Perhaps it was a good thing that Leo and her father were getting along so well. It would help to dispel the rumors that the Beast was forcing them into compliance.
The dinner dragged on as more and more toasts were offered. At first, the guests simply wished her and Leo a long and happy life. Then a guest wished them a healthy child. As if that could ever happen, Luciana thought with dismay as she drained her goblet.
Not to be outdone, the next toast wished them three children. The next toast half a dozen. The next one ten. Each time the cups were emptied, the servants refilled them, and the guests became more rowdy.
“Two dozen children!” a red-faced merchant yelled, and everyone gave a cheer, then drained their cups.
Two dozen? May the goddesses help her. Luciana drank more wine.
When the singing started, her father stepped off the dais to join some old friends in song. Luciana shook her head as the noise reverberated painfully in her head. Ouch. That hadn’t helped. Now the room was swirling.
“Let me take you back to our room,” Leo whispered.
She blinked and turned toward him. “Why? The dinner’s not over yet.”
“You hardly ate. But you’ve had a lot of wine.”
“Ye mean ye noticed?” She pressed her knuckles against her mouth. Had she messed up her accent? Surely not.
“I notice everything you say and do … Ana.”
Was he inferring something? With her clouded mind, she couldn’t tell.
“Let’s go,” he whispered. “No one will question why the newlyweds want to retire early.”
She frowned, trying to decipher that. “Oh, I see. They’ll think we’re getting started on the two dozen children. But don’t they know…” She slapped a hand against his chest. “This is all we can do.”
He circled a gloved hand around the sleeve of her forearm. “Do you wish we could do more?”
“Now, there’s a pointless question.” Her gaze met his. He had the loveliest green eyes. “Ye—you’re far too pretty to be a Beast.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “You’re not making me sound very manly.”
“Oh, you’re very manly.” She pressed her fingers against his rock-hard chest. “But pretty, too. I tried to look pretty for you tonight.”
“You’re more than pretty. You’re absolutely beautiful.”
She smiled, and a giggle escaped. “Oh.” She covered her mouth. “I’m not used to drinking so much wine. We always water it down at the con—” She winced. “I’d better go to bed.”
He stood. “I’ll take you.”
“There’s no need.” She waved a dismissive hand as she rose to her feet. When she stumbled, he swooped her up in his arms. She gasped and the Great Hall filled with cheers.
Leo announced to the crowd, “We bid you good night.”
As the cheers rose in volume, Luciana buried her face against his shirt. By the goddesses, this was embarrassing.
Still carrying her, he stepped down from the dais and headed for the nearest door.
“Leo, put me down. I can walk.”
“I like carrying you.” He strode down the hallway toward the bedchamber. “I dream about holding you in my arms.”
What a sad pair they were, she thought as she leaned her head against his shoulder.
Before she knew it, he had deposited her in the dressing room and closed the door. Gabriella helped her out of the golden gown and into a nightgown. After washing her face with cold water and brushing her hair, she felt much more clearheaded.
“Good night, Gabriella.” When the maid retired to her room, Luciana cracked the door and peered into the bedchamber. Leo had lit a fire in the hearth, and he was already stretched out on his blankets on the floor. Maybe he was already asleep. He’d put in a long day, unlike her.
She tiptoed toward the bed.
“I like that nightgown.”
With a gasp, she turned toward him, then glanced down. Good goddesses, it was the sheer nightgown again. “Good night.” She ran toward the bed and slipped underneath the coverlet.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
“Yes.” She stared at the canopy overhead.
“Then we can talk.”
She winced. “About your day?”
“About you.”
Oh, no. She pulled the coverlet up to her chin.
“I told you about myself. How my parents died and my nanny died. I’d like to know about you.”
She bit her lip, trying to figure out what she could safely say. “My mother came from a family of witches who could foresee the future. I may have inherited a bit of that, since I predicted you with the Telling Stones.”
“I see. And your mother passed away a few days after giving birth to you?”
“Yes.”
After a pause he asked, “Do you still see her?”
Luciana’s breath caught.
“Ana, do you see the dead?”
She looked toward him, but could barely see him in the dim light of the fireplace. “That would be … too strange.”
He sat up. “I’m Embraced. My gift, or curse if you prefer, is the power of lightning. And you?”
Was he asking if she was Embraced? How could she admit it? She’d been warned all her life never to say it, first by Mother Ginessa and all the nuns, and then by her father. “’Tis—it’s common knowledge that you’re Embraced.”