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“The Diary of Miss Willa Colyns?” His brows knitted as he turned it over. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Give it back.” I reached for it, but Hawke danced away. “Give it back to me now!”
“I will if you read it for me. I’m sure this has to be more interesting than the history of the kingdom.” He opened the book.
Maybe he couldn’t read.
Please, let it be that he could not read.
The grin slowly slipped from his face.
Of course, he could read. Why was life so unfair?
His dark brows rose as he flipped through the pages. I knew what was on the first page. Miss Willa Colyns had been painfully detailed about the intimate kiss. “What interesting reading material.”
My face was burning with the fire of a thousand suns, and I wondered how mad Hawke would get if I threw my dagger at his face.
Again.
The grin returned, and so did the dimple. “Penellaphe.” He said my name with so much shock, my eyes would’ve rolled if I weren’t so incredibly mortified. “This is…just scandalous reading material for the Maiden.”
“Shut up.”
“Very naughty,” he chided, shaking his head.
A
“I didn’t say there was.” Hawke looked at me. “But I don’t think what she is writing about has anything to do with love.”
“Oh, so you’re an expert on this now?”
“More so than you, I imagine.”
I snapped my mouth shut. The truth in that statement stung, and I lashed out. “That’s right. Your visits to the Red Pearl have been the talk of many servants and Ladies in Wait, so I suppose you do have a ton of experience.”
“Someone sounds jealous.”
“Jealous?” I laughed as I rolled my eyes. “As I said before, you have an overinflated sense of importance in my life.”
He snorted as he returned to skimming through the book.
Irritated, I turned to the liquor cabinet. A short glass remained out. “Just because you have more experience with…what goes on at the Red Pearl, doesn’t mean I don’t know what love is.”
“Have you ever been in love?” he asked. “Has one of the Duke’s stewards caught your eye? One of the Lords? Or perhaps a brave guard?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t been in love.”
“Then how would you know?”
“I know my parents loved one another deeply.” I toyed with the jeweled top of the decanter. “What about you? Have you been in love, Hawke?”
I hadn’t expected an answer, so when he gave me one after a few moments, I was more than surprised. “Yes.”
There was an odd twisting motion in my chest that I didn’t quite understand as I looked over my shoulder at him, causing me to realize that the aching coldness had eased. I had no idea what it was about him that did that to me. It probably had to do with the fact that he irritated me. “Someone from your home?”
Do you still love her?
That was the second question bubbling to the surface, but by the grace of the gods, I managed to refrain from asking that question.
“She was.” He was still looking down at the book. “It was a long time ago, though.”
“A long time ago? When you were what? A child?” I asked, knowing that he couldn’t be more than a handful of years older than I was, despite the way he made it sound as if it were an eternity ago.
He chuckled, and then his lips curved up in a small half-smile. The dimple made an appearance in his right cheek, causing the twisting motion inside me to increase. “How much of this have you read?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Probably not, but I need to know if you got to this part.” He cleared his throat.
Wait.
Was he going to read from it?
No.
Please, no.
“I only read the first chapter,” I said in a rush. “And you look like you’re in the middle of the book, so—”
“Good. Then this will be fresh and new to you. Let me see, where was I?” He dragged a finger over the page and then tapped the center. “Oh, yes. Here. ‘Fulton had promised that when he was done with me that I wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a day, and he was right.’ Huh. Impressive.”
My eyes widened.
“‘The things the man did with his tongue and his fingers had only been surpassed by his shockingly large, decadently pulsing, and wickedly throbbing—’” Hawke chuckled. “This woman has a knack for adverbs, doesn’t she?”
“You can stop now.”
“‘Manhood.’”
“What?” I gasped.
“That’s the end of that sentence,” he explained, and when he glanced up, I immediately knew that whatever was about to come out of his mouth was going to burn me alive. “Oh, you may not know what she means by manhood. I do believe she’s talking about his cock. Prick. Dick. His—”
“Oh, my gods,” I whispered.
“His—apparently—extremely large, throbbing and pulsing—”
“I get it! I completely understand.”
“Just wanted to make sure. Wouldn’t want you to be too embarrassed to ask and think she was referencing his love for her or something.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“And I’m about to stab you,” I warned. “In a very violent ma
Concern flickered across his face as he lowered the book. “Now that, I believe.”
“Give me back the journal.”
“But, of course.” He offered it, and I snatched it out of his hand quickly, holding it to my chest. “All you had to do was ask.”
“What?” My mouth dropped open. “I have been asking.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “I have selective hearing.”
“You are… You are the worst."
“You got your words wrong.” Striding past me, he patted the top of my head. I lashed out, narrowly missing him. “You meant, I’m the best.”
“I got my words right.”
“Come. I need to get you back before something other than your own foolishness puts you at risk.” He stopped by the door. “And don’t forget your book. I expect a summary of each chapter tomorrow.”
He and I were never going to speak about this diary again.
But I did bring it with me when I followed him to the door. It was only when he reached for the handle that it struck me. “How did you know where I was?”
Hawke looked over his shoulder at me, a faint smile playing at his lips. “I have incredible tracking skills, Princess.”
“I have incredible tracking skills,” I muttered under my breath the following afternoon.
“What?” Tawny turned to me, frowning.
“Nothing. I’m just talking to myself,” I said, taking a deep breath and pushing thoughts of Hawke out of my mind. “You look beautiful.”
And that was true.
Tawny’s hair was twisted up with a few tight curls framing her face. Her lips matched her mask and gown, a deep and vibrant shade of red. The thin, sleeveless dress hugged her lithe form. She wasn’t just beautiful as she walked toward where I stood by the fireplace. She was confident and at ease with her body and herself, and I was in awe of her.
“Thank you.” She straightened the material along her shoulder and then dropped her hand. “You look absolutely stu
A flutter erupted in my chest and spread to my belly. “Do I?”
“Gods, yes. Have you not looked at yourself yet?”
I shook my head no.
Tawny stared at me. “So, you put on the dress—this absolutely beautiful, tailor-made dress—and haven’t even looked at yourself? Not only that, you let me do your hair. I could’ve made it look like a nest for birds.”