Snorting a bit at that, she was surprised she could feel humor at all. “Apparently it’s more worthwhile than I realized. I should try it.”
“You certainly have the self-excoriating bit down pat.” He slipped a finger under her chin, lifting it slightly, then tracing light fingers along the sensitive skin under her jaw. “A father’s love should never be conditional,” he said, spacing his words so she’d absorb the import of them. “And you shouldn’t have to earn your papa’s regard.”
“I had it, once,” she whispered. “For a very long time, when we thought I’d be a wizard. Then I failed him and—”
Gabriel put a finger over her lips. “You didn’t fail anyone by being who you are.”
“Are you going to keep interrupting me?” she demanded, irritation rising.
“Ah, there she is. My spitfire returns. I knew nothing would dampen that fiery spirit for long.” He smiled broadly and kissed her.
She leaned into the kiss, extending it beyond what he’d clearly intended, but she needed that from him, needed to feel close to someone, needed to know that Gabriel, at least, loved her like she—Breaking the kiss on a gasp, she stared at him in utter shock. “You’re in love with me!”
An almost comical blend of emotions chased each other across his face before he tipped his head wryly. “I believe it’s traditional for the person feeling that emotion to make the declaration.”
“Since when have you cared about tradition?”
“True.” He laughed softly, caressing her cheek, raw vulnerability in his face. “Do you mind?”
“Because it’s not done?”
“Yes,” he replied in a dry tone. “I’m anticipating the lecture on wizardly behavior and how a familiar isn’t worthy of such regard, blah blah blah.”
She couldn’t quite laugh, as he clearly wanted her to. “It makes me really happy,” she confessed in a creaky voice.
“Does it?” He ran a fingertip over her lower lip, a hint of joy lighting his black eyes. “At last I’ve solved the mystery of how to make a familiar happy.”
“Yes, well.” She drew his fingertip into her mouth, sucking lightly and teasing the sensitive pad with her tongue, loving the way his face hardened with desire. “Making my wizard happy is still a key part of that.”
“You make me very happy, Nic,” he whispered, withdrawing his finger to replace it with his lips. He kissed her softly, lingeringly. “Happier than I ever thought possible.”
She lifted her hand to comb her fingers through the solitary black lock of hair that streamed back from his temple, black as his eyes. “I’m in love with you, too,” she told him, as earnestly as she knew how. “I know you don’t believe me, but I do.”
“I believe you.” He pulled her closer, kissing her deeply, dizzyingly, their kisses a soft music along with the rain and the crackling fire. She wished they could stay in that chair, rapt in each other, for all time. But the world would reach out to them. Likely sooner rather than later.
He seemed to have the same thought, for he gradually broke the kiss, gazing at her ruefully. “I suppose we’ll have to wait to commemorate this moment.”
“And inaugurate the new furniture properly,” she replied with a solemn nod.
“You’re obsessed with this furniture.”
“It’s pretty,” she defended herself, laughing. “And it’s really nice to have something to sit on besides your lap.” She wiggled her bottom against his hard thighs, and he stopped her with a wince.
“Arguably, I wouldn’t have a lap to hold you on without this chair, so I see your point. Nevertheless, up you go.” He gripped her by the waist and set her on her feet, adjusting himself with a pained expression.
“Do you want help with that?” she offered, intrigued by the image of kneeling on the new rug and ministering to him with the fire hot on her back, perhaps her skirts rucked up to bare her bottom to—
“Stop that,” he warned her. “Or we’ll never leave this library.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she retorted, throwing his earlier words back at him.
He acknowledged the point, then grimaced. “What is El-Adrel up to?”
She sat in the other chair, arranging her skirts and her thoughts. “I don’t know,” she said slowly.
“I thought you were the queen of Convocation social machinations.”
“Ha ha, and I wish.” She pressed her lips together, the thought of her papa’s rejection still painfully raw. And Maman… who knew what she was suffering? Nic couldn’t think about it, not if she wanted to keep from melting down into a puddle again. “Lady El-Adrel had us cold. She could have taken that dagger to the Convocation and done serious damage to you, perhaps forever destroyed your bid to reinstate House Phel. She didn’t because she wants something else more.”