Page 3 of The Cordial Bride

“Of course.” Fennic looked around for someone suitable.

Before he could ask anyone to perform that duty, the count interjected. “How about this young man?” He pointed at Calan. All heads turned in his direction, and he froze with the scrutiny.

Aunt Celia frowned. “That is my nephew, Calan. He is not part of the government and merely helps me with my work as an apothecary and healer.”

“Indeed?” The count smiled ingratiatingly. “Then he sounds like the perfect person to introduce me to your flora. I work my lands myself and have a keen interest in farming. With your permission of course, madam.”

Aunt Celia was clearly not pleased with the idea, probably worried that Calan would give away the secret of their new cordial before the treaty was negotiated. She saw him as obtuse at the best of times, more interested in plants than people, and he didn’t mind cultivating—so to speak—that perception. He would never do such a thing, of course, unless he knew it was what the council wanted. The protection of Shadow Valley was every bit as important to him as it was to everyone else. Spending time close up and mostly privately with the man so soon after meeting him was a daunting idea, too, the complete opposite of what he’d just resolved to do. If he didn’t take advantage of the forced opportunity, however, his virginal state might last forever.

He dared to step forward. “I would be delighted to, Aunt.” He gave them all his best vacant expression, as if he had no more thoughts in his head than a butterfly.

Fennic intervened before Aunt Celia could respond. “An excellent suggestion.”

The count held out his hand to his niece. “Marvelous. Come, Amalie.”

The girl didn’t hesitate to clasp hands with her uncle. Her nurse kept one step behind her. “What shall we see first?” she asked Calan. She was a far more self-assured child than he’d ever been.

The answer was easy, though. “The decorative gardens. They don’t serve a useful purpose other than enjoyment, but I’m sure you’ll like what there is to see.” Calan let his gaze encompass the count.

The man’s heated look back was unnerving. “I already do.”

Chapter Two

Ian tried to be polite and look at all the local sights his adorable guide was pointing out, but truth be told, nothing compared to the boy’s beauty and allure. His gaze kept wandering back to him, which made Calan charmingly blush—or at least Ian believed he was the cause of the pink stain across those lovely cheeks.

For someone who apparently spent a lot of time outdoors, the Shadow Valley boy was surprisingly pale. Seeing him up close did nothing to dispel his first impression that he was seeing a woodland sprite, either. There was something ethereal about Calan that stood in stark contrast to the rugged and plain people of this place. That was especially true of the boy’s aunt. What a dragon. The woman’s displeasure at their arrival had been palpable. Ian had resolved on the spot to keep an eye on her, and what better way to do that than spend time with her kinsman?

Oh, well done, the perfect rationalization for giving in to my temptation.

Calan was doing nothing to dissuade him from his interest, either. The boy was flirting with him, and his obvious lack of experience made his efforts delightfully entertaining. He hoped his hosts had nothing against men pleasuring each other, because Ian intended to accept the invitation thrown his way at the first opportunity. Of course, nothing would happen so long as Amalie and her nurse were with them, but the waiting would make the attainment that much more satisfying.

With a sudden squeal, his niece tugged at his hand. “Look, Uncle Ian!”

Ian forced his gaze to switch to where his niece was pointing. They had come upon animal statues made entirely of bushes. “How marvelous.” He glanced at Calan. “I thought my king was the only one to have a topiary.”

The color on the boy’s cheeks intensified. “Really? I didn’t know anyone else carved animal shapes out of shrubs until I came across the idea in an old book a few years ago. I thought perhaps it was a practice that might have died out and that I was happy to revive. It’s great fun to do.”

Ian let his surprise show. “You did all this?” As they came upon the first figure—a miniature horse—he let go of Amalie’s hand so that she could get a closer look, then turned to face the boy.

Calan stopped as well, fidgeting with his fingers, and lowering his gaze. “Yes. No one else really has time to do it. We are a farming community, after all, and the days are long.”

Ian’s own fingers itched with the desire to touch a few strands of blond hair that had escaped their braid. He clasped his hands behind his back to quell the temptation. “As someone who works his land, I well know how much time and effort goes into growing food and managing stock. Do you not labor in that way?” He knew the answer already. No one with such soft-looking skin and lithe body tilled the soil or looked after flocks.

Calan’s eyelashes fluttered and he quirked his lips up in a quick grin. “No. I help my aunt with her potions, mostly by gathering what she needs and tending to the sick. It doesn’t take much time, and as our family has always acted as apothecaries and healers for our people, we don’t have a farm.”

It occurred to Ian that here might be a source of information about the cordial his sister sought to secure for Moorcondia, but he put it aside immediately. He was not the diplomat for this visit. Isabeau knew what she was about, and his only job was to make sure she and Amalie were safe. Other than perhaps seducing Calan, he had no tasks to accomplish while visiting Shadow Valley. Another squeal from his niece caught his attention before he could ask more personal questions of their guide.

“Uncle Ian, you must come and see this rabbit!”

With a quick smile at Calan, he wandered over to where she stood. Up close, he could see the detail put into the figures. “Wonderful.” He turned to Calan, who had come up beside him. “You have a marvelous talent.”

The boy’s blush deepened even more, if that were possible. “It’s not that hard, actually.”

Now Ian did give into temptation. He slowly brought up his hand to pluck the wayward strands and tuck them behind the shell of one of Calan’s pretty ears. A visible shiver ran through the boy, and he peeked at Ian from under his lashes. Ian’s cock, already in a semi-state of arousal, went rock hard. If they’d been alone, he’d have pulled the fetching boy into his arms for a kiss—perhaps more. But Amalie was dancing around them, and her nurse had half an eye on her charge and half on Ian—his sister’s spy, no doubt. So, dropping his hand, he went back to clasping it behind his back and wandered through the topiaries.

When they came upon a large, flowering hedgerow with an arched opening, Amalie squealed yet again and raced toward it. Ian winced at her unladylike demeanor. Although he didn’t mind, he figured his sister might have something to say to Amalie about it later. The girl had promised to be on her best behavior when she’d begged to come along. The nurse’s indulgent smile, however, relieved him. The woman adored Amalie and probably wasn’t going to tell any tales. He certainly wasn’t.

As he and Calan approached the opening, the boy said, “It’s a maze, Mistress Truehart. If you venture in, there’s a marvelous surprise waiting for you in the center.”

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