“I say, is that a turtle?” Huff asked beside him.
“No,” came Caro’s exasperated tones. “It’s a spider.”
“Looks like a turtle to me,” Huff said, unperturbed by his mate’s correction.
A flash of scarlet caught Griffin’s eye. He turned and saw Lady Hero disappear down a path. Good God, was she alone? Surely she knew better than to wander a dark path at night by herself?
He excused himself from the small group, making sure Lady Phoebe was with Megs and Caro and their escorts, then strode rapidly to where he’d seen Lady Hero. The popping and cracking continued overhead, and suddenly the path ahead of him was lit in bright orange. There at the far end stood Lady Hero looking around.
She turned as he advanced on her. “Thomas?”
He took her arm, too ridiculously angry to correct her. Where the hell was his brother? He pulled, but she dug in her heels, just as blue and yellow lights burst overhead.
“Why the hurry, my lord?” She tilted her face up to his, her eyes mocking behind the feathered half-mask she wore. “Don’t you think this romantic?”
Suddenly the explosions were in his head. Griffin stared into those innocently seductive eyes and realized very simply that he couldn’t stand it any longer.
He kissed her.
Chapter Six
What a spectacle there was when the three dignitaries arrived in the kingdom! Prince Westmoon came in a carriage made of gold and diamonds and drawn by twelve snow-white horses. Prince Eastsun rode in a palanquin encrusted with rubies and emeralds and hung draperies made of silk. And Prince Northwind arrived in a great gilded ship with sails of crimson and gold. All three men were haughty, commanding, and handsome beyond belief. But only the little brown bird and the stable master knew that the queen retired to her bed that night with a heavy heart….
—from Queen Ravenhair
It was stupid and irrational, but Thomas found he couldn’t stop himself from searching out Lavinia Tate. Not even the difficulty of finding her in the near dark in a maze of paths and side-paths deterred him. Three men? Had she become a sybarite? A woman controlled entirely by her physical desires? Thoughts such as these did not improve his mood, so when he did eventually run Lavinia—and her three beaus—to ground, his temper was perilously on edge.
“Dismiss them,” he barked at her. He eyed the men. Two were barely old enough to shave, but the third was a big fellow with broad shoulders.
Thomas flexed his hands. In his current mood, he was of a mind to take on all three.
“My lord,” Lavinia drawled. She was wearing another flame-colored dress that should’ve clashed horribly with her outlandishly red hair, but somehow didn’t. In fact, the amount of creamy bosom the décolletage displayed was enough to make a man drool.
Thomas scowled. “Tell them to leave, Lavinia.”
She arched an eyebrow at the use of her given name, and for a moment Thomas thought he really would have to choose between retreat and fisticuffs. Then she whispered something to the big fellow, and with a last nasty look, all three turned heel and left.
“Now, then.” She folded her arms across her chest as if bracing herself for an unpleasant confrontation with a bill collector. “What is it, Thomas?”
“Three, Lavinia?” His hands clenched by his sides. “And all merely boys.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “As it happens, my lord, two of those boys are my nephews. And I doubt Samuel would like you calling him a boy.”
So the big man was her lover. Thomas wanted to drive his fist into something. “He’s younger than you.”
“As are you,” she replied softly. “Yet it didn’t keep you from my bed.”
For a moment he merely stared at her hungrily, remembering her bed and what they’d done there.
Then she looked away. “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” He advanced toward her, confused by his own need to be near her. “You’re the one following me.”
“Following you?”
He didn’t know what reaction he’d expected from his accusation—perhaps protestations or even tears—but it wasn’t this. This looked perilously close to pity, her eyebrows drawing together, her lush mouth turning down.
“Thomas, I am not following you.”
“Explain, then, how you happened to be here on the very night I attend with my fiancée?”
She shrugged—actually shrugged!—at his angry words. “Coincidence, I suppose.”
“And your Samuel?” He was close enough to touch her now, but he daren’t. “Deny, if you will, that you brought him here in a pathetic effort to make me jealous.”