No doubt the assassination attempt had frightened her. And she could be unnerved by something he didn’t know about. She had so many damned secrets. Was she even who she claimed to be?
Not that her true identity mattered that much to him. Whoever she was, he wanted her. He’d lusted for her from the beginning, but now that she’d taken a stand for him, yelling to the crowd that he wasn’t a Beast, he ached to claim her as his own.
He glanced at her, and a pang shot through his chest. It wasn’t just her body he wanted. He wanted her heart. Wanted to know her thoughts, her secrets. And that meant he needed her trust.
As he placed a bottle of wine and two wooden cups on the table, he noticed the three stones resting there. Two were painted with colors, red and black, and one had some sort of figure—an upside-down number two?
Were these the pebbles he’d seen in the bottle she used for her secret messages? He reached out a gloved hand to turn the third pebble around. Definitely a number two. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Oh. It’s … nothing.” The sudden paleness of her face belied her words. “Thank you for bringing all this food.” She quickly finished emptying the basket. “I was starving.”
She was changing the subject. Leo opened the bottle and poured wine into the cups while she set out the rest of their luncheon. There was a round wooden platter of sliced cheese, cold ham, and grapes. Wrapped in a linen cloth was a hot loaf of bread. She set a crock of butter beside it along with a small knife.
When he offered her a cup, she didn’t notice. Her gaze had turned toward the window, and she was frowning. “Ana?”
She jumped. “Oh, thank you.” She accepted the cup.
He lifted his own cup and touched it against hers. “To us.”
She smiled shyly, her cheeks blooming a pretty pink.
“May we have a long, happy life together,” he continued, “trusting each other in all manner of things.”
Her hand trembled slightly.
He drank from his cup, watching her. She took a sip, then her gaze shifted once more to the window.
“There’s a definite chill coming in.” He refilled his cup. “We could have curtains installed.”
“It’s fine as it is.” With a hesitant smile, she sat at the table.
He glanced at the window once more. There was no discernible breeze, and no reason why a summer afternoon in southern Vindalyn would produce such a chill. Unless … the chill was caused by something else. Or someone else. Damn.
When he’d knocked on the door, he’d heard her inside, talking to someone. Was there a ghost here bothering her?
He didn’t know how well he could protect her from a spirit, but it prompted him to move his chair close to her. She stiffened slightly. “Do I make you nervous?”
“No, not at all.” She grabbed the loaf of bread, tore off a piece, and slathered it with butter.
She wasn’t a very good liar. He sat beside her. “The assassination attempt must have frightened you.”
She paused a moment, then shot him an annoyed look. “Do you know what frightened me the most? Seeing you flying through the air, hanging on a rope, and falling down the side of the keep. You could have broken your neck! Next time, take the stairs!”
He blinked in surprise, then rested an elbow on the table, grinning. “You were worried about me?”
She scoffed, then stuffed the buttered hunk of bread into his mouth.
“Careful,” he mumbled, leaning back. He bit off a small piece, then removed the bread with a gloved hand. “I appreciate that you no longer see me as a Beast, but I’m still too dangerous for you to touch.”
“I know,” she muttered as she ripped another hunk of bread off the loaf.
Was she upset that they couldn’t touch? Did he dare hope that she wanted him? “Ana.”
She glanced up at him, and her eyes widened, locked with his for a tense moment. By the Light, he wanted her. His gaze drifted down to her mouth. If only he could kiss her.
He held his piece of bread up to her mouth, nudging it against her rosy pink lips. Her mouth opened, accepting it. When she bit down, he leaned forward to bite off the other end. Their eyes met.
So close, but still impossible. Even so, his groin swelled and began to harden. Not now, he mentally warned himself, as if his cock ever listened. Damn, if he was ever able to kiss her, it would nearly kill him.
He leaned back, leaving the bread in her mouth.
She took a bite and set the bread on the table in front of him. With a slight wince, she glanced toward the window.
A chill skittered down Leo’s spine. Had their ghostly guest disapproved?
Her gaze drifted toward the bed.
Was the ghost moving? He wanted to ask her, but figured she’d clam up if he pushed too hard. Maybe if he started with something small. He motioned to the pebbles. “Why are they painted? Do the colors mean something?”
“They’re not important.” She busied herself buttering a second piece of bread.
“They’re important enough that you keep them.”
She shrugged. “They mean whatever you want them to mean. It’s nothing but a silly game.”
His mouth twitched. “A game of stones?”
She set the knife down and gave the pebbles a wistful look. “They’re called Telling Stones. It’s a game to predict the future. I learned how to do it when I was on the Isle of Moon.”
“When you were recovering from being poisoned?”