Give Me (Wyrd and Fae #1)(11)

“The woman by the tree.”

“Are you seeing ghosts, dear?” Marion said.

Lilith looked again, and there was no one there. Was she having waking dreams now? “Maybe I was seeing things.” She tried to make a joke of it. “I haven’t slept well lately.”

The ladies fell into travel-weary silence while Ian and Bausiney debated whether there was enough liquor stocked at the inn. Lilith leaned back and watched the tree, listening to the horses’ rhythmic clop-clop. After a while Bausiney said, “Miss Evergreen, I’m told you’re the one tourist who’s come for our lovely scenery alone and not the lure of Glimmer Cottage.”

“Excellent,” Bella said. “One less in the competition.”

“It’s not a competition, dear,” Marion said. “The wyrding woman will know the one and will choose her, simple as that.”

“My wager’s on Evergreen here,” Ian said.

“Shush, Ian.” Marion patted his knee. “We have no favorites at the Tragic Fall.”

Ian made a face. “Anyone who sees a ghost at Igdrasil is a winner in my book.” He said Igdrasil with tenderness—even love.

“Igdrasil?” Lilith said.

“The tree.” Bella shook her head with disdain. “The great world tree of Dumnos. It has a name.”

“Bella is a veritable encyclopedia of Dumnos,” Cammy said. “She’s been elbow-deep in research since the announcement.”

“What does it matter?” Bella said. “It’s all up, isn’t it? Game over. She’s the one.”

“Not possible,” Bausiney said drily. “She’s an American.”

Poor Bella. She didn’t see that the entire event was a pantomime. A tourist promotion. It was cruel someone didn’t enlighten her. Besides, even if by an impossible breach of plausibility the Handover were on the level, the celibacy involved wouldn’t do. Lilith was off men for now, but not forever.

Take Bausiney, for instance. He wasn’t the handsomest of men, but she could already see he was clever and funny and he oozed sexual…competence? The mad random bout of lust had passed, but a strange afterglow of attraction persisted. And she liked it.

Something inside her had changed, maybe with her first breath of Tintagos air. She was alive in a way she’d never felt, as if Dumnos’s atmospheric conditions had affected her too. No, she wouldn’t be off men forever.

The carriage crossed into the village square and slowed to a crawl to avoid hitting tourists in the streets. Lilith could well believe every room in the village was taken. They rolled to a stop at the Tragic Fall Inn, and the footman climbed down to unload the luggage.

“Take it all inside, Trenam,” Bausiney said.

“Yes, my lord.” The footman gave a cursory bow.

“Heavens.” Cammy pointed to a wooden placard above the inn’s doorway. It boasted a grotesque painting of two horses’ heads, one white with a black blaze on its forehead and one black with a white blaze. Their nostrils flared and their teeth were bared in unnatural grimaces, their eyes wide with terror.

“Those are the horses that fell,” Bausiney deadpanned. “Tragically.”

He kissed the back of Cammy’s hand and laid on the charm. “I wish you a pleasant stay in Tintagos.” Cammy curtsied and giggled, and Bausiney moved on to Bella with the same routine. He repeated the exercise with Lilith—except that he wished her a very pleasant stay and lingered half a beat over her hand. She wondered what it would be like to feel those lips on other places.

The way he lifted the scarf from her shoulders felt intimate and familiar. Heat flowed through her again, like lava. Not like the wild weirdness in the carriage; this was old-fashioned, mundane desire.

“You’ll be warm inside,” he said.

She was warm inside already.

“I see the mist and rain of Dumnos have no respect for summer,” she said. “I assure you I did pack a sweater.” A lock of his russet hair fell over his eyes, and she fought the urge to tuck it up under that outrageous hat.

He draped the scarf over one shoulder like a knight’s favor from his lady fair and climbed into the carriage. He was still standing as it pulled away. “I’ll call for you tomorrow at ten o’clock sharp. First stop, Tintagos Castle!”

He doffed his hat just when the carriage hit a rut and pitched him forward. He disappeared then popped up again, arms outstretched to show he was unharmed. Lilith laughed along with the French girls. No denying it, Bausiney was quite likeable in his roguish way.

Inside ready to check them in, Marion waited at the desk. Behind her was a life-size photo of a young woman. “Is that you?” Lilith asked. “No, wait. Your mother?”

The woman in the picture had straight dark hair down to her elbows, heavy eye makeup, and white lipstick. She wore a plaid miniskirt under a leather jacket trimmed with fringe and white go-go boots. Through a trick of the camera, it looked like a statue of Eros had perched on her shoulder.

A brass plate on the frame said Countess Dumnos.

“My older sister,” Marion said. “At Piccadilly Circus, ages ago.”

Cammy said, “Your sister was Lord Tintagos’s mother?”

“He is my nephew.” Marion handed them their room keys and rang for a porter.

“Who is Lord Tintagos?” Lilith asked.