Page 40 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
That wasn’t like her. Normally, Hattie was all quips and sass with him—not near tears.
InWaldron, Hattie’s humor, confidence, and sense of belonging had been evident—proof that despite her hurried exit from Castle Wynhaim and forced estrangement from everyone who resided there, she was better off. But now Noble wondered if those qualities were more akin to lilies on a lake, distracting from her murkier depths.
That night he watched the carriage take her away, he’d seen the panic plain on her face. How frightening it must’ve been to travel to a strange territory, sleep in a stranger’s bed. How incredibly strong she must’ve been to endure her husband’s abuse and find a way to escape. How difficult it must’ve been to start over—all while harboring a massive secret, alone.
Was it possible that Hattie’s spitfire attitude was similar to the taciturn mask he wore, himself? Seeing the slight sheen in her eyes now, he wondered if he’d somehow missed the pain underneath her fury.
Noble took a tentative step closer, moving into her personal space. He touched her arm, just beneath the ruffled edge of her short sleeve, and her skin was—Fates—it was smooth. Soft. Chilled slightly from the evening breeze that trickled through the open windows in the garden. A sigh slipped out of her pursed lips, tickling the hair on his chest, where his collar gaped.
When she looked into his eyes again, her gaze was heavy. “I’m not sure I can stand it, Noble.”
He let his hand drop. “Don’t let my being here ruin this for you. This is your dream.”
“And somehow you got to it first,” she said bitterly.
“Look. If I could leave—trust me—I would, but I’m too enmeshed.” He raked his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. “We just need some ground rules.”
A humorless huff. “Because that’s what we need: more rules.”
He lifted his chin in a cocky tilt. “Would you prefer I ignore the rules already established?” he teased. “Would you preferI…do the opposite?”
He meant to distract her from her somber mood. He expected her to chasten to or scoff at his suggestive comment, but apparently this new Hattie—Hattie the grown woman—was not as susceptible to Noble’s childish goading.
Her eyes narrowed with irritation. In direct defiance of her tears, she clasped her hands in front of her chest, taking on a sarcastic tone. “Oh,please, would you break the rules for me, Noble?” she begged mockingly. “Put me out of my twelve-year misery and throw caution to the wind,finally!”
Ever since he was a boy, he’d been made well aware of his lesser status and the forbidden-ness of the noble girl he fancied; he’d been forced into the responsibility of shirking her advances, allowing her to believe that when he teased her, there were no hidden meanings or veiled honesties. But every flush and grumble on her part was proof that he wasn’t alone in his craving. That she was just as hopeless to their connection as he was.
Her sarcasm, however…thatstung.
But at least she was no longer crying.
“Whether we like it or not,” Noble said, no longer amused, “we’re about to spend countless hours trapped in his lab together. I suggest we provide some structure to this lie we have to uphold. You don’t want word getting back to your uncle, do you? That his problem niece escaped from her cage in Poe-on-Wend?” He invaded her personal space again. “Themomentword gets out about who you are, we’re both—”
She held up a hand, halting his cruel speech. Pivoting away from Noble, Hattie faced the row bookcases lining the wall. She scratched her nails over her head, then—sighing exasperatedly—she tugged out the pins and let her lush locks spill down her back. She continued scratching her scalp, shaking out her curls until they frizzed in a mass around her shoulders.
When she faced Noble again, she looked—
His throat bobbed, thick with arrestingdesire.
—she lookedundone.
Oh, please, would you break the rules for me, Noble?Her mocking plea had teeth; the echo of it bit down, puncturing his mind. Remove the sarcasm, and that phrase was everything he’d ever wanted.
Hattie—a goddess with a gold halo—pinned him with a harsh glare. “Rule number one: we don’t converse.”
Noble swallowed again. Nodded.
“We don’t even look at each other. We each pretend the other doesn’t exist.”
“Fine,” he agreed tightly. “Good.”
“The only acceptable interactions are those required by research,” she continued. “For example, if I have a question about Gildium.”
“Makes sense.”
She folded her arms across her bodice. “I amnotplanning on having any questions about Gildium.”
“Of course not.”
