“There’s a fine line between pleasure and pain.” Trailing kisses down his chest, I grazed my teeth against his skin—then bit down abruptly. A hiss escaped his lips, and his arms clenched around me. When I leaned back to meet his gaze, however, it wasn’t pain in his eyes, but longing. My own chest throbbed in response. “It’s a good hurt.” I smiled and flicked his nose. “Well done, you.”
Monsieur Bernard
Lou
The Saint Nicolas Festival bustled around me and Reid as we left Pan’s the next morning. He’d bought me yet another new cloak—red this time instead of white. Appropriate. But I refused to let the events at the smithy poison my good mood today. Grinning, I glanced up at him and remembered the feel of snow on my bare skin. Of icy wind in my hair.
The rest of the evening had proved just as memorable. At my request, he’d agreed to stay with me in the attic, and I’d made the most of my last night there. I wouldn’t be returning to Soleil et Lune again.
I’d found a new home.
And the way he was currently licking the icing off his fingers . . . My stomach contracted deliciously.
His eyes cut to mine, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Crooking an eyebrow, I brought his pointer finger to my mouth and licked the rest of the icing off with slow, deliberate strokes. I’d expected his eyes to boggle and dart around us, his cheeks to flush and his jaw to clench, but again, he remained unfazed. This time he actually had the gall to chuckle.
“You are insatiable, Madame Diggory.”
Delighted, I stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his nose—then flicked it for good measure. “You don’t know the half of it. I still have lots to teach you, Chass.”
He grinned at the endearment, pressing my fingers to his lips before tucking my arm firmly beneath his. “You really are a heathen.”
“A what?”
His cheeks flamed, and he looked away sheepishly. “I used to call you that. In my head.”
I laughed out loud, oblivious to passersby. “Why does that not surprise me? Of course you wouldn’t have called me by, you know, my name—”
“You didn’t call me by my name!”
“That’s because you’re a prig!” The breeze kicked up a muddy Ye Olde Sisters flyer before sending it spiraling back to the snow. I stomped it beneath my boot, still laughing. “Come on. We need to hurry if we want to catch the Archbishop’s special performan—” His eyes sharpened on something behind me, and the word died in my throat. Turning, I followed his gaze and saw Madame Labelle striding purposefully toward us.
“Shit.”
He shot me an aggrieved look. “Don’t.”
“I sincerely doubt curse words will offend her. She’s a madam. Believe me, she’s seen and heard much worse.”
She wore another gown that set off the magnificent blue of her eyes, and her fiery red hair had been swept back with a pearl comb. A small, nagging sensation buzzed at the back of my skull at the sight of her. Like an itch I couldn’t scratch.
“Louise, darling! How marvelous it is to see you again.” She clasped my free hand in both of her own. “I had hoped we might run into one another—”
She stopped short, eyes falling on the mother-of-pearl ring on my finger. I tightened my grip on Reid’s arm. The movement didn’t go unnoticed.
She stared at the ring—then between the two of us—her eyes widening and mouth parting as she took in Reid’s face. He shifted under her scrutiny, clearly uncomfortable. “May we help you, madame?”
“Captain Reid Diggory.” She said the words slowly, as if tasting them for the first time. Her blue eyes were still alight with astonishment. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. My name is Madame Helene Labelle.”
He scowled at her. “I remember you, madame. You attempted to purchase my wife for your brothel.”
She stared at him raptly, not seeming to notice his hostility. “Your surname means ‘lost one,’ yes?”
I glanced between them, the buzzing at the back of my head growing louder. More insistent. It was an odd, unexpected question. Reid didn’t seem sure how to answer it.
“I believe so,” he finally muttered.
“What do you want, madame?” I asked suspiciously. Everything I knew about this woman warned me she wasn’t here for polite conversation.
Her eyes grew almost desperate as they bored into mine—and held a startlingly familiar intensity. “Is he a good man, Lou? A kind one?”