Free No Greater Pleasure by Megan Hart Page B

her from continuing. “My headache is gone, Handmaiden. And I think I have figured out the flaw in my equation.”
    Quilla took her hands away and rubbed the oil into her skin until her hands were no longer greasy. “I’m glad.”
    Delessan stood a bit unsteadily, and she reached out a hand to grab his arm. He looked down at her hand, then straightened. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    He seemed unable to look at her as he began to shrug into his jacket. Quilla helped him slide it over his arms, then stepped in front of him to button it with swift and efficient fingers. He was looking at her face when she glanced up. She smiled. He did not return it, instead gazing at her with a look so pensive it made her ask, “Is there something wrong?”
    “No, Handmaiden. There is naught wrong.”
    She nodded. He was a puzzle, Gabriel Delessan. She thought she understood him, but then wasn’t sure.
    “Tomorrow is seventhday,” he said abruptly. “You don’t need to come to my laboratory.”
    “No?”
    “No,” Delessan repeated firmly. “I do not work on seventhday, and neither should you. You’re free to do what you like.”
    She nodded. “You’re very generous, my lord.”
    “ ’Tis part of your contract, Handmaiden.”
    She smiled. “My contract says I am to be given one half day of rest. You already provide me more than that by not requiring my service beyond the afternoon. To add a full day in which I am not required at all is beyond what is necessary.”
    “You’d wish me to take it away?” He turned, frowning.
    “Of course not. I’ll be glad to have it. ’Tis rare I have an assignment where I am allowed this measure of freedom. I’m grateful to you for it.” She looked into his eyes. “I am expressing my pleasure at your generosity. Does that make you uncomfortable? Would you prefer I didn’t?”
    “ ’Tis not necessary,” came the brusque reply. “I told you, I am fulfilling my contract. I fulfill my obligations.”
    “Would it please you better if I took what you offered for granted and did not thank you?”
    Delessan put his hands on his hips and glared at her. “Of course it would not. You are being impertinent.”
    Quilla inclined her head in apology. “I plead your mercy, my lord. I did not mean to be.”
    “Why do I not believe you?”
    “I’m certain I don’t know.”
    He scowled and huffed, though seemingly without fire. “Is that what you’re taught in the Order? To sass your patrons?”
    “Only if I think ’twill please them,” Quilla said and went back to the shelves of books.
    She waited for him to comment, smiling, back turned to him so he could not see her face. He didn’t, as she’d expected he would not. But he didn’t mutter quite so loudly after that, and once she even thought she heard the faintest sound of a chuckle.
     
     
     
    S eventhday had passed, for Quilla at least, in meditation. Glad Tidings had a small chapel that didn’t look as though it got much use. She hadn’t minded. A day to herself was luxury, indeed.
    The next morning, Delessan surprised her with conversation. “My son will be arriving this afternoon. My brother is sending him ahead and will arrive later.”
    “How lovely for you.” Quilla poured him another cup of tea, adding the sugar and lemon he preferred, and set it in front of him. “You must be looking forward to that.”
    Delessan frowned. “I shall have to put aside my work for the afternoon to greet him.”
    She slanted a glance at him as she sliced the simplebread she’d baked for his breakfast. “And this displeases you because you feel it will set you behind in your tasks.”
    He nodded, slowly, his eyes traveling over her face. “You know how to judge me, yet you seem to make no judgment.”
    “ ’Tis not my place to judge you, but to understand you.”
    “But surely you can’t help having an opinion,” Delessan said.
    “My opinion is irrelevant, my lord.” Quilla Waited at his feet on the rug before the