His face grew hard at her words.
She tried again. “I have not given Hermes much thought. I have no special affection for him.”
“Then why would Demeter be so set on the match?”
“She is a mother, sir, the mother to a daughter, no less. She worries over my safety. She fears I will fall victim to capture, abuse, injury, love, lust, passion, man, or … Poseidon.” She laughed, but saw his hands clench.
She moved closer, watching his face in the failing light. While he would not meet her eyes, his agitation was plain enough. His jaw was rigid and a slight crease marred his forehead.
“Is Hermes a friend?” She could find no other reason for his sudden mood. “I’ve not meant to offend you.”
He shook his head, holding himself straight. She could see the throb of his pulse in his throat. It seemed rapid to her.
She swallowed. “What of your soldier? Was his release met with praise as it should have been?” How she longed to take his hand in hers.
He glanced at her then. “It seemed to please them.”
She clapped her hands. “If they will not applaud you, then I will.”
His smile appeared again, and she matched it with her own. Her heart felt so full.
She handed him the lily, letting her eyes soak in his every detail. “I must leave you now. My mother will carry on if I am not there waiting when she gets home.”
He took the flower, holding the offering with care. “She will not tarry?”
“No.” She laughed, surprised at the hint of teasing in his voice. “She will not tarry.”
He lifted his blue-black eyes to hers and she feared she’d drown in them. It was a pleasing thought.
She found breathing difficult, but forced the words out. “I owe you a story.” Was that her voice, so husky and low?
He shook his head, his dark gaze steady upon her. “You owe me nothing.”
She swallowed. “I do not mind… Truly.” If only she could stay. She wanted to stay with him. She moved closer, too close perhaps, searching for some word from him, some sign.
His brow creased again, endearing him to her all the more. She tilted her head, wishing she knew his thoughts.
Before she could stop herself, she smoothed her fingers across his forehead. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, in distaste or restraint? She hoped it was restraint…
She had none.
She moved quickly, rising
on tiptoe and pressing her lips to his. His lips were surprisingly warm, surprisingly soft against hers. His breath fanned her cheek, tingling, and his scent filled her nostrils. She sucked in her breath sharply, drawing him in. Her lips clung for a second longer.
She spoke against his lips, savoring his closeness. “Oh Hades, I do not mind.”
She swayed, overcome with such warmth and… happiness. She rested her forehead against his chest for but a moment, steadying herself. She could say no more, her lungs would not allow it. Nor could she look at him.
What would he think of her now?
Her lips tingled.
She stepped back, running from him, from the meadow, past the fig tree, until her lungs were gasping. Still she ran, torn between shock and delight, through the ravine that hid their home. Only when the doors were closed and locked did she consider what she’d done. Her fingers brushed her mouth, and she shook her head. She’d kissed him and, she thought, he’d kissed her back.
Chapter Five
The catch in her voice moved Hades, forcing his eyes to hers. Under her gaze, he felt something dangerous shift inside him. He felt vulnerable. He felt lonely. He should feel nothing. “You owe me nothing.”