Jaded (25 page)

Hovering over her for a moment longer, he made his decision. His knife swooped down and cut a tendril of hair, too small an amount for her to ever notice. Scarring, yes. Perhaps that would soon make his to-do list.

Turning, he brought her hair up to his nose and inhaled the scent of her. He’d be back.

Something woke Lilya from a sound sleep. Gasping, she sat up to an empty room and a flickering fire. Rubbing at one tired eye with the flat of her hand—she’d been painting until the wee hours—she flipped the blankets back, got out of bed, and quickly went for her robe and slippers.

There was no logical reason for it, but something felt wrong . . .
off
in the house. She walked to the window that looked over the garden. All she saw in the moonlit night was snow. Snow drifting. Snow falling. Snow covering very cold things.

Shivering, she turned and went to sit near the fire. The scent of the cologne Ivan used to wear hung very faintly in the chilly air. Her nose wrinkled and she frowned. It had to be her imagination. Maybe she’d had a nightmare she didn’t remember. That would wake her up quickly and frighten her as well. Hugging herself, she stared into the fire. The years could pass, the physical wounds could heal, but the vestiges of that event would never leave her.

“Lilya?”

She jumped, startled, then turned at the sound of Alek’s voice. He stood in the doorway. “You scared me.”

He walked toward her. “Someone’s been in the house. Are you all right? Did you see anyone?”

She leapt to her feet. “What?”

“Byron went down to the kitchen and found the door in the kitchen open and tracks leading to and away from the house.”

Her eyes opened wide and she put a hand to her mouth for a moment. “No. I didn’t see anyone. I woke up feeling disturbed and looked out the window. I saw nothing but snow. Then I came over here and sat down by the fire.”

He nodded. “Come here.”

She walked to him and he pulled her against his side, kissing her temple. “Byron’s checking the house. You stay with me.”

“Byron’s checking the house alone?” She looked up at him, shaking her head. “No.” Glancing around, she saw the iron fire poker near the hearth. She went to it and picked it up. “Let’s go make sure he’s all right.”

He looked surprised for a moment, then grinned. “All right, let’s go.”

They found Byron in the kitchen, leaning against the table and frowning. It was extra cold in the room from the door being left open. “The house appears to be clear. It was just one man and he appears to have left.” He looked up at them. “One set of tracks lead up to the door, but another set lead away. Same pair of shoes.”

“Anything missing?” Lilya dropped the poker to her side.

Byron shook his head. “Nothing I can see at first glance. All the really valuable things are locked away in hidden safes.”

“Why did he leave the door open?”

Alek shrugged. “Carelessness. Fear. Maybe the intruder heard Byron get up and he fled.”

“I don’t think so. The tracks leading away are calm and measured, not the tracks of someone running.” He rubbed a tired hand over his face. “Maybe he wanted us to know he’d been here.”

Silence descended.

“Bold for a thief,” said Alek.

Byron looked at him and nodded.

“And disturbing. Well, that’s it for sleep tonight.” Lilya clutched the poker and wondered where in the house she could find a better weapon. Old street habits died hard and, at the moment, they were all reviving fast.

“Maybe not. You sleep with me. Alek can as well. My bed is big enough.”

She let a breath. “I’d feel better if we were all together.”

“Me too,” Byron answered.

They walked up to Byron’s room and crawled under his thick blankets. Lilya snuggled in with both men on either side of her, snug, warm, and feeling safe again. Yet the uneasiness of the way she’d woken still clung to her. The scent of Ivan’s cologne made her shudder with revulsion, even though she must have imagined it. It had to be that she’d sensed something amiss in the house—heard a sound in her sleep—and it had spurred a nightmare about Ivan.

Either way, silly or not, in the morning she would tell Alek and Byron about the scent.

Even though she was comfortable and safe between the men she admired most in the world, sleep didn’t come again until dawn lighted the horizon.

 

 

By the light of day, Byron inventoried the house and found nothing taken. It was an ominous thing. What had the intruder wanted if not valuables? The memory of Lilya’s unease in the marketplace was still fresh in his mind too. Was there someone in Ulstrat who meant him harm because of his noble blood or family name? Maybe a last hold out from the revolution? It was definitely possible. Crimes were still committed against the nobles who’d survived the revolution. Hatred died hard.

The morning after the break-in, Lilya had told him and Alek about the faint, lingering scent of Ivan’s cologne in her bedroom. They were all of the opinion that Lilya’s nerves had caused her to imagine his scent. Ivan had had nothing to do with Lilya for six years and they were far from Milzyr now.

Still, someone had broken into the house and Byron wasn’t taking any chances—not with Lilya—so the next day, when the town had been a little more recovered from the storm, he’d gone in and hired men to go over the house more thoroughly. The snow was cleared away from the shops and streets, and the town of Ulstrat was partially running again. Those with sleighs had brought them out for use in the heavy ground cover. Since he’d returned he’d been watching the men he’d hired scour the house and improve the locks.

Alek and Lilya had secreted themselves in her painting room to get away from the commotion. After making sure the men had everything they needed, he headed up there. In the hallway outside he heard muffled talking and laughing. A jolt of jealousy went through him even though he was happy that Lilya and Alek were getting along so well.

He knocked, then entered when Lilya called.

“You have to sit still, Alek!” She stood in front of her easel with a wet paintbrush in her hand. “All that fidgeting has forced me to give you an extraordinarily large nose.”

“A man is not meant to sit still for this long a period of time.”

“Not even a scholar?”

“No.”

Byron peered over Lilya’s shoulder at the portrait. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Alek asked from his chair near the window. “What does
huh
mean?”

Lilya took a step back and tilted her head to the side, studying her work. “See what I mean about the nose?”

“Hmm, yes.” He pointed at the image of Alek’s head. “And his head . . .”

“What’s wrong with my head?”

Byron ignored him. “His head is a bit bulbous too, don’t you think?”

“Yes, and it probably shouldn’t be that shade of green.”

Alek jumped out of his chair and came to look while he and Lilya laughed. He tilted his head to the side the way Lilya had. “My nose isn’t too big, my head’s not bulbous or green, but there’s definitely something off about it.”

Lilya nodded and sighed. “Apparently portraits are not my forte.”

Byron glanced at the incredible street scene she was still working on. It was propped against a nearby wall. “Maybe not, but you’re definitely good at other kinds of painting.”

“It’s not that bad,” said Alek. “Better than I could ever do. Miles better than anyone could do without any formal instruction. I think you just need practice.”

“Maybe when you go back to Milzyr you can find a teacher,” Byron offered. “I’ll even help you find one. There has to be someone close to the Temple of Dreams you can work with.”

The small smile she wore faded. “Yes, maybe.” She turned away, cleaning off her brush. “I’m done with portraits for the time being though.”

Byron stared at her back. She’d gone cold all of a sudden and he had no idea why. “If you don’t want me to help find a teacher, that’s all right, Lilya.”

She gave a short laugh and turned around. “Of course I want your help. Are the men gone yet?”

“They’re almost finished. They better be since it’s almost time for us to leave.”

She nodded. “The crossball game.” It had been rescheduled for that afternoon. She glanced down at her paint-smeared hands. “How much time do I have? I’m a mess.”

“You look good to me,” answered Alek. “And it’s not exactly a formal occasion, by the way.”

She waved her hand dismissively at him. “You’re a man and have no idea what you’re talking about when it comes to appearance. Which begs the question, will I be the only woman there?”

“No,” Byron answered. “Many of the wives and daughters come to watch, though the majority of the fans are men.”

She pushed past them both. “I need to get ready, then.”

L
ilya hurried down the corridor to her room. The back of her throat stung from the threat of tears. Needing to hurry to get ready had just been an excuse to leave the room. She crashed through her door, closed it, and only barely kept herself from locking it.

Walking over to the area where the bathtub sat, she stared at her reflection in the mirror above the water basin. She’d been a fool to think that she’d ever have a chance at ending up with Byron for the long term. He’d told her that every man she met fell in love with her, but instead he’d brought her here and she’d fallen in love with him.

And now she had significant feelings for Alek too. When she left this place her heart would break twice.

Maybe this was payback for all the hearts she’d broken over the years. It probably served her right.

She shook her head and tried to put it all out of her mind. That Byron had every intention of packing her back off to the city should come as no great shock. What had she been expecting? Declarations of undying love? A ring? An entreaty to leave the Temple of Dreams and stay here with him forever? Thinking on her ring drawer back in the city, she snorted. Funny how she would never get any of that from the one man she wanted it from.

And as far as the Temple of Dreams went, she was done with it. There was no way she could sleep with any man other than Byron or Alek now. Too much had changed as result of her trip here. That was all right. She had money.

She concentrated on getting ready to go watch Byron and Alek play crossball and tried not to think on stupid things like getting to stay here forever with these men. That wasn’t going to happen and she needed to accept it, get her expectations back in the realm of reality. This was not like her at all. She guessed love must make women dumb. So perhaps it was better she was leaving them.

It was time she started protecting herself as much as she could, time to pull away physically and emotionally. She was probably too far past the point of no return to save herself, but maybe she could ease a little of the coming pain. She was headed for heartache no matter what.

Alek knocked on the door and she answered with a smile, with absolutely no trace of her turmoil visible on her face. “Is it time to leave?”

He nodded. “Snow’s falling again, but a messenger came to tell us that the game is still on.”

She gave him a head-to-toe appraisal and raised an eyebrow in appreciation. He wore a formfitting shirt that delineated every one of his muscles. The tight black pants he wore did the same for his derrière. “That uniform is . . . nice.”

“I’m glad you like it.” His arm came around her waist and his head dropped close to hers. “And you look good enough to eat, but there’s nothing unusual about that.”

She tensed, wanting to push him away, but she just couldn’t make herself no matter her new resolution to keep her distance. Instead, she closed her eyes as his lips skimmed down the column of her throat. His teeth closed around the curve of her neck and goose bumps erupted all over her body. She slid her hands up his arms, appreciating every inch of hard muscle as she went.