Page 18

REED

Though the men playing cards had no knowledge of the ruby-haired witch’s whereabouts, at least Reed and Dulce had a lead on La Bisou Morte.

Except it involved the fobbing Duke. Reed continued to act as if this were an everyday occurrence as Dulce sat in his lap, though his pulse raced dangerously.

With each minor movement, he wanted to pull her closer against him and trail his lips up the soft curve of her elegant neck.

“I’m going to get some rest,” she announced. “Will you be much longer, sweetheart?”

“A few more rounds and I’m all yours,” he purred.

Dulce beamed, leaning toward him to pretend to kiss his cheek, her lips just shy of touching his skin. “Good luck, then.”

“A very lucky man, indeed,” the horned creature said as Dulce walked away.

Reed laughed, nodding to his cards. “That I am, gentlemen. That I am.”

After a couple of rounds, in which Reed won a good deal of money but learned nothing of any value from his companions, he returned to his room.

He was disappointed to find Dulce asleep atop the blankets, still dressed, her spell book open against her chest, as though she’d fallen asleep waiting for him to return.

Or else determined to remain prepared for any unforeseen danger… ?

Lifting a folded fur blanket from the end of the bed, he gently placed her book onto the night table and covered her.

Her eyes opened briefly as she murmured, “Sleep here,” before she drifted off once more.

Reed was tempted to slip under the blanket with her and hold her close, but he shook his head at the idea. She had been much too deep into sleep when she’d spoken.

“Goodnight, Highness.”

He settled onto his bed, his gaze drifting to her beautiful face more often than it should’ve before sleep finally took him.

Now that he had coin of his own winning, Reed decided to surprise Dulce with a gown for the Duke’s annual festival, which, the invitation informed them, was to be held that very evening.

Friends could surprise friends with gifts. Besides, didn’t husbands buy gifts for their wives all the time?

“I’ll just check on Lucas then,” he called through the suite’s bathroom door. “Take him to eat breakfast.”

The sounds of water splashing along the copper tub, falling against the room’s glass tiles, echoed. Reed tried not to imagine Dulce free of her clothing, the water caressing her delicate skin, and failed miserably.

“I have a list of herbs to purchase,” she answered, her voice magnified against porcelain and glass. “The wonderfully extensive apothecary two doors down must be explored. Should take a few hours, at least.”

“Take as long as you need.”

Reed was grateful for the cool morning air as he left the White Cat in search of the stables. Toffee stood in a stall, blissfully eating alfalfa, ignoring his presence, but Lucas was nowhere to be found. He had no doubt already joined the other coachmen for a meal.

A four-winged creature with eyes like glowing full moons glared down at him from the rafters, and Reed arched a brow at it as he backed out of the stables.

Distracted by the wonders along Alder Bay’s central avenue, Reed searched for the shop he’d ventured by on their way to the inn the previous day, with its wide windows displaying gowns he’d never imagined could exist, their fabrics seemingly made of magic.

Everyone he passed was preparing for the annual festival, the trees being strung with bright-colored lanterns.

Garlands of flowers hung across the lanes creating a canopy of petals along the route to the Duke’s palace.

A majestic structure that stood proud on the hill overlooking the bay, its water sparkling in the morning sun, and even at this distance Reed could see that the preparations in the gardens for the festival were in full swing.

“Welcome to Geschmackvoll.” A scratchy voice sighed as Reed entered the shop.

An apparently bored man who appeared to be human but for his robin’s egg blue skin and glowing cerulean eyes looked him up and down. Reed felt distinctly as if his clothing had somehow failed a test.

“Yes, hello.” Reed straightened, drew back his shoulders, reminding himself he was a successful merchant. “Could you kindly direct me to where I might find attire for this evening’s festivities?”

The man regarded the shop’s ceiling as if life itself pained him. “You do realize you have mere hours.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” Reed busied himself with the sleeve of the nearest draped garment, its texture like liquid.

How was such a thing possible? “My wife and I are just passing through, and she insists on attending. I would rather not spend an exorbitant amount on clothing we will wear only once, I’m sure you understand. ”

The man narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure I do.

” Beckoning Reed to follow him with a lazy wave, he sauntered further into the boutique.

“All of our best festival pieces for this season have been purchased, unfortunately. But we do have a few, uh, discounted items just here. Riffle through them, if you must.”

Reed knew what he wanted for Dulce the moment he saw it, and was surprised to discover the gown’s price was well within his range.

The blue man—with dramatic reluctance—helped him to match it to something for himself and explained how to wear the clothing.

The ensembles required headdresses and then shoes.

As he was leaving, his pockets nearly empty of coin, the man finally smiled, his eyes glowing vividly while he waved goodbye. “I recommend fasting,” he called after Reed. “And don’t forget to sleep. The festival begins well before sunset and continues all through the night!”

Reed planned to wait for Dulce to return to the inn, but with the street outside devoid of any carriages and no longer any merchants shouting their sales, he soon found himself drifting off.

He woke to the sound of the key in the door—the sunlight streaming through the window turned a warm afternoon glow, highlighting Dulce’s delicate features. Reed swallowed deeply when he recalled the day before, her warm body against his as she sat in his lap, how his fingers had brushed her hip.

“I got you something while I was out.” He tilted his chin in the direction of the boxes on her bed.

Holding an embroidered sack he presumed was full of herbs, Dulce’s eyes lit up like a child’s at a fair, and she rushed to open the boxes.

“A gift?” she said, her smile bright. “For me? Really?” Pointing to the embossed symbol along the wrapping, she chirped, “Oh! From the boutique down the street, the one with the—Reed, it’s exquisite! It’s… What is it?”

The forest green material unraveled to the floor in gentle shimmering folds, red and gold embroidery of delicate leaves sparkling in the sunlight.

“Don’t worry, the surly creature at the shop showed me how it’s worn,” Reed drawled, producing his ensemble. “You wrap, tuck, and fold. Simple.”

Dulce’s lips parted like a fish, which somehow made her still appear adorable. “Wrapping and tucking? What am I supposed to tuck ? Yours has trousers.”

Reed held up the antlers, their tips covered in gold. “Good question. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

Dulce’s cheeks pinkened. “I think I’ll find one of the inn’s maids.” She took the antlers from him and gathered up the clothing, preparing to leave the room.

“It can’t be that difficult!” Reed called down the hallway after her.

Dulce muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse he was surprised she knew, then frowned over her shoulder at him when he laughed.

“Says the man who gets to wear clothing that’s in no danger of unraveling!”

Closing the door, Reed changed into the trousers in question, finding them tighter than his liking, and next attempted to wrap his shirt over his torso and arms. He soon understood something of Dulce’s trepidation.

The fabric slipped through his fingers and seemed determined to fall from his limbs, giving no resemblance to the elegantly draped garments displayed in the shop.

After three attempts, Reed gave up and called one of the inn’s stewards to help him.

As the boy was finishing his task—which he made look as easy as skipping rocks along Dogwood Glen’s flooded lanes—Dulce returned.

“Ah,” she said, crossing her arms when the steward left, her emerald eyes glittering with mischief beneath the headdress of antlers atop her artfully twisted blonde curls. “It wasn’t difficult, I see.”

Reed was speechless. Dulce looked radiant, exquisite.

Breathtaking. The gown, reflecting the deep greens of the forest, fell in gentle pleats from her hips to the floor.

Its golden and ruby embroidered panels hugged her torso in opulent folds, ending in a knot of fabric where part of it draped over one shoulder, leaving the other bare.

Her skin was like smooth ivory in the golden light of the setting sun.

He knew he was gawking, but he couldn’t stop. “You look…”

“I don’t think I have ever worn such a luxuriously comfortable garment in my life,” Dulce exclaimed, twirling. The fabric fluttered in graceful waves, its embroidery flashing like embers. “Even my night clothing is more restrictive. It’s positively indecent!”

She appeared to notice his full attire for the first time and stilled.

“You’re staring.” Reed arched a brow. “Is there something on my face?” He touched his cheek and inspected his hand. “The antlers are a bit much, of course. If anyone in the Glen saw me in this getup, I’d never survive the beating I’d—”

“You look very handsome,” Dulce whispered, stepping forward to take his arm. “It’s what a wife would say to her husband, of course.” She bit her lip. “Anyway, we have a duty to fulfill. After we eat. No use approaching greedy dukes on an empty stomach.”