two of them were giving the moths something to report on besides Hanna’s beautiful, ruined gown.
The crowd thinned as the evening deepened. The gargoyles unwilling to mingle with humans left first, launching into the air from rooftops and walls. The human guests departed on foot in clusters, pausing to bow or curtsy to the platform where Rikard and Hannalinde sat.
He acknowledged each one with a curt nod. Hannalinde dispensed more gracious smiles to these undeserving rabble, the same humans who’d scorned and shamed her for her father’s crimes. He did not know how she could stomach it.
Not that his kind was any better. It sobered him to think that her attacker might have been amongst the wedding guests. They might have greeted him, welcomed him to their feast, fed him and entertained him, without even knowing. Though thethought had just struck him, Hanna must have been feeling it all night. But when he stole a glance at her, she was as composed as ever.
She must be flagging, though. He certainly was.
“Perhaps we should make our exit?” he murmured. She gave a grateful nod, and he helped her untangle her skirts from the base of her seat. “Shall I carry you?”
“You needn’t.” Her pulse was visible in the hollow of her throat. Such thin-skinned creatures, humans. It was no wonder they needed the protection of stone walls and stone guardians.
“I think I will anyway.” He hoisted her in his arms in a bundle of silk and smiles, and the guests who spotted the move laughed and hooted in approval. He chuckled as he carried her off the dais. “Seems we’ve won them over.”
“The ones who don’t approve already left, I imagine,” she said mildly, but he could tell she was pleased to have at least some reputation restored. “It’s the one with green shutters.”
She indicated the townhouse they’d rented for her to dress and prepare for the ceremony. He ought to take her there. Her things were there. Carlijn would stay with her. He had guards posted on the roof, so she’d be safe from her true mate. She’d move into his eyrie tomorrow as planned.
Still, he did not like it. He began to carry her toward the Tower instead. At her noise of surprise, he gritted out the only explanation he could provide: “My mate belongs in my nest.”
