her heart lurch. It was the jeweled fastening of Saloman’s cloak.
Without thought, she strode around the bed and brushed past him, dropping to her knees to hide it from him.
“Looks like an antique,” Josh observed. “Why don’t you take it with you? Dante’s got some antiquarian experts coming this weekend.”
Damn it, why couldn’t she have taken more care? What was the point of hiding the thing at the bottom of her drawer if she then churned everything up so that it sprawled over the top?
“It’s not valuable,” she said hastily. “Except to me.”
Josh moved slightly out of her way as she seized the cloak and began to fold it. “Ah, you have a family heirloom too,” he said.
“No. Just a gift from a friend.”
He’d wrapped her in it when she was unconscious and nearly dead from his bite, and carried her in it across Budapest from his palace to Mihaela’s flat. Whether it was the memory of that, or some magic that came from simply touching something of his, emotion flooded her.
She’d tried to give it back to him before he left her at dawn on the first day of last November. He’d taken it from her and gazed at it a moment, as if remembering the three hundred agonizing years he’d spent wearing it before she awakened him. It couldn’t have inspired many fond memories in him. And yet he’d smiled and swung it around her shoulders, carefully fastening it at her throat before, still holding the clasp so that his fingertips brushed the sensitive skin of her throat, he’d bent and kissed her mouth with slow, thorough sensuality.
“I wore it when you awakened me, and for that reason, that value, I give it to you.”
She’d covered his hand on the jeweled clasp, threaded her fingers through his. “I don’t need this to remember you,” she’d whispered.
“Then take it to comfort you.”
He’d known, more clearly even than she, that she’d need every ounce of strength, every comfort she could find to survive their parting. And when he’d gone, swooping through the window into the gray mist of the dawn sky, she’d sat in the corner for hours, huddled in his cloak, resting her cheek on the folds that lay across her drawn-up knees while her tears stained it.
She’d wept all day, and then stopped.
Carefully, she laid it in the drawer, smoothed it out, and covered it with another old, tumbled sweater.
“Ready?” said Josh lightly.
“Ready.” She smiled brightly, rose to her feet, and reached for her bag.
“Let me take that,” Josh offered.
Elizabeth was almost surprised not to discover any of his entourage in the unassuming car parked outside.
“I’ve escaped.” Josh grinned, opening the door for her before walking around to stash her bag in the boot. She gathered, from the scrape of luggage rearrangement, that she was traveling rather more lightly than he.
“Okay,” Josh said, sliding into the driver’s seat and fastening his seat belt. “Sat nav on; Highlands, here we come.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help smiling. “You sound excited. Weren’t you filming up there already?”
“Actually, we did most of it in the Borders. Only one day at Glencoe—wow, that is one spectacular place!—just enough to give me a taste for the country. I’m really looking forward to seeing more.” He glanced at her as he changed gear. “Your turn. Spill.”
“Spill what?” she asked, amused.
“Why did you agree to come with me to this party?”
“Josh, women must fall over themselves to go to parties with you.”
“Yes, but those women want me. Either me or my money or whatever influence they imagine I have in the industry. You don’t give a shit about those things, do you? For the record, that’s why I invited you. You might end up falling for me after prolonged exposure.”
Elizabeth gazed at his sharp, handsome profile for a moment. “I hoped prolonged exposure might convince you I wasn’t insane.” Then, before discomfort could set in, she added, “But what I
Without thought, she strode around the bed and brushed past him, dropping to her knees to hide it from him.
“Looks like an antique,” Josh observed. “Why don’t you take it with you? Dante’s got some antiquarian experts coming this weekend.”
Damn it, why couldn’t she have taken more care? What was the point of hiding the thing at the bottom of her drawer if she then churned everything up so that it sprawled over the top?
“It’s not valuable,” she said hastily. “Except to me.”
Josh moved slightly out of her way as she seized the cloak and began to fold it. “Ah, you have a family heirloom too,” he said.
“No. Just a gift from a friend.”
He’d wrapped her in it when she was unconscious and nearly dead from his bite, and carried her in it across Budapest from his palace to Mihaela’s flat. Whether it was the memory of that, or some magic that came from simply touching something of his, emotion flooded her.
She’d tried to give it back to him before he left her at dawn on the first day of last November. He’d taken it from her and gazed at it a moment, as if remembering the three hundred agonizing years he’d spent wearing it before she awakened him. It couldn’t have inspired many fond memories in him. And yet he’d smiled and swung it around her shoulders, carefully fastening it at her throat before, still holding the clasp so that his fingertips brushed the sensitive skin of her throat, he’d bent and kissed her mouth with slow, thorough sensuality.
“I wore it when you awakened me, and for that reason, that value, I give it to you.”
She’d covered his hand on the jeweled clasp, threaded her fingers through his. “I don’t need this to remember you,” she’d whispered.
“Then take it to comfort you.”
He’d known, more clearly even than she, that she’d need every ounce of strength, every comfort she could find to survive their parting. And when he’d gone, swooping through the window into the gray mist of the dawn sky, she’d sat in the corner for hours, huddled in his cloak, resting her cheek on the folds that lay across her drawn-up knees while her tears stained it.
She’d wept all day, and then stopped.
Carefully, she laid it in the drawer, smoothed it out, and covered it with another old, tumbled sweater.
“Ready?” said Josh lightly.
“Ready.” She smiled brightly, rose to her feet, and reached for her bag.
“Let me take that,” Josh offered.
Elizabeth was almost surprised not to discover any of his entourage in the unassuming car parked outside.
“I’ve escaped.” Josh grinned, opening the door for her before walking around to stash her bag in the boot. She gathered, from the scrape of luggage rearrangement, that she was traveling rather more lightly than he.
“Okay,” Josh said, sliding into the driver’s seat and fastening his seat belt. “Sat nav on; Highlands, here we come.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help smiling. “You sound excited. Weren’t you filming up there already?”
“Actually, we did most of it in the Borders. Only one day at Glencoe—wow, that is one spectacular place!—just enough to give me a taste for the country. I’m really looking forward to seeing more.” He glanced at her as he changed gear. “Your turn. Spill.”
“Spill what?” she asked, amused.
“Why did you agree to come with me to this party?”
“Josh, women must fall over themselves to go to parties with you.”
“Yes, but those women want me. Either me or my money or whatever influence they imagine I have in the industry. You don’t give a shit about those things, do you? For the record, that’s why I invited you. You might end up falling for me after prolonged exposure.”
Elizabeth gazed at his sharp, handsome profile for a moment. “I hoped prolonged exposure might convince you I wasn’t insane.” Then, before discomfort could set in, she added, “But what I
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