grumpy now, as if she did not like having the flaws in her reasoning pointed out. “But there’s more to my full name than that. Just don’t call me Yolanda. I hate that.”
“Very well, Iolanthe.”
“Dammit, I just said don’t call me that!” She sat up, frowning and rubbing her head.
“No, you said not to call you Yolanda. I called you Iolanthe, which is a name that has proper syllables and consonants.”
She punched his arm. “It sounds the same!”
“It’s not. The ‘the’ at the end sounds rather like a ‘da’ when pronounced in German, but—”
“Oh, for the love of the five and forty virgins, just give it up! Call me Io. Yes, just the vowels, I know, you don’t need to point it out again. Nikola, you said?” Her nose wrinkled slightly as she thought. “Oh, with a k in the middle, like Tesla? That’s actually a pretty cool name.”
“Thank you,” he said gravely, making her a little bow. “Were my parents alive, I would pass along to them your appreciation of it. I do not know this Tesla, but I have not met all the people in the valley. Now, if you would be so good to tell me what you were doing running into Heinrich. Were you fleeing your proprietress? Or a customer?”
“A what, now?” Io winced as she continued to rub her forehead. “Man, I have the headache to end all headaches. What happened? Do I know you? You sound Austrian—are you one of Gretl’s friends?”
Nikola refused to notice what an endearing picture she made when she blinked up at him with those smoky, mysterious eyes.
He did not like mysterious people. They were often annoying. “I was born in Moravia, not Austria, although I have lived here from the time I reached my majority. For whom do you work?”
“No one, not anymore.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, gripping the blankets and wobbling just enough that Nikola put his hands on her shoulders to keep her from toppling over.
The feel of that tanned, freckled silken skin under his fingers made his blood tingle with desire. He told both his blood and his desire to cease acting inappropriately. He had better things to do with his time than stand here and touch this woman, his fingertips positively burning with the need to stroke that flesh, to lick it, to bite and drink his fill in the warmth that he was suddenly certain only she could bring him.
What the deuce was he thinking? He did not want to lick or bite or drink from this prostitute. He did not want to lay her in his bed and sate himself on her over and over and over again. He did not want to watch her eyes go dark with passion, or to feel her body tighten around him….
“Hey, are you all right? You look funny, like you’ve got a painful gas bubble or something.”
“Hrn?” With an effort, Nikola dragged his attention from the erotic mental images that gripped him, and blinked down at the woman. “Painful gas bubble?”
“My mother used to get them a lot. She said they were a real bitch when she was around others.”
He was aware of more horrified gasping from the servants and his daughter, but the amusement in the woman’s eyes seemed to hold him in thrall. Who was she? And, more important, why did she affect him so strongly?
“Mind you, she also had a tipped uterus, but I really don’t think that has anything to do with the matter.”
Had she cast some spell over him?
“And of course, that’s not a situation that would affect you, either.”
It had to be a spell. He’d never before reacted in such a manner to a woman.
“My mom used to say that drinking water helped a lot. The painful gas bubbles, that is, not the thing with her uterus.”
He would simply demand that she remove the spell. Once she knew that he was aware of her trickery, she would be ashamed and would take her desirable, tempting person away from him.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
And then life would return to normal, and he could continue to be a martyr to his servants. He nodded to
“Very well, Iolanthe.”
“Dammit, I just said don’t call me that!” She sat up, frowning and rubbing her head.
“No, you said not to call you Yolanda. I called you Iolanthe, which is a name that has proper syllables and consonants.”
She punched his arm. “It sounds the same!”
“It’s not. The ‘the’ at the end sounds rather like a ‘da’ when pronounced in German, but—”
“Oh, for the love of the five and forty virgins, just give it up! Call me Io. Yes, just the vowels, I know, you don’t need to point it out again. Nikola, you said?” Her nose wrinkled slightly as she thought. “Oh, with a k in the middle, like Tesla? That’s actually a pretty cool name.”
“Thank you,” he said gravely, making her a little bow. “Were my parents alive, I would pass along to them your appreciation of it. I do not know this Tesla, but I have not met all the people in the valley. Now, if you would be so good to tell me what you were doing running into Heinrich. Were you fleeing your proprietress? Or a customer?”
“A what, now?” Io winced as she continued to rub her forehead. “Man, I have the headache to end all headaches. What happened? Do I know you? You sound Austrian—are you one of Gretl’s friends?”
Nikola refused to notice what an endearing picture she made when she blinked up at him with those smoky, mysterious eyes.
He did not like mysterious people. They were often annoying. “I was born in Moravia, not Austria, although I have lived here from the time I reached my majority. For whom do you work?”
“No one, not anymore.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, gripping the blankets and wobbling just enough that Nikola put his hands on her shoulders to keep her from toppling over.
The feel of that tanned, freckled silken skin under his fingers made his blood tingle with desire. He told both his blood and his desire to cease acting inappropriately. He had better things to do with his time than stand here and touch this woman, his fingertips positively burning with the need to stroke that flesh, to lick it, to bite and drink his fill in the warmth that he was suddenly certain only she could bring him.
What the deuce was he thinking? He did not want to lick or bite or drink from this prostitute. He did not want to lay her in his bed and sate himself on her over and over and over again. He did not want to watch her eyes go dark with passion, or to feel her body tighten around him….
“Hey, are you all right? You look funny, like you’ve got a painful gas bubble or something.”
“Hrn?” With an effort, Nikola dragged his attention from the erotic mental images that gripped him, and blinked down at the woman. “Painful gas bubble?”
“My mother used to get them a lot. She said they were a real bitch when she was around others.”
He was aware of more horrified gasping from the servants and his daughter, but the amusement in the woman’s eyes seemed to hold him in thrall. Who was she? And, more important, why did she affect him so strongly?
“Mind you, she also had a tipped uterus, but I really don’t think that has anything to do with the matter.”
Had she cast some spell over him?
“And of course, that’s not a situation that would affect you, either.”
It had to be a spell. He’d never before reacted in such a manner to a woman.
“My mom used to say that drinking water helped a lot. The painful gas bubbles, that is, not the thing with her uterus.”
He would simply demand that she remove the spell. Once she knew that he was aware of her trickery, she would be ashamed and would take her desirable, tempting person away from him.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
And then life would return to normal, and he could continue to be a martyr to his servants. He nodded to
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