Page 50 of Taming the Beast (Fairy Tales of New York)

“I came to talk to you.”

“What about?”

He didn’t respond to that. Instead his dark fathomless gaze shifted to her glass. “What are you drinking?”

“Malbec.”

“May I have a glass?”

“I thought you didn’t drink.”

“I didn’t. But I’ve been making up for lost time lately. With a lot of things… I can see why you love it here,” he said, walking forwards and gazing out over the fields bathed in warm golden light. “It’s beautiful.”

“Sunset is my favorite time of day.”

“I remember you saying.”

She was not going to weaken. She was not going to weaken. Him remembering what she’d said didn’t mean a thing. “Who let you in?”

“Your mother. She told me you were out here.”

She sighed. Then remembered her manners. “You might as well take a seat.”

“Thank you.”

While he folded himself into a chair, Mercy got up to fetch a glass from the sideboard. She could feel his eyes on her as she did so, could feel her body begin to simmer with heat and need and longing.

“So what did you want to talk about?” she asked, banking down the desire and ignoring the aching of her heart as she filled his glass and handed it to him because neither had any place here. What was so important that he’d travelled five thousand miles? She’d have heard if something had happened to Zel, wouldn’t she?

“You,” he said gruffly and Mercy went still. “Me. Well, you and me, actually.” He lifted his glass, downed half of it, then shoved his hands through his hair and shifted on the chair, and it occurred to her that he was nervous.

“I didn’t think there was

a you and me,” she said, her heart suddenly pounding because she’d seen him many things before but never nervous. Never unsure of himself.

“Neither did I. I was wrong.”

“In what way?”

“In pretty much every way.”

A seed of hope sprouted deep inside her but she stamped it out because she really wasn’t going there. She couldn’t. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. “You told me we were over.”

“I was an idiot.”

“A peabrain?”

He gave her the glimmer of a smile. “New Word of the Day?”

She shot him a look. “Yes.”

“Very appropriate.”

“So, what, we aren’t over?”

“I hope not,” he said, scrubbing his hands over his face and swallowing hard. “God, I hope not.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

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