Page 34 of Harmonic Pleasure (Mysterious Arts #6)

THAT EVENING

“ O h, I think you might manage that.” Farran managed to keep his wits together.

The book was stunning. It wasn’t just the book itself, it was the attention to detail implied by the book.

It was a book where he could aspire to the knowledge inside, and make use of it, and also simply enjoy it.

And it was a book that danced the line between things she could talk about and things she couldn’t, casting a light that wouldn’t damage the art in the process. As it were.

Now, he glanced back toward his bedroom. “Pudding? And then we can retire to the bedroom for a little and… well. We should talk a bit about that.”

“A fine plan.” Her hand twitched, as if she wanted to get up and help, but she waited for Farran to do so. He went off and came back with a smaller tray, with two glass pots of chocolate mousse, delicately topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings.

Vega’s eyes widened at it. “Oh, how charming. Also, how delicious, I’m sure.” He set one down in front of her and gestured at the wine, but she shook her head. “I’d like to be clear-headed for the next bit. I drink less than you’d think, on average, for being a singer in a club.”

“I’d have thought that’s somewhere you wanted a clear head, ordinarily?” Farran offered, taking his own mousse and the tiny spoon that went with it, then trying a bite, letting himself sigh with the pleasure of it.

When he looked back at Vega, she was considering him.

“You might actually understand this. People like the ones performing, especially women, and most especially singers, to behave as if they’re the only one in the room.

Some men get ideas, they get jealous if the singer pays attention to someone else. ”

“Hence why Madam Helena has excellent security,” Farran said. Then he watched her, and asked, because he wasn’t sure how else to go forward. “What has that meant for you, personally?”

“Not a lot in the way of lasting relationships or friendships. I get along with people, of course. It’s better that way.

Some people make a show of being a diva, and I’ve never found that appealing.

Or, fundamentally, a good idea. But most men, there’s always this sense that they like me for the me that is on stage. They expect that all the time.”

“Well, that’s no good.” It was, perhaps, not the ordinary thing to say.

Certainly, she didn’t think so. Her eyes went wide again.

“No one could keep that up forever.” He shrugged, once.

“Or, I suppose some couples do. But I think it involves not sharing a bedroom, only being together when she’s all done up and dressed and whatever cosmetics and undergarments and charms and potions. ”

Something in it made her giggle, and that was an entirely human sort of sound. “That. And I enjoy that fuss, for being on stage. But I also like not.”

Farran considered her. “And tonight’s somewhere in the middle?

” He did not understand cosmetics, even though Maddie had tried to explain the different implications a number of times, and some of the women at Ormulu had as well.

Vega looked lovely. He was sure she had lipstick and such on, but it was not overdone or obvious.

It suited her. Mostly, it made more of what was already there, rather than how she’d been done up at the club.

Of course, the lighting was different at the club too, and he understood well enough what that did to pigments.

She nodded, opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it to take another bite of her mousse. After she swallowed, she met his eyes. “You don’t make me feel like that. That all you’re seeing is the me on stage.”

“Well, no. For one thing, the you on stage does not dress for exploring caves.” It made her smile again, and that was grand.

“So, what you’re saying is that you’ve had some relationships in your past, not recently.

” There was a tiny nod at that. “And that you don’t want this to become about just one of your faces.

” Another small nod. “Then I suppose the Cousin part also has to be complicated. At least with me, you don’t have to decide if you’re going to explain it in the first place. ”

“There is that advantage.” Vega glanced down at her plate, then ate the last spoonful deliberately.

Now he was sure it was to give her time to think.

“People make assumptions there too. That it will be particularly magical. Or that they’ll be permitted into all of our family traditions.

I haven’t had that problem, but some of my cousins have.

I mean, actual cousins, that generation. ”

“Not the general term, yes.” Farran nodded.

“All right. And we still need to talk about scheduling and all that. But I’m—” He swallowed hard now, because this was tricky.

“Given that both of us have been on our own, I certainly would rather have a life with some of your time. Even if it wasn’t as much as I might like in an ideal world without necessary bedtimes and work to be done and music to be made.

Better the time we can have than a life without you. ”

“That, that...” Her voice cut off, then she tried again. “That is ridiculously romantic. Did you think about that in advance?”

“Oh, yes. I haven’t thought about much else the last day or so. Well, beyond work.” Then he stood, because otherwise he would lose his courage. “Shall we get more comfortable?” Farran offered his hand, and then they were walking back to the bedroom.

It was a serviceable bedroom. He’d added a blanket from home, and books, of course.

At least the bed was a decent size, because sometimes these flats had married couples.

He hesitated, then he reclaimed his hand, long enough to pull off the sleeveless jumper.

She stepped back, watching him, before she shrugged out of her own jacket, leaving her in a sleeveless dress with buttons down the front.

He sat with more of a thump than he’d meant to. That put his head at her chest height, more or less, a chance to get a good look at the pendant she was wearing. “May I?” He gestured. “The stone?”

“Oh, you would be interested in the materia, wouldn’t you?

It’s a talisman, but entirely safe to handle.

Actually, I’m curious what you think.” Vega settled beside him, thigh just barely touching thigh, and that was utterly distracting, not much in the way of clothing between them.

She twisted, so he could get a good look, her chin up and to one side to give him space. “Go ahead and touch.”

The sentence was completely full of innuendo. Farran took a breath and then let his fingers reach. He could feel the magic in the pendant pulling at his fingertips, guiding them, unerringly. A focal stone, obviously, “An aquamarine, pale blue, so much so it’s likely clear in some lights.”

“Easier to wear it with more things, though I do often have a flash of blue in what I wear.” Her voice was even the sort of modulation that suggested there was something tucked away in there.

Farran looked at her again, caught her eye, and she added, “Alcyone is also associated with the kingfisher. A good blue, or blue and copper, those are a, mmm. Not a heraldry, but a sort of blazon.”

“Thank you for that information.” He made a mental note of it, for the benefit of future presents, especially with an eye to colour.

Then he let his fingers touch the stone, getting a sense for it, before he let his thumb touch her skin.

She was breathing shallowly, holding still, but it had a nervous quality to it before she took a breath.

He felt the stone flex, and then everything settled. “Aquamarine is good for confidence.”

“It is. Good for performance. This one is designed for clarity of voice. It was meant for someone who did a lot of speaking, originally. But it works well for singing. A family piece. And the setting isn’t so dated.”

“No.” He let his thumb shift a little on her collarbone. “May I kiss you now?”

“Oh, yes.” She turned her head back towards him and made it easy to bring their lips together.

However out of practise she might be, she had a delicate and practical attention to the angle of her head, they didn’t bump noses.

There was the brief taste of her lipstick, then her mouth was soft against his, her tongue inviting.

His hand went around her back, to steady, as if they’d been dancing, and hers settled at his waist, making him arch a little at the touch.

Farran didn’t want to rush it. There was only one first kiss, one first everything, and he wanted to savour every single one.

Like walking into a room and seeing a piece of art for the first time, in all its glory.

Not as a print or photograph, but as it had been meant to be seen.

There was nothing like that moment, even if all the moments that came later— the deep study, the examination of the tiniest details, the building of an understanding of the work on every possible level— also had their own glories and passions and delights.

When she finally pulled back, breathless, she leaned her forehead on his shoulder, and he let his hand come a little further up her back. “All right?”

“Very.” Vega took a deeper breath, let it out slowly, then lifted her head again. “You don’t rush.”

“No.” He’d never talked about this with anyone, even Uncle Cadmus.

“The first time, the first moments. Those matter. And with you, even more. I hope we have many, strung out like brushstrokes of paint, tiny specks of pigment, all making some glorious epic painting. But the beginning, it sets the ground for everything else. No rushing.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him fully, then she let herself fall back on the bed, tugging his hand along with her.

He got the hint immediately and stretched out against her.

Some other night, he might have been embarrassed.

Surely, she’d feel him against her, that there was a certain rather blatant bit of desire.

And Farran wasn’t sure what she wanted. Or how to begin to ask.

“I am thinking.” Her voice was perfectly pitched, all of her own skills on display, and he could listen to that for hours.

Years. Decades. “That tonight is for kisses and hands. If you want to take your time about the firsts. I don’t think either of us wants to stop at kisses.

” She was watching him now, her eyes focused, and then her hand shifted to between their bodies, the back of it brushing deliberately against where he was hard.

He couldn’t stop himself from grunting, or from pushing, just slightly, into that touch. “No, we don’t, do we?”

The next minutes, the next hour, were full of a steady exploration, done the way they’d gone about Greenwich and especially the caves.

Both of them were paying attention to the small details, a gasp or a shift of body, or the way skin shivered when the touch was just right.

She encouraged him to undo her dress, button by button.

He took his time, wanting his fingers to learn how to do it with just the right amount of delicacy.

Vega untucked his shirt, working her hand up against his skin, beneath his undershirt.

In the end, he was rocking against her, both of them sprawled on the bed.

Finally, he got his fingers in just the right place to rub and bring her off.

Her fingers curled around him until he exploded.

He let out one last gasp, before burying his head in her chest, feeling Vega stroke his hair gently as he felt her breaths.

They lay there like that, neither of them wanting to move for several minutes, before her fingers shifted to his shoulder.

“Learning how to sing a duet usually takes some practice.” She sounded absolutely amused.

“In your case, our case, together, not nearly so much.”

“Mmm.” He ought to say something more than that, and he couldn’t.

All of him was warm and happy and content.

Her fingers stopped for a second, then picked up in his hair again.

In a few minutes, they’d need to move, to clean up, and she obviously hadn’t planned to spend the night.

But for the moment, there was no reason to hurry, and every reason to soak in the moment.