Elise was struggling to pay attention. Her focus kept drifting to the revealing of all that creamy skin, stained with soot anywhere the shirt hadn't covered it. Her own skin seemed to burn with heat, and she found herself clenching her hands to keep them from reaching out to touch Nessa. In the end, she turned her back to be able to pay full attention to Nessa’s words.
* * *
It was nearing eight, and they were walking down the stairs. Elise was rubbing sugar pumpkin oil into her hands and dabbing some on her neck. Exactly as she had on Nessa’s neck before they left the room. That touch had been a little too pleasant, a little too tantalising. So painfully tempting to rub that sweet oil further down that neck and coat that soft, fair skin. Reaching in under the clean change of clothes Nessa had just put on.
Elise had quickly suggested that they needed to go. Nessa had, as always, followed her without question.
Opposite the reception desk downstairs were a few tables around a fireplace. This was where the ales and what the landlady had called “some of the finest pies in Nightport” were served to those who stayed in 21 Miller Street.
Elise chose the table closest to the fire and sat down, Nessa picking the seat opposite. Elise glanced over at her, appreciating the pink cheeks and silky hair that had been unearthed when Nessa had washed off all the soot. She bit her tongue to keep from telling Nessa how utterly beautiful she found her and moved her gaze to the fire instead.
The landlady came over with the heavy steps of someone who didn’t move a lot but did eat a lot of pie. Elise had to admit that she carried her weight well, though.
“Hello again, Miss Aelin.” She spotted Nessa. “And Miss Clay. Are ye both waitin’ on Mr Smith and those ales he was going to buy ye?”
“Exactly so. Although, as it is not quite eight yet and we are hungry I think we will buy some ales and a pie each now. He can buy the next round when he arrives,” Elise said.
There was a gleam of amusement in the landlady’s eye. “All right. Just the two of ye, eh? By the lovely fire. With some intoxicatin’ ale and steamin’ hot, filling pies then. Good choice, Miss Aelin. Mr Smith can be left waitin’ for a good, long while.”
Elise ignored her. Not just because of the hints of something romantic between her and Nessa, but because she was not much for gossips. Hunter Smith’s fight to hide his disinterest in bedplay was a subject that deserved more sensitivity and less sniggering. Even if she had made it a bit of a game for Nessa to puzzle out. After all, that was about Nessa learning to read which were the real dangers and which were simply grass snakes pretending to be vipers. Although, in Elise’s experience, it was more common that vipers pretended to be grass snakes.
“What sort of pies do you serve?” Nessa asked, unaware of what was going on.
“Pig’s feet an’ dammon nuts or ale an’ oxen liver. There’s also one with milk cabbage an’ shrooms. Y’know, for those poor buggers what don’t eat meat.”
Nessa didn't look at all worried about those choices, in distinct contrast to how Elise’s stomach was turning. She found herself missing Noble meals. Five dishes where you could pick out a bite here and there from a plate so fresh, clean, and… well, yes… piled with only the best cuts of meat. She would have to shake being so spoiled.
“I'll have the ale and liver one, please,” Nessa was saying. “And a tall glass of your best ale with it. What do you want, Elise?”
Elise swallowed down her burgeoning nausea. Feet and innards weren’t going to sit well in her stomach. “I would like the milk cabbage and shroom pie. Oh, and the same drink as Nessa, please.”
The landlady adjusted the skirt that was sliding down her belly and muttered, “Seein’ as we only have one ale, pickin’ the best one won’t be hard. It’s sure not to poison ye at least. That’ll all be comin’ right up.”
Elise looked at Nessa with trepidation, but she was busy leaning back and closing her eyes. Her face was so beautiful in repose. Elise also sat back, enjoying the fire and occasionally stealing glances at Nessa.
After a few moments, the door to 21 Miller Street opened and Hunter Smith strode in. He was a little more dishevelled than when Elise had seen him last. Despite this, he was still handsome in his fine clothing, with features so beautiful they could have been sculpted by an artist. Elise smiled at how wasted his good looks were on her.
She felt her smile grow as she realised that if her instincts and the landlady’s gossip were right, her own attractive looks were equally wasted on him. Unless, of course, he appreciated beauty without wanting to physically pleasure it.
She looked over at Nessa to see what impact Hunter Smith had on her. Nessa was no longer closing her eyes. She was sitting bolt upright, fidgeting with her shirtsleeves, eyes trained on Hunter. Jealousy soured Elise’s stomach.
Do not jump to conclusions. She is shy around everyone. This does not mean she wants to bed him.
She looked from Nessa to Hunter and then back to Nessa again. She couldn’t help it. And she didn’t like what she saw. Nessa was looking him up and down and swallowing nervously. It was impossible to keep her mind from churning lightning fast.
But she is not nervous around me. Is that a good sign or a bad one when it comes to my chances as a romantic partner? Would she be fidgeting with her clothes and swallowing like that if she was attracted to me?
Hunter Smith caught Elise’s eye and smiled, showing those abnormally white teeth. “Miss Aelin. You decided to accept my offer, then?”
“Clearly. I am here, am I not?” Elise snapped. She could feel her temper getting out of her control. That was fast, even for her.
Hunter Smith gave a bow, ending with a little flourish of the hand. When he looked up and locked eyes with her again, his glittered.
Clearly not discouraged by my lack of interest. As I figured.
Elise indicated Nessa. “This is Nessa Clay. My… companion.”
He turned towards Nessa, thrusting his chest out. “Good evening, Miss Clay. A true pleasure to meet you. Our dark city needs more pure, radiating beauty like yours.” He took Nessa’s hand and in a slow, savouring manner, kissed it. Nessa smiled briefly at the gesture and blushed. Elise felt her teeth grind.
“Th-thank you.”
He enthroned himself in the chair next to Nessa, legs spread widely.
“No need to thank me, Miss Clay. It is the truth. This city is clogged up with people who need expensive paint and fancy clothes to make themselves attractive. Your looks, however, light up the room without any assistance. The men and women of Nightport will be worshipping at your feet. I know, because I am sure to be down there with them.”
Elise’s teeth-grinding began to hurt her jaw so she forced herself to relax.
The landlady brought their ales, placing them on the small tables next to each chair. In bored tones, she informed them that their pies would be coming out of the oven soon. She took Hunter’s order for another glass of ale and a pie of any kind, and then left them.
Suddenly, it felt important to get to the matter at hand fast and then get rid of Hunter. Elise was no longer invested in letting Nessa practice reading people. She could read other people. Less attractive and less flirtatious people.
“So, Mr Smith. You said you could help me with finding employment?”
Hunter leaned back, switching his gaze to Elise now. “Indeed. First, I must enquire what sort of job you would like and what you are fitted for. Let us begin with if you want manual labour or something more cerebral?”
Elise sipped her ale. “Categorically something more cerebral.”
He peered at her. “Yes, I would say so. Judging by your way of speaking and how you treat people, you seem almost like a Noble. A little like me, but I confess to having spent years practising and still falling a little short. A problem you do not seem to have. Anyway, my point is your voice and behaviour speak more of schooling than of strength or skilled labour.”
A chill shot up Elise’s spine. She thought she had been so careful
in not sounding Noble. Was it her pronunciation or her word choice that gave her away? Her instinct was to attack. To act cruel and make him leave. She took a moment to suppress the urge. She imagined her face calm, neutral, and pleasant and hoped it was translating into reality.
“I grew up in a large manor house where my parents where servants to a Noble family,” she lied. “I assume I picked up my way of speaking and my thirst for knowledge there.” Then, to change the subject: “So, do you know of any job for someone like me? Perhaps some merchant family requires a governess? Or does the law firm you work for need a writer?”
Hunter steepled his fingers. “Not that has reached my ears. And as I am on the streets of Nightport most of the day and a good portion of the night, my ears take in most news. However, the printer who has his press opposite Mr Hampton’s law bureau, Archibald Richards...” He paused, looking at them both as if the name should mean something to them. When it didn’t, he continued. “He is in need of an extra pair of hands for a sizable project. He does not want to take on an apprentice as this would only be work for a few weeks. However, if you impress him enough, perhaps he will change his mind.”
He winked at her. He probably thought it looked suave, but it only looked like he was trying too hard. Particularly as he couldn’t keep his other eye open as he did it. She knew that pain. Why was such a perfect flirtation so difficult to pull off?
He ran his hand over his scalp and ponytail, smoothing down tresses which were only slightly less sleek than earlier in the day. “When I spoke to him, he said he was looking for someone who was diligent, intelligent, and who had refinement. The latter I believe was more for his own benefit than a requirement for the job. He is a terrible snob, so I wager he would appreciate someone so like a Noble lady as yourself.”
He sat forward. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her now. Like he was looking beyond her eyes and all the way into her mind, trying to read her secrets. Well, if he could do that, it would do him no good. If he disclosed her secret, she would disclose his. Although it appeared most of the city already knew his, if their landlady was to be trusted.
She inclined her head. “All right. If you would not mind making the introductions tomorrow, I shall be sure to impress this printer and put you in a good light for recommending me.”
“I cannot ask for more than that, Miss Aelin.”
He leaned back once more, spreading his legs even wider this time, and then grinned his well-rehearsed roguish smile at her. Elise was in no mood for his strange games. Especially not as he soon turned that smile to Nessa, looking at her as if he was inviting her into his open lap.
Elise reached over, putting her hand lightly on his knee. “Oh, I think you can ask for more than that, handsome. And I plan to give you what you want,” she said in her most seductive tone. Just as she had hoped, that wiped the smile from his face.
Yes. I happen to be the real deal. Stop pretending with me, boy. More importantly, stop pretending with Nessa. She is too innocent for your games.
She kept her smirk in place and slowly blinked at him. He immediately snapped his legs together.
“Huh?” Nessa queried.
Elise turned to her. “I am of course referring to buying Mr Smith another ale when he has finished this one. I certainly did not mean to flirt with him, as I have no intention of making him a proposition of any kind. Nor am I looking for him to proposition me.” She paused for effect. “No, I merely wanted to extend a grateful and friendly hand by buying Mr Smith a beverage. Is that not a splendid idea, beautiful?”
Poor Nessa seemed confused, looking between Hunter and Elise. Nevertheless, she played along with what Elise was saying, as always.
“Oh. Um. Yes, naturally. An ale is a small price to pay for a possible job. We thank you, Mr Smith, and I propose a toast to making new friends.”
Nessa lifted her glass so that Elise could clink hers against it. Then both thrust their ales towards Hunter. He picked up his glass and clinked it against theirs with an expression that showed something which looked a lot like relief.
“Friends. Aye. I’m likin’ the sound of that. Call me Hunter.”
Aha. There’s the Nightport buried under the practised accent.
A stab of regret hit her. She should probably pity him instead of besting him at his game, but she wanted him to drop the pretence. Both for his own sake, as she could not understand why he fought so hard and behaved so obnoxiously purely to hide that he did not want to bed them. But, also, because he was annoying her and confusing Nessa. For whatever reason, Hunter Smith needed to be taken down a peg or two.
He was looking over at Nessa while preening, brushing down the front of his shirt and playing with his ponytail. Elise’s stomach soured.
Let’s face it. You won’t be able to keep from reacting if he flirts with her, will you?
She tried to swallow that thought down. Then she gathered her wits, focused on her meal, and on trying exceptionally hard to be polite to their new acquaintance.
Chapter 14
Nessa and Elise
The too-bright, whitish light piercing through the dirty window woke Nessa that morning. Maybe they should get a curtain of some sort? The bell tower of the nearby church, which she now knew as the Church of Saint Alsager, hadn’t rung out yet. The church bells were quiet all night but rang at six in the morning to wake the city. She still had time before she needed to go to work.
She was laying on her side. Draped behind her like a clinging cloak was Elise. A thin arm was gently holding Nessa’s waist while every other part of Elise seemed to be pressed close against her. She could feel every curve, every dip, every bone, every muscle, and every deep breath that Elise took.
Nessa tried to steady her own breaths. She didn’t want to seem like she was panting or have Elise wake to the feel of her increasing heartbeat. Nothing could disturb this moment. Elise could never know what she was feeling.
The room was so damned quiet. Not a hooting owl, a scurrying mouse, or even the noises of the city from outside. It was too quiet. The gentle breathing of the woman behind her was all Nessa could hear. That and her own thundering heart. She swallowed hard, wondering if she could go back to sleep and escape this confusing mess of feelings and sensory overload.
Elise sighed intensely in her sleep, making her petite breasts push even tighter against Nessa’s back.
This was dangerous. It would be easy to overstep. To cross the thin line between friendship and romance. That line was so hard to make out right now.
She tensed as Elise’s arm moved, her hand sliding down Nessa’s belly to rest just below the navel. Suddenly her nightdress felt too thin. Elise’s hand was so warm, the heat from her palm penetrated the fabric easily.
As Nessa lay there, trying to breathe normally, it struck her that Elise might ask her to be her lover soon. If she did, would Nessa have to explain that she didn’t want that unless Elise could love her? But then, perhaps all of this was simply Elise being best friends? Perhaps this was the way Noble ladies were with each other? After all, Elise was a natural flirt and seemed very relaxed with showing her appreciation physically.
Still…
Last night she had caught Elise reacting badly whenever she agreed with Hunter Smith or laughed at his jokes. Not that she had done much of that. Partly because of her shyness and partly because Hunter seemed untrustworthy. Fake somehow. But when she had done those things, Elise’s demeanour had become hostile towards Hunter. Was that jealousy? Or was she merely trying to protect her from Hunter?
Nessa pushed all thoughts of Elise out of her mind for the moment. Too complicated.
Breathe evenly. In and out. In and out.
She focused on Hunter. She hadn't been up to Elise’s challenge of trying to read the suave, strange man. She could tell that he was hiding something, maybe trying to compensate for something. But she wasn't sure if she had made that assumption from his behaviour or from what Elise had told her about him. People were a mystery.
Why did social interaction have to be so difficult?
The bells of Saint Alsager rang out, and Nessa was relieved at the tension breaking. On the sixth chime, she smiled at the fact that Elise could sleep through all that noise. She put a hand on the arm draped over her waist and gently tapped on the soft skin.
“Elise? It's time to wake up.”
“Hmm? Why?”
Nessa’s smile grew, hurting her cheeks.
“Because it’s morning and I have a job to go to. You, meanwhile, have to go speak to a printer about getting a job.”
Elise whined. “But it is so nice here.”
Nessa was about to reply when Elise burrowed her face into her hair. Nessa could feel Elise’s nose rubbing against the nape of her neck. Nessa noticed goosebumps forming on her forearms. Her entire body relaxed into Elise’s grip, yielding to her. It would be so easy to stay here. To sleep a little longer. To relish in the warm softness of Elise. To keep that possessive arm around her. To enjoy the way Elise hummed happily into her hair right now.
Nessa clenched her teeth, summoning up her determination. If she stayed here, she’d lose all self-control. She gently extricated herself and stood up.
“I'll get ready first and then I'll go buy some bread rolls while you wash up and get dressed.”
“Sure,” Elise mumbled. Then she burrowed her face into the pillow and seemingly went back to sleep. Her thick, black waves of hair splayed out over the pillow and her face, shielding her from the world and from the one, single affectionate glance Nessa allowed herself.
Nessa would happily let her sleep. She just had to get some fresh air. Right away. She had to cool down and take her mind off what her heart seemed to be doing.
It wasn’t allowed to do that. She would only be disappointed and hurt. And she would ruin her friendship with Elise. She’d be the clingy, sappy romantic from the countryside who didn’t understand how things worked in the world. No. Never.
Making a Tinderbox (The Tinderbox Tales Book 1) Page 12