Thief of Light (15 page)

Katrin joined her, pouring the tisane with a steady hand. “He’s the singer?”

Prue nodded. “Rose arranged a deal. He gives music lessons and in return I sort out the Opera’s accounts.”

“Tansy thinks he’s wonderful. Is he?”

“He’s certainly an excellent teacher. And his voice is incredible. I’ve never heard anything like it. But he has no head for business.”

Katrin chuckled, reaching for a cake. “Not your type then.”

Before Prue could gather her wits, Katrin raised a hand, forestalling the reply. “On second thoughts,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “don’t tell me anything, I don’t want to know.”

“Fine with me, sweetheart.” Prue smiled, uneasily conscious of her glowing cheeks. “You never have before.” She changed the subject. “Tell me, did Arkady get the lease on the shop?”

Katrin’s face lit up, her blue gray eyes shining. “Oh yes! Mam, it’s in such a good place. And there are rooms upstairs, a bit shabby, but we don’t care.”

Prue wrapped her fingers around the warmth of the cup and listened to her daughter’s enthusiastic chatter. Memories paraded by—a chubby baby with a gorgeous gurgling laugh, a quiet little girl with fair curls waving around a serious face, the tip of a pink tongue slipping out when she concentrated. All those years when she’d been everything to her child—father as well as mother, disciplinarian and teacher, comfort and refuge. Source of hugs and kisses.

Her baby. She resisted the impulse to shake her head in wonderment, hardly able to credit the passage of time. The presence of this tall, graceful young woman, now poised on the verge of a separate life, was a precious, bittersweet gift. Thank the Sister, Arkady was perfect for her darling—steady and solid, but with an underlying sweetness of spirit she couldn’t help but like.

Half an hour later, she went up to bed, smiling. Her heart might ache a little, but she felt restored to the Prue she knew.

Godsdammit, he hadn’t come to see her! She’d wasted the entire morning grimly ignoring the vocal glory drifting up from the courtyard of the Sweet Manda. Of course, if she hadn’t flung the window wide in the first place, no effort would have been necessary, but well, it was a warm day.

With a huff of irritation, Prue regarded the figures marching in the neat columns down the page before her. She had to admit to a certain degree of surprise—the Unearthly Opera wasn’t in the dire financial straits she’d feared. Far from it, in fact.

She tilted her head, listening. Ah, Erik must be leaving. She heard his velvet baritone raised in farewell, his quick step on the path leading to the water stairs.

Good. The hollow feeling in her midsection was hunger, nothing more. She’d have a bite to eat and finish preparing her tutorial on trading in commodities. Excellent. Truly.

Rising, she crossed the room to fetch her notes from the shelf, but when she looked down, it was jade silk she was holding, her fingertips stroking to and fro. Prue froze, the embroidered seelies blurring. She sniffed the tears back, blinking hard.

Oh, what the hell. Her head held high, she marched into the bedchamber, slinging the shawl across her shoulders as she went.

For a long time, she stared at the figure in the mirror. With trembling fingers, she opened the first three buttons on her tunic and folded it open. Then she pulled a pin from her hair, followed by another and another. Breathing hard, she raked her hands through her braids until her hair curled in wild profusion around her flushed face and tumbled down across the vivid silk.

“Well, well, look at you,” said an amused voice from the door.

Prue whirled to face Rose.

Her friend sauntered forward, graceful skirts swishing with every step. “You look gorgeous, sweetie.” With a grin, she fingered the edge of the shawl. “Wear it tonight and leave your hair loose. I’ll send Tansy up to brush it for you.”

Prue narrowed her eyes. “I’m not going out tonight.”

“Yes, you are.” Rose sank onto the bed and lounged back against the pillows like a copper-skinned houri. “Erik Thorensen wants to return our hospitality. We’re going to the Royal Theater and then having supper with him.”

“For the Sister’s sake, it was lunch on a tray!” Prue shrugged out of the shawl. “You go if he’s that worried about it.”

“Not without you.”

Prue set her jaw. “Don’t force my hand, Rose. I won’t be blackmailed.”

Rose’s sculpted lips thinned. “Are we partners in The Garden or not?” she demanded.

“Of course.”

Rose sat up. “This is business,” she said. “Erik wants to extend the contract, and that’s something we have to discuss with him together.” She leaned forward to catch Prue’s hand in both of hers. “I’m sorry if you don’t like him, love, but we can’t afford to be throwing away the opportunity. Anyway, you have to be there if we’re going to beat him down to something we can afford. I’m too soft.”

Prue scanned her friend’s perfect features.
Soft
wasn’t the word she’d have chosen to apply to Rosarina.
Devious
was more like it. Behind that lovely face was a mind so subtle and complex, it would frighten the life out of The Garden’s clients—if only they were aware of it. Fortunately, they had no idea. Everything Rose said sounded reasonable, but then it always did.

Hesitating, she was lost.

“That’s settled then,” said Rose. “Was it Erik who gave you this?” When she lifted the silken fabric to rub it against her cheek, Prue’s fingers curled into fists.

“Yes,” she said curtly. “But I can’t accept it. I’m going to give it back.”

“Really?” Another rub and a low purr of pleasure. “I’ll take it off your hands.”

“No!” Prue reefed the shawl out of her friend’s grasp. She took a calming breath. “No, I’ll return it myself.”

A dark brow arched. “Excellent. Bring it with you this evening.” Rose dropped a kiss on Prue’s cheek as she passed. “I’ll send Tansy with lunch. She can help you pick a gown.”

Prue opened her mouth to protest, but save for a drift of Rose’s distinctive perfume, the chamber was empty.

The tall, carved doors of the Royal Theater stood open to the night as the audience dispersed, their faces transfigured by pleasure and excitement. Another magnificent success. The Unearthly Opera had done a different piece tonight, romantic, even humorous in places, but once again, the soaring splendor of Erik’s voice had reduced Prue to tears, though she’d fought it with everything in her. He made her cry, he made her laugh. He made her
want
.

Godsdammit, she was a level-headed, adult woman. She
knew
what he was—and she’d never been so fascinated by a man in her life.

When a salt-laden breeze whispered around the foyer, Prue shivered. She stepped behind the shelter of an ornately carved pillar, rubbing her arms.

“For the Sister’s sake, Prue, you’re freezing. You brought the damn thing with you. Put it on!” Rose pulled the wadded-up shawl out of Prue’s hands and flung it around her shoulders.

“Ladies,” came a velvet purr, and there he was, bowing with a flourish. “Sorry to keep you waiting. You look beautiful, both of you.” Erik’s gaze moved from the silk fringe Prue was twisting in her fingers up to her face, and his eyes danced. But all he said was, “Shall we go?”

Rose took the arm he offered. “You were wonderful tonight, Erik,” she said. “Superb.”

Prue could have sworn he preened. At the snort she didn’t bother to suppress, Erik lifted a brow. “Did you enjoy yourself, Prue?”

“Of course,” she agreed calmly. Credit where it was due. “You were even better than I remembered.”

His grin of pleasure was so unstudied, so spontaneous, she was ensnared before she knew it. A tremor of excitement coiled up from the base of her spine. Unconsciously, she leaned a little closer, absorbing his body heat. Erik slipped his arm around her shoulders and snugged her into his side. “Warm enough?”

Before Prue could speak, Rose exclaimed, “Oh look, there’s Noblelady Izanami!” She waved at a tiny woman dressed with the sever est elegance. “I have to talk to her about deportment classes for her daughters. My dears”—she patted Erik’s arm—“you go on without me. I’ll catch up.”

A quick smile, a swirl of skirts and the Dark Rose was halfway across the foyer, Noblelady Izanami turning to greet her with a smile, her hands held out in welcome.

“I’ve got a skiff waiting,” said Erik, guiding Prue in the direction of the water stairs. “Come on.”

“But—”

He shot her a glance brimful of wicked mischief. “Scared?”

Prue gave a huff of laughter. “That’s the oldest trick in the book.”

Erik lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles, his lips soft and warm. “I’m afraid I’ve sunk to desperate measures, Mistress Prue.” One eye closed in an unrepentant wink. “But I’ll take my punishment like a man.”

Prue shook her head. “Now you’re being silly.” But something warm and foolish melted all through her from the inside out. “Godsdammit,” she said. “I give up. Take me to dinner and be done with it.” She threw a dark glance at Rose’s unresponsive back.
You’ ll keep, my dear
.

He’d hired one of the fancier skiffs, with a leather seat and an awning to protect against the weather and provide some privacy. He also appeared to be on the best of terms with the skiffwoman. Prue sighed. Was there a woman alive immune to that easy charm?

“You’re still cold, sweetheart. Come here.” Disregarding her protests, Erik tucked Prue under his arm, opening his coat and wrapping it around her. His big body seemed to envelop and overwhelm hers with heat and hardness, the uncompromising density of male muscle and bone.

“Not a word until we get there, all right?” His breath stirred the hair at her temple.

Prue shrugged within the circle of his arm. “Fine.” Idly, she watched the long ripples slip by, burnished by the lights streaming from the buildings on the banks. Erik sighed and rubbed his cheek against her hair. He drew her fractionally closer, his powerful thigh sealed all along hers.

Sister, it was so good to relax into this comfortable silence, no demands, no arguments, no games. Prue’s lashes fluttered down. She didn’t need to be anyone she wasn’t. He’d seen the worst of her, after all. With the rhythmic splash of the skiffwoman’s pole, random thoughts floated in and out of her head, until finally, one stranger than the others snagged her attention.

He was coddling her, courting her as if she were precious. Like a lover
. Even more astonishing, she was permitting it.

How long had it been since she’d been cared for this way? Prue frowned, but she couldn’t really bring any occasion to mind since she’d left her home and her parents, so long ago. She swallowed, her pulse accelerating. No wonder his touch was like a drug, soothing and stimulating all at once.

Blankly, she stared at the fine palazzos on the banks of the canal. How amazing. She thought she’d armored herself against him, but Erik the Golden had slipped past her defenses.

Slowly, Prue pushed away from the heat of his body, her heart thudding. Remembering the dark, hot spice of his mouth, the unyielding press of his muscled torso against hers, none of that served any useful purpose. She’d had her moment of self-indulgence. Another taste and it would be too late. Erik Thorensen bore all the hall-marks of a powerful addiction. And when he was gone, she’d be desperate with longing for what she couldn’t have.

He brushed his fingertips over the dimple in her cheek. “Prue?”

She ignored him.

The skiff floated past the Leaf of Nobility, toward a long, low building glowing with lights. The tinkle of glassware and the low buzz of conversation drifted across the water. Prue stiffened, her eyes widening. She knew this place. Exquisite food and wine, secluded booths meant for seduction, hideously expensive.

Merciful Sister, she couldn’t afford to turn her whole life upside down—not to scratch an itch. Prue counted her breaths, shoring up her resolve. Better to make the break tonight rather than later. Logic said it would hurt less . . . Her body ached as if she’d been beaten all over with sticks.