Slightly twisting around, I chanced a quick glance at Dolcie who, with Oswin, was busy leading the little girl back onto the soccer field. How long had this been going on with Dolcie, pretending to see secret boyfriends?
"I came to the Deniauds to confront her about it," Tomas said. "A week or so ago, you know, the night of your birthday party."
Oh...
Things were slowly beginning to take shape in my mind.
His brilliant blue eyes went slightly far away with recollection. "She looked ill and she'd obviously been crying."
"I'm guessing she'd just found out she was pregnant?"
His gaze sharpened on me. He nodded while blowing out a breath and bugging his eyes. "I've got five older sisters, and a whole heap of nieces and nephews, so I figured it out quick enough. That and the fact she threw up all over my sneakers."
He reached a hand upward to ruffle the hair on the back of his head then braced it on his hip. "I'm a pretty sensitive guy with feelings and all, Tabitha. I got hurt that she'd been seeing some other guy behind my back. I guess that's why, when I stumbled into your birthday party in the Servants' Hall, I drank a little too much and you know..." he said, dragging the last two words out pointedly.
I arched an eyebrow at him and said coolly, "Made a drunken pass at me."
He pulled an apologetic face. "I'm sorry."
I shrugged a shoulder, turning back to the mansion to watch the kitchen brigade carrying out more trays of deliciousness for morning tea. I was glad Tomas's drunken pass didn't qualify as my first kiss. My first kiss with Varen Crowther had been glorious and met all my first kiss expectations. Delicious pleasure heated my entire body at the sublime echo of Varen's lips on mine, and all the other kinds of kisses we'd shared since the first one.
My eyelids fluttered lower as desire pooled in my lower stomach. My entire body sparked with lust in reaction to the memory of his fingers biting into my waist when his marble-hard body pressed mine against the vanity with that last possessive kiss, a stamp of ownership.
So, so, so freaking good...
Tomas sighed, deep and heavy. "And now Dolcie's family thinks I'm the baby's father."
I mentally shook myself to the present, the burst of pleasure evoked by Varen cooling at Tomas's serious problem. My gaze slid sidelong. "Whose baby is it?"
"She wouldn't tell me."
"Who do you think the father could be?"
"It could be anyone."
Tomas was right, it really could be anyone.
I pushed into motion, heading toward the soccer match. Tomas quickly caught up and matched my pace. It had been an unusually cold night for autumn, and in the gloomy shadow cast by the Deniaud's mansion over the servants' lawn, the grass was carpeted in sparkling white.
Markel stood at the furthest sideline, his arms folded across his barreled chest, keeping a keen eye on us, as too was Aunt Ellena who snatched a glimpse while reffing the game. A squeal of joy pealed through the air from a pig-tailed little girl as she dribbled the ball in front of her slowly, so slowly, and the adults feinted tackles, allowing her to dodge past them.
We crossed the shadowline. Sunlight and warmth disappeared and I rubbed my mitten fingers together as frosty air engulfed me and nipped at my cheeks.
I slowed down to get a good look at everyone milling about the sidelines, cheering on the kids or chatting amongst themselves, as I walked around the long tables to a better vantage point. The sweet smells of baking wafting from beneath the red checkered cloths made my mouth water. Fluffy barked excitedly as he rolled over for Rosa, while Marissa talked to her father. And nearby, where Tomas and I came to a stop, was the group of teenage boys and girls lobbing soccer balls between them, laughing and taunting one another goodnaturedly. The thick hedge behind us rattled every so often when one of them missed a ball and it either struck off a knotted tree trunk or bounced into the undergrowth.
There were quite a few single men amongst us within Dolcie's age range. However, there was a chance that whoever the father was, he wasn't a member of House Deniaud.
Why would Dolcie pretend to date someone else, like Tomas? Why not just secretly date the man?
At first, it didn't make sense until I kept turning it around in my head and a sudden dark thought sank its claws into my mind. Everything clicked into place and I gasped softly, shocked. It actually was clever of Dolcie to use Tomas to hide who she was really seeing. It accounted for her time, and obviously, Beckah hadn't suspected her sister had never met up with any of those fake secret boyfriends either. It allowed Dolcie to sneak away, and use the supposed date time to secretly see someone else altogether.
I angled my head toward Tomas. "Do you think it's someone married?"
"That's the only thing I could think of too."
We shared an apprehensive look.
Dolcie's family wouldn't be able to arrange a quick marriage with the father if he was already married.
Oh, Dolcie...
Oswin stood beside Dolcie, and my friend was beaming like the sun on an unexpectedly warm day in winter just to be near her.
Oswin really was Dolcie's only choice.
And if it was a married man, which I was certain it was, it could be anyone within the world of Houses.
"So can you help me out and talk to Dolcie and get her to confess? I'm innocent here." Tomas's shoulders were tense and his rich blue eyes were locked on mine as if I could save him.
"I'll see what I can do, Tomas, but I can't promise I'll be able to get her to confess. But if what you say is true—"
"It is—"
"I'll help you out."
He blew out a relieved breath, his shoulders slumping. "Thanks, Tabitha."
Strangely, I noticed the joyful sounds of laughter and cheering begin to stutter out across the servants' lawn, and in my periphery I caught wariness entering the group of teenagers, directed toward the entranceway to the Servants' Quarter.
I turned toward the center of attention and there he was, walking right through the soccer game, still in play, and he wasn't even walking quickly, he was striding in that godsdamned lazy swagger of his.
Varen Crowther.
He wore an expensive bespoke suit that enhanced his powerful figure in the best possible way, and fancy, shiny shoes. Close by there were a few appreciative glances from women, and a few men too, that spiked a flash of unwanted jealousy.
Anger began to simmer beneath my skin, as well as an unsettling alarm that he was inserting himself into my world, bulldozing his way into whatever the hells he liked because he was a godsdamned entitled motherfluffer!
Varen headed straight into the group of teenagers kicking soccer balls between them, with not even a—May I join you?
The teens all cast him terrified glances, but no one told him to get lost, because he was Varen Crowther, scary as all Nine Hells and one of the upper ranks. As lowly servants, we had no right or authority to dissuade him from anything he wished to do.
Varen shrugged off his jacket and discarded it onto the end of a table. Perhaps it was the wrong choice to make, watching those broad hands nicked with scars, as he slowly, deliberately, roll up his shirt sleeves, and allowing my gaze to drift over those strong forearms inked with flames and curved script that went all the way down to the wrist.
So freaking hot...
I needed to stop staring at him.
But could I pull my lust-hazed gaze away?
Seemingly not.
A loud snap of fingers right in front of my face startled me. "Tabitha?"
I blinked rapidly at Tomas who was staring at me, a little perplexed. "You alright?"
I nodded, yes. But in truth, no.
In the corner of my eye, I caught the smug smirk teasing Varen's mouth as if he'd felt my lingering caress and the effect he had on me.
Godsdamn cocky sonovab—
"I'm sorry about the uptight and frigid thing," Tomas apologized. "It was crass and rude of me."
Indignation had my spine locking rigid. "I'm well aware of what everyone thinks of me." Ugh, the Uptight Spinster. When would that die down and leave me alone? Was I going to be the Uptight Spinster for the rest of my life?
I'm fun, godsdammit. Fun!
Tomas carried on. "You always seemed unapproachable in that way."
"What way?"
"Like a guy and a girl way. Always too busy to talk—"
"I have a lot to do." I glared, my fingers instantly going to the handle of my wooden spoon. "I have three bosses I serve under, and there's my aunt too. It doesn't leave me much time to talk."
"And you're usually telling someone off—"
"Because they didn't do it right the first time." Annoyed, I kicked a clump of frosted grass with my chunky shoe. "I just have really high standards. And I can't overlook things in the cleaning department. If you're going to do a job, then it needs to be done right. And I like things, just right." Was that really too much to ask of anyone else? "And one day I want to be Head Housekeeper," I added, revealing my lofty aspirations. I suddenly worried that Tomas was going to laugh at me.
But Tomas gave an impressed whistle that buoyed my spirits. "Well if anyone should be Head Housekeeper, it should be you."
I smiled, warmth glowing inside my chest at his approval. "Thanks, Tomas."
In my periphery I watched Varen scoop up a ball with a foot. He started bouncing it on his knee and then used his ridiculous heightened Crowther skills to bounce the ball from knee to knee to foot to foot, so fast it was a blur, lob it upward to head it like one of those professional players from the European Cup.
Ooh's and Ahh's built to a crescendo from the excited teenagers gathered around him as he carried on messing with the ball.
Ire ignited and burned through my veins as I caught Varen darting numerous glances my way, hoping I was paying attention while he showed off.
Oh my freaking gods...
What was he? Ten years old?
I suddenly realized that Tomas was still smiling at me. His cheekbones were rounded and soft with the smile, but his gaze had gone far away as he stared through me. Abruptly, he blinked, then reached a hand into the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled a stubbed pencil and crumbled notepad out, flicking over the creased cardboard cover and various pages. He briefly squinted at me and began scribbling on a fresh page, his face scrunched up in concentration.
"What are you doing?"
Without looking up, he murmured, "Sometimes the song muse just sneaks up on me. I need to write down the words before I lose track of them."
Every so often he'd shoot me swift, thoughtful glances and I started to have a weird feeling about this. I moved closer and craned my neck trying to see what he was writing that had absorbed his attention.
Shock stuttered my heartbeat.
My stunned gaze sliced to his, which was lowered and laser-focused on the page. "Are you...are you writing a song about me?
"Yeah," he said, madly writing down his lyrics. "You inspired a new song." He looked up and bestowed me with one of his dreamy smiles. Bobbing his head and tapping a sneaker in time to a silent beat, he sang a little bit, but it warbled and the sound of it scratched my ears. "Tabitha with her long, long hair and her big tooth smile."
Embarrassment flushed my cheeks.
Oh my freaking gods, if he pulled out his guitar I was going to die from humiliation.
A burst of laughter erupted behind me. It wasn't a joyful laugh full of good-natured amusement. It was more a bark, gritty and edged with bitterness. "HAR-HAR-HAR!"
I heard a bang, a crack, and a rustle of shivering leaves as a ball was kicked, hit a tree, and rebounded back to the player.
An awful feeling gripped me when I slowly began to realize that there had been a shift in Tomas. He was looking at me, really looking at me, not as a work colleague but as a girl.
Tomas tucked his notebook and pencil back into his jeans pocket. "I never really noticed you before," he said slowly, smiling that dreamy smile.
Bang. Crack. Rustle.
Tomas's deep blue eyes gleamed with appreciation as he stroked his gaze over my features. "I never realized just how pretty you are, Tabitha."
Bang. Crack. Rustle.
Every time Tomas said something nice to me, Varen kicked the ball with force against a tree trunk. And from the encroaching sound, every strike seemed to come closer and closer to where I stood with Tomas until it felt like he was practically behind me. The godsdamn thunderous sound—Bang, Crack, Rustle—had all my muscles clenched taut and the hackles rising at the nape of my neck. My godsdamned left eye began to twitch erratically. Even the thing inside me stirred with unease and growled at the godsdamned heir.
"Your eyes, the vibrant green of them...gorgeous."
Bang. Crack. Rustle.
"And your cute little freckles."
Bang. Crack. Rustle.
Bang. Crack. Rustle.
"And your hair, it's so pretty and golden and long, really long."
Bang. Crack. Rustle.
Bang. Crack. Rustle.
Bang. Crack. Rustle.
Tomas continued softly, his eyes drooping half-mast as his gaze dipped to my mouth. "And those kissable lips..."
The furious, fast strikes Varen made, and its deafening sound much like gunfire, jarred my bones and gritted my teeth together so hard I both heard and felt the chalky sensation as they rasped against each other. BANG. CRACK. RUSTLE. I was staring at Tomas, but most of my concentration was behind me, trying to block out Varen's passive-aggressive behavior taken out against the soccer ball because some other boy was interested in me. BANG. CRACK. RUSTLE. My nerves were so freaking frayed at that point, there was a godsdamned muscle ticking in my jawline—tick, tick, tick—I wanted to spin around and roar at the man-child to get the hells out of my face!
Tomas ran a hand through his frost-tipped hair, encouraging it to spike up a little. "How about you and me go out sometime? A real date. I'm all about the romance, Tabitha." His chest suddenly swelled with an excited breath. He snapped his fingers and pointed at me, grinning broadly as if pleased with himself. "Goodfellas has just hit the cinemas, and afterward we could go to IHOP for pancakes. I think I have a coupon somewhere at home."
I blinked, my jaw relaxing enough I was able to suck in a startled breath. A date? Tomas was actually asking me out on a real date? I'd dreamed about this moment for so many years, for some boy to ask me out.
Except Tomas wasn't the one I really wanted to go out on a real date with. The guy I wished could take me out for dinner and dancing at some nightclub, or a drive to the lake to make out with, was busy intimidating everyone at the Servants' Quarter and having a tween temper tantrum.
"I need to make up with you for my rudeness, and that drunken pass I made at your birthday party, maybe..."
I was awkwardly trying to figure out how to let Tomas down gently, while he gave me a little wink, pouting his lips sexily, and husked, "Maybe you'd let me kiss you, Tabitha. Maybe there'd be a lot of kiss—"
I heard a loud bang and a whizzing sound—
Something flew over my shoulder so fast I couldn't make it out—
And smacked Tomas right in the face!
The air split apart with the sound of crunching bones, followed by a high-pitched girlish shriek of pain.
The force of the strike whipped Tomas's head back and the momentum sent him soaring. He tumbled head over heels to land with a thump on the frosted grass.
And speckled blood sprayed all over his white bandaged nose and lips.
I stood there, frozen, with my mouth gaping, trying to work out what the hells had happened.
Tomas levered into a sitting position, his head swaying woozily. He pressed a trembling hand to his nose, blood dripping between his knuckles, and cried, "Ahhhhhhh my nose...my nose!" Except it was muffled and stuffy sounding because his nose was rebroken.
Astounded, I watched a soccer ball lazily bounce away and slowly roll into the hedge.
Oh. My. Freaking. Gods. I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Him!
Aggravated fury whipped my blood to boiling hot. My nostrils flared and my hand snatched the wooden spoon from my belt. There was only one person nearby that could have made that strike with such precision.
Varen godsdamned freaking Crowther!