(...) His dark face was harsh
and hard, the face of Beelzebub himself (...) Anyone with half a brain
could see the signs posted: "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here" or more
to the point "Danger. Quicksand". Equally to the point, the creature
before him was a lady, and no signs had to be posted about her to warn him
off. Ladies, in his dictionary, were listed under Plague, Pestilence, and
Famine.
With the return of reason, Dain discovered that he must have been staring
coldly at her for rather a while, because Bertie - bored, evidently - had
turned away to study a set of wooden soldiers. Dain promptly collected his
wits.
- Was it not your turn to speak, Miss Trent? - he asked in mocking tones -
Were you not about to make a comment on the weather? I believe that's
considered the proper - that is, safe - way to commence a conversation. -
- Your eyes - she said, her gaze perfectly steady, - are very black.
Intellect tells me they must be merely a very dark brown. Yet the illusion
is... overpowering. -
There was a quick, stabbing sensation in the environs of his diaphragm, or
his belly, he couldn't tell. His composure faltered not a whit. He had
learned composure in hard school.
- The conversation has progressed with astonishing rapidity to the
personal - he drawled - You are fascinated by my eyes. -
- I can't help it - she said - They are extraordinary. So very black. But
I do not wish to make you unconfortable. - with a very faint smile, she
turned back to the jewelry case.
Dain wasn't certain what exactly was wrong with her, but he had no doubt
something was. He was Lord Beelzebub, wasn't he?
(...) |
