A Thief of Nightshade(10)
So she unpredictably drank several glasses of champagne and snuck her way through the mansion to the gardens—a maneuver she nearly didn’t pull off because of her intolerance of alcohol.
Usually one glass was enough to make her light-headed.
After she’d wandered for a bit, singing softly to herself, she found a bench overlooking a
small
fountain.
She
considered sitting down but, no, that’s too predictable and I can’t be predictable tonight. Let’s be spontaneous. So, instead of sitting, she walked around the fountain until she stood at the far end and then lay down with her head resting on the lip of the fountain. Hidden from prying eyes, she had a brilliant view of the night sky.
“You know, I’ve heard there’s medicinal value in lying dangerously close to water when you’re intoxicated.”
Aubrey totally saw the humor in the comment until she realized who’d said it.
Dr. Sellars sat on the edge, looking down at her with a curious smile on his face.
“Dr. Sellars.” Her stomach was now officially somewhere in her throat.
“Call me Jullian,” he said softly.
“I’ve learned a lot about you tonight.”
“That could be very good or that could be very bad.” She shut her eyes, more in dread than dizziness, but when she tried to sit up, the world spun.
Jullian laughed, “Whoa, not so fast.”
His warm hands on her back steadied her, and for the first time in too long to remember, Aubrey didn’t shy away from human contact.
She groaned at how immature this whole picture must have appeared to him.
“Let me guess, you’ve been told how out of control I am; how declining a scholarship to medical school is one of the worst mistakes I will ever make, second only to breaking off an engagement with the son of the city’s second-wealthiest family, and
how
incomprehensible my lack of direction is?” She wanted to keep going, but wondered what the use would be.
“I learned that the shy young woman in my Voice in Fiction class, who has been quiet through four class arguments that I know she could have won, is gutsier than I imagined. What you did is not only difficult, it’s terrifying. And I met your former betrothed a short while ago.” He frowned. “Not quite the man I would have expected to capture your affection.”
“Who said anything about my affection? According to my family and his, love has nothing at all to do with marriage.”
Jullian smirked boyishly, asking, “And according to you?”
“I left everything I know for my belief in it. What does that tell you?” She looked up at him, the alcohol in her system taking care of the jitters she might have been feeling any other night. He wore a black tux with a white ascot and vest underneath the jacket. The lines around his eyes belied his otherwise youthful appearance; their color always caught her off guard and if she didn’t know better, she would think he wore contacts. “You sound like you speak from experience.”
He picked up a bright red leaf from the ground and spun it by the stem between his thumb and forefinger. “Let’s just say that my family’s plans for me weren’t exactly in my benefit, or theirs, but they had too much fear to consider any other possibility.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, where are you from? You obviously aren’t from around here—Southern accents are hard to miss.”
He stopped fiddling with the leaf and watched as it fell. “Oh, all over. I can’t claim any place in the world, really, as home.”
He’d struck her as well traveled. She caught a shooting star just out of the corner of her eye. “Damn, I always miss them.”
“Miss what?” he laughed.
“Shooting stars.”
“Maybe you’re just too distracted.”
She giggled, “Maybe. Or I just have really slow reflexes.”
“Stand up,” he said with far too much enthusiasm.
“Um ... that might not be such a good idea.”
He took both of her hands and pulled her up, pausing until she’d found solid footing. The party behind them was at full swing, the music echoing through the open grass courtyards. It sounded otherworldly.
Ethereal. The small lights atop the hedges and in the corners of the garden highlighted the sharp line of Jullian’s jaw, the handsome curves of his face and she couldn’t help but to think it all fit him somehow. Suddenly, he no longer seemed like the uncomplicated man that she thought she’d gotten to know a little better since taking him to get his keys that night after class. Now, in the partial shade, away from the realities of day-to-day life, he radiated something besides his usual eccentric charm. Without meaning to, Aubrey leaned into him for balance, placing her hands on his chest. When she felt the strength of his muscles, she was reminded of the prince in Jullian’s book— the warrior who’d been just as adept on the battlefield as in the royal court.
His eyes met hers. “Come on, I want you to see something.”
She was grateful then for the arm that slid around her waist for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which was to help her walk with some semblance of dignity.
Just before they made it to the highest hedge, he stopped.
“Close your eyes,” he said. When she hesitated, he tightened his grip and whispered, “It’s all right, I promise. I won’t let you fall.”