Page 11 of Dance with the Dragon Duke

“Well,” she said, padding over to the bedroom door, “goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” he growled, suddenly feeling grumpier than he had before with a dagger in his leg. He thought of her rolling in the grass with his fairies, delight making her glow from the inside out, and his heart pitter-pattered in the most pathetic way.

Her hand connected with the knob, rattling the brass, but then she released it. His mood improved slightly.

Head down, she worried her skirts with her fingers. Her knuckles were colorful and a little swollen. He’d thought they’d heal quickly, as any immortal’s would, but now he regretted not tending to them when he had fairy wine in his system. He’d never had a skill for the healing arts, but with that powerful substance flowing through his veins, he could have managed it.

“Tomorrow?” He moved to the center of the room. The side of her face was illuminated by soft candlelight. Some of his blood had gotten on her skirt earlier, leaving an inky smear near the hem.

“Please don’t make me go to my room,” she whispered. “There were four of those brutes after me tonight, and I can’t stop wondering if there’s even more nearby. I thought I was safe here. I thought no one would dare come for me at The Boot. Now I think if I’m alone, I’ll just jump at the sight of my own shadow and hear nefarious noises every time the house creaks.”

He was about to respond, but she pressed on, cutting him off.

“I won’t bother you if you let me stay!” Tomorrow crossed to the armchair by the coal-burning stove. She patted the furblanket draped over the back of it. “I can sleep right here, out of the way. I don’t take up much space.”

Dark’s mouth opened. “We’re—”

“And I promise I won’t talk too much,” she added hurriedly.

His lips quirked. “I don’t believe you.”

Tomorrow’s eyes went round. After a moment, she chuckled. “You’re right, Darko. I might talk too much—might be talking too much right now.”

“If we’re to be pretend lovers,” he said matter-of-factly, “it only makes sense that we’d share a room. And you might as well call me Dark. Most people do.”

“It would aid our deception.” The forlorn look that had tugged at his heart vanished in a blink. She smiled ruefully. “Ha. Now I’m wishing I’d thought of that before I confessed to being a coward, scared of shadows and small noises. You probably already know what they say about hindsight, so I won’t go into that.”

“I don’t think you’re a coward,” he confessed, and Tomorrow cocked her head to the side. On the contrary, considering how she’d handled herself when faced with an iron weapon, he thought her quite brave. “I appreciate your honesty, even if you only tell the truth because you can’t stop the words from pouring out of your mouth.”

“Thank you, er, I think.” Coyly, she pushed errant strands of snowy hair behind her ear. Her fingers caught in the snarls his girls had made. She set to untangling them one at a time, unpicking the knots into a frizzy nest. When she finished, her ragged hair stood out in different directions. She looked like she’d been struck by lightning. He coughed into his fist, concealing a snicker.

As he readied for bed, she removed his coat, then made herself comfortable in the chair, pulling the heavy blanket over her. She undressed beneath it. Her modesty amused him.Modesty was generally a mortal trait, but he supposed that, given her ancestry, she might just be mostly mortal. He gave her privacy without commentary before blowing out the last of the candles.

He found his bed in the dark, then slid under the covers, resting his head on a generous stack of pillows. The silence felt heavy, disturbed only by the sound of air passing through his own lungs and the crackle of burning coals in the stove.

“Sleep well, Dark,” she whispered, sweetness clinging to each word so prominently he could taste it. Tomorrow was honey incarnate.

“Sleep well,” he said, voice thick and dreamy. “And worry no more. You’re safe here with me from shadows, small noises, and scoundrels.”

The room fell quiet again, but the silence didn’t hold. Tomorrow shifted in the chair. Wooden legs scratched the floor rug. She moved again, throwing her weight back, her nervous wriggling growing more pronounced.

His eyes popped open. “Though you are politely keeping your nervous thoughts inside your mouth, I can still hear them,” he grumbled.

“Ugh. I’m sorry . . .” The sound of her wrestling with the fur blanket drifted toward him, followed by more groaning wood and shuffling linen.

He blinked at the ceiling, tired eyes burning. “Perhaps if you said the thoughts out loud . . .” he suggested, certain he’d never get any sleep otherwise.

“Could I relight a candle?” Her voice was small. “Just one.”

The worry in her tone tugged at his heart. “Ignite as many as you wish,” he said gently. “I’ll close the curtains if the light is too much for me.”

“Thank you,” she breathed.

She relit every candle in the room. Normally that much illumination would have disturbed him, but he was so exhausted, the moment she settled in her chair and quieted, he drifted off.

* * *

Dark had become the lightest of sleepers during the great war centuries ago. A dragon never could be too careful. He’d been as frightened by his father’s soldiers at his back as he was by the Unseelie enemy before him. Inside his own ranks, he had to be ready to thwart the challenge of another dragon who wished to claim his title. He’d survived surrounded by dangers on all sides.

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