Night's Honour(32)

“Be specific.”

“You like and miss each other. She’s sorry she lost her temper. Things are strained between her and Julian, and I guess between Julian and the Nightkind council.” Her gaze darted up to his face again, but his expression was a closed book. “You’re not happy at having Justine here, but I already knew that. Raoul said earlier that she’s an enemy.”

“You didn’t miss much, did you?”

“I guess the wind was blowing in the right direction. I didn’t want to . . .” She caught herself up before she said something untrue, because after the first few minutes, she had actually wanted to eavesdrop. Not that she was proud of it. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, and I’m really sorry about that.”

He gestured impatiently. “Stop squatting.”

Warily, she rose to her feet.

His quiet voice stung like a whip. “Justine might not have been able to enter without permission, but her attendants could have. They could have climbed in here almost as quickly and quietly as I did just now, slit your throat and be gone again inside of ten minutes. And before you tell me how unlikely that is, I will tell you that exact scenario has happened before. Vampyres have been known to take vengeance against other Vampyres through attacking their attendants.”

Appalled, she lifted her chin. He was right, of course, and she would take whatever he had to say without flinching. Much. She said again, “I’m sorry. Were they your attendants?”

“No, they were someone else’s, and it happened over thirty years ago.” He studied her expression then said, “While it may surprise you to hear this, I’m not actually angry that you broke the rules.”

The world shifted under her feet again. “You’re not?”

“You thought things through, considered potential risks and took action that was independent of any orders that you’d been given. And while I understand that it was entirely accidental, you also acquired a great deal of information. Those traits are all very useful to me.” He paused. “In fact, I only have a few real problems with what you did.”

She regarded him with a great deal of wariness, because once again, this conversation had run away from her. “What are they?”

“You assumed you knew better than we did and were stupidly careless. And you got caught.”

Her mouth opened and closed. She had never experienced anything quite like this lecture before, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

He turned brisk. “Melisande, Justine and I will be leaving promptly tomorrow at sundown. As you undoubtedly already overheard, after the council meetings I’ll be traveling to New York, so I will see you in February. I’ll expect an excellent progress report, so try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.” He gave her a slow smile. “Or at least try not to get caught.”

She opened her mouth again, but nothing came out.

He slipped a couple of fingers under her chin and gently eased her mouth shut. “To avoid unnecessary conversation with any of the others, I’m going to leave the way I came in. You will lock the window when I’m gone.”

He didn’t phrase it as a question, but she nodded anyway.

Even though he said he was leaving, he didn’t move, nor did he drop his hand from her chin. Forgetting to be afraid, she watched him curiously as his gaze roamed over her face. He touched her lips with his thumb, and a slight frown came between his eyebrows. Then his eyelids lowered, hiding the expression in his eyes.

She held her breath. The pressure against her lips from the ball of his thumb was so slight that if she wasn’t looking directly at him, she wasn’t sure she would have felt it.

It wasn’t quite a caress. She didn’t know what it was.

His hand dropped away, and he inclined his head to her. Then he walked to the window, folded his lean body to slip through the open space and dropped out of sight with a boneless, catlike grace.

The room echoed with emptiness. She went to the window and looked out. He stood underneath, hands on his hips. As he watched, she closed the window and latched it. He nodded to her and walked toward the main house, where the music still played.

She watched until he had left her angle of sight and pulled the curtain closed.

Only then did it occur to her that he might have been fighting his Vampyre instincts as he held her chin and touched her mouth. But that didn’t feel right to her. He hadn’t looked as if he had been engaged in an internal struggle, and she hadn’t felt any real threat from him.

Instead he had looked troubled, perhaps even sad.

Even as the thought occurred to her, she frowned. That couldn’t be right. Why would looking at her sadden him? It reminded her of earlier, when she had thought she’d caught a hint of something wistful about him.