Midnight Jewel (The Glittering Court #2)(114)

The next night, I nearly ran to Grant’s. He hardly got a greeting out when I entered. I pushed him onto the bed and surprised myself with the feverish way I went after him. I couldn’t get enough of him. I couldn’t touch him enough. I couldn’t get close enough.

Later, as we lay together in stillness, he said in that dry way of his: “So. That’s what happens when we take a night off.”

I didn’t know how to explain how I felt, that Jasper’s words and those empty beds had driven home how alone I was. That Lonzo was far away. Grant was all I had left, and the thought of losing him terrified me. But I would. One way or another, it was going to happen. He’d leave, I’d leave. I didn’t know. Because although we often talked about all sorts of other topics in bed, our future—if there even was one—never came up. Even the far-fetched idea of going north together had been voiced cautiously. And it had never been mentioned again.

My face must have betrayed all the emotion churning inside me. I saw it startle him. I saw it scare him. He didn’t mind unbound passion in bed, but he was still skittish at the thought of anyone caring about him too much.

I braced myself, ready for him to close himself off or even get up. Instead, he ran his fingers through the long strands of my hair and asked, “Why me?” It almost sounded like one of those world-weary “Why me?” exclamations people make when they’re burdened with woes. “Maybe you didn’t know any better the first time. Maybe not even the second, but you should by now. You could have your pick of other men. Nicer men. Less complicated men.”

He spoke as he often did: light and flippant. But the hand that touched me trembled. I reached out and put my own over it as I studied him. Flyaway black hair. Scars. Square jaw. Questionable shaving. I thought about his brusqueness and biting humor. His courage in the face of danger. The loyalty he swore he didn’t have.

“Because I wanted something simple. Instead I got you.” I tightened my hold on his hand. “And it turns out, that was what I needed.”

He shook his head. I could sense his guard coming up, but I didn’t regret my words. “Mirabel—”

A rap at the door caused him to jerk away. He leapt off the bed and managed to tug on his pants as he hurried toward the other room. “Stay here,” he warned. He shut the bedroom door, but it didn’t catch. I scrambled out of bed and pulled on my chemise, peering out through the small gap between door and wall. Grant picked up his gun and went to the front door, asking who was there. He’d grown even more cautious since we’d become lovers. I think he expected Jasper or Cornelius to show up one day.

I didn’t hear the answer on the other side of the door, but he opened it and Aiana hurried in. She immediately began speaking in Balanquan, and a tense conversation ensued. I couldn’t understand it—their language was still a puzzle to me—but two words came through very clearly: Adelaide and Cedric.

I pushed open the bedroom door and rushed forward. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Aiana stopped mid-sentence. She looked at Grant, she looked at me, and then she looked back at him. Her face darkened, and she barked something to him that didn’t sound complimentary. He answered back, and I interrupted before she could respond.

“Enough! Fight later. Tell me what’s happened to Adelaide and Cedric. And speak Osfridian.”

Aiana kept her eyes on Grant for several more seconds and then slowly turned to me. She spoke stiffly at first and then fell into the urgency of her story. “Something happened in Hadisen. Silas is back—and he brought Warren Doyle and some of his men. They’re being held at the jail, and Cedric will join them once he’s well enough to travel. Silas found them in the middle of a fight and took everyone into custody. Cedric and Warren each claim they were attacked by the other.”

“Why wouldn’t Cedric be well enough to travel?” I demanded.

“They don’t know who started the fight, but they know who finished it. Cedric was outnumbered and took a beating, but he’ll be okay. And Adelaide’s fine . . . but . . .”

“But what? More than this?” I exclaimed. I wanted to go demand a boat take me over the bay right now.

“Did you know . . .” Aiana considered her words carefully. “Did you know about Adelaide’s background?”

“She was a maid for some grand lady.”

“Well, they’re saying, she is—or was—the grand lady. A noble. Does the name Witmore or Rothford mean anything to you?”

“The Rothford earldom is one of the oldest, and it’s held by the Witmore family,” I said, reciting my history instructor’s words. “But there’s absolutely no way—” I groaned and walked away, putting a hand to my forehead. I was an idiot. “Of course. Of course she is.” Adelaide had come to us knowing how to use seven different forks, but she hadn’t been able to brush her own hair. The amazing turnaround in her grades hadn’t been a turnaround at all. She’d been faking until then.

Grant leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. “Well, I didn’t see that coming, but does it change anything?”

“It has people’s attention. I guess we’ll see what that’s worth when she gets back with Cedric. Silas expects them to come by water in a couple of days. I’m surprised he hasn’t stopped by yet.” Aiana glanced around, as though she expected Silas to materialize out of thin air. “You’d better watch out—he’s not going to take all of this as well as I did.”