Chapter 96 Calculated Gestures
Lucian's POV
Thomas appeared at the edge of the observation terrace just as the last rays of sunlight were bleeding into deep purple twilight, his expression apologetic but firm. "Mr. Kincaid, Ms. Vance, I apologize for the interruption. Mr. Smith has asked me to inform you that there's been an illegal racing event scheduled on the mountain road tonight. The local authorities have closed off the route for safety reasons, and he would be honored if you would accept his hospitality and stay at the estate this evening."
Briar stiffened slightly against me, and I felt the shift in her posture before she pulled back just enough to look up at my face, searching for my reaction.
I kept my expression neutral, my hand sliding down to catch hers, my thumb pressing three deliberate points against her palm. One press for your choice, two for I'm fine either way, three for tell me what you want.
Her lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through the guarded look she had been wearing since Thomas appeared, and I felt something in my chest loosen at the sight of it. She squeezed my hand once, her fingers curling around mine in a way that felt like agreement, like trust, and I turned back to Thomas with a nod.
"Please thank Mr. Smith for his generosity," I said. "We'll stay."
Thomas inclined his head, looking faintly relieved. "Dinner will be served in the main hall at seven. I'll have the staff prepare rooms for you both."
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Dinner was a quiet affair, served in a smaller dining room that overlooked the gardens, the table set for three with Reginald presiding at the head. The conversation was polite and meandering, touching on business trends and market forecasts and the upcoming changes in pharmaceutical regulations, and Briar held her own with the kind of sharp, measured responses that made it clear she had done her homework.
Reginald seemed pleased, his gaze occasionally flicking between the two of us with an expression that was equal parts amusement and calculation, and by the time the meal ended, I had the distinct sense that he had already made up his mind about something he wasn't ready to share yet.
After dinner, Briar excused herself, mentioning something about wanting to try the hot spring pool that Thomas had pointed out earlier, and I watched her disappear down the hallway with one of the staff members before turning back to find Reginald gesturing toward a side room off the main hall.
"Join me for tea," he said, and it wasn't a request.
The tea room was small and warmly lit, the walls lined with shelves of ceramic jars and delicate porcelain cups, and the air was thick with the faint, floral scent of high-grade tea leaves. Reginald settled into a chair by the low table, and a moment later, a servant appeared with a tray bearing a small clay teapot and two cups.
I took the seat across from him and watched as he poured, the liquid pale gold and almost translucent, steam rising in delicate spirals that caught the lamplight. I lifted the cup and inhaled, the scent sharp and clean with a faint sweetness underneath, and then took a careful sip.
The flavor was layered and complex, the first notes bright and grassy before giving way to something softer and more floral, and I set the cup down with a faint nod of appreciation. "Moonpetal Silver Needle," I said. "Second infusion."
Reginald's eyebrows lifted slightly, something that might have been surprise flickering across his face before settling into a look of quiet satisfaction. "You know your tea."
"My mother taught me," I said, and the words came out more easily than I expected, the memory surfacing without the usual sharp edge of grief. "She used to say that good tea required patience. That rushing it would ruin the flavor."
Reginald's expression softened, his gaze distant, and he was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. "Moira had impeccable taste," he said quietly. "Ten years... she's been gone for ten years."
The weight of those words settled over the room like a physical presence, and I felt the wolf stir in response, the ache of old loss rising to the surface in a way that I hadn't allowed in a long time. I didn't say anything, just let the silence stretch between us, and Reginald seemed to appreciate it, his fingers tightening briefly around the edge of his cup before he set it down.
"She asked me to do something for her before she passed," he said, his voice rougher now, edged with something that sounded like regret. "She made me promise that I would be there to see you marry, to see you start a family. I'm an old man now, Lucian. I don't know if I'll live long enough to keep that promise."
"I'll make sure the wedding gift covers both yours and my mother's share," I said, keeping my tone light, deliberately flippant. "As for kids, that depends on Briar. But if you want to hear 'Great-Grandpa' now, I can call you that on her behalf."
Reginald let out a sharp bark of laughter, the tension breaking all at once, and he reached over to swat at my shoulder with more force than I expected. "You rascal!" he said, shaking his head, but there was affection in his voice, the kind that felt like absolution. "You always did know how to deflect."
"I learned from the best," I said, and he laughed again, softer this time, before his expression turned serious once more.
"Can you truly protect her from all the wolves circling?" he asked, and the weight of the question hung between us, heavy and expectant.
I met his gaze without flinching, letting the gold bleed back into my eyes just enough to remind him what I was. "I can," I said. "But Briar isn't fragile—she's been sheltered too long by Julian. She doesn't need me to fight her battles; she needs space to sharpen her claws. Right now, I'm just holding the rear guard temporarily."
Reginald studied me for a long moment, and then he nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Good," he said, pushing himself to his feet with the careful movements of someone who felt every one of his years. "This old man's bedtime has arrived. Go find your mate."
I stood as well, inclining my head in a gesture that felt like respect and gratitude all at once. "I'll join you for golf tomorrow morning."
He waved a hand dismissively, already heading toward the door. "We'll see if you can keep up."
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Julian's POV
The drive up the mountain had taken longer than I expected, the winding road narrow and unlit, and by the time James pulled the car into the small parking area near the main estate, the sky was fully dark, the stars scattered overhead like broken glass.
I stepped out of the car and straightened my jacket, my fingers brushing over the fabric in a gesture that felt automatic, compulsive, and I glanced back at James, who was retrieving the bouquet of ninety-nine red roses from the back seat.
"Do you think it looks good?" I asked, and my voice came out rougher than I intended, edged with something that felt uncomfortably close to uncertainty.
James blinked, holding the roses up slightly. "Ms. Vance will love them, sir."
"I'm asking about me," I said, and the admission felt absurd even as I made it, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. I had spent over an hour this evening selecting the right tie, the right cufflinks, cycling through ten different outfits before settling on this one, and the fact that I cared at all was both infuriating and terrifying in equal measure.
James's expression shifted, something that looked like surprise flickering across his face before he smoothed it into careful neutrality. "You look impeccable, sir," he said, his tone measured and professional, and I nodded once, sharply, forcing myself to believe it.
The black velvet box containing the emerald jewelry set was still in the car, the weight of it a reminder of the one year I had spent commissioning the pieces, the careful selection of each stone, the painstaking craftsmanship that had gone into creating something worthy of her. I had planned to present it tonight, to lay it all out at once—the flowers, the jewelry, the apology I had been rehearsing in my head for days—but now, standing here in the dark with the estate looming above me, I hesitated.
Too much at once might overwhelm her. Better to layer the surprises, to ease into it, to let her see the effort I was making without feeling pressured.
I turned back to James. "Leave the box in the car," I said. "I'll bring it later."
He nodded, setting the roses carefully in my arms, and I started up the path toward the main house, the petals soft and faintly fragrant against my chest.
The path forked twice before I reached the main courtyard, and I was halfway to the third fork when a figure stepped out from the shadows, blocking my way.
Leah was standing at the edge of the path, her arms crossed loosely in front of her, her expression carefully neutral in a way that immediately set me on edge. "Looking for Ms. Vance?" she asked, her tone light, almost conversational.
"You're blocking my way," I said, keeping my voice flat, dismissive.
She stepped aside without argument, gesturing toward the path ahead, but there was something in her expression that felt deliberate, calculated. "She's not in the hotel," she said. "She's at the hot spring pool behind the mountain."
I paused, my grip tightening slightly on the stems of the roses. "How do I get there?"
Leah's smile widened, just a fraction, something that looked almost like amusement flickering in her eyes. "Follow this path straight, turn right at the third fork." She tilted her head slightly, her voice dropping into something softer, more pointed. "Though... perhaps the one blocking your way isn't me, but someone else already there."
I didn't respond, just turned and started down the path she had indicated.