Page 20 of Deals & Dream Spells (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #2)

The dance ended, and they bowed to each other once more.

Before Mariselle could escape, however, Evryn captured her hand and raised it to his lips.

Remembering Ryden’s ridiculous instructions, he maintained unwavering eye contact as he pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles, counting slowly in his head.

One … two … three …

Mariselle’s eyes narrowed.

Four … five … six …

A subtle flush crept up her neck, and Evryn found himself wondering if it was manufactured or if he might possibly have provoked a genuine reaction from her.

Seven.

He released her hand but maintained his gaze, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Mariselle drew in a delicate breath, her lashes fluttering in a display of demure passion that looked remarkably convincing.

“My love,” she murmured, just loud enough for those nearby to hear, “do remember we are in public. I know how desperately you yearn for me, but such lingering attentions are hardly proper.” Her blush deepened as she added, “Even if I might secretly wish them to continue.”

Evryn bit down hard on the cough that threatened to escape his throat.

Damn her. Here he was, doing his utmost to discomfit her, and yet she remained utterly unaffected.

Maintaining his ridiculously lovesick expression, he leaned closer and muttered through gritted teeth, “Tell me, do you enchant your cheeks to flush on command, or is that another natural talent of yours?”

She smiled sweetly, leaning closer. “A lady possesses many skills, my dearest. The right enchantment can do wonders for one’s complexion.”

“How impressive. You truly do excel in every realm of deception, my sweet venomous pixie of love.”

Her perfect smile wavered almost imperceptibly, the corners of her mouth tightening. “Your endearments grow increasingly nonsensical,” she hissed with barely moving lips.

“Nothing about this ridiculous farce makes sense, Lady Brightcrest. Yet here we are.” He drew back, his smile in place once more. “Would you care for refreshment, my luminous sunbeam?”

Her jaw tensed slightly, a muscle flickering beneath the smooth skin of her cheek as she fought to maintain her serene expression. “Yes,” she replied. “That would be lovely.”

Evryn glanced around the ballroom, spotting several attendants in white and gold uniforms circulating with trays of crystal glasses.

He caught the attention of the nearest attendant, who glided toward them.

With a graceful gesture, he caused two glasses containing a pale blue drink to rise from the tray and hover momentarily in the air before settling into Evryn’s waiting hands. He offered one to Mariselle .

“Luminous sunbeam?” she muttered under her breath as she took the glass.

“To match your perpetually sunny disposition, my dearest.”

“You need to exercise some restraint.”

“I’m merely giving our audience what they expect,” Evryn replied innocently. “The High Lady herself seems enchanted by our connection. Would you have me disappoint her?”

“I would have you maintain some semblance of dignity,” Mariselle countered as she lifted her glass to her lips.

“But my fluttering nightingale, how can one maintain dignity when swept away by the tides of passion?”

Mariselle took a rather large sip of her drink, her smile now looking decidedly strained. She swallowed and whispered, “You’re going to regret this.”

“On the contrary, my sparkling raincloud,” Evryn replied cheerfully. “I’m rather enjoying myself.”

“Rowanwood, Lady Brightcrest,” a deep voice interrupted. They turned to find Crispin approaching. “My congratulations on your unexpected union.”

“Lord Ironvale,” Mariselle acknowledged with a slight nod. “How kind of you to offer your good wishes.”

“I would not miss such a historic event,” Crispin replied smoothly. “A Rowanwood and a Brightcrest, united by magic itself. Truly unprecedented.”

“Quite so,” Evryn replied, noting that now would be a good time to slip his arm around Mariselle’s waist and draw her a little closer, but finding he simply couldn’t bear the thought.

His theatrical abilities were already stretched to their absolute limit without introducing unnecessary physical contact.

“We are both truly delighted by this unexpected turn of events.”

“Indeed,” Mariselle agreed. “Though I admit, had anyone suggested such a match a week ago, I would have questioned their sanity.”

“And yet here we are,” Crispin observed, his gaze flickering between them. “How … delightful.”

“The High Lady certainly thinks so,” Evryn said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, my friend,” he added. “Lady Mariselle has not yet been formally introduced to my family.”

They turned away from Crispin, and Evryn heard the first true hint of alarm in Mariselle’s voice when she hissed, “We are not actually going to speak with your family now, are we?”

“Of course not, but did you really want to remain in conversation with my deeply suspicious friend?” Evryn asked, his smile never faltering.

“He still harbors—Ah, Lady Thornhart, Lady Whispermist!” He stopped abruptly before colliding with two elegant older women, longtime friends of his grandmother.

“Evryn,” Lady Amarind Thornhart said in that tone she had perfected over decades, one that managed to convey disappointment even in a simple greeting.

Her dark gaze swept over Mariselle, brows drawing together in disapproval.

“And Lady Mariselle. What an extraordinary development this is. I must confess, when I first heard the news, I wondered if perhaps the gossip birds had finally lost what little sense they possess.”

“I assure you,” Evryn said as he bowed respectfully to Fin’s grandmother, “the rumors are quite true.”

“Hmm. So I see.”

Lady Lycilla Whispermist, a short woman with lavender hair, offered a more diplomatic smile. “The High Lady seems quite delighted by your connection. That alone suggests there must be something genuine in this unexpected bond, despite the … historical considerations.”

Evryn looked down at Mariselle, and for a moment, he pictured Jasvian gazing at Iris.

Though the stab of envy earlier had irritated him, he now did the unthinkable and attempted to channel his older brother, allowing his expression to soften into what he hoped resembled genuine warmth.

“Neither of us anticipated such a connection,” he said, his voice tender as he gazed into Mariselle’s blue eyes.

“But magic has a way of revealing truths we never knew existed.”

“So lovely,” Lady Lycilla said, appearing somewhat more convinced now. “And I do hope,” she added with a glance at Mariselle, “that we shall have the pleasure of seeing you at The Charmed Leaf soon, my dear. As Evryn’s betrothed, you’ll naturally be most welcome there.”

Lady Amarind released what sounded like a horrified snort of laughter. “Goodness, in all my days, I never thought I’d live to see a Brightcrest enter The Charmed Leaf! What remarkable times we live in.”

“Of course Lady Mariselle will be visiting the tea house,” Evryn replied smoothly, even as his stomach dropped with the sudden realization that he hadn’t considered this particular social obligation.

His grandmother would likely attempt to poison Mariselle’s tea.

Or possibly strangle her with the vines that adorned the walls.

“I look forward to introducing her to all its charms.”

Lady Amarind coughed, her eyebrows rising sharply. “Indeed! I highly doubt your grandmother is looking forward to it with quite the same enthusiasm.”

Something rebellious flared in Evryn’s chest at the implicit challenge to his autonomy. “On Thursday, in fact,” he heard himself say before he could think better of it. “Lady Mariselle has already accepted my invitation for afternoon tea.”

He felt, rather than saw, Mariselle tense slightly beside him.

“Grandmother,” Fin said as he appeared at Lady Amarind’s side, “you’re monopolizing the happy couple.” He offered Mariselle a deep bow. “Lady Mariselle, you look lovely this evening.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Mariselle replied with a perfect curtsy. “Though I fear Lord Rowanwood’s excessive floral tributes outshone me.”

“Nonsense,” Fin said. “I’m sure my good friend Evryn doesn’t believe any bloom could possibly compare to your natural beauty.”

“Absolutely,” Evryn agreed. “My beloved shimmering dewdrop outshines all the flowers in Bloomhaven.”

Mariselle summoned another pink flush to her cheeks. “You flatter me, my love.”

“It isn’t flattery if it’s true,” Evryn insisted, raising her hand to his lips once more.

Her expression froze into a mask of adoration that couldn’t quite disguise the murderous gleam in her eyes. Under different circumstances, Evryn imagined her hand would have connected sharply with his face. He considered this another triumph in their unspoken contest.

Evryn lowered Mariselle’s hand and turned back to the two elder ladies in time to see the meaningful glance the two exchanged.

Lady Amarind inclined her head. “We mustn’t monopolize you on such a special evening,” she said, and the two women linked arms and turned away.

Evryn had no doubt they were making a direct course to his grandmother to report the details of this uncomfortable encounter.

“Ah, I see Lord Emberdale,” Fin said, gesturing across the ballroom. “If you’ll excuse me, I promised him a word about the art auction. The two of you will be there, I presume? The night after tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Evryn replied smoothly, though he had forgotten all about it.

He didn’t often attend the annual art exhibition and auction hosted by the Emberdales.

It ranked among the many formal occasions he typically abandoned in favor of the far more enticing freedom of racing through star-lit skies on Cobalt’s back. Beside him, Mariselle nodded.

“Excellent.” Fin stepped away, leaving the two of them alone once more, crystal glasses in hand. “I hope you’re enjoying the evening, my precious cinnamon dumpling,” Evryn said, his voice low but his eyes alight with triumph. “I certainly am.”

“You’ve been insufferable,” she replied through gritted teeth. “This performance has gone far beyond what was necessary.”

“I disagree. The High Lady is delighted, society is convinced, and our charade remains intact. I’d call that a resounding success.”

“You’re deliberately trying to provoke me.”

“I’m merely playing the role you assigned me,” he replied innocently. “Is it my fault if I excel at it?”

Mariselle turned to face him fully, her expression transformed into one of such perfect adoration that anyone watching would have sworn she was utterly besotted. Only the dangerous glitter in her eyes betrayed the venomous thoughts behind her smile. “This isn’t over, Rowanwood.”

“Oh, I sincerely hope not, my little lavender teacake,” he said, his smile widening. “We have an entire Season of such performances ahead of us. And I do hope you’ll keep the flowers close by. They were enchanted especially for you.”