by Lara Adrian
It was a shifter's blade, this one intact and perfect, where the one that had felled her at Greycliff--her very own weapon, turned on her by a man who had every right to wish her dead--had broken off where it had struck her in her shoulder. She wondered how Kenrick had come by the piece.
More worrisome to her now, she wondered how the dagger had been discussed between Kenrick and whomever had been seated with him in the solar.
Haven picked up the weapon and held it in her palm. The instant the cool blade touched her skin, she experienced a sudden, traveling sense of power. Her fingers were alive with the kiss of a thousand needles. The sensation spread, running up the whole of her arm and into her shoulder, then down her spine.
Like fire itself, the strength of her magic engulfed her, warming her. The air about her became charged with a quavering, thrumming intensity. This accoutrement of her past--of her true home--called to something deep inside of her, showing her what she was and would always be.
Her glamour rippled just below the surface of her consciousness, an alluring whisper that urged her to let it free.
"No. I will not."
Haven dropped the shifter blade back onto the table with a clatter. She spun around--only to find Kenrick standing behind her in the open doorway of the solar.
"Have a care, lady. 'Tis a shifter's dagger, and their witchery knows no bounds."
She put her arms behind her, quelling the pulsations of her rising glamour and praying the queer pricking of her skin would abate. Unsettled by the stirring of her true nature, her discomfiture only worsened as she stared at Kenrick's stoic countenance.
"A dagger just like that one was used on you the night of the attack at Greycliff," he said, striding into the solar and closing the door behind him. "The night you were attacked by raiding shifters on orders of Silas de Mortaine."
Haven swallowed on a suddenly parched throat. "How is it you have this blade?"
He stood near the table now, and reached out to retrieve the weapon from where Haven had dropped it. Shrugging, he turned his mouth down in casual regard. "I cannot be sure precisely where this one came from. Braedon and I slew a fair number of the beasts in France some months ago. It might have belonged to any one of them."
His disdain for the breed--for her breed--was evident in the darkness of his tone. The loathing she saw in him put a knot of fear in her heart.
"Did your travel today go well?" she asked, making anxious conversation while the weight of what she had come there to say to him pressed down on her like iron rods. "Mary tells me you brought a guest back with you."
"I met an old friend." His chin lifted, but his gaze was narrow, measuring. The dagger was still gripped idly in his hand. "We had much to catch up on, it turns out."
She attempted a cheery smile. "Will your friend be joining us at tonight's feast?"
"He will."
"Well, Ariana has put together quite an affair," Haven said with a breeziness she did not feel. "She has prepared an impressive menu and plans to deck the great hall with silks and spring garlands. She does too much for me, I think."
Kenrick's grunt of acknowledgment held a strangely predatory tone. "My sister has a giving heart. She trusts easily, and looks for the good in people--at times, to her own detriment."
"She is a good friend to me," Haven said, wary of the coolness in his steady blue eyes as he looked up from the light dancing on the blade to meet her gaze. "I would never do aught to hurt her."
"I am glad to hear it, Haven. For there is nothing I would not do to protect my sister--indeed all of the folk who live within my keep and trust me as their lord."
He seemed lost in thought for a long moment, and Haven struggled to find words to fill the quiet.
"Kenrick...there is something--"
"Trust is a very fragile thing," he murmured, the low growl of his voice silencing her in midstream. She could only watch in wary silence as he lifted the dragon blade and traced it, untouching, up the length of her long-sleeved arm. "It is hard-won, sometimes never fully given."
He did not look at her, merely watched the tooled dagger as it crested her shoulder and began a slow, skating path toward the neckline of her gown.
Faith, did he already suspect her secret? she wondered, feeling a new layer of fear worm its way into her heart.
"Trust is the most binding gift a man has to give..."
The blade's razor edge slid beneath one of the ribbons that laced her bodice.
"...and it can be lost with the slightest, careless slip of one's hand."
Haven let out a pent-up breath, glancing down at the silken lacing as it severed and fell away.
Kenrick's gaze was flinty hard, but heated when he finally looked at her again. She could not read him, but she could sense the rawness of his emotions. A battle stormed in his expression, somewhere between fury and hunger. Whatever he felt in that moment, it was animal and immediate, and it sent a frisson of nervous anticipation down Haven's spine.
"Do you trust me, lady?"
She nodded, hardly capable of speech as the dagger subtly sliced through the rest of her ribbon lacings.
Some cautious thread of sanity warned that he was dangerous in that moment. She could not dismiss the idea that he was threatening her with this sensual game as much as he teased her. His gaze was too wild to be harmless. He was a man as skilled in combat as he was in study or seduction, and it was with no small degree of wariness that she reminded herself of that fact.
She had her glamour now--in truth, she knew she would be a fair match for any man if she called upon her magic--but she would not use it against Kenrick, no matter what his intent with her might be. His power over her was strangely thrilling, even through her fear.
"Do you trust me?" he asked again, framing her face in his hand, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
"Y-yes," she whispered. "I trust you."
"Do you want me, lovely witch?"
"Oh, yes," she gasped, her hands coming up around his back when he leaned in to kiss the tender skin below her ear. "Yes. I want you. Kenrick, you must know that I will always want you."
"Nay, lady," he murmured against her jaw line. "I can be sure of no such thing. Show me that I can believe anything that you would tell me."
His command emboldened her and she kissed him with all of the passion she felt for him. Their mouths melded together in a fevered joining that neither seemed able to control. There was fury in Kenrick's kiss, and a need for domination like she had never known in him before. He sought her complete submission, and Haven felt herself bending to his will with eager surrender.
He guided her hand down the hard length of his body, placing her where he wanted her. "Show me how you want me."
With questing fingers, she slipped her hands beneath his tunic. His skin was so warm to the touch, like velvet over solid steel, his heartbeat thudding fiercely in her palm. She caressed the silken sinew of his chest and down along the ridged firmness of his abdomen.
He sucked in his breath when her fingers found the rolled waistband of his breeches. That same breath rasped out of him on an oath as the laces were untied and his sex sprang free and heavy into her hands. Haven stroked him with wordless reverence, marveling as ever at the wondrous feel of his body and the power of what his pleasure did to her.
He moaned, and she was the one to melt. He trembled, and she felt her own legs weaken beneath her.
There was so much that needed to be said between them, so much that would need mending, but Haven was fast losing herself to the sensual spell of Kenrick's body. Touching him was not enough. Recalling how wild he had made her with his own brazen kiss, Haven slowly knelt before him on the floor, and took him into her mouth.
His groan of pleasure was a sweet reward that only made her more adventurous. She suckled the smooth crown of his manhood, teasing it with her tongue. The taste of him made her mad with desire and eager to explore every silken inch of his sex with her mouth. She feasted on him without inhib
ition, letting his hands guide her, his sharp moans of passion and deep, fevered sighs showing her just how to please him most.
She reveled in his body's reactions, wanting more of him. Needing all that he would give her. But just when it seemed he would lose himself to her, instead he seized her under the arms and hauled her up onto her feet. He was panting hard, his jaw rigid, eyes so deep a blue they seemed nearly black.
"God's blood, you are a ruthless witch."
She reached for him, but he pushed away her hands, denying her with a feral look of hunger. He spun her around in front of him, then bent her over the back of the chair. Her skirts went up around her hips in a whoosh of fabric, exposing her to him in the most intimate way. It made her anxious, but she did not fight him. He was too needy with desire, and she was too willing to submit to him in any way he wanted her.
His probing fingers met with the slick moisture between her legs. He parted the damp petals, teasing her with the thought of penetration, his stiff member sliding along her cleft. Haven cried out, unable to bite back her longing.
"Tell me what you want," he said, wickedly tormenting her with the sensual caress of his heated, heavy flesh at the gate of her womb.
"You," she gasped. "I want you, Kenrick. Please..."
"I shouldn't want you like I do," he muttered, his voice sounding rough with throttled emotion. "God's love, but I should not need you like I do."
With a raw curse, he thrust inside her, as deeply as she could take him. Haven arched up as his sex seated fully within her sheath, filling her in one endless stroke. At once she was panting, breathless with the onslaught of climax. Every flex of Kenrick's hips drove her farther to the edge, the intensity of his need--his fevered quest for release--making her dizzy with sensation. She cried out his name as pleasure buffeted her, radiating over her in waves of pure light and boneless awe.
He soon followed her over the edge of a shuddering climax, thrusting hard, his hands gripping her pelvis in a bruising frenzy. At the last moment, when she would have done anything to hold him there, he withdrew from her on a coarse shout, denying her the heated spill of his seed.
When the cool air of the chamber fanned her naked backside, she realized he had turned away from her entirely. She pivoted from her prone position over the chair to find him hitching up his breeches. He glanced at her only briefly, coolly, she thought, then focused his attention on finishing getting dressed.
Haven eased her rucked skirts down in a state of uncertainty. A sudden emptiness pressed down on her, worsened by the impersonal look in Kenrick's eyes as he poured himself the last of the wine and downed it in a single gulp.
"Kenrick," she began, more worried now than when she had first come there. "This had not been my intention--"
"Nor mine, I assure you," he agreed, his voice devoid of all feeling.
Her nerves jangled with alarm to see him go from furious passion to chilling remoteness. He set the empty cup down on the table, then casually walked to his desk across the solar and seated himself behind it. The large piece of heavy, carved wood stood between them like a portcullis dropped on the castle courtyard.
"I had hoped we might talk..."
At her trailing voice, he lifted his head, frowning. "I have much that requires my attention, Haven. We'll talk after the sup tonight."
She stood there for a moment, stunned that he was shutting her out so coldly. Aloof as ever, stoically detached, he was once more the unreachable lord. The same forbidding man she had first encountered upon awaking in this unfamiliar place.
"Kenrick--"
"Tonight, Haven," he said again, then picked up a goose quill and began writing on a square of parchment as if she had already left the room.
Chapter 23
"Oh, my. I knew the gown would suit you." Ariana beamed at Haven, stepping back to allow her room to swish the flowing skirts of the iridescent green kirtle. With a smile dancing in her eyes and a gentle hand at Haven's elbow, she turned her to face the tall looking glass stand. "'Tis a perfect fit. Lovely beyond words."
Haven gazed into the unfamiliar reflection and saw an image of dazzling unreality standing before her.
"I take it you approve?" Ariana asked, coming up to stand at Haven's shoulder and meeting her gaze in the smooth pane of glass.
"Yes, of course I approve. It is beautiful."
"Then it's yours."
"Mine?" Haven turned to look at her, astonished at the generosity Ariana continued to show her. "I...I don't know what to say. This is...an extraordinary gift. You have given me so much already. I don't think I should accept--"
"Nonsense." Kenrick's sister gave her a stern look that held more humor than fire. Her delicate hands came to rest on the small rise of her belly. "'Twill be close to a year before I am able to wear the gown, so there is no point in letting the moths get it in the meanwhile."
"Ariana," Haven said, shaking her head. "You are very generous to offer, so thoughtful, but I--"
"No more protests, I insist. The gown is my gift to you, Haven." She reached out and squeezed her hand. "Accept it as my friend...and my sister-to-be."
Unable to keep from admiring the stunning kirtle with its gold-shot embroidery and liquid, elegant skirts, she spun once more to the looking glass. Not even Anavrin magic could conjure the feeling of euphoria she felt wearing such an exquisite garment.
As she pivoted and posed, permitting herself a moment of childlike giddiness, Ariana brought a brush and began combing through the unbound tangle of Haven's hair. "Shall we put it up tonight?" she asked, lifting the mass of auburn waves into an improvised crown atop Haven's head.
It might have been a good idea, were it not for the necklace of bruises that still ringed her throat. They had faded in the time she'd been at Clairmont, but even in the dim light of the ladies' chamber, the marks were unmistakable. Some of Haven's joy evaporated at the sight of them. It was almost easy to forget they were there, to deny where they had come from...and why.
Very gently, Ariana let the glossy tresses fall back down around Haven's shoulders. She arranged one long strand so that it curled around the front of her neck, artfully masking one of the darkest of the remaining bruises. "'Twill be pretty no matter how you wear it. And I have a pendant that will look stunning against your creamy skin."
Smiling over the kindness Ariana had bestowed on her, now and for the whole of her stay at Clairmont Castle, Haven reached up and clutched the lady's slender fingers with heartfelt affection.
Although she had come into this keep innocently enough, everything now was drastically changed. The knowledge of what she was seemed a burden Haven could hardly bear. The thought that she might lose her dear friend and Kenrick as well, put a bleak hurt in her very soul. She had never known such warm acceptance. How she regretted that her past was rising up to steal it all away.
"Thank you, Ariana. For everything."
"You're welcome." She set the brush down on a side table. "I'll go fetch the necklace."
"Ariana," Haven asked as she turned to cross the room to the door. Uncertain suddenly, she smoothed the long silk skirts, her palms oddly moist and trembling. "Do you...do you think he will like it?"
"Like it?" Ariana laughed. "You outshine the sun and stars together in that gown, Haven. Trust me, once he sees you, my brother will have trouble looking at aught else tonight."
"I want to look nice for him," she admitted, shy despite the warmth--the bone-deep excitement--she felt just to think of Kenrick, despite the unsettling encounter they shared in his chamber that afternoon. "I hope he favors the color."
"He will adore it," Ariana assured her. "As much as he adores the woman in it."
Was it true? Haven wondered as Kenrick's sister departed the chamber to retrieve her promised bauble. Did he adore her?
Could Kenrick possibly feel any measure of the affection she held for him?
Not a couple short days ago, she might have hoped so, but now she couldn't be certain how he might truly regard her. She da
red not presume such a miracle could in fact be real. Particularly after his strange behavior that afternoon. His coolness after such a heated encounter made Haven fear that she had misread his affection for her.
But hearing Ariana state it with such surety caused a flutter of hope in Haven's heart. It no longer frightened her, the queer trembling of her soul, the heady rush of feeling that bloomed within her each time she thought of her handsome lover.
Kenrick.
Her beloved, she admitted, if only to herself--and to Ariana, who had come to hold many of her secrets in trusted confidence.
Save the most damning one.
The weight of what Draec le Nantres had told her was unbearable. Her unwitting duplicity pressed more heavily on her with each passing hour, making her mad with the torment of carrying so black a secret. If Kenrick had seemed the least bit accepting when they'd met in his chamber today, she might have told him then. She should have, but faith preserve her, she'd been too afraid of his rejection.
If only she could go back to the day she first met Kenrick. To the moment he found her near Greycliff manor and rescued her from the fever that had robbed her memory, and the death that would have claimed her. If only she had never met him, never known what awaited her at Clairmont.
The kindness.
The kinship.
The love.
There was still time to end her masquerade. She was in over her head, to be sure, but she could right this before disaster swallowed her whole. And so she would, she vowed to the wide-eyed, frightened-looking reflection staring back at her in the glass. She owed it to Kenrick. To Ariana, and even Braedon, who had been willing to embrace his wife's newfound friend despite any of his own misgivings. She owed the truth to everyone at Clairmont, for there was not a soul in the demesne who had not touched her in some way, however small.
And because of her, they were all at terrible risk.
All the more, now that she--shifter born--had forbiddenly permitted these Outsiders into her heart.
