Page 91 of Nightshade

“I’ll have it removed tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure it’ll make much difference to my sleep. I’ve always been a bit of a night owl.” With a smile, I stared down at myself and the white nightgown, which failed to properly shield the silhouette of my body beneath. I drew my robe closed, cinching my waist with its belt. When I glanced up again, I caught him staring out of the corner of his unpatched eye. “Do you have trouble sleeping, too, Mister Van Croix?”

He didn’t seem to hide the lascivious expression on his face, going so far as to shamelessly lick his lips, which sent a flutter to my stomach. “At times.”

“The sign of a thirsty mind,” I said on a nervous breath. As much as I’d wanted the attention from him, had hoped I could weasel my way into his awareness, the man made me nervous.

“Pardon?”

“Something my aunt used to say, when I’d wander about the house late at night. She said my mind was in search of … quenching. Like a child who wakes for a glass of water, or milk.” I caught a glimpse of his drink propped on the organ beside him. “Or liquor, I suppose.”

On a sigh, he turned back to the organ and reached for his glass again. “What is it you thirst for?”

Something about the way he framed the question had my mouth watering for a taste of his drink. “Understanding. Reason. I was on my way to the library to do a bit of reading. What about you?”

“Diversion.” With that, he snorted a small laugh and stole another sip of his drink.

“I suppose music is good for that.”

“I prefer the more carnal amusements, but yes, I suppose it is.” He swayed a bit where he sat, and it was then I realized he was slightly intoxicated. “Consider yourself fortunate. If not for your condition, I might’ve taken an interest in you.”

“My condition?”

“Innocence and naivete. You stink of it.” His jaw clenched, as if the word left a bitter taste on his tongue.

At that, I frowned, and made a subtle effort to sniff myself, in case he actually meant stink. “I’m not as innocent as you seem to think.”

“No, of course not.” Swirling the drink around, he stared down at it, seemingly mesmerized by the act. “You did seek me out, after all, didn’t you? Some ill begotten fantasy that woke you from dreams. And here you are.” Glass raised as if in toast, he swayed again. “Another chance encounter.”

The meaning of his words came together, painting a picture that had me scowling back at him. Yes, I’d intended to charm the man, but I hadn’t sought him out. “Are you suggesting that I came to you for … well, for …”

“You do know the word, at the very least, don’t you? Three letters. Fairly simple pronunciation.” The thick sarcasm in his voice had my hands tingling, wishing I could slap him.

“I’m quite familiar with the word, thanks.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Nor do I care to make it so.”

What a piece of work, the guy. All the arrogance crammed inside his skull must’ve made for one hell of a headache. “While I enjoyed your music, I can assure you, I did not seek you out.”

“It would not have been your own inclination.” The tone of his voice held nothing more than the dull apathy of indifference. “Do you not feel it? The urge?”

“Urge for what?” The only urge I felt was trying to keep my hand from cracking across his perfectly chiseled cheek.

Drink raised midway to his lips, he paused and stared back at me. “Interesting.” He seemed to study me for a moment, with that one good eye, before he tipped the glass back for a sip. “Run along now, little fledgling. Go read your books.”

I suspected fledgling might’ve been in reference to my night owl comment. Or another crack at my innocence, as he’d called it.

“Are you always so pleasant, or is this a special occasion?”

He groaned, not bothering to look at me. “Are you always so full of endless conversation?”

“No, actually. It must be your scintillating personality that brings it out of me.”

“Why are you here?”