Not Dringal. One glance at her mother’s tense body told Dufleur that. Dringal would know for what purpose Dufleur had used the room.
Not Saille T’Willow, as he returned to the bedroom. His expressiongave little away, but the blasted link between them told Dufleur that he recalled there was no altar in the room when he’d seen the chamber that morning.
Dufleur moistened her lips, looked at the three strangers. “I’m sorry.” That was getting to be all too familiar coming from her, and she got the notion that she’d be saying the phrase a few dozen times more. “Can I help you?”
The young woman bowed. “We are the examiners assigned to the Winterberry legal case.”
Staring at them blankly, Dufleur said, “But why are you here?”
A small, thin man with bushy eyebrows gave a little cough. “For your convenience. We realized our schedule didn’t take into consideration the fact that you were attending the social season this year, and your Mother and GreatLady D’Holly indicatedthat late at night would be better for you. We came at the time designated in our revised schedule.”
Winterberry Residence had saved her by putting the appointmenton her calendarsphere, and Fairyfoot by insisting they go home.
“We waited for you upstairs, but our charge is to examine every room in the Residence, and WinterberryHeir suggested that we come down here.”
Something her mother was definitely wishing she hadn’t done now, Dufleur was sure. Dringal had expected Dufleur’s rooms to be innocuous. Full of thread and cat hair, no doubt.
“My fault,” Dufleur croaked, “for ’porting here instead of using the designated teleportation pad upstairs.” And that was a lesson she’d never forget.
Heart thumping, she continued, “I’m not comfortable being interviewed in my bedroom. Shall we adjourn to a sitting room upstairs?”
The small man—the empath, Dufleur concluded—entered the secret chamber. “Twice cleansed,” he murmured, sounding slightly approving. Then his forehead wrinkled. “There’s somethingstrange.” He shifted his shoulders. Dufleur felt his Flair brush hers, as if he was sensing layers within the rooms. She stood very, very still as if that would stave off discovery.
“Yes, something strange . . .”
The larger man with soft features sent a sharp glance to Dringal. “You’re a Thyme, aren’t you?”
Dringal jerked in surprise, straightened to her full height. “I am Winterberry by birth, Thyme by marriage.”
“Marriage to Vulg Thyme who blew up his Residence. So you have taken the title of WinterberryHeir and D’Thyme,” the man persisted, then stared at Dufleur. “That would make you a Thyme and ThymeHeir, and these are . . .” He turned to his colleague.“These are Thyme’s rooms—consider . . .”
There was an intruder. The words that saved her came from the Residence.
Yes, an intruder, Fairyfoot piped up. Nasty-smelling man. When we were gone to the Hollys.
“Someone penetrated the security shields? How did that happen, I wonder?” Saille murmured. “What level of spellshieldsare there?”
The woman placed her hand on the threshold. “New ones, here, done by ThymeHeir.”
I do not know who came. There was a no-see-me spell, the Residence said.
“When did this intrusion take place?” demanded the bigger man.
“Yesterday,” Dufleur said, then touched fingers to her temple.“No, three days ago, I think. Many changes have occurred in my life lately.” She managed a smile. Probably still as grim as D’Holly had noticed. But grim wasn’t out of order here.
“We should definitely question D’Winterberry and WinterberryHeirabout their spellshields.”
Saille said smoothly, “And I would remind you that Dufleur has had a difficult day. The Council Herald visited her today with reparations for her ordeal at the hands of the black cult.”
Shock rippled around the room, and suddenly no one was looking at her. As if they’d all just recalled what she’d suffered and were hideously uncomfortable. One of the two survivors of a series of horrible murders.
“She was, of course, living here in these rooms when that happened,” Saille added.
They couldn’t get out of her chamber fast enough. The empathlooked back and sent her a sympathetic glance from under his heavy brows.
Wishing to be anywhere else, Dufleur changed into an old tunic trous set that was casually drab.
Fairyfoot grumbled a little. My name was not on their list.
“Be glad. And you’ve only been here a couple of months.”
I could tell them much. But I won’t. She lifted her nose, sprang onto the bed, and curled up in the middle. I will stay here.
“Of course.” Dufleur trudged upstairs. The examiners awaited her in the gray sitting room, and Dufleur could tell through her bonds with her mother and Saille that he soothed her in her suite. Dufleur rubbed her temples. Her neck was tense. Actually, all of her was tense.
But better to get it over with.
And because Saille had reminded the examiners of her past, they treated her lightly as she recounted the tragedy of losing her home and her father, getting work at Dandelion Silk, cominghere. Her mother’s grief and how she had become more emotionally stable when she was named WinterberryHeir. How they tried to help the failing D’Winterberry. Reluctantly she admittedthat she hadn’t seen the former WinterberryHeir, Meyar, until a few days before. That she hadn’t met the second son, Ilex, until more than a year after living with D’Winterberry.
The stark little tale reflected poorly on the whole WinterberryFamily.
They didn’t ask anything about her rooms or her actions in them, though she had said truthfully that she’d embroidered in them often, using Flair.
They noted that she’d helped the Residence and the entity was fond of her. And she said she was deeply grateful to it. The empath watched her with half-closed eyes, but all of Dufleur’s emotions were true, and she knew he sensed nothing but them.
She was released after half a septhour and nearly stumbled with exhaustion to the door, which Saille opened from outside. No anger radiated from him. He was back to feeling steady, solid and reliable to all her senses.
The examiners trooped to the teleportation pad and left, and Dufleur’s deep sigh matched her mother’s, who stood on the landing to the second floor.
“Thank the Lady and Lord that’s over,” Dringal said. “Dufleur, I want to speak with you.”
The relief that had filled Dufleur vanished, and she tensed again.
“Dufleur’s had a wearying day,” Saille said. “And so have you. It’s late and I thought the examiners said they’d be back tomorrow?”
Heavy silence from Dringal. “Yes. Yes, this has been very trying. Tomorrow, then, Dufleur.”
“Goodnight, mother,” she said. But she didn’t rid herself of Saille so easily. He followed her into the bedroom, glanced at the plain wall that hid the second chamber, and Fairyfoot snoringgently on the bed, then turned Dufleur into his arms.
“Rest a moment.” His hands stroked her back, circled the nape of her neck.
“You were angry with me.”
“I was, and no doubt will be again. Did you think HeartMate connections were always smooth? But tonight is not the time to speak of . . . secrets. No, don’t tense up. Lean against me a moment,Dufleur. Let me try . . .”
He took her weight, and a moment later, Dufleur felt more than comfort from him; a surge of energy flowed through her, making her catch her breath. It was as if a tide had come and washed away her ills.
She’d occasionally received energy before—once when she was sick from her mother, sluggish but strong. Her father and she had exchanged energy when they worked sometimes, and his had been quick and impatient, hard to hold and integrate.
This was completely different, and felt so good it frightened her. Everything about him was too tempting.
“I thought that might work,” Saille said in a low voice.
“Thank you,” she said s
tiltedly, pressing her palms against his chest, ready to step away.
He frowned, touched her cheek. “I did it correctly, right?”
That surprised her, and she blinked. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Excellent.” She hesitated. “You didn’t ever do that before?”
“No. There was no one I linked well with at the country estate;MotherDam saw to that,” he said matter-of-factly. “And there’s been no reason to link with my mother or other relatives here.” Then his jaw clenched. “The only time I would have wanted to do this was when you were . . . taken by those murderousfliggers, and we’d barely connected. Not enough for me to find you, to save you.”
Now she touched his face. Somehow his anger for her helped lessen the awfulness of her ordeal. “They hurt you, too,” she murmured. “They didn’t only hurt Fairyfoot and me, but you.”
“We weren’t linked.”
“But they hurt you emotionally all the same.”
His eyes fired. “I wanted to kill them myself.”
“They paid for their crimes. I’ve heard two have already died.”
“Not enough.”
“Shhh.” Now she was comforting him, feeling the rage runningthrough his muscles.
He took a breath, let it out, one side of his mouth crooked. “Something else we must deal with. But not tonight.” Covering her hands with his own, he took them from his face. Squeezed her fingers. The golden bond snapped into glittering substance between them.
“Spend the night with me.” His voice was intense, his face was set in that easygoing smile, but his eyes belied that, as did his clenched jaw.
Seventeen
Through their bond he knew what she was feeling, had felt since she’d arrived home. The shock, the outrage, the sense of invasion, and underlying all that, the relief. Too many huge, surging emotions for her to easily handle.
“I’ll take care of you.” Again his body seemed relaxed, yet his muscles were still strained.
The offer of help, of comfort, sank into her like a balm . . . but there was more. He was offering more.
No, he was wanting more.
“I want everything you have to give. I want all of you.” He answered her thoughts, and the room that had been noisy with voices now seethed with silent emotions. Their link snapped betweenthem, almost tangible, definitely visible, a golden cord.
He lifted a hand. “I’ll give you whatever you need. All of me.”
Desire shivered through her body at the timber of his voice, the heat in his eyes. She didn’t know what to say. What to do.
What she wanted.
“Come with me.” His hand was still palm out. “I promise you can have a guest room.”
But his mind flashed a suite. The consort’s suite of a GreatLord.
She stepped back.
His mouth twisted. “I’d rather have you in my bed. With me. But I’ll give you whatever you need. Tonight and always.”
It sounded like a vow. Again she felt trapped—by the immensityof his feelings for her, acknowledged and accepted by him.
“I don’t know what I need.” Her voice came out small, and she hated it. Hated that she was so confused.
But the pleading note in it did affect him. He smiled, more truly. “We can figure it out together.”
“What I need?” Disbelief now.
“Of course. I said I wouldn’t pressure you.”
“Just being here is pressuring me.”
“I had hoped I helped.” The tone of steel was back. Oh, yes, he was learning to be a GreatLord quickly. “You’ve had enough to deal with today.”
Including their kiss.
Now he held out both hands. “Come with me. For rest.”
Rest. She couldn’t recall the last good rest she’d had. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m with you.”
Hurt flashed across his face, and she wanted to bite her tongue for the rude—honest but rude—words.
He inclined his head.
She cleared her throat. “This Heart—this business is so very personal. Must all my faults and feelings and personal business be put on display?” More plaintiveness in her voice that she despised.She turned away.
He followed. The next moment had him behind her, cradling her against him, arms around her, his warm breath near her ear as he said, “The sitting room of my suite has a wide sofa you will find comfortable. I would offer my own bed, but I think you wouldn’t accept.”
A dynastic bed. No. Definitely not. Bad enough that she was allowing weakness to overcome her. But he felt so fine. Warm. Solid. Comforting.
Sexy.
“We’ll ’port on three.” A detailed image of the sitting room, shadowy furniture, and slivers of bright light from waning twinmoonscame from his mind to hers. She settled against him. Could sense the even thump of his heart.
Wait! Fairyfoot zoomed from the corner of the bed to squeeze between their feet.
“I didn’t invite you,” Saille said coolly.
The little cat jerked in surprise just as Dufleur had.
I am her Fam.
“You haven’t been taking care of her. You haven’t been loving.”
Fairyfoot hissed.
“And you still owe me an apology for being disloyal,” Dufleur pointed out.
“So you are not invited. You can stay in these cold and sterilerooms tonight. Furthermore, I haven’t yet paid T’Ash for your collar, and I’m not going to.”
“Neither am I,” Dufleur said. “I don’t reward traitorous cats.”
More hissing.
“My cat sits on my lap and purrs. He keeps me company. And he’s quiet. Not too demanding. One. Two. Th—”
Sor. Ry. It was loud and more snide than not, but the right words all the same.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard of that a cat actuallyapologized,” Saille said. “I’ll have to tell Danith D’Ash for her record books.”
Fairyfoot growled. She’d hate that. Hate all the other cats knowing she’d had to apologize.
“Cats are not allowed to manipulate people,” Dufleur said.
“People should not manipulate people, either,” Saille said. “But under no circumstances are companions supposed to manipulatetheir friends. Are we clear on that, cat?”
Dufleur found herself smiling as Fairyfoot sniffed sulky agreement. Spirits lightening, she leaned back against Saille. He’d already given her comfort. Perhaps she could trust him.
“One. Two. Three.”
And they were in a spacious sitting room, scented lightly with lavender and the underlying earthy fragrance of Saille. A large bouquet of colorful flowers rose from an exquisitely shaped porcelain vase.
“Lights,” ordered Saille.
The room looked like him, biscuit-colored walls, bookshelves,large leather sofa, armchair, and twoseat in dark brown.
“Rrow.” It was soft and unassuming and came from a cat trottingthrough the open door from the bedroom. A cat that was even less distinguished looking than Fairyfoot. Bigger and scrawnier, though.
“Good evening, Myx. Dufleur, this is Myx, my FamCat. Myx, this is my HeartMate, Dufleur Thyme.”
Tingles ran up and down her spine. She wondered if she’d made a bad mistake, giving in to his sweet talk. His dazzling offer.His tantalizing body.
The cat slipped in, then stopped outside reach of a kicking foot. That saddened her.
Myx wrinkled his nose, stuck out his tongue. I know your smell.
Dufleur blinked.
The tomcat cocked his head. Same smell as odd place near little white round temple. Interesting smell-feeling-air.
Her pulse leapt. Thyme Residence! Or the ruins of it. Near Brigid’s Temple. The interesting smell-feeling-air must be the lingering motes of time that had tended to gather around the Residence as she and her Family worked. Or the soot of the fire and explosion.
No good prey there. No mice or rats.
“Oh.” Now her spirit was weary again.
Fairyfoot, Myx said neut
rally, then grinned. Fairyfoot had to apologize to her FamWoman. I heard my FamMan say so. Myx made a cat snicker. He lifted his nose. Fairyfoot was not an acceptableFamCat.
With a growl, Fairyfoot shot toward him. He leapt nimbly aside, then headed out of the suite through a cat door low in the wall. Fairyfoot followed.
Saille rubbed his hands up and down Dufleur’s arms. “I think that will put an end to any misbehavior by Fairyfoot.”
“I’d imagine so,” Dufleur murmured, but her words nearly stuck in her throat. She was all too aware that he hadn’t released her. Heat generated between their bodies. He was aroused, and that knowledge kindled yearning in her, reminded her of all the times they’d met and mated in dreams. Her breath came faster.
“Anything you need, Dufleur,” he repeated.
Had anyone ever offered her anything without expecting payment in return? She didn’t think so. Didn’t want to think what Saille might expect from her.
“Everything,” he murmured. His tongue slid down the curve of her ear, his teeth closed gently over her lobe, and she quivered. “Everything for you. Everything from you.” His hands, loosely clasped in front of her, flattened against her.
She wondered if he would trail fingers downward where her need stirred, but his palms flattened against the slight curve of her stomach, slid upward. He cupped her breasts, thumbs slowly caressing the nubs of her nipples, sending a rush of pleasurethrough her to her core. Her head fell back against him.
He kissed her neck, soft brushes, a touch of his tongue as if he tasted. His lips pressed against the corner of her mouth. “Lover,” he whispered. “How I’ve wanted you with me. Finally, with me.” She turned her head and opened her mouth to his probing tongue, as she knew she’d open her body to his. As she wanted to feel him with her, in her.
Standing this way wasn’t enough. She turned, letting her body rub against his, feeling the muscularity of his thighs and chest, the thickness of his erection, until they were together front to front. She twined her arms around his neck, played with the hair at the nape of his neck, and smiled when his body arched into hers.
His eyes were wide, only a rim of blue showing. Color flushed his cheekbones.
Nice.
She tipped her head back, licked her lips, which seemed hot and swollen, needing his kiss again. She put her mouth on his, traced his lips with her tongue, penetrated his mouth so she could draw in his wonderful taste again.
Heart Dance Page 17
