Page 82 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
“Who …?” she murmured.
Jacques tapped her shoulder, asking for her attention. Grinning down at her, he spoke two words, enunciating carefully in English. “Uncle Stewie.”
FORTY FOUR
Flurry of Flower Petals
Argent proceeded with narrowed eyes and clipped courtesy. Some of his annoyance was a direct result of the alteration in Stewart Smythe. He had aged too much in the four years since Argent last saw him. Cedric had always met Eimi’s inquiries with vague excuses about an overseas residency and the demands of setting up a private practice. Covering up his grandfather’s mammoth blunder. Burying the evidence in the tender heart of his heir.
The doctor smiled. Accepted Argent’s manhandling with an oddly abashed sort of contrition—all apologies and pleading glances. Weariness lingered in the creases framing Stewart’s eyes. Sadness swamped his scent, and the deep current of desperation further unsettled Argent. How could the boy have come tothis?
Then Tsumiko bowed and greeted him as Uncle Stewie.
Surprise flickered across Stewart’s face, only to be replaced by a warm smile. He bowed and placed a bouquet of forget-me-nots in her hands and addressed her in excellent—if accented—Japanese. “Miss Hajime, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My apologies for not presenting myself sooner. How are you and Argent getting on?” Stewart looked up at the butler. “Well, I hope?”
Argent watched Tsumiko’s face light up in obvious delight, as if she hadn’t heard her own language spoken in weeks. As ifhecounted for nothing.
She cradled Stewart’s flowers to her heart, thanking him profusely.
As if the gift wasn’t inappropriately intimate. Argent found cause to seethe.
Didn’t she realize that this rapport might be a ruse? That this man had a wife? One he’d certainly chosen in order to get at him.
Under his grandfather’s direction, Stewart had taken a Hajime bride. He’d intended to present her to Lady Eimi. He would have offered himself as the best candidate for the inheritance. Even if Stewart had been operating with the best of intentions, his plans would have robbed Argent of his chance at freedom. Of his son, for Argent would never have allowed this lot to get their hooks into Gingko. Of his home with Michael and Sansa. And of Tsumiko.
The more he thought about it, the more the vibrations deep in his chest resembled a primal warning. And that would most definitely cause a scene. Which would do nothing to support his own strategies. Still, when Stewart took Tsumiko’s hands into his own, Argent snapped.
“Say goodnight, mistress,” he all but growled.
Her small frown may have been protest, or simply confusion. But she complied. “Yes, Argent.” Gently extracting her hands, she bowed to Stewart. “I’ll look forward to it. Good night, Uncle Stewie.”
. . .
Tsumiko had dealt with several versions of Argent thus far—wary, defiant, sly, aloof, mysterious. She’d seen him dosed into docility with some kind of Amaranthine nectar, but this was the first time she’d witnessed something so … violent.
When she slipped from the ensuite in her nightgown, icy air swirled around her bare ankles, carrying bright blue flower petals. They kissed her feet as she hurried to close the balcony door. “Did you toss out my bouquet?” she asked.
A grunt.
She surveyed other signs of an unprecedented upheaval. Crumpled shreds of tissue paper littered the floor, and the green smell of bruised leaves hung in the air. Crossing to the seemingly ageless person sulking on the bench at the foot of her bed, she asked, “Is this some kind of protest?”
Another grunt.
She unwound bandages, baring skin so new, it still had a rosy blush. “We can leave these off. The wounds have healed.”
He nodded.
“Another week of Sansa’s tonics, though.”
A grimace.
“But more importantly, you need fresh air and exercise.”
Argent’s shoulders tensed.
Tsumiko tried not to be hurt. He had given her the barest glimpse of his humiliation under her predecessors. After centuries of cruel usage, was it any wonder he refused to take her at her word? Trust couldn’t be forced, and she had no idea how to give him the freedom he craved. But she could offer a tiny taste.
“You have to obey me.”
