I pointed my toe and pulled one on. It felt utterly decadent, a silky, sensual glide all the way up to the wide band of lace around the top. I pulled on the other and then pushed the skirt out of the way to admire my pretty new hosiery.
It was rare to find pure silk hose these days, but that was what they felt like—light as a feather with a pearlescent quality that caught the light. It subtly drew attention in all the right places, making my legs look unusually long and better-shaped than they actually were. I flexed a leg, enjoying the feel of the silky stuff sliding against my skin.
I looked up to find Louis-Cesare watching me. I couldn’t complain about lack of expression now. He looked like a starving man faced with a banquet he couldn’t have. It made me furious all over again.
He looked away. “The dress suits you.”
“You have good taste,” I said acerbically. In some things.
I picked up the delicate black satin strappy things pretending to be shoes. Trust a man, I thought darkly. They had to be six inches, with heels so high and so thin, they looked like they would snap at the slightest pressure. I slipped them on and then just stared. Whoever designed them had to be a sadist. They were a broken ankle waiting to happen.
“You did this on purpose,” I accused.
“I can have something else sent, if you prefer,” he told me, challenge sparkling in those blue eyes.
My own narrowed. “These will be fine.”
I slowly stood up, feeling like I was wearing a pair of stilts. It had been years—decades, really—since I’d owned a pair of stilettos, and I suddenly recalled why. My left ankle buckled, and I corrected myself, glaring down at it. If I could run along the edge of a rooftop and never miss a step, I could walk in these damn shoes.
And I did. For about two steps. Then I wobbled, stumbled and ended up on my butt on the bed.
One of the shoes had gone flying. Louis-Cesare retrieved it and knelt in front of me, his eyes amused. “There is an art to it.”
“How would you know?”
“I used to wear them.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“At the French court. They were all the rage—among both sexes—for a time.”
I tried to imagine Louis-Cesare, all six foot plus of hard muscle, in a pair of high heels. And, despite everything, I laughed. “Care to show me how it’s done?”
“I do not think those are my size,” he said, grasping my calf in one large hand. I went a little dry-mouthed.
His fingers were warm on my arch for a moment, as he slid the shoe back in place. He looked up, his eyes suddenly serious. “I suppose it is useless for me to request that you remain here while I attend to this.”
I just looked at him.
“It will be difficult for me to protect you without breaking the truce.”
It was moments like these when I wondered if he truly understood what a dhampir was. “I don’t need protection.”
“Against some of those who will be there tonight?” His jaw tightened. “Yes, you do.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” I promised, with a straight face.
He smiled slightly. “Why am I not reassured?”
He pulled me to my feet and drew my hand through his arm in one smooth, natural movement, with no signs of flinching. I didn’t know a single other vampire, including family, who didn’t tense up slightly when I came within arm’s reach. Yet, from day one, he’d never minded getting close, had in fact used every possible excuse to do so.
Strange behavior for someone pining away for his mistress.
But then, maybe I’d just been available, an easy conquest, a creature he didn’t have to worry about offending because our natural relationship was antagonistic anyway. I really didn’t know what he felt, if anything. I just knew what I did.
“Then maybe we should take out a little insurance,” I said, and sank to my knees.
He looked confused, until my fingers went to the button of his trousers. I saw it register, felt when he stilled completely, not even breathing. And then he caught my hands.