The age lines feathering from Aunt Ellena's eyes creased deeper as she squinted back, not quite understanding.

I tipped my chin toward Markel, returning from the kitchens with a large silver tray stacked with what looked like small buns.

My aunt's mouth fell open in shock. Embarrassment colored her cheeks a stark crimson, and she anxiously fussed with her hair. "I'm not sure that—"

I interrupted her and forged on. "Perhaps you two could take your motorbikes out for a ride." I knew that Markel had a Harley he rode on occasion. My eyes flared wide—I could just see it now, both of them riding up the twisting roads of the mountain that overlooked the vast city of Ascendria and its gorgeous glassy lake.

"It's hardly a motorbike," my aunt whisper-hissed leaning closer, referring to her silver Vespa.

"You can say that again," came from behind her, laughter and a challenge in Markel's voice.

Fire lit up my aunt's eyes as she spun his way. "It can get up a bit of speed."

Markel placed the tray down on the table, and the delicious smell of brioche buns filled with walnuts and sticky sweet dates had my stomach murmuring hungrily.

My aunt sniffed with indignation. "It's surprisingly good for off-roading too, perfect for dirt trails. Besides, yours is loud and obnoxious and—"

"Full of power," Markel cut in, giving me a wink.

"I haven't ridden it for years," Aunt Ellena replied, dropping her gaze to her hands as she wrung them. But even I recognized it was a weak protest. "I'm not even sure if it's going to run."

"Well, if not you can always ride on mine. You can sit on the b—"

"Don't you dare!" my aunt interrupted with a shriek, clamping her hands over my ears.

With her attempt at keeping propriety, and me adorned in my pink mittens and pompom knitted hat, I felt seven years old all over again.

Beneath her pressed hands, Markel's burst of laughter was a rich sonorous sound and only slightly muffled. It was a full belly laugh that had him rocking back on his heels with his head thrown back. He shook his silver-tipped head at her, brown cheeks pinking, then rubbed his mouth with his scarred fingers until it relaxed out of the grin. Though he'd gotten himself under control, his brown eyes sparkled with mirth. "The back of my bike is what I was going to say, Ellena."

My aunt huffed and continued to glare back at him. She slowly let go of my ears. I knew exactly what she thought he was going to say, but she had no idea that I knew that particular phrase because of the type of books I read.

Markel picked up a plate of sliced fruit, offering it to my aunt. "I'll take a look at your cute little Vespa, Ellena."

My aunt preened. "It is cute." She picked an apple slice and took a crunchy bite.

"It's seriously cute," I agreed, grinning. It had spent far too long beneath a thick sheet and stored in the garage.

As the years passed, her pain had progressed to a point it crippled her enough that the jarring asphalt and gripping the handlebars were too much for prolonged lengths of time, and she'd been forced to give up one of her favorite pleasures.

I missed it too. I'd loved sitting on the back of her Vespa as a child, my arms wrapped around her middle and the wind roaring in my face, going on adventures together.

She finished chewing the last mouthful of apple. "I've missed riding it so much." Sighing wistfully, she glanced down at her hands, spreading her fingers wide. I looked on, marveling at the state of her hands, work reddened, but the swelling around her knuckles was gone thanks to Mrysst. Despite her insistence that she didn't need me to, I'd stolen some of her pain over the past few nights, but curiously, it was a mere dull throb, barely there and certainly nothing compared to the vicious agony she'd endured over the years.

Revitalisation hummed through her entire body. Her skin glowed in health, and there was a bounce in her step I'd not seen for a very long time. With the return of dexterity to her fingers she was knitting like mad, too.

By the way she positively crackled with excitement as she stared down at her hands, turning them this way and that, I don't think she would have used her bodily pain as an excuse to deny Markel a road trip anyway.

"What about a ride around the lake on their bike trails?" That sounded like fun. They could even take a picnic lunch too, and enjoy it on the grassy banks, feeding the ducks and swans scraps of bread.

My aunt's gaze snapped to mine. A wretched feeling—forlorn—flashed over my aunt's features so quickly, for a moment I wasn't sure if I'd seen it at all. My smile slipped as I wondered what I'd said wrong.

My aunt abruptly brightened. She shook her head and loose golden tendrils threaded with silver wavered around her face. "I think maybe I should start out a little bit easier and close to home. We should ride a few country lanes instead. What about you, Tabitha? What plans do you have for your day off?"

A few young kids suddenly bumped into me as they wove around to get closer to Markel who was handing out brioche buns. More and more arrived, their voices loud and excited as they bounced up and down, their hands held out, eager for a small, sweet treat.

I drifted away to give them more space, and my aunt followed as I headed a little further onto the lawn and crossed the shadowline. I tilted my face into the morning sun and basked in its heat as I pretended to think about what I was going to do. "I'll be heading to Ascendria," I said casually, toying with the ends of my fluffy pink scarf. "There's a few errands I need to run, and I want to get some new scrunchies." A few friends, like Oswin and Beckah, usually asked me to pick up bits and pieces for them, and I didn't mind even though it kept me busy and running ragged across the city. It was the perfect excuse to hide what I was really up to. No one suspected who I really was going to see in the city—the Purveyor of Rarities.

I angled my face back to my aunt. Surprise washed through me to see a curious expression playing across her fine features. She hummed a thoughtful note, her gaze faraway as if she were considering how to say something.

Her eyes suddenly sharpened and there was iron glinting in their depth, like a lioness looking at her cub. "There's a young man who asked for my permission to take you out on a date to get to know you better."

It took a long, long moment for the words to fully make sense in my head and for me to actually comprehend what that meant. Slowly, very slowly, I did, and two opposing feelings warred with one another. The first crushing disappointment that it wasn't going to be the one person I wished it could be...but then exhilaration jolted through me with a thousand volts of pure electricity.

I gasped, raising my mitten hands to my mouth.

How I longed to hear those words.

Someone wanted to date me.

Me!

I could not believe it!

I almost burst out of my skin with excitement, and I stamped my foot, thawing frost crunching beneath the soles of my chunky shoes.

"You've grown up and are no longer a child, and I have to respect that, even though you'll always be my little girl. But let's be clear about it, the rules still apply. I do not want to find you in a situation that would bring disrespect to our family. I will be arranging for someone to act as your chaperone on your date. But for now, you can talk to him here, within eyesight."

I only took in a fraction of what my aunt had said, noting that it had been spoken in a serious tone, because my mind was whirling with the fact that someone wanted to date me!

Me—the Uptight Spinster!

I stamped my foot again.

My entire body went ramrod straight.

And my mouth fell open in shock.

"Are you serious, Aunt Ellena?"

She nodded, sharing my excitement, barely holding back a squeal herself.

"Someone wants to ask me out on a date?!"

Oh my freaking gods!

Who could it be?

WHO COULD IT BE?!

My gaze swung wide, frantically searching through the throng of people gathered around the tables, nibbling on brioche and fruit, and poked about those gathered in small pockets at the edge of the makeshift playing field, looking for a man who was perhaps stealing furtive glances at me. Maybe he would be worried about my reaction to being asked. Maybe he was jittery with anticipation. I rose up on tippy toes, weaving my body from side to side, trying to spot who he was. Luckily my shoes, with their incredibly springy and comfortable inner soles, gave me a lot more additional height...

My shoes.

Yet again, I mentally kicked myself for not wearing something pretty and feminine like high heels. And misery sank to the pit of my stomach when I suddenly realized along with my downright ugly shoes, I was wearing a matching fluffy-pink ensemble, complete with mittens.

Maybe he changed his mind.

Maybe he was already scurrying away.

"Who's asking to take our young Tabitha on a date?" asked Markel. He strolled toward us, his dark brown skin gleaming in the buttery sunshine.

My aunt's green eyes twinkled and she pursed her mouth in delight. She half-twisted her shoulder to look behind her. "Ah, here he comes."

Chef swiveled around, and I breathed out a sigh of relief that whoever it was hadn't been put off by my ridiculous mittens and unattractive shoes.

I looked to see who was heading toward us, and godsdammit, Tomas was blocking my view.

His shoulders were hunched forward as he hastily walked past Dolcie and her family. Dolcie paled. Beckah bristled with hostility and Oswin had a hand on her shoulder as if to ensure she didn't lunge forward and attack him. Tomas's eyes widened and his throat bobbed when he caught Dolcie's father trembling with fury, so white-faced with outrage he could easily flay him, not caring that everyone would be there to witness it.

I wished he would.

Tomas freaking deserved it.

"Tomas? From House Lyon?" Markel asked.

"Yes, that's him," my aunt replied.

"Are you sure about this, Ellena? The boy's not the sharpest. The other day I asked the Lyons for kumara and he brought me red-skinned potatoes."

Confused, I fell back down to the flats of my feet. "Tomas?"

My aunt turned back to face me and smiled broadly. "Before the soccer game started, he asked my permission to take you out on a date."

I squinted at my aunt and repeated, rather stupidly, "Tomas?" I wasn't quite clicking to what was going on.

And then the boy in question was standing right in front of me. Sunlight struck off his frost-tipped floppy hair and that stupid gold chain around his neck.

"Morning Tabitha." Tomas's voice was a little nasally because of his bruised and broken nose. He briefly touched the white bandage strapping it down, somewhat self-consciously, before sucking in his cheeks and pursing his puffy lips in his signature wanna-be-model smile. Except now, to me, he just looked like a goldfish. Well, perhaps a goldfish that had got into a fight with his reflection in a fishbowl and lost.

I slowly blinked.

What the hells is he thinking?

The last time we'd talked he'd been so freaking rude. And now he wanted to take me out on a date?

Aunt Ellena pulled out her silver whistle, and said pointedly to Markel, "We'd better get this game recommenced." She blew the whistle and the loud warbling note pierced my ears and rolled across the lawn.

Shrugging off her jacket and handing it to Markel, she addressed Tomas with an innocent smile that belied the ferocity in her tone. "I might be reffing the game but I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"Me too," Markel gruffed, arms crossed over his chest and brown eyes slit. "A close eye... A very, very close eye."

Tomas jerked his head in a quick nod of acknowledgment. "Yes, sir."

My aunt and Markel left us alone, and the excited sound of children running onto the playing field filled the awkward silence between Tomas and myself. He shifted his stance, his sneakers grinding blades of grass beneath them, and began to part his mouth as if to speak.

But I sure as hells didn't hear a single word from him. I spun around and stomped off.

"Tabitha, wait up," I heard behind me, along with the thud of his hastened footsteps.

"I don't want to go on a date with you, Tomas," I hissed over my shoulder, horribly conscious of Dolcie and her family staring at us both with confusion. "I can't believe you've got the audacity to ask me out after the mess you've made of Dolcie's life."

The words rushed from Tomas. "I needed to talk to you. You're the reasonable one, and I kind of figured this way, sort-of-dating, you'd have to listen to what I have to say and help me out."

I stopped walking and spun around to face him, completely astounded that he was still trying to weasel his way out of his predicament with Dolcie, and intended to use me in his ploy.

"Her family are going to railroad me into marriage," he pouted petulantly. "And frankly, that's not fair."

"Not fair," I spluttered, throwing up my mitten hands, and remembered in time to keep to a loudish whisper so my voice didn't carry across the lawn. "You and she have a secret affair," —and take things further—"and she ends up pregnant and you don't want to do the right thing by her and your baby?"

"Exactly. I'm in a real bind right now." He dropped his gaze to his sneakers and toed the ground. "Dolcie really messed things up for me."

Stunned at his callousness, I couldn't even make a sound of protest, because I'd glanced up over his shoulder and spotted Varen Crowther at the window, clutching a godsdamned Venetian vase above his head. His fearsome glare was locked on Tomas, and he looked as if he were about to hurl the vase at him.

Mei Purcell held up her hands as if she was trying to calm a wild beast, and she looked like she was on the verge of crying. I certainly knew why, because I knew how much a freaking eighteenth-century Venetian vase cost!

If Varen broke it, she'd be the one to pay, and I highly doubted he'd think to reimburse the cost for her too.

Anger ignited.

How dare he think he had some kind of right to me?!

If I wanted to see dim-witted Tomas or any freaking man, then that was my choice!

Before I even knew what I was doing, I'd snatched my wooden spoon from my belt, furiously twirled it between my fingers, and then aimed the end of the spoon at him much like the threat of a cocked gun.

Varen's gaze shot to mine.

Put down the freaking vase, you neanderthal!

His mouth fell open in shock as if he read the wrath across my features and the fury in my mind.

I suddenly heard, "Tabitha! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

My eyes sliced to Tomas who stood in front of me cringing and holding his hands up much like Mei was doing, except crossed in front of his precious broken nose to shield it. "I know I shouldn't have said those things to you in the cool room, but don't hit me."

"Uptight and frigid," I hissed the same words he'd used to describe me back at him.

It had stung at the time.

"I was a real jerk and I'm sorry."

I poked my spoon into his chest, making him step back. "Listen, Tomas, whatever it is you want from me, don't bother. I'm not going to help you."

Tomas straightened to his full height and a sly gleam entered his vibrant blue eyes. He tipped his chin up and stared down the length of his broken nose at me "Who was it with you in the kitchen cool room? I never got a good look at the guy who broke my nose."

I expect not. It all happened too fast, and his attention had gone straight to Beckah trying to shove her way into the cool room to throttle him.

Silence held and was drawn out between us.

I started to get an uneasy feeling the way Tomas was looking at me as if he held some threat over my head.

What if... what if he suspected who it was in the cool room?

"Here you are, accusing me of much the same thing—"

"Except I'm not pregnant," I shot back. Hells, I'd only had my very first kiss a few days ago.

"Well, all it would take is..." The words heavy with meaning drifted apart.

I sucked in a shocked gasp, my spoon lowering to my side. "Are you blackmailing me?"

What was it about me that people think they can get away with blackmailing me?

"No. Yes...maybe?" His voice rose up on a pathetic squeak as his tough-guy facade cracked.

Gods, he was a coward. At least Varen Crowther did have something on me, and when he blackmailed me, I actually believed his threat.

"Please, hear me out. I need your help. I'm not the father of Dolcie's baby. Hells, I'm not even Dolcie's boyfriend."