Page 45 of Harmonic Pleasure (Mysterious Arts #6)

THAT AFTERNOON AT THEBES

V ega was not, initially, sure how to time their afternoon.

They had lunch, of course, moving into chatting about lighter topics.

She finished her tea. But Vega did not wish to be rude - not to Cadmus, not to Vivian, not to Lena.

She was not sure when she and Farran might reasonably excuse themselves.

But Farran seemed to have that in hand as well.

About the point at which everyone had finished their current cup of tea, he pushed his chair back slightly.

It wasn’t so much a movement as an inclination of his body, a change in state.

“Supper at seven?” he asked, signing it to Lena, who nodded and added something as a question.

Farran signed something back, grinning, before he said added, “Come on, Vega, I’d like to show you the grounds.” She nodded, making her own quiet farewell, and then found herself promptly shown outside, around the curve of the house.

The house was smaller than Astralis, but the grounds were more extensive than she’d realised at first glance.

Farran took her hand comfortably, not dragging her along anywhere, but wanting the closeness, and showed her around.

This was his uncle’s blacksmithing forge, a mix of decorative items and practical ones.

He had nails in progress, apparently. Farran glanced at what was out, and added, “Also, working on the repair for one of the gates at the back. That’s the hinge. ”

“Do you keep track of the things that need doing in your head, then?”

“Oh. Yes. I have for ages.” Farran turned to look at her, now a little shy. “Someone told me I’d make an excellent stage manager in a theatre, because of it. It’s not just where things are, it’s the sequencing, isn’t it?”

“It is. Few people understand that. Cooks and chefs,” Vega said. “Stage managers. Some performers, not remotely all of them.” She considered the list she’d just said. “Did you learn some of that from Lena?”

“I think so.” They walked along a little, towards another outbuilding, before Farran went on. “I’ve always known Lena. The way she thinks about things. Signing. I don’t remember not knowing.”

“She’s been here a long time, then.” It wasn’t a question.

“With my parents.” He glanced away. “Uncle Cadmus has been a rock. I’m sure he hasn’t known what to do with me, rather a lot. And he doesn’t like fuss and bother, and there’s been more of that than we like.”

“Not you?” Then she remembered. “Your first apprenticeship.” It wasn’t really a question.

“That, mostly. And dealing with the residents. Mostly, Uncle Cadmus likes that? It’s a big place, better to have people in it.

And mostly, they’ve been academics who don’t mind a modest walk to the portal or train.

They like quiet for their evenings and days off.

Some people stay a long while, some for a year.

There’s always interesting conversation at supper.

Oh, you should think what you do and don’t want to say.

We’ve a folklorist at the moment, so decide if you want half an hour of theory about this ballad or that poem or not. ”

It made Vega laugh. “You think ahead, as I was saying. The structure of it. Most people wouldn’t warn me like that.” She hesitated. “Haven’t warned me like that.”

“Ah, well.” They went past a long building. Farran identified it as being used for metalwork, the sort that could leave shavings and other bits that had more risk to the casual bystander. “I like to think I can offer you something specific.”

Vega let the quiet continue as they curved along the side of the house, past a rose garden and greenhouse, then took a path toward the trees behind. “We should talk about what’s on offer, then.”

“I don’t want to pin you down into anything. Your singing, you won’t be in London all the time. Not forever. Besides the schedule.”

“No.” Vega agreed. “I should at least go do a few months somewhere else.” She tilted her head, though she kept walking.

“Would Ormulu find it useful for you to spend a few months in, oh, Paris or Berlin, or any other European city you’d like to name?

I’d suggest to America, but I don’t particularly want to make it easier for Vandermeer or whoever is behind him to notice me. ”

Farran turned to her. “I could ask. Especially if it’s three months or so, and a particular collection or style of art or something. I haven’t taken that kind of work; I’m only recently at the level where they’d suggest it? But I could.”

“Well. That’s one solution, then. You figure out a place you want to be that has work for you.

I get myself hired at a club there. Easier that way round, I expect, especially if there’s a bit of lead time.

And then we come back, and with any luck Madam Helena will have me back.

Good for her, too, a little variety without quite so much stress about whether every person will be easy to deal with.

On my singing nights, you can do whatever amuses you.

On my days off, we can explore whatever city we’re in, around whatever you’re doing.

” Vega rather liked the idea of diving into a new city in his company.

Farran took a breath. “We’re doing this, then. Together. Whatever that looks like. I mean, I’m…” He gestured. “I’m committed here.”

“And I have plenty of aunts, uncles, and cousins who can tend to things at Astralis. For a long time to come. Maybe in sixty years we’ll have to do some more negotiation, but probably not. Not as long as I can get there when needed. The portal makes that easy enough.”

Farran swallowed. “And your family won’t mind me?”

“Oh, no. You made quite a good impression. Come on, show me the rest of the grounds? I should probably change before supper. Make a good impression on your residents.” Vega had the sense that if she let him, Farran would dither about that piece until firmly stopped. Best not to do that now.

Supper was excellent, as a meal, but also as an occasion. Vega could certainly make pleasant conversation with strangers. She was even better at making conversation with people who were strangers to her, but whose opinions mattered in a particular setting.

She chatted with one of them about London, another about a bit of poetry, navigated the complex channels of folklore, inquired about a piece of Cadmus’s translation.

That last she was rather proud of. She’d remembered something about how the Greek looked at colour-words, the quality of colour rather than the shade sometimes.

That got the folklorist off onto a delightful tangent about lucky and unlucky shades.

After supper, Cadmus firmly invited just the two of them up for drinks with Vivian, and none of the residents argued. Vega got the impression that he rarely exerted himself like that, but that when he did, it was usually about Farran.

Vivian began, in private, with only the brief comment that she gathered Mister Vandermeer had been released to one of the Guard, and that he was being told to go home to America once they were sure he was all right the next day.

“None of it was against the Pact, which made it easy, but making that sort of public fuss isn’t exactly a help.

My contact thinks he’ll go without a fuss.

It was clear to her that as he’d come back to himself, he’d realised whatever he’d been chasing was out of his reach. ”

Vega would be thinking about that for a bit, honestly.

And how, if the artefact was that powerful, why her family had thought she was the one to take it on.

There had been the public reasons, her familiarity with London.

But she rather thought it might be a larger test of her skill and what she was good for.

It was another reason she wanted to be out of Albion for a few months, the better to figure out how to talk about it when she returned.

She kept thinking about that, through the conversation, until Farran said they’d had an extremely long day, and they were going to stop making sense soon.

Once they were in his rooms, Vega held out her hand to him. “Sleep? I feel like I’m on my fifth wind, but I’m also used to late nights.”

Farran shrugged one shoulder. “You’re different. Did you want something in particular?”

“I think.” Vega took a breath, let it out, as measured as if she were about to sing. “I want to share a bed with you and see what comes of that. Not tonight, if you think you’re too tired to properly appreciate it. But soon.”

“Soon.” Farran was about to say something else. Then he yawned. “But perhaps better in the morning? I need to get back to London, but not too terribly early.”

It made her laugh. “Morning, then. Wake me up, though, I can sleep the afternoon away after. If you wait for me, you’ll be late.”

Farran made a slight bow, then tugged her into the bedroom.

Both of them undressed, though he was still more shy of his body than she was.

Once they were in bed, curled up companionably with the lights off, she checked he wasn’t asleep yet.

“I very much like how you are with your uncle. How he is with you.”

“Different from yours?” Farran’s voice in the dark was warm.

“Warmer. Focused on you in specific, in a way my uncles and aunts aren’t. I just, I like that he’s so firmly there, wanting good things for you.”

“Good model.” Then Farran’s voice went even fuzzier, and there was another yawn, right in her ear. Vega just nestled against him, feeling him against her back, and liking that particular and novel closeness as well.

When she woke, there was light filtering through the curtains, though she thought it was not terribly late. Immediately after, she realised why she’d woken. Farran’s hand had slipped up to cup one of her breasts, and she could feel him against her, rocking gently.

She moved, deliberately, back against him, and was rewarded with a delightful grunt. “Waking up this way makes up for the time of day.”

Farran’s hand explored a bit more deliberately. “Is that you saying yes?”

“Oh, rather.” She drew it out, teasing, then wriggled a little to find just the right angle and get a grunt of his pleasure into the back of her neck. The thing about this position was that she couldn’t do much, except respond to what he did.

That, however, suggested that he was just as thoughtful about bedding a woman as he was about assessing a piece of art. His touch was not ticklish, but he had a precision and attention to the details that had her whimpering several times.

Also, he did not rush. Vega arched back against him, after a deft shift of his fingers between her legs, and he kissed her shoulder. “Shall I do that again?”

“The thing I like about you, one thing, still a thing.” She sucked in a breath. “You don’t rush. You do the thing in the proper time, the buildup.”

“Why would I rush? Mmm.” Vega was, however, satisfied to realise that he was getting quite worked up, by all the evidence she had. He was hard as anything against her, but his breathing had changed, the little shallow breaths and higher pitches that suggested his eagerness.

“Do you want me to move?” she asked. “Either’s good for me.”

His hand paused, thumb a moment away from teasing her nipple.

“Like this.” She had only barely nodded when he moved his hand briefly to rearrange the angle, arched to check it, and then pushed inside her.

It brought out music. Certainly, she could not have stopped herself moaning for all the magic in the world.

It was wrong to say he didn’t rush. Farran had an exquisite sense of pacing, and now was not the time for languid movements and slow desire.

Almost as soon as he’d seated himself, he was moving like ripples on a river or the flap of a bird’s wings.

Steady, but then speeding up, bringing her along with him every step of the way.

Vega had not, in all her other experiences, given much thought to what it would be like to have a proper partner.

She’d had plenty of pleasure with other lovers, but nothing that made space for her like this.

That assumed space for her. It would need more thinking about, more duets, but then she was not thinking of anything at all.

Her body was carried away by the urgency and the delight and Farran’s utterly unfeigned pleasure at everything.

Her climax took her in a rush, the sort of glorious crescendo where everything came together perfectly.

She could hear the percussion of his huffs of breath and grunts of determination in her ear.

He held on just long enough for her to begin to come back to herself. Then she felt him explode inside her.

It left them both panting softly, not wanting to move apart. They lay like that, relaxed and entirely comfortable, for some minutes, before his hand moved against her arm. “More to look forward to, I hope?”

“Oh, yes.” It came out breathy, just as she wanted.

“When we’ve leisure, and when we don’t, and in the morning and in the evening, and I rather hope at all the points between.

” Vega reached for his hand, bringing his clever fingers to her lips and kissing them.

“I suppose we should get up and wash and all that.”

“Mmmm.” Farran did not move for a good thirty seconds. “Should. I’ll run the bath for you?”

He finally pulled away from her, and she let herself fall onto her back. The future was going to be excellent.