He sat down beside me, running his fingers lightly along the wound. “I’ll take care of this,” he said, his voice soft. “Go on. Lie back down.”
I was too tired to resist, even if I’d wanted to. Besides, his method was way more appealing than stinging antiseptics and Band-Aids. Scooting down beneath the blanket, I settled my head on the plump, goose-down pillow and waited, my body taut with anticipation.
First he wiped away the blood with something cold and wet, dabbing gently, until the wound was entirely clean. And then he bent his head, his tongue against my skin now, making short, silky strokes that caused gooseflesh to erupt all over my body.
“Oh my God,” I breathed. “Do you have any idea how good that feels?” A calm seemed to wash over me, my body relaxing against the soft mattress as he continued to lick me, his strokes longer now, the pressure increased as my eyelids grew heavy.
“There. It’s healed,” he murmured at last, but his mouth didn’t leave my skin. Instead, he trailed kisses up toward my shoulder, across my collarbone, down to the dip between my breasts.
I arched against him, clasping the back of his head. My fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, guiding him lower, toward the exposed skin between the hem of my tank top and the waistband of my pajama pants.
“Violet,” he protested with a groan, but his mouth obeyed. “This is . . .” Kiss. “We shouldn’t . . .” Kiss.
And then, inexplicably, I yawned—a deep, breathless yawn wrought from sheer and utter exhaustion.
With a low chuckle, Aidan laid his head on my belly. “You need to sleep.”
I nodded, stifling a second yawn as I did so. “Did everyone else go to bed already?”
“I think so, once they got their bandages.” His fingers traced a path down my right side. “They’re exhausted, just like you.”
“What are you going to do all night?”
“I’ll stay with you for a little while, but then I’m going to see Nicole. We need to discuss her expectations from here on out. I won’t be gone long.”
“You’re sure it’s safe?” I asked, stroking his hair. It was damp from his shower and back to its usual golden color.
“Entirely so. Should I make an appointment for you somewhere while I’m out? For your hair? For first thing tomorrow, maybe? You and your friends can have a girls’ spa day or something like that.”
“Sure,” I said with a sigh. “That sounds nice, actually. When do you think we’ll go back home?”
“I don’t know—that’s why I need to speak to Nicole. How many days do you need in New York to prepare for our trip to England?”
“We’re still going?” I asked drowsily.
“Of course. I promised I’d take you, remember?”
I just nodded.
Lifting his head from my stomach, he scooted up in the bed and fitted himself beside me. Heart and soul, he said inside my head.
Heart and soul, I answered back, and then drifted off with a smile on my lips.
I opened the front door of Aidan’s town house in Manhattan—my town house, technically speaking—to find Matthew standing there, his hands thrust into his pockets, a messenger bag across one shoulder.
His eyes widened when he saw me. “I’m still not used to the hair,” he said, shaking his head.
I reached a hand up to my short, silky bob. “Yeah, me either.”
“It looks good, though. It suits you.”
“Thanks. What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you till tomorrow at the airport.”
“I just needed to talk to you about something; it won’t take long. Can I come in?”
“Sure, of course.” I moved aside. “Sorry about the mess. I’m still packing, if you can believe it. I’m just not sure what to take. The weather’s apparently really fickle this time of year in Dorset—are you bringing a warm jacket, or just a raincoat?”
He didn’t move beyond the marble-tiled foyer. “That’s what I came to talk to you about. I’m not going with you to England.”
“You’re not? But I thought . . . I mean, you said—”
“I know what I said, but I was wrong. You don’t need me. You’ll be fine with Aidan.”
“Oo-okay,” I said, drawing it out, trying to figure out what had caused this change of heart. Because when we’d left Paris three days ago, he’d said he was coming with us.
Everything had been settled. Aidan had gone to Mrs. Girard and told her that her Dauphin was going on vacation, whether she liked it or not. He’d held up his end of the bargain, and now it was up to her to reestablish the Tribunal. She could get along without him just fine for a couple of weeks, he’d insisted.
And Matthew, in turn, had maintained that he couldn’t possibly let me go to England without him, not when he wasn’t one hundred percent certain that there was no longer a threat.
So we’d agreed that he should come. He wasn’t going to stay at Brompton Park with us—that would have been too weird, a teacher crashing his students’ grad trip. Instead, Matthew had booked a room in the nearest inn. The Cock’s Crow, or something silly sounding like that, an old coaching inn above a tavern a couple of kilometers from the estate. Far enough away to give us our privacy, but close enough if a threat presented itself.
And now, the day before we were set to leave, he decided he wasn’t going? It didn’t make sense—not at all. There had to be more, some explanation—
“Your vision,” I said. Aha. “The one you wanted to replay, that you didn’t want to talk about. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You think something bad is going to happen if you come with us.”
He nodded. “Something like that.”
“Well, isn’t there anything else we can do to prevent it? What exactly did you see?”
His gaze met mine, his expression guarded. “It’s better if I don’t tell you, Violet. I know I say this way too often, but you’ve just got to trust me on this, okay? It’s going to be fine. I want you to go and have a good time. You’ll be safe. I promise you.”
I shook my head, an uncomfortable feeling niggling at my brain. “I don’t like this. Should we cancel the trip?”
“No, definitely not.” He rubbed his jaw with the palm of one hand, his eyes suddenly damp.
What the hell was going on? Without really thinking about it, I started to reach out to him psychically, hoping to better understand what was going on.
“Don’t, Violet. I won’t let you. Just . . . come here.” Abruptly, he held out his arms to me, and I allowed him to gather me in his embrace, his chin resting on the top of my head. “Go to England and have a great time with your friends, okay?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Just . . . be happy.”
“I’d be happier with you there,” I said, surprised to realize that it was the truth. The days we’d spent together in Paris—me, Matthew, Aidan, and my friends—had felt strangely perfect, despite any initial awkwardness. So much so that I’d actually considered asking Aidan if Matthew could rent a room from us, come fall.
Because I had to admit that I felt complete with the two of them on either side of me—boyfriend and big brother, lover and protector. “You won’t change your mind?” I pleaded.
“Do me a favor and don’t make this any harder on me than it already is, okay, Violet? This is the way it’s got to be.”
I nodded. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Charlie, does it?”
“Nope.” He took a deep breath and then pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead before releasing me. “Okay, one last thing. I need to talk to Aidan.”