Page 17 of Reflections of Silence

My body reacted to his touch in an instant. Heat rushed from my face to settle around my chest, my nipples tightening beneath my coat. I heard my own gasp, jerking in surprise but he held my hand still. The golden liquid in my glass never sloshed, though the flattened goblet sat crooked in my tense grip. Sebastian set my glass upright, not releasing my hand.

“My maid said you have been here for a while?” I stretched for conversation, and this was the best I could come up with? My upbringing failed me daily.

“Did she?” Sebastian lost his smile, repeating the words he’d said earlier in the hall. His thumb brushed over the inside of my wrist, resting against my pulse. “What else did your maid say?” His gaze sharpened, narrowing on me.

A thrill tore down my spine, my breath hitching until he lowered his gaze, and I could breathe again. I made a note to never let him know something one of the staff said to me, or that I had designs to befriend them. Such prejudices weren’t unusual in our culture, similar to a man taking a mistress despite a willing wife at his side or in his bed.

Bias was more than common within the nobility, as much as it was within the lower classes, though their outlook was more deserved, in my view.

I tugged my wrist free as my past and present collided in a mix of memories that threw my focus away for a moment. Months in a single dress on a ship when my father had essentially sold me as the King’s whore would do that. After all, a woman paid for sex was still a courtesan and was simply a bird of an unusual color in my rank.

That thought had run about my head the entire trip, though I had never acknowledged it until now. Was that how Sebastian saw me? A paid, painted woman?

“Afraid the archangel will take you, courtesan?”

The nun’s words as the unnamed abbey filtered through my mangled thoughts. Swallowing my fear, I refocused on the man before me.My husband.

His family must have been affluent for many years—though considering my dress, I wondered if he had fallen on hard times out in the wilds of the new world, or if he struggled with the different cultures the Americas presented.

“Do you not vet your own staff?” I asked, then shook my head, softening my tone. “Min—She has been very welcoming, very helpful.” I clamped my mouth shut over my waffling before I mentioned the events in theotherlibrary.

Sebastian held my gaze a moment longer then nodded, seemingly to himself. He uncovered a plate ofamuse-bouche; a term whose literal translation meantbites of food to amuse the mouth. Back home, they were considered a delicacy, presented at a chef’s whim. Sebastian must be on very good terms with his.

He slid the plate my way. I took a bite, delicate, flaky pastry dissolving into a savory center. Flavor filled my mouth, the sensation so good, so like home at my father’s table when my mother still lived, that I could have moaned.

Dark eyes pinned me in place. His study tore away all the barriers I’d put in place, curling my hair, dressing in finery that felt both like him and a falsehood all at once. Determined not to falter before him, I peered around the small library.

Wood paneled walls were covered with floor-to-ceiling rows of books. Most looked quite old, and I couldn't wait to learn what my husband stocked in his private library, because surely this space was his own workplace. Why else keep such a diminutive room, when there were so many others, larger and better suited to the purpose in his home?

A small cough brought me back to the meal. “You’re not eating.”

A home where servants cut themselves in a bid to escape this place.

The drawn curtains suggested a monster hidden in plain sight, a face amongst the masses of servants hired with the sole purpose of serving a single master…and now me.

I quashed the foreboding in my stomach, hoping it wasn’t the food—which was amazing.Mon Dieu,could the fare be poisoned? As though reading my mind, Sebastian huffed. The corners of his mouth turned up again—definitely a smile this time.

Unsure whether to fake an emotion I didn’t feel or run screaming from the room and let my fancies get the better of my senses, I placed my fork beside the half-empty plate with deliberate gentleness.

When did I become a glutton?

“Is this a joke to you? AmI?” I couldn't finish the sentence and regretted saying anything.

What if he answered me, confirming my suspicions? Would I hide in my room for the rest of my life? Run away?

And been eaten by alligators? Don’t be daft.

For once, I agreed with the little voice in my head.

Sebastian rose from the other end of the short desk. His height—enough that I needed to tilt my head back to catch his gaze if I were standing next to him—filled the room, constricting the air to a choking point.

When he leaned forward, halting over me, a predatory expression crossed his face, a feral thing both ancient and inviting. My back arched in response to his pose, my head tilted back. His smirk promised sin, and darker things.

I might be safer with the alligators.

CHAPTER SIX

GISELLA

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