Night's Honor
Page 38
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“You sound like Ricky Ricardo,” she told him. Her voice quivered, and so did her beautiful lips.
When he looked at her more closely, he realized she was laughing, and trying to muffle it. “Who is this Ricardo?”
“From I Love Lucy,” she said. Then, when he still looked blank, she prompted, “The classic TV sitcom?”
“I do not watch TV,” he said. Belatedly, a vague image of a redheaded comedienne came to mind. Once, she had been famous enough that her image had dominated the media. He dismissed it.
“Not ever?”
He shrugged. “I do keep an eye on CNN, MSNBC and other news channels.”
“That’s not real TV,” she told him. She glanced down at their feet again as she muttered under her breath, “Tonight is a lot like I Love Lucy. Only with Vampyres. Naturally.”
He decided to ignore that. “This conversation has turned irrelevant. You keep trying to lead, and you can’t.”
“It’s a natural instinct to step forward, not backward,” she pointed out.
“While I understand that, I have every faith you can overcome it and stop trampling your partner’s feet.” He paused and looked at her more closely.
Dark circles had appeared in the delicate skin underneath her eyes. If she had looked tired before, now she looked exhausted and entirely out of sorts. As he studied her expression, he realized that while his “day” had begun shortly before sunset, she had been engaged in some kind of training exercise since early that morning.
Contrition hit. “Tess, I apologize. We have been working you too hard.”
Immediately her back straightened as she bristled. “I’m fine. Let’s go again.”
“I think not. Thank you for your time. We’re finished for tonight.” He inclined his head to her and turned away.
“Please.” Slender fingers caught at his sleeve. “I want to try one more time. “
He stilled and looked down at her hand. It was an imprudent gesture, of course, and when he had been a young man, it would never have been permitted. One did not lay hands upon a member of the nobility without permission.
But those early days of his youth were centuries gone. Now so many humans were brash and heedless. Strange vulgarities such as “yo mama” and “motherfucker” were actually considered legitimate interactions, along with backslapping, head rubbing, fist-bumping, hugs and other importunities.
He had learned to tolerate without flinching most minor encroachments upon his person, and if anyone else had so heedlessly laid a hand on him, he wouldn’t have given it more than a passing thought.
Except, this was Tess who had voluntarily laid a hand on him. Tess, who, when they had first met, had difficulty remaining in the same room as him. Just now she had reached out so naturally, so thoughtlessly.
A quick, bright reaction flared. Triumph, perhaps, along with pleasure. He schooled his expression to conceal it as he turned back to her, covering her hand with his. “Very well, one more time, but then we’re through. You need to rest, and I have other matters to attend to.”
Her forehead crinkled. “We were going to start meditating so I could learn some biofeedback techniques.”
Some tense, buried emotion lay underneath her words, and he studied her more closely. She was anxious, yet struggling to hide it. Frowning, he thought back over their conversation that evening. It had not exactly gone smoothly. She had tried his patience, and had evidenced her own frustration and discouragement more than once.
Then he remembered what she had said about Raoul slamming her to the ground or throwing her into the wall, and his frown deepened. If his suspicion was correct, the other man had been trying to discourage her from staying. It appeared they might have been hard on her in more ways than one.
“There’s no harm in starting the meditation tomorrow evening,” he said gently. “We’re undertaking a journey, not running a race. Overall, you’ve been working quite hard and doing a very good job. I’m pleased with the progress you’ve made.”
Her tired eyes brightened. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”
He shook his head. “I’m not just saying that.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He inclined his head. “And now to try this one more time. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
They took the waltz position, which was another thing she did very well. She held her head high, shoulders back. He pulled out the stereo remote and keyed the music to start, then dropped the remote back into his jacket pocket and took her hand.
They waited, and as the first strains of music filled the ballroom, he met her gaze and mouthed, Backward.
She took a deep breath, nodded and they stepped into the waltz together.
For a full minute and a half they achieved a thing of beauty. Her slender body moved lightly and gracefully through the steps, at one with his. Her expression lit with excitement, and he smiled to see it.
Then she stepped on his foot.
He stopped immediately, and before the dismay in her eyes could dampen her expression, he said, “Well done!”
She had opened her mouth, he knew, to apologize, and his words caught her off guard. “You don’t really mean that.” Her voice wavered upward at the end, turning it into a hopeful question.
“Of course I do. I think that time you got a chance to see how the waltz really feels, which will make tomorrow’s lesson go more easily. And I never say anything I don’t mean.” He took one of her hands and bowed over it. The courtly gesture was decidedly out of date, but it felt good to indulge the impulse. “If I were you, I would take the compliment and call it a win.”
Still bent over her hand, he tilted his head to glance up at her and caught her wry smile. “If you insist.”
“I will tell Raoul that your presence will not be required until lunchtime,” he told her as he straightened. “Enjoy your morning off. You’ve earned it.”
Her smile widened into real pleasure. “Thank you.”
“De nada. Good night.”
“Good night.”
After watching her step out of the ballroom, he turned off the stereo and the lights. Whistling Strauss’s Blue Danube underneath his breath, he went to look for Raoul.
He found the other man in the gym, immersed in paperwork in his office. When he appeared in the doorway, Raoul looked up from his work. “How did it go?”
When he looked at her more closely, he realized she was laughing, and trying to muffle it. “Who is this Ricardo?”
“From I Love Lucy,” she said. Then, when he still looked blank, she prompted, “The classic TV sitcom?”
“I do not watch TV,” he said. Belatedly, a vague image of a redheaded comedienne came to mind. Once, she had been famous enough that her image had dominated the media. He dismissed it.
“Not ever?”
He shrugged. “I do keep an eye on CNN, MSNBC and other news channels.”
“That’s not real TV,” she told him. She glanced down at their feet again as she muttered under her breath, “Tonight is a lot like I Love Lucy. Only with Vampyres. Naturally.”
He decided to ignore that. “This conversation has turned irrelevant. You keep trying to lead, and you can’t.”
“It’s a natural instinct to step forward, not backward,” she pointed out.
“While I understand that, I have every faith you can overcome it and stop trampling your partner’s feet.” He paused and looked at her more closely.
Dark circles had appeared in the delicate skin underneath her eyes. If she had looked tired before, now she looked exhausted and entirely out of sorts. As he studied her expression, he realized that while his “day” had begun shortly before sunset, she had been engaged in some kind of training exercise since early that morning.
Contrition hit. “Tess, I apologize. We have been working you too hard.”
Immediately her back straightened as she bristled. “I’m fine. Let’s go again.”
“I think not. Thank you for your time. We’re finished for tonight.” He inclined his head to her and turned away.
“Please.” Slender fingers caught at his sleeve. “I want to try one more time. “
He stilled and looked down at her hand. It was an imprudent gesture, of course, and when he had been a young man, it would never have been permitted. One did not lay hands upon a member of the nobility without permission.
But those early days of his youth were centuries gone. Now so many humans were brash and heedless. Strange vulgarities such as “yo mama” and “motherfucker” were actually considered legitimate interactions, along with backslapping, head rubbing, fist-bumping, hugs and other importunities.
He had learned to tolerate without flinching most minor encroachments upon his person, and if anyone else had so heedlessly laid a hand on him, he wouldn’t have given it more than a passing thought.
Except, this was Tess who had voluntarily laid a hand on him. Tess, who, when they had first met, had difficulty remaining in the same room as him. Just now she had reached out so naturally, so thoughtlessly.
A quick, bright reaction flared. Triumph, perhaps, along with pleasure. He schooled his expression to conceal it as he turned back to her, covering her hand with his. “Very well, one more time, but then we’re through. You need to rest, and I have other matters to attend to.”
Her forehead crinkled. “We were going to start meditating so I could learn some biofeedback techniques.”
Some tense, buried emotion lay underneath her words, and he studied her more closely. She was anxious, yet struggling to hide it. Frowning, he thought back over their conversation that evening. It had not exactly gone smoothly. She had tried his patience, and had evidenced her own frustration and discouragement more than once.
Then he remembered what she had said about Raoul slamming her to the ground or throwing her into the wall, and his frown deepened. If his suspicion was correct, the other man had been trying to discourage her from staying. It appeared they might have been hard on her in more ways than one.
“There’s no harm in starting the meditation tomorrow evening,” he said gently. “We’re undertaking a journey, not running a race. Overall, you’ve been working quite hard and doing a very good job. I’m pleased with the progress you’ve made.”
Her tired eyes brightened. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”
He shook his head. “I’m not just saying that.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He inclined his head. “And now to try this one more time. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
They took the waltz position, which was another thing she did very well. She held her head high, shoulders back. He pulled out the stereo remote and keyed the music to start, then dropped the remote back into his jacket pocket and took her hand.
They waited, and as the first strains of music filled the ballroom, he met her gaze and mouthed, Backward.
She took a deep breath, nodded and they stepped into the waltz together.
For a full minute and a half they achieved a thing of beauty. Her slender body moved lightly and gracefully through the steps, at one with his. Her expression lit with excitement, and he smiled to see it.
Then she stepped on his foot.
He stopped immediately, and before the dismay in her eyes could dampen her expression, he said, “Well done!”
She had opened her mouth, he knew, to apologize, and his words caught her off guard. “You don’t really mean that.” Her voice wavered upward at the end, turning it into a hopeful question.
“Of course I do. I think that time you got a chance to see how the waltz really feels, which will make tomorrow’s lesson go more easily. And I never say anything I don’t mean.” He took one of her hands and bowed over it. The courtly gesture was decidedly out of date, but it felt good to indulge the impulse. “If I were you, I would take the compliment and call it a win.”
Still bent over her hand, he tilted his head to glance up at her and caught her wry smile. “If you insist.”
“I will tell Raoul that your presence will not be required until lunchtime,” he told her as he straightened. “Enjoy your morning off. You’ve earned it.”
Her smile widened into real pleasure. “Thank you.”
“De nada. Good night.”
“Good night.”
After watching her step out of the ballroom, he turned off the stereo and the lights. Whistling Strauss’s Blue Danube underneath his breath, he went to look for Raoul.
He found the other man in the gym, immersed in paperwork in his office. When he appeared in the doorway, Raoul looked up from his work. “How did it go?”
