Crewel
Page 52The minister grasps Pryana firmly at the waist. ‘You, my dear, are like midnight.’
She smiles and leans in to whisper in the minister’s ear, but he pulls away and clutches at my wrist. My skin crawls where his doughy hand rests, and I’m grateful my arm is the only thing he can reach. ‘But you,’ he continues in a husky tone, ‘are like a pearl.’
‘Funny, Cormac says the same thing.’ It works. He immediately drops his hold on me.
‘Pity he had to leave,’ the minister slurs. ‘Called to Northumbria, I hear.’
Why he left is news to me, but I nod as though I’m in on everything. ‘He said something about it during dinner.’
The minister, a little too drunk, tries to straighten up as though we’re talking official business, which results in Pryana falling off him – literally. Her lips tighten against her teeth and her nostrils flare, but she coolly tugs him away from me. ‘Dance with me.’
‘Oh yes,’ the minister slobbers as she pulls him toward the vibrantly lit dance floor in the centre of the banquet room. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Alice.’
Alice. Wonder what he thinks her name is.
‘Was he talking to you?’ a smooth, strong voice asks from behind. I turn, expecting to see Jost, whom I’ve seen wandering about the hall, but find Erik.
‘You look disappointed,’ he notes.
I am disappointed, but I shake my head. ‘No, you sounded like someone else.’
A frown passes over his pale face, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes. ‘If you’re expecting someone else . . .’
‘I suppose I should leave you to it then.’ He pretends to turn away, and I punch him lightly on the shoulder.
‘Ouch, you could have mentioned you didn’t want to be mobbed by fat, old men,’ he says.
‘Why would you ever think I would?’
He points to Pryana hanging on the minister. ‘She doesn’t seem to mind.’
‘Well, I’m not Pryana.’
‘So does that mean you are available for this dance?’ He grins at me. No amount of Crewel work or weaving could achieve such a perfectly crooked smile.
I nod, and he leads me over to the floor. Pryana flashes a scathing look in our direction, but immediately turns her attention back to her prey.
‘You know, dancing naked is easier than I imagined it would be,’ I say without thinking as the music slows and Erik draws me into his arms to dance.
‘Naked?’ he asks quietly against my ear.
‘Oh, nothing.’ I can’t believe I said it out loud. ‘I feel naked in this dress.’ Twice.
‘You look it,’ he admits. ‘I have to be honest, I really like this dress.’
‘So which of our lascivious ambassadors do you have in your sights?’ he asks, scanning the room thoughtfully.
‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘They do this every year. Host the State of the Guild here so the officials can drool over the new girls. The other coventries host similar state dinners throughout the year.’
‘Gross,’ I mutter.
‘It is, isn’t it?’ he whispers, amused. ‘But, really, no lucky bachelor this year?’
‘I think I’ll let Pryana have her pick,’ I say, watching her simper and pout at the minister.
‘I doubt his wife will let him bring her home,’ Erik responds with a wink.
‘Wife?’ I pretend to gag.
‘Oh, they’re all married,’ he informs me. ‘The young ones’ wives insist on coming, for obvious reasons, but by the time your husband looks like that –’ he tips his head at an older man with more hair in his ears than on his head – ‘you’re happy to let some poor girl take care of business for you.’
I sigh. ‘I should tell her. She’ll break purity standards and then . . .’
‘Why? She hasn’t done you any favours.’ He tightens his grip on my waist to keep me from pulling away to go to her.
‘As far as I’ve seen, she’s throwing herself at him,’ he says. ‘Shamelessly, I might add.’
‘You have a point. It just feels wrong.’
‘She’s hoping to move up,’ he says. ‘You all hope there’s some way to rise in the ranks or to escape. The sooner she learns there isn’t, the better.’
His cold response sucks the air out of me. He may have been talking about Pryana, but he knew I was thinking the same thing.
‘Don’t be offended.’ He takes my chin in his hand and draws my face up until our eyes meet. I can see the red of my hair flaming in his deep blue eyes. ‘You aren’t throwing yourself at a fat, old letch.’
‘But you know I would take any opportunity to escape,’ I whisper.
‘The difference,’ he says, matching his voice to mine, ‘is that you’re smart enough to realise a ploy like that won’t work. You’d have a plan.’
I blush and turn my face out of his hand so he can’t see my embarrassment.
‘In fact,’ he murmurs, leaning against my hair, ‘I can’t wait to see what you’ll try.’