To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(37)
She gave him a little smile.
Devastatingly handsome silver eyes peered up at her, a faint grin playing about his sexy lips. “I told you to let me do it.”
“Okay, I’ll let you do it,” she replied softly, staring at his mouth. She stretched her chin forward just a bit, hoping for a kiss, but he abruptly set her on her feet instead. He re-positioned the step stool, climbed it, and retrieved the jar of garlic.
Graciella pressed her lips together glumly as she took it from him. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” he said. “Do need anything else?”
Yes. You. Graciella thought fast. “Ah…”
“If so, just send Tinni to get me again.” He swept past her out of the larder and left the kitchen.
Graciella made a fist and stamped her foot in frustration. “Damnation. So close.”
“So close to what, milady?” Wilten appeared in the larder doorway with the bowl of herbs.
Graciella blushed, then decided to confide in the girl. “So close to kissing him.”
Wilten looked puzzled. “Kiss? What that?”
Graciella kissed the air.
Wilten’s eyes widened. “You kiss Emperor Yavi?”
Graciella giggled. “No, not yet. But I want to.”
Wilten hugged the bowl to her slender chest, closing her eyes. “Oh, yes. Emperor Yavi so handsome.”
“Yes. So handsome. Okay, you chop some carrots while I start the rice. I want to make this Talún loaf one he’ll never forget.”
§
Yavi retreated to his study and poured himself a glass of katsuri, taking a long drink of it. There was no mistaking what had just happened. She’d tried to kiss him.
He strode over to the fire and stared into the flames, his groin throbbing. Well, at least now I know she doesn’t see me as an older brother or uncle. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, the memory of how perfectly her curved, slender waist fit in his arms, how sweetly her firm breasts pressed against his chest. Her full lower lip had been within inches of his mouth, and she smelled of lavender and lilacs.
And she tried to kiss me. He took another drink, pressing down on his erection through his trousers with his other hand, willing it to subside. How the hell was he going to survive if Graciella was becoming attracted to him? Down in that warm, steamy kitchen, cooking up all kinds of wonderful-smelling dishes, stood five feet six inches of captivating female perfection—creamy, smooth skin, silky dark hair, and pale-hazel eyes framed with long black lashes. Things would have been much easier later tonight if he hadn’t gone down there and gotten a preview while she was cooking. But what else could he have done? Tell Tinni he was busy? She was honoring him by cooking his mother’s Talún, and he hadn’t had that dish in fifteen years, since his mother’s death. The truth was, he was dying to taste it again, to savor the good memories of his sweet, beautiful mother and her delicious cooking. Memories of her before she fell ill and wasted away before his very eyes.
What would Mother say if she were here now? His throat tightened as he stared at the flames. Would she be ashamed of him for almost kissing his young, innocent houseguest just now? What if she knew he’d had his pick of the women and had freely played the field after he and Yajna left home to join the military? And what would she say if she knew Svana had been killed, and that it was his fault?
He took another drink of the katsuri, beginning to feel its softening effects on his tense muscles and troubled mind. Eventually, the answer to his questions about his mother came to him.
She’d forgive you, Yavi.
§
Graciella braided her long hair and then coiled it on top of her head, fastening it with hairpins. She pulled out some strands around her face and neck, then searched in her armoire for a suitable dinner dress. She’d already worn her best attire, and was down to an older dress, a pale green hand-me-down from Jiandra. The bodice hooked in back and was a little snug on Graciella’s bosom, since Jiandra was smaller up top than she was.
Graciella went to look in the mirror. The bottom half of her breasts was flattened out, and they were bulging unattractively at the top. She adjusted the neckline of the chemise to try to improve the overall effect, but it didn’t really help because the bodice held her chemise so tightly. “Well, it’s either this or a work dress,” she said aloud to herself, yanking down on the bottom edge of the bodice to get it in a more comfortable place. “I’ll just have to live with it.”
When she arrived in the dining room downstairs, Yavi was already there waiting for her. Graciella smiled, eager to spend an entire evening alone with him.
He bowed stiffly to her as she approached. “Good evening, Miss Stovy.”
“Good evening, Emperor,” she returned with a little curtsy.
He picked up a bottle of wine from the table. “I had the steward bring up a bottle of Nandalan Fahrshir that was stored in the cellars here when we moved in. It’s at least thirty years old.”
“Oh.” Graciella tried to see the label on the bottle, but it was scribbled in Nandalan. “What’s Fahrshir?”
“A small grape that grows along the western slopes. It makes a rich, complex red wine. It goes well with Talún.” He glanced at it with a half-smile. “Not that we could ever afford Fahrshir at my family’s farm. I only know how well it pairs with Talún from the dinner the servants had laid out in Thakur’s tent the night we defeated him in Villeleia.”