whenever we raise our voices?”
Cáel smiled a little. “But you have an alternative proposal.”
Ryan nodded. “The kid can give you his recording equipment and his questions. We tell you our stories. And you get to listen. To every boring hour of it.” Ryan grinned.
Cáel opened his mouth.
“That’s my terms, Cáel. That last one is non-negotiable. Clear your calendar, cancel your appointments, tell ‘em you have an incurable disease. I don’t care.”
Cáel grinned. “Fine. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to ask Ms. Nayara for this waltz.” He stood up and offered her his hand. “Would you do me the honour?”
Nayara glanced at Ryan, who shrugged. She rose and let Cáel lead her onto the dance floor. He moved her gently into the Viennese waltz. He was a very good dancer. Nayara relaxed and let herself enjoy the beautiful dance without danger to her toes or the hem of her dress.
“I know how to keep secrets,” Cáel said.
She looked up at him, startled. Up into his black eyes. They weren’t twinkling now. They were solemn.
“You were worried,” he added.
“Especially when you told Ryan I had been a slave,” she replied. “Very discreet of you.”
“The muckrakers would have found that out for themselves. Ryan deserved to know that much,” Cáel replied. “Do you not realize how admirable that makes you? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
She could find no answer for that.
“It’s the fact that you were brought to Constantinople in three hundred and fifteen, only ten years after Constantine founded the city, that you want to hide from Ryan, isn’t it? Ryan didn’t arrive in the city until ten years before the walls fell, in fourteen fifty three.”
Nayara bit her lip. “Ryan is much older than that. He spent years in Ireland—”
“I know,” Cáel said softly. “I know, Nayara. I read all the research, not just yours.” He spun her out of the way of slower dancers. “I like the ruby necklace you’re wearing, by the way. I thought redheads couldn’t wear rubies, but you seem to be able to.”
Nayara gave him a smile. Small talk. He was reverting to small talk. Why? Did he think she was angry? That he had probed too deep?
“I notice that you’re still wearing that Celtic medallion as well. You never take it off, do you?”
Her heart jumped and started to beat. “I...no. I don’t.” She couldn’t look him in the eye. It was bad enough that they were dancing, basically hip-to-hip and that he could probably feel the fright that had just tripped through her.
“Is it Ryan’s, Nayara?” Cáel asked.
Her breath was coming faster. These were perfectly simple and polite questions he was asking. Small talk. She didn’t know how to make him stop.
Just tell him to shut up!
“Yes, it’s Ryan’s , ” she said, her lips feeling thick and uncooperative.
She could feel the warmth of the chain under her fingers. It was a sense-memory. The chain warmed by a human body. The pressure on the chain as she yanked it. The tiny rattle of silver as it came away from his neck.
“When did he give it to you?” Cáel asked. His tone was polite, pleasantly enquiring.
Nayara stopped dancing. “He didn’t,” she said. Her voice came out high. Choked. “Excuse me.” She hurried for the ladies’ washroom, the one place to where Cáel couldn’t follow her.
Or Ryan.
Chapter Six
“There’s a big photo opportunity at eleven, when they hand over the donation money. We have to stay for that at least,” Cáel said wearily, leaning his elbow on the table and his head on his hand.
Ryan shoved his hand in his pocket and stared out at the dance floor. “Brenden is the only one who seems to be having a good time tonight. And we were expecting him to have the hardest time of it, because of the feeding clip.”
“Spread enough money around and you’re guaranteed a good time,” Cáel replied. Guilt tore through him. “Perhaps I should go check on her.”
“And get
Cáel smiled a little. “But you have an alternative proposal.”
Ryan nodded. “The kid can give you his recording equipment and his questions. We tell you our stories. And you get to listen. To every boring hour of it.” Ryan grinned.
Cáel opened his mouth.
“That’s my terms, Cáel. That last one is non-negotiable. Clear your calendar, cancel your appointments, tell ‘em you have an incurable disease. I don’t care.”
Cáel grinned. “Fine. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to ask Ms. Nayara for this waltz.” He stood up and offered her his hand. “Would you do me the honour?”
Nayara glanced at Ryan, who shrugged. She rose and let Cáel lead her onto the dance floor. He moved her gently into the Viennese waltz. He was a very good dancer. Nayara relaxed and let herself enjoy the beautiful dance without danger to her toes or the hem of her dress.
“I know how to keep secrets,” Cáel said.
She looked up at him, startled. Up into his black eyes. They weren’t twinkling now. They were solemn.
“You were worried,” he added.
“Especially when you told Ryan I had been a slave,” she replied. “Very discreet of you.”
“The muckrakers would have found that out for themselves. Ryan deserved to know that much,” Cáel replied. “Do you not realize how admirable that makes you? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
She could find no answer for that.
“It’s the fact that you were brought to Constantinople in three hundred and fifteen, only ten years after Constantine founded the city, that you want to hide from Ryan, isn’t it? Ryan didn’t arrive in the city until ten years before the walls fell, in fourteen fifty three.”
Nayara bit her lip. “Ryan is much older than that. He spent years in Ireland—”
“I know,” Cáel said softly. “I know, Nayara. I read all the research, not just yours.” He spun her out of the way of slower dancers. “I like the ruby necklace you’re wearing, by the way. I thought redheads couldn’t wear rubies, but you seem to be able to.”
Nayara gave him a smile. Small talk. He was reverting to small talk. Why? Did he think she was angry? That he had probed too deep?
“I notice that you’re still wearing that Celtic medallion as well. You never take it off, do you?”
Her heart jumped and started to beat. “I...no. I don’t.” She couldn’t look him in the eye. It was bad enough that they were dancing, basically hip-to-hip and that he could probably feel the fright that had just tripped through her.
“Is it Ryan’s, Nayara?” Cáel asked.
Her breath was coming faster. These were perfectly simple and polite questions he was asking. Small talk. She didn’t know how to make him stop.
Just tell him to shut up!
“Yes, it’s Ryan’s , ” she said, her lips feeling thick and uncooperative.
She could feel the warmth of the chain under her fingers. It was a sense-memory. The chain warmed by a human body. The pressure on the chain as she yanked it. The tiny rattle of silver as it came away from his neck.
“When did he give it to you?” Cáel asked. His tone was polite, pleasantly enquiring.
Nayara stopped dancing. “He didn’t,” she said. Her voice came out high. Choked. “Excuse me.” She hurried for the ladies’ washroom, the one place to where Cáel couldn’t follow her.
Or Ryan.
Chapter Six
“There’s a big photo opportunity at eleven, when they hand over the donation money. We have to stay for that at least,” Cáel said wearily, leaning his elbow on the table and his head on his hand.
Ryan shoved his hand in his pocket and stared out at the dance floor. “Brenden is the only one who seems to be having a good time tonight. And we were expecting him to have the hardest time of it, because of the feeding clip.”
“Spread enough money around and you’re guaranteed a good time,” Cáel replied. Guilt tore through him. “Perhaps I should go check on her.”
“And get
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