Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [70]
"Gladly?" I whispered.
"Gladly?" His beautiful mouth twisted. "Ah, no. That's a figure of speech. Would you hear me say it? Stay. Please, stay."
My diadh-anam blazed. The Maghuin Dhonn's eyes had been sad, so sad. "Will you break my heart if I do?"
"I don't know," Raphael admitted.
I sighed. "I'll stay."
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
"Gorgeous," Benoit Vallon purred in a silken voice. I gazed into the full-length mirror. The gown was a shimmering bronze brocade with a subtle pattern of vines. It clasped around my neck in a collar from which two beaded straps descended, leaving my shoulders bare. It fit closely to below my hips, then flared out in pleats lined with bronze silk. My hair was piled atop my head, held in place by a comb with a gilded branch. Benoit had brushed a touch of kohl on my eyelids and carmine on my lips.
No doubt, I looked stunning. "It's beautiful," I agreed.
"Walk across the room for me," he ordered.
The fabric swished and flowed as I walked. Even the brocade slippers fit so well I didn't mind them.
Benoit watched me with a smug look. "See how differently you carry yourself?" he observed. "There's more to clothing than mere adornment. It does more than merely change how the world perceives us. It changes how we perceive ourselves."
I glided back toward the mirror. "So I see."
He laughed. "I'm glad you approve. Now, that's meant for your debut at Court. I've a pair of dresses for ordinary daywear to fit on you."
"May I show Raphael first?" I pleaded.
Benoit shrugged. "As you wish. I suppose my lord de Mereliot should have the honor, since he's footing the cost."
Reaching for the door, I paused. Like an idiot, I'd given no thought to paying the atelier's fee. "What? No. No, I have funds of my own. I've not had a chance to draw on my letter of credit yet."
"That," he said, "is between you and his lordship. But according to him, he has commissioned this."
"Let me have a word with him." I didn't want to be any more beholden to Raphael than I was. I walked at a hurried glide down the hall and the great curving staircase, calling for him. One of the shy maidservants was polishing the banister. She'd gotten less wary of me in the past few days, but now she gave me a quick glance, then ducked her head.
"He's in the library, my lady," she murmured. "But—"
"My thanks." I hurried onward. .
Outside the library, I heard voices raised in urgent whispers, only slightly less loud than the good lady Lydia when she was trying to be discreet. The door was ajar, but not closed. I could see a sliver of Raphael's profile and his folded arms. I halted and listened.
"—done playing nursemaid!" another man's voice was saying. It was vaguely familiar. "Damn it, Raphael! The Circle can't function without you!"
"They could if they chose," Raphael said in a laconic tone.
"No, they sodding well can't! You're the only one with the focus. And we were close, so close! I felt it!"
The maid's footsteps pattered behind me. "My lady! I tried to tell you!"
Raphael turned his head and spotted me through the gap in the door. In two strides, he flung the door open. "Moirin?"
I sighed. "Aye."
"Name of Elua!" the other breathed. "That's our wayward half-breed?"
"It is." There was approval and a considerable amount of heat in Raphael's gaze. "Moirin, do you remember Denis de Toluard? He helped me tend to you and escort you home after you were struck in the street."
"Oh, yes." That was why his voice had sounded familiar. I'd gotten sick on him. "My thanks, my lord. And, um, I'm sorry about your breeches."
Denis de Toluard flushed. He had curly, dark brown hair and blue eyes and I would have thought him very pretty before I met Raphael. He gathered himself, executed a bow, and took my hand to kiss it. I was glad I'd listened to Benoit and used the cream. "I pray you forgive me, my lady. I was ghastly rude in your hour of need."
"Oh?" I raised my brows. "Luckily, wayward half-breeds aren't known for holding grudges."
Denis turned a deeper shade of red.
Raphael grinned. "Is this