“Babe, you don’t look any less wired than you did when you walked in here. That means raid the kitchen, or hitch up a sleigh and go joyriding through Fyngaard, or find ourselves a bottle of whiskey and get slaughtered.”
I was definitely peckish.
And I always enjoyed a lovely libation.
“I choose the first and the last,” I shared.
To that, Noc’s smile went white and wide, and promptly after he strode from the room into his dressing room. He came back wearing one of his attractive, long-sleeved shirts that had no buttons (and I’d discovered all of them were of an oddly stretchy material).
He handed me a ball of wool that I realized were a pair of his socks just as he sat on the couch by the fire and pulled his own ball of wool open.
“Put those on to keep your feet warm,” he ordered.
He was concerned about my comfort, did something about it, and that something was as intimate as me wearing his clothing.
There was a loveliness to this I shouldn’t allow myself the opportunity to feel.
I did not delay even a second in sitting beside Noc to pull his socks on my feet.
When I had the over-large, warm wool on, he was up and I was too, as he’d grabbed my hand and pulled me that way.
“Let’s go, sugarlips.”
I rolled my eyes at his irksome endearment.
But I said nothing.
My hand in Noc’s, we went to raid the kitchens and get “slaughtered” on whiskey.
This we did.
And I enjoyed every second.
Better, with delight he did not hide from me for a second, Noc did too.
Chapter Twelve
Dr. Zhivago
Franka
It was time.
Weeks I had waited to get on with things—as Noc would say, close the book on my old life and start the first chapter on the new—and it was finally time.
But now that it was, I didn’t want it to be time.
This was, I knew, because I was standing at the window of my bedroom looking down at Kristian’s and my sleighs being packed. Ahead of them, more sleighs were being readied to take Finnie and Frey, Cora and Tor, Circe and Lahn…and Noc to Sudvic to start Noc’s adventure.
We would be parted for months.
I did not want that.
Anything could happen in months. Months was a long time.
He could find a young beautiful maiden in Hawkvale, fall in love, decide to stay in this world. Or he could wish her to live in his own and bring her back with him.
Or he could think on me and wonder why he was so kind and friendly, supportive and caring, teasing and sweet, and use the time to grow distant so that when we met again, I had none of him at all.
A knock came at the door and I was so deep in my thoughts, I jumped and turned to it, mouth opening to call to the person beyond to enter.
My mouth shut and tightened, out of habit mostly, because I needn’t have bothered with the effort of parting my lips.
The door was already closing behind Noc.
I watched him saunter to me, grinning. “All the action’s downstairs, sugarlips.”
“I have seen sleighs packed before, many times, starting from the moment I could cipher,” I reminded him. “It’s hardly fascinating.”
Noc stopped in front of me and looked down out of my window. “If it’s not interesting,” he said to the window before turning his attention to me, still grinning, “why are you watching it from up here?”
I stared into his face, his extraordinary eyes, remembering suddenly every moment from that first he’d walked into the sitting room to make me feel better after Minerva and her companions were bested, all of our moments layering, interweaving, making me feel warm…
And bereft.
“I fear I’ll miss you,” I whispered and watched his grin die.
“Frannie,” he whispered back, getting close, putting a hand to my waist and sliding it to the small of my back.
“You’ve been very kind to me. You…you’ve…” I shook my head and gave him the honest truth, “You’ve changed my life, Noc.” I drew in a swift breath and carried on even more swiftly, “And no matter what comes for both of us, I cannot abide you leaving without telling you how much it means and just how very grateful I am.”
He lifted his other hand, curling his fingers around the side of my neck as he dipped his head so his handsome face was near.
“What’s gonna come for both of us is I’m gonna do my thing and you’re gonna have quality time with your family. After that, we’ll meet in NOLA. Then the first thing I’m gonna do after feeding you pizza is get you drunk on hurricanes.”
I felt confusion at his final word but did it no longer finding it irritating. Weeks with Noc and having this feeling, I’d grown accustomed to it. Not to mention, he had great patience and I enjoyed his frequent amusement when I asked for clarification.
“There are hurricanes in Fleuridia,” I shared. “They’re so bad, seamen who can sense them and dogs that have been trained to do the same are quite valued, for most people pack their carriages and move far inland to avoid them and the death and destruction they often cause.”
His eyes lit. “It’s a weather phenomenon, sweetheart. But in my world it’s also a drink that will fuck you up.”
“I’m assuming your usage of ‘fuck you up’ in this instance is a good thing,” I guessed.
“Hell yeah,” he confirmed, again with an upward curve to his lips.
I lifted a hand and put it on his chest. “Then I’ll look forward to that, Noc.”
I’d barely ceased talking when his hand went from my neck to mine on his chest where he folded it tight in his hold and held it there against the soft wool of his thick sweater.