Page 13 of My Fae Lady

Six

Giselle

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I cranked the gramophone and considered whether I could modify a magic whirligig to handle the chore for me. The formula to achieve the correct centripetal force on the handle would be tricky, but perhaps if I combined the fae toy with a—

“Why are we meeting in an empty room?”

I spun around. The clock hadn’t chimed the hour yet, which meant Sylvan was early. I had expected to have to chase him down for this afternoon’s lesson. But here he was, in the cleared-out parlor without bribes or threats. Though I did have a box of truffles ready next to the gramophone.

Sylvan leaned against the door jamb, his arms crossed and sleeves rolled up.

I should have insisted that the manor resurrect the ballroom. It would have required considerable energy to bring it up from the depths of the house, but at least then I’d have more space. The parlor was simply too small with Sylvan here.

At the very least, I needed him in proper clothes. A respectable suit would tame him—a little. But the only gentleman’s clothes from the last century to be found in the manor were my father’s.

Sylvan would rip the seams trying to pull on Father’s suits. The fae was far too broad across the shoulders. And his thighs . . . well, I wasn’t going to think about his thighs, or the sound he’d made eating bonbons, or the way he’d mussed his hair so it looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.

With the worst of the forest washed and snipped away, he no longer looked feral, but the simple clothes he had on couldn’t hide how very Unseelie he was.

Rugged. Earthy. Virile.

Hastily, I attempted to banish such thoughts, certain my eyes were betraying me. Since the manor had only provided dim faelights in the parlor, perhaps Sylvan wouldn’t have noticed my eyes darkening to violet from where he stood. But I needed to control myself before he came closer.

I should have cut his hair shorter.

“We need the space to dance,” I told him with my chin high. He had to master the steps of a few of the most popular dances, which meant the next hour would be torture for both of us. Perhaps seeing him trip over his own feet would at least dispel a little of the uncomfortable tension I felt every time we were in the same room.

“From what I remember of the time before I fell asleep in my tree, the Seelie don’t dance.”

I frowned. “We’ll be practicing human dances, but those are based on Seelie steps and figures from centuries ago.”

“What the Seelie did was not dancing, cupcake.” He pushed away from the door and prowled into the room. “Dancing is a celebration of life, not constrained movements and scripted steps. Not that it matters, because I don’t dance.”

“Well, it seems that what I’m about to teach you doesn’t match your definition of dancing, so that is hardly relevant. You may not dance, but you will learn the quadrille.” I’d have to teach him the waltz too, which might surprise him, but I couldn’t resist starting with a dance that required so much restraint.

“I do not dance,” he repeated.

I didn’t have to say anything; the bargain-bond made my argument for me.

Sylvan snarled, his talons unsheathing as the magic nipped at him. “Fine. I’ll learn the bloody dance.”

I tapped one wicked-looking talon and refused to admit that just seeing it flash into existence sent a shiver down my spine—and not in fear. “No claws in polite company.” I studied the feathered waistcoat the house had returned to Sylvan. It didn’t look quite as wild as before, the feathers smooth and glossy, each one a deep black with threads of teal luminescence. “No feathers, either.”

“Spoken like a true Barton. I may have to play the gentleman, but I am still Unseelie. My feathers are part of me.”

“Oh!” I looked closer at the waistcoat, curiosity getting the best of me. I wished I had my scrying glass to see how much power the feathers retained. “Those are your feathers?”

He stepped back. “Of course they are mine. I’m not going to walk around wearing someone else’s feathers.”

Belatedly, I remembered that exchanging feathers was part of Unseelie mating traditions. Which made me wonder . . . “What do Seelie give Unseelie when they mate? I know it happens occasionally.”

Sylvan held up a hand. “Oh no. I agreed to sign your human papers. There will be no mating here.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m asking in general, of course. Seelie mating customs only involve a blood exchange, something that can be completed with Unseelie or humans alike. But if exchanging feathers is necessary, can the Unseelie even mate with anyone else?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?”