The Bride of Time by Dawn Thompson Page B

moon. He should have been in bed, and she was about to say so when he spun on his bare heels and faced her. The look in his eyes backed her up a pace. It wasn’t the look of a child at all. It was the look of ademon eons old, the eyes dark staring things beneath the ledge of his brow. His lips were fixed in a sneer. It was a fleeting expression that quickly changed back to the cherubic countenance he’d presented thus far, but it was so profound it riddled Tessa with crippling chills from her scalp to her toes.
    “Well, Master Monty,” she said, regaining her lost composure and her footing as well. “You should be abed, shouldn’t you?”
    “I’ve been waiting for you,” the boy said sweetly.
    “How odd, since I didn’t know I was coming.”
    “I knew you would come. You want to make a good impression upon Uncle. It won’t do you any good, you know, but you’re curious. The others were as well.” He yawned and stretched. How innocent he looked now, in his fine lawn nightshift, his little pink toes peeking out from beneath the hem, his hair all mussed. “They were sorry after, just as you will be, miss.”
    “And how is that, Master Monty?” Tessa persisted, determined to draw the child out. He was either playacting, or possessed of a devious, obstreperous nature. She meant to find out which.
    “You just will,” the boy responded. Padding to the window, he turned his back on her and again gave his full and fierce attention to the moon. “Just like all the others.”
    “Is that supposed to frighten me?” she asked, with what she hoped was a lighthearted laugh. “I think you rather like to play that game, but you will find that I do not frighten easily.”
    The boy shrugged and loosed a high-pitched giggle, but made no response. The sound alone was enough to raise her hackles without any spoken word he might have uttered.
    “I was given to understand that once Lottie readied you for bed and tucked you in at night, you were toremain in it till morning, unless you have need of the chamber pot. Am I mistaken? Being new, you see, I do need to have the way of things clear in my mind.”
    The boy nodded, Tessa assumed, in reply to her question. She wasn’t about to probe him.
    “Yes, well…that being the case, suppose I tuck you in again, since Lottie has retired for the day.”
    “I’m not tired yet,” the boy intoned.
    “Still, rules are rules, and we have to do what needs must.” She took a step nearer, reaching to take hold of him. “If you aren’t tired, I could read you a bedtime story. Would you like that?”
    As her hand connected with his shoulder, the child spun and lowered his open mouth—canines gleaming—over her wrist. It hovered there, nearly touching her skin, and Tessa quickly pulled her hand back out of harm’s way.
    “Here!” she cried. “What is the meaning of this?”
    “Do not touch my person,” the boy growled. “No one touches my person except the maid who dresses and bathes me. Uncle found that out. He wears the scar to prove it.”
    “H-has your uncle ever harmed you, Master Monty?” Tessa murmured. Why else would the boy act this way? Her heart sank. She had become attracted to Giles Longworth before they ever met, and the image of the man Possibility posed was deeply troubling.
    “No,” the boy said, somewhat alleviating her fears. “And he shan’t, because he shan’t get close enough. Neither shall you.”
    “I meant you no harm. For pity’s sake, young man, it’s way past your bedtime. I only meant to walk you to bed and tuck you in. You had no call to attack me.”
    “I didn’t attack you. I simply let you know what to expect should you touch me again.”

    “I will overlook it this time,” Tessa said, in her most authoritative voice. “But if you ever threaten my person again, I will have no choice but to report it to your uncle. Now get into that bed before I change my mind and tell him forthwith.” The line had to be drawn here and now if she