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The last time Heir Adrian Pucey saw Heiress Helena Potter, she’d been a scrawny fourteen-year-old with a twisted smirk, a splattering of freckles on her face and a mass of untamed black locks. She was everything a proper Heiress of an Ancient and Most Noble House wasn’t supposed to be, which was probably why he found her endlessly entertaining. But she’d been a kid at the time, and although he was barely three years her senior, he was already an Ancient Runes Apprentice and the most notorious player House Slytherin had seen in decades.
The moment he graduated and started working for the Egyptian branch of Gringotts, he didn’t give the tiny firecracker a second thought; he’d pretty much forgotten all about her.
Therefore, the moment he stepped into Potter Manor five years later, Helena Potter was the last thing on his mind.
“Adrian,” Lord Finley Pucey cleared his throat. “Remember what Stella told you. Behave.”
Adrian put his hands into his pockets and feigned disinterest. He had travelled all the way from Luxor to please his mother, as every dutiful son would do. Somehow, she declared it was time for him to settle down and find his better half. Lord Potter had somehow agreed to have them in his home, which was no small deal considering how protective the Head of the Sacred Twenty-Eight was of his daughter.
Adrian was by nature a trickster; he seldom let his true feelings show. However, he had never experienced such a dire need to keep his mask firmly in place. All he had to do was blow up this meeting and make Lord Potter refuse him. However, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that danger lurked in the corner. Why? His mother’s smirk when she bid them farewell and wished them luck was scary.
A chill ran down his back the moment his gaze settled on the vision with the wild hair who lounged on the sofa, long legs casually crossed and propped up on the coffee table.
His lips curled in the faintest of smiles when he took a glimpse of her striking emerald-green eyes. At once, the long-forgotten memory of her cuteness resurfaced and with it his hard-to-explain interest in her. She wasn’t the scrawny girl she used to be. She had developed all the right curves and lean muscles in all the right places, and her face had gotten rid of her freckles. She lifted her head lazily and arched a questioning brow up.
Her gaze roved over him, and unlike most girls, she didn’t seem impressed by him at all.
At a time when young highborn Heiresses were models of dainty fragility and blushing coquetry, this one was dauntless and distinct. While other young ladies of her high status were demure, she was exceedingly direct. Which was at once refreshing and amusing.
Incredulously, he chanced a glance at his father. Finley Pucey–to his surprise and chagrin–seemed amused by the unusual reception they were getting, which was a first.
She straightened her back and put the double-bladed swords that she was playing with down. Slowly, she rose to her feet and nodded at them. “Lord Pucey, Heir Pucey.”
“Heiress Potter,” his father smiled warmly. “It’s been a while.”
“Maybe not long enough,” she replied resolutely, her eyes going momentarily to him.
Adrian’s amusement faded into puzzlement. It seemed she was quite familiar with his father.
They exchanged a secret look, and by the end of the brief confab, his father seemed thrilled while their host didn’t look particularly happy.
An absurd idea occurred to him, and although he dismissed it immediately, his pulse quickened.
Just how familiar were his parents with the Potters?
“Father,” she said without looking back.
Adrian wanted to roll his eyes. Would the Potters ever stop flaunting their superiority when it came to sensing Auras? As it happened, he had caught Lord Potter’s Aura, as well.
“One should never shy away from showing off their gifts, Pucey,” she said in a dry note.
He halted abruptly, his breath catching. “Are you reading my mind, Potter?”
“I don’t need to,” she murmured and exchanged that secret look with his father again.
The exchange was cut short when Lord Potter sauntered into the room.
“I wasn’t expecting you too soon, Finley,” Lord Potter huffed.
His father grinned. “A man who doesn’t look after his child can never be a real man.”
“Pureblood glibness,” she mumbled under her breath.
James choked on a laugh, and it was Adrian’s turn to arch a brow at her. It was very subtle, but he sensed the different nuances of her Aura. There was gentleness, stubbornness, yearning and a touch of uncertainty. He was astonished by the beguiling patterns and his focus on her; his awareness of every sound, pulse, breath, was absolute. He had never lacked admirers, but had seldom taken interest in any of them.
“Very well,” Lord Potter sighed. “Helena is old enough to make her own choices. I will leave this matter to her.” He looked at his daughter, and her mischievous laugh; a smoulder of sound, could have come from the devil himself. “Why, thank you, Father.”
“Son,” his father whispered. “This is your chance. Don’t ruin this.” His low, dark voice curled in his ear and made all his nerves simultaneously burning and chilled. “I don’t need to remind you what Stella would do if you disappoint her.”
Then, to their host, he added gruffly. “Heiress Potter, I trust we will come to an understanding.”
“Go on, Lord Pucey,” she crossed her arms over her chest and waited.
None of this was what Adrian had expected when he left his family’s manor fifteen minutes ago.
He stared at her and was caught in that diamond-bright gaze, while every part of him was alive with awareness of her … her face, her hair, her eyes, her pulse, the very marrow of her bones … all harbouring the recognition of her not as a separate being, but as part of himself.
He frowned when warmth washed over him. He knew that feeling; it was familiar and foreign at once.
His hands clenched. This wasn’t a simple transaction. It was an everlasting alliance.
Her gaze became penetrating as if she were privy to his thoughts, and her lips twitched in a daring smirk. Stubbornly, he refused to sever the connection. He was not one to shy away from a challenge. Most importantly, he had never imagined such a feeling was possible. The intimacy of being sought and accepted by her magic was compelling and intoxicating. His mother had occasionally raved about Compatible Magic. However, he had not entertained the idea of finding that perfect someone. His Soulmate. The only being made solely for him.
And yet, here he was, luxuriating in the feeling of being swathed in this woman’s magic. No wonder he had found her special since the first time he had laid eyes on her.
“I know my son,” his father’s smile was small and accepting. “He can be stubborn and infuriatingly vain, but he has a good heart.”
Adrian gasped and glared at his father, his self-control shattered by the bittersweet confession. His heartbeat went out of control, cluttering his chest with its wild pounding until he could hardly breathe. But the strong, warm fingers that patted his hand were familiar. He relaxed, and his father winked at him. “Your mother found out about the connection years ago. The day Helena was born and she took you with her to visit Lady Lily at St Mungo’s, to be more precise. We reckoned it would be better if we waited for you both to grow up first.”
When he frowned, James rolled his eyes. “Don’t you know your mother?”
“You share Compatible Magic,” Finley said gleefully. “The holy dream of every Wix.”
“Compatible Magic or not, I’ll never become his wife until he convinces me of his worth,” Helena stressed firmly. “He has to court me properly first.”
Adrian's hackles rose at that. Did she just throw a challenge at him?
“Do you have anything to say about my worth, Potter?” He kept his voice neutral, low, a lazy cadence.
“We’ll see about that,” she shrugged.
He smirked and closed the distance between them. His fingers closed possessively around her hand, seeking more contact. The brush of her magic was as warm and as weightless as the sunlight. “And what if I prove you wrong?”
“Are you sure about that, Pucey?” she deliberately challenged his statement.
Adrian’s laughter made her narrow her eyes at him. Boldly, he lifted her hand to his lips and was momentarily distracted by the curious sensation that had awakened inside him at the simple contact. Bare skin to bare skin. Ephemeral, elusive, like a hint of perfume lingering in a quiet room.
She stared into his icy-blue eyes unblinkingly, matching him bit for bit. This was new, this feeling of being challenged, of wanting to prove someone wrong for the mere satisfaction of it.
At last, he met a girl as stubborn and infuriating as he was. Satisfaction and anticipation spread inside him like delicate tendrils that fed the beast lurking in the abyss that was his soul.
Her dark features relaxed when he tilted his head to the side, refusing to let go of her hand. The hard edge to her mouth softened. "Do not worry, I won’t go too hard on you.’’
He grinned. “Maybe we can discuss your plans at our first Courting Date, Potter.”
Her smile sent a bolt of lightning right through him. "Would you like to go to the Maurauders’ Den?" she asked. "It's still open. We can sit there and talk for a while."
Adrian snorted and offered her his arm.
Spending their first Courting Date at the Maurauders’ Den, under her Godfathers’ hawk eyes? Why did it sound like an exhilarating, dangerous plan?