Page 32 of Worthy Promises
Lowering himself gracefully to the bench, Worthington patted the space next to him. “Owliver, have a seat, and don’t you dare offer me an apology. It took years of living with my elder brother to give me any faith at all in titles. There are plenty of people in my life who carry them, but none of them forget people matter, not royalty.”
Oliver sat, and when his knee brushed Worthington’s, a lovely frisson of awareness swept through him. Pleasure raced along his skin, and his owl screeched in delight. As wonderful as it was to finally find the other half of his soul, Oliver was unusually mired in self-doubt and nerves.
“This evening is overwhelming,” Oliver said into his glass. In a single swallow, he drained the flute and set it on a stone table next to him. His palms were slightly damp, so he rubbed them on his pants.
“Yes, well, if you’d shown up at the door at my house as I expected, we could be discussing this in comfort instead of sitting in a garden full of people being celebrated for spending their dollars on Dérive. I didn’t even want to come tonight.”
“Shown up at your door?”
“Every day I’ve opened the door expecting to find you. Fate can attest that I’ve waited patiently for my mate for many decades. Why you chose to dawdle and just now show up, I haven’t the foggiest notion.”
Amused, Oliver grinned. “You were unwilling to accept my apology for discounting royalty, but I suspect you actually want one for me not falling into your plans.”
“You’ve realized this, yet here I sit, still waiting for your sincere groveling.”
“I have a home too, Worthington. Why didn’t you come knocking on my front door?” Oliver asked, surprised at his own temerity.
Who is this owl teasing and flirting with the devilishly handsome Duke Argent?
“How could I? I don’t know where you live. On an entirely unrelated topic, I think my father was the last person to routinely use my full name.”
The furrow in Worthington’s brows had Oliver’s smile disappearing. “Would you prefer I call you something else?”
“Not at all. My father spoke it with disdain and disappointment. I hear none of that in your voice.”
Oliver blinked at the gorgeous and accomplished man sitting next to him and asked incredulously, “How could I be disappointed with you as a mate?”
“Give me time, Owliver. I’m sure some years down the road you will find something about me to disappoint. Perhaps I chew a little too loud for your taste or you find it annoying to be paired with someone unwilling to pay full price for anything.”
“Definitely not the latter. I appreciate thriftiness.”
“Good, maybe you can convince my baby brother to stop calling me cheap.”
It was ironic that Oliver had studied the D’Vaires—hoping to impress the Magister Duke and convince him to showcase his art in Oliver’s galleries, without success—but somehow found himself with another Duke from the illustrious family. This Duke had a rakish grin, a toe-curling accent, and beautiful blue eyes.
“That would be Grand Summoner-mate Somerly D’Vairedraconis?” Oliver asked.
“Indeed,” Worthington replied. “You have me at such a disadvantage knowing my family as you do. You have waited far too long to speak of your own relations.”
“I don’t suppose it matters that we met less than thirty minutes ago.”
“Not at all.”
“Fine, my family is tiny. My parents died six months ago. They were only children, and their relatives have long since passed. I have a brother. Orion. He’s seven. Tonight, he’s reading a book about dragons. I promised him I’d take him to Vegas so he could watch some real ones fly.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. You can bring him to D’Vaire if he wants to watch dragons. We have the most beautiful ones.”
“Thanks, I lived with my parents my entire life, but we weren’t close. I’m trying to get to know my brother, but it’s a work in progress. As for dragons, I’d love to see yours in person.”
“I understand. I shared a home for a century with my father, yet we barely had a relationship. It wasn’t until I became a D’Vaire that I understood what a family was. You will definitely grow quite familiar with my beautiful dragon. Are you raising your brother?”
Oliver sighed. “Yes, but it’s been a struggle. He’s a good kid. Orion goes to school without complaint and gets good grades, but he refuses to socialize. We talk, but he won’t discuss anything on his mind. I’ve sent him to tons of therapists. He won’t talk to them. I don’t have any clue how to mend the growing gap between us. I know he must be hurting. He lost his parents, and unlike me, he was adored by them. Tonight, he told me about how they drank too much and it embarrassed him. I want to help him, ease his pain, and somehow give him as normal of a childhood as possible, but I’m in way over my head.”
All the humor fell from Worthington’s face, and the sincerity and compassion in that lovely azure gaze forced a small smile from Oliver. “I can see it hurts you, and I’m sorry.”
“I want him to be happy. That’s all.” Oliver wasn’t one to confide in people he’d just met, but telling Worthington about his life felt right.
“Sometimes being there for someone is the best you can do.”
