The Offering
Page 11
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Curious, I waited as he uncurled his fingers, revealing a brilliant sapphire pendant set in beautiful bronze that had darkened with age. Around the large, glittering stone the metal had been sculpted with a fine latticework of designs and symbols that were now archaic but had once held great importance to the royal line.
More than one of the queens in my portrait gallery wore necklaces identical to the one he offered me.
“It was my mother’s,” Max said, and I raised my eyes to his. I’d already guessed as much, but still I shook my head, my heart squeezing at the gesture. “Max, I can’t. Not yet.” The last thing I wanted was to deny him, to hurt him, but the timing . . .
“Take it,” he insisted, his eyes glancing uncertainly to mine. He pushed it into my hand. I let him drop it into my palm, even though the feel of the chain against my skin felt like exactly that—chains. I couldn’t be bound to him, not in this way. Not until I was certain I was ready. “I’m not asking you to commit to marriage until you’re sure. It’s just a gift. Something that once belonged in my family but now belongs in yours. It belongs on a queen,” he said, and I knew he was at least partly right.
“Right,” I agreed, a slow smile finding my lips. “But it’s also an engagement necklace.” The candidness of the smile he returned to me made me question my hesitation. “Consider it a gift, Charlie. Wear it or don’t. But I want you to have it. Every time I look at it, I think of you.”
I blinked, determined not to cry, and reprimanding myself for being so sentimental even as I studied the intricate necklace in my hand. I wasn’t sure I deserved either the gesture or his patience, but I was grateful for both.
“It’s beautiful,” I told him, letting my thumb trace the filigree design around the edges. I could make out tiny birds and a crescent moon, and a small flower design, all crafted from a single strand of bronze. There were other symbols as well, all interlocking and never-ending. Eternal.
His voice dropped. “ You’re beautiful.”
My breath caught as I lifted my eyes to his. “Do you ever miss her?” I asked. “Your mother? Do you ever think about her? Wonder what happened to her?”
I’d never asked him before, but if he was bothered by my curiosity, it didn’t show in his expression. I’d heard the story, about how Sabara had paid Max’s mother to leave after her husband—Max and Xander’s father—had died, and I couldn’t imagine what kind of mother would be so willingly bought off that way. How she could have agreed to take Sabara’s money and leave her two small sons under their grandmother’s roof.
But Max just shrugged, as if the matter were inconsequential. “There’s not much to think about,” he answered. “What kind of mother abandons her children?”
It wasn’t an answer, at least not to the questions I’d asked, and to be honest, I didn’t care about her. I cared about him. About the little boy he’d been—who’d lost first his father and then his mother, and had then been raised by a cold, heartless grandmother who’d cared about no one but herself.
Within me Sabara didn’t bother to deny my allegations. I looked back to the necklace in my hand. A woman like Max’s mother hadn’t deserved a necklace like this, any more than she’d deserved to have sons like Max and Xander. “Fine,” I told him, a grin sneaking over my lips. “I accept your gift. I’ll even wear it now and then. As long and you realize that until I say it’s an engagement necklace, it’s only a trinket.” My grin grew. “A really nice trinket,” I finished as I passed it back to him and swept my hair aside so he could fasten it around my neck.
I raised my eyebrows expectantly, waiting for his reaction. “Well?”
“It’s perfect.” His voice was rough, almost a growl. “You’re perfect.”
Color sprang to my cheeks, and my own voice felt thick when it reached my lips. “You think so, do you?”
The change in Max was instantaneous. I could see it in the way his eyes glazed and his beautiful, full lips parted. I never tired of those lips. Lips that could coax sighs from me. Lips that could make mine tingle in sheer anticipation.
He was still on his knees before me, and this time when his hand curved around the back of my neck, it had nothing to do with the necklace. He drew me forward, and I followed his lead, my knees parting to make a space just for him. He studied my face, the way he always did, as if he couldn’t get enough of it, and I felt restless beneath the intensity of his stare as everything inside me went fluttery and molten all at once.
When those perfect lips finally touched mine, so gentle and persuasive, my head whirled. I was both shocked and amazed that, even after all this time, he still had the same effect on me.
My fists clutched the soft folds of his shirt as I tugged him up from the floor until he was buried between my knees. I wrapped my legs around him. I needed him to be closer, and I drew him back with me, shifting to make room for him on the settee. But there was hardly enough space for the two of us, and we became entangled together on the too-small sofa.
I told myself I was doing this for Max, that this was a good distraction to keep his mind off what had happened today— the box, and worrying about Xander. But it wasn’t long before all I was thinking about was me and Max, and how I could get closer to him.
I groped his buttons, my grasp clumsy, and I felt the fabric tear. Still, I didn’t stop until I’d stripped his shirt away and it was lying in a rumpled heap on the floor. I needed to touch him, and my fingertips outlined each sinewy muscle of his shoulders and arms, running the length of his back. I’d changed out of my training armor, and now there was just the thinnest of cotton blouses keeping us apart. It was a poor barrier.
More than one of the queens in my portrait gallery wore necklaces identical to the one he offered me.
“It was my mother’s,” Max said, and I raised my eyes to his. I’d already guessed as much, but still I shook my head, my heart squeezing at the gesture. “Max, I can’t. Not yet.” The last thing I wanted was to deny him, to hurt him, but the timing . . .
“Take it,” he insisted, his eyes glancing uncertainly to mine. He pushed it into my hand. I let him drop it into my palm, even though the feel of the chain against my skin felt like exactly that—chains. I couldn’t be bound to him, not in this way. Not until I was certain I was ready. “I’m not asking you to commit to marriage until you’re sure. It’s just a gift. Something that once belonged in my family but now belongs in yours. It belongs on a queen,” he said, and I knew he was at least partly right.
“Right,” I agreed, a slow smile finding my lips. “But it’s also an engagement necklace.” The candidness of the smile he returned to me made me question my hesitation. “Consider it a gift, Charlie. Wear it or don’t. But I want you to have it. Every time I look at it, I think of you.”
I blinked, determined not to cry, and reprimanding myself for being so sentimental even as I studied the intricate necklace in my hand. I wasn’t sure I deserved either the gesture or his patience, but I was grateful for both.
“It’s beautiful,” I told him, letting my thumb trace the filigree design around the edges. I could make out tiny birds and a crescent moon, and a small flower design, all crafted from a single strand of bronze. There were other symbols as well, all interlocking and never-ending. Eternal.
His voice dropped. “ You’re beautiful.”
My breath caught as I lifted my eyes to his. “Do you ever miss her?” I asked. “Your mother? Do you ever think about her? Wonder what happened to her?”
I’d never asked him before, but if he was bothered by my curiosity, it didn’t show in his expression. I’d heard the story, about how Sabara had paid Max’s mother to leave after her husband—Max and Xander’s father—had died, and I couldn’t imagine what kind of mother would be so willingly bought off that way. How she could have agreed to take Sabara’s money and leave her two small sons under their grandmother’s roof.
But Max just shrugged, as if the matter were inconsequential. “There’s not much to think about,” he answered. “What kind of mother abandons her children?”
It wasn’t an answer, at least not to the questions I’d asked, and to be honest, I didn’t care about her. I cared about him. About the little boy he’d been—who’d lost first his father and then his mother, and had then been raised by a cold, heartless grandmother who’d cared about no one but herself.
Within me Sabara didn’t bother to deny my allegations. I looked back to the necklace in my hand. A woman like Max’s mother hadn’t deserved a necklace like this, any more than she’d deserved to have sons like Max and Xander. “Fine,” I told him, a grin sneaking over my lips. “I accept your gift. I’ll even wear it now and then. As long and you realize that until I say it’s an engagement necklace, it’s only a trinket.” My grin grew. “A really nice trinket,” I finished as I passed it back to him and swept my hair aside so he could fasten it around my neck.
I raised my eyebrows expectantly, waiting for his reaction. “Well?”
“It’s perfect.” His voice was rough, almost a growl. “You’re perfect.”
Color sprang to my cheeks, and my own voice felt thick when it reached my lips. “You think so, do you?”
The change in Max was instantaneous. I could see it in the way his eyes glazed and his beautiful, full lips parted. I never tired of those lips. Lips that could coax sighs from me. Lips that could make mine tingle in sheer anticipation.
He was still on his knees before me, and this time when his hand curved around the back of my neck, it had nothing to do with the necklace. He drew me forward, and I followed his lead, my knees parting to make a space just for him. He studied my face, the way he always did, as if he couldn’t get enough of it, and I felt restless beneath the intensity of his stare as everything inside me went fluttery and molten all at once.
When those perfect lips finally touched mine, so gentle and persuasive, my head whirled. I was both shocked and amazed that, even after all this time, he still had the same effect on me.
My fists clutched the soft folds of his shirt as I tugged him up from the floor until he was buried between my knees. I wrapped my legs around him. I needed him to be closer, and I drew him back with me, shifting to make room for him on the settee. But there was hardly enough space for the two of us, and we became entangled together on the too-small sofa.
I told myself I was doing this for Max, that this was a good distraction to keep his mind off what had happened today— the box, and worrying about Xander. But it wasn’t long before all I was thinking about was me and Max, and how I could get closer to him.
I groped his buttons, my grasp clumsy, and I felt the fabric tear. Still, I didn’t stop until I’d stripped his shirt away and it was lying in a rumpled heap on the floor. I needed to touch him, and my fingertips outlined each sinewy muscle of his shoulders and arms, running the length of his back. I’d changed out of my training armor, and now there was just the thinnest of cotton blouses keeping us apart. It was a poor barrier.
