Page 79 of Nocturn

No, how male of him.

Just as I had always explained to Miriam. A man could not be trusted. Rakes, the lot of them.

Having tasted pleasure, I certainly understand now . . .

That was beside the point! He stuffed me in the chamber, leaving me there to translate until blood-soaked cloth surrounded me while he remained down here enjoying his time. That bothered me.

Not that people fawned over him.

Not that he was not giving me the intensity of his brutal focus.

My legs were moving me closer to him. I wove through the crowd, narrowly avoiding a provocatively dressed serving wench as she held a platter with drinks on it. She jolted to avoid me, and yellow liquid spilled over the edge.

I hurried away from her as she shouted. The chaos brought Lord Draven’s attention to me. Tension lined his mouth, and he crooked a finger at me.

The woman at his side glared. Nothing new, but this time, I met her glare with my own.

I narrowly avoided a wide-set man with bulging muscles. Staggering to the side to avoid him, I would have fallen if not for Lord Draven capturing my arm and pulling me into his lap.

Liquid sloshed out from the side of the tankard.

It made me illogically angry.

I shoved at his chest, my palm meeting the leather strap of the spaulder over his tunic. “Release me, oaf,” I spat.

My elbow knocked into something hard. A loud crash stilled my frantic shoves against him. The woman nearby gasped, and I met her horror-filled gaze.

Lord Draven’s eyelids thinned, and he leaned close. I tensed. Would he kiss me? In front of everyone?

“You smell of rice wine,” he murmured.

I deflated. “Rice . . . wine?”

The haziness to my thoughts, the impulsivity. I was a damned fool.

“I see you did not know.” He chuckled.

No, I had not, but it certainly explained my light-headedness. I glared up at him and smacked his chest again.

“She struck His Highness,” a whispered hush from behind beat against the rational part of my mind.

Lord Draven stood, taking hold of my midsection and letting the rest of me dangle. Every single pair of eyes that I could see followed his stride out of the saloon.

“Release me this second. I demand it.” I smacked at his pant leg, my hand catching on the wool fabric.

A sound rumbled in his chest; a deep, reverberating sound that rocked through my senses and rendered me limp. It was as if he had reached inside my stomach and clenched it in hand. My head spun with how I dangled.

Imbibing rice wine had made me impulsive.

With Lord Draven’s long stride, he climbed the steps and had us in the chamber within moments. He tossed me with ease, sending me airborne. I yelped and landed on the bed with a few bounces.

“My lord!” I shouted, rolling to get to my feet. It took me a moment to gather my bearings. I shoved at the bottom of the stiff gown.

Lord Draven had grabbed the translations. His eerie gaze flashed over the words.

“This still does not explain anything I need,” he huffed, crumpling the parchment. The balled sheets landed on the ground while I gawked. He raked both hands through his hair.

“How—how—Oafish!” I shouted. “I labored over those translations.” I stormed to the desk and grabbed the two wadded up handkerchiefs. “And bled while doing it.”