Give Me (Wyrd and Fae #1)(22)

“Oh, I’m still here.” Bella glared at Cammy from the top of the steps, about ten tourists back.

“One more wing to explore then we’ll eat.” Bausiney let go of Lilith. “You’re probably hypoglycemic. Or is it hyperglycemic? You’re hungry, that’s it!” He slipped away from her, disengaged, hers no longer. Once again the tour guide extraordinaire.

She still couldn’t decide. Was he strangely handsome or strangely ugly? At all events, strange was the right modifier. Occasionally he threw his hands in the air—great grabby things, fingers spread wide—to emphasize a marvelous fact about the castle or village history. While Lilith and the others clung to the safety rail on the stone stairs, Bausiney bounded past them four steps at a time, his wool scarf flopping against his back.

“And we’re stopping!”

The ruins were damp with mist and treacherous, the ancient stone steps tiny and close together and crumbling. Lilith still had trouble with her footing. Bausiney spun on the landing below to face them. For a moment, she saw the tapestry on the wall above him and heard a male baritone and a lute.

Great. The dreams now wanted her waking life.

“Tintagos Castle is famous for the many love affairs conducted within its walls.” Bausiney launched into his tour spiel. “Tristos and Isolde, for example.”

“That ended badly,” Bella said.

“They all did,” Bausiney said. “Tristos and Isolde died for their illicit love. They were buried beside each other and thereafter metamorphosed into a hazel and a honeysuckle. They’re here on the grounds, clinging together to this day. Quite romantic.”

“Drat!” Lilith slipped on a mossy stone this time and pitched forward toward the landing.

“Have a care!” Bausiney caught her and scooped her up in his arms. “You might break your lovely neck!” Galen’s exact words from her dream.

Bella and Cammy groaned behind her and stared daggers.

“I really am fine. I don’t know what happened.”

Bausiney held her to him and continued down the steps. He murmured, “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

“What?”

“I’ve been trying to get you away from those two all morning. Answer quick—say yes. I promise you: no liver and onions.”

“Yes.”

He set her on her feet. As Bella and Cammy surrounded her with solicitations for her well-being, his lips twitched. She was certain he was laughing inside.

After a few turns they came to what might long ago have been a banquet hall. Now it was a spacious oblong area open to the sky and covered with grass. Waiters were putting out picnic baskets on blankets spread out on the green.

“A benefit of Bausiney Tours, ladies,” Bausiney said. “I have an in with the castle management.” He beckoned a waiter to him. “Give Ms. Evergreen a glass of champagne posthaste.” He dropped his voice and said to Lilith alone, in that demon lover tone, “She’s in need of sustenance.” He bent his elbow and offered his arm.

She reacted with tingling warmth—but this time it was authentic. Her warmth. Her tingle. Nothing mysterious about it. He guided her to a small blanket just the right size for two. The French girls did not take the hint. They plopped down and pretended not to notice that they were left sitting half on damp grass.

“Ooh.” Cammy opened the basket. “Scones and clotted cream.”

“And strawberry jam?” Bella said.

“And classic strawberry jam.” Bausiney smiled, unperturbed.

As they ate, he told the story of Utros and Igraine, how Utros convinced Merlin to use magic to slip him inside the castle to get to Igraine, ignoring the fact she was married to another man.

“So romantic.” Cammy really did bat her eyelashes at Bausiney.

“I don’t think it’s romantic at all.” His eyes flashed with exaggerated umbrage. “Infamous union! The resultant whelp grew up to become King Artros. A very bad beginning which explains his bad end.”

“So you believe children should pay for the sins of their parents.” Bella said.

“Pay?” Bausiney dropped the dramatics and grew thoughtful. “No. But we must try to atone for them.”

“How dreary,” Cammy said.

“True.” Bausiney gave her a sad smile. “Quite dreary.”

Lilith thought of the picture of his mother. What could Bausiney feel the need to atone for? Or was he thinking of his father?

“Which Tintagos love affair do you find more romantic?” Lilith asked. She couldn’t talk about the sins of parents. Practically speaking, she had only one, a mere cipher who had struggled to provide for them and then died just as Lilith was able to care for herself.

Tragic but uninteresting.

“I go with Tristos and Isolde,” Bausiney said, “despite their ending as vegetation. Utros, in my opinion, was no better than a rapist. He used the magics to don the guise of Igraine’s rightful lover—her husband.”

“Quite so.” Bella glanced sideways at Cammy.

Bausiney sliced a scone and put one of the halves on a tiny plate, thin porcelain painted with morning glories. His long fingers were oddly masculine in the delicate work. “I wonder how it was for old Utros.” He dipped a silver berry spoon with a gold wash into a fresh jar of strawberry jam. “To finally bed the woman of his dreams.”