She shuddered out a breath. Her aura, too, flickered wildly. Spots of color showed on her cheeks. “I’d forgotten how much I dislike her. How difficult it is to wear a mask of politeness for her.”
He crossed to her and took her cold hands. “Don’t. You don’t need to do anything you don’t wish to.” He glanced around at the others. “That goes for all of you.”
“Saille, go sit in the head of household thron—chair,” his mother ordered. She raised her chin. “I am the T’Willow Housekeeper, I will meet T’Heather and bring . . . GreatMistrys Willow . . . here.” Spine straight, she left.
Saille went to the large carved chair and sat on the new plush scarlet cushion, adjusting the ceremonial sword and blazer, settinghis expression into mild interest.
As was customary before a loyalty ritual, everyone else stood.
He listened to his mother open the door to T’Heather and his MotherDam. He unlocked his jaw, eased his shoulders, regulatedhis breathing. He was ready.
“I demand to be taken to my suite, the GreatLady Suite. I’m hungry, send me up some food at once. Furrabeast steak as I prefer, tatoes with gravy. I don’t know why I have to ask, all should have been ready for my arrival.” His MotherDam’s voice was as shrill and demanding as ever.
His Mother’s response was too low to hear.
“You stupid girl, where are we going? Have you completely wrecked the household schedule? I’m not a bit surprised. You were never any good without close direction. Let go of me. Let, go, I say.”
“Calm down,” interjected T’Heather. “You may have a cup of clucker broth for dinner. And lean on me and the footman. If the lady says you must attend T’Willow in the great room, that’s where we will go.”
“You know nothing of my Family affairs, Heather.”
“On the contrary, I am very aware how a FirstFamilies household should be run.” The Healer’s voice was steel. “Do not test my patience too far, Willow.” He grunted. “I already regretacceding to your wishes in not bringing a glide chair or cot for you.”
Everyone in the great room was silent. The women had stiffenedwith anxiety again.
Salix, T’Heather, and his MotherDam had taken no more than a pace into the great room when she dug in her heels and her tones got even louder and more obnoxious. “What is going on here?”
"Greetyou, MotherDam.” Saille used a touch of Flair to have his voice carry over hers. “What is going on is a Loyalty Ceremony.The rest of the Family has graciously agreed to renew their vows. We only wait for you. You shall be first.”
While she gasped and gobbled, Saille turned his attention to T’Heather. “Welcome to T’Willow Residence, GrandLord T’Heather. I thank you for all your good care of my MotherDam, please make yourself at home. Can I offer you food or drink?” Saille gestured for the other footman to take T’Heather’s place in supporting his MotherDam, then indicated the large sideboard set with meat, pastries, and ale, the standard food for a Willow Loyalty Ceremony.
“Thank you, T’Willow, I am fine.” T’Heather took a seat in a fat armchair near the door, then wiped his perspiring forehead with a softleaf. He settled in as if he were about to watch a show.
"MotherDam?” Saille gestured her to stand in front of him.
They locked gazes and there was a pause of several seconds, then Saille whispered a couplet under his breath and summoned a steady wind with his Flair to push her toward him. She and the footman looked startled.
Before she was halfway across the room, she let out a wail, then, “I can’t. I can’t. This is too much to ask of a poor, old woman.” She began to wheeze, but even behind the tears of exertionin her eyes, Saille could see the calculation.
Saille lifted his hand. All the Family except his MotherDam came to him and arranged themselves around his chair.
T’Heather’s brows wiggled up. “Impressive.”
Inclining his head to his MotherDam, he said, “You may rest, then, but be aware that this matter is only postponed. You will be expected to pledge your loyalty to me the next time you leave your rooms. I have assigned you the rose guest suite. You will not be served any food or drink in your rooms. The Willow footmen, Salix and Coville, will attend you. Mother, will you lead the way for the three of them?”
His mother ducked her head in overdone obedience. “Yes, T’Willow.”
Everyone waited quietly while his mother moved with dignified grace toward the door, then his MotherDam puffed after her, steadied by the footmen. Just like his MotherDam to sum up the situation in a brief scan and play the invalid so she could put off the moment of reckoning until she’d planned better.
“Thank you all,” Saille said. “Please put the food and drink away for now, and I’d appreciate it if you all remained ready for the Loyalty Ceremony.”
There were murmurs of agreement.
Saille rose and went to T’Heather and bowed. “Can we talk in my ResidenceDen?”
“I think we’d better.” T’Heather stood.
Thirty-three
As soon as they entered the ResidenceDen and the door closed behind T’Heather, he said abruptly, “I’m sorry she’s here to disrupt the household, T’Willow.”
Saille had gone directly to the bar to pour them each a whiskey. T’Heather took his and swallowed it down in a long gulp.
“Fact is,” T’Heather continued. “I told her a year ago to preparefor her transition to the Wheel of Stars from the virus.” He grunted. Saille took the cup from his hand and poured another measure. “I told her a decade ago to retire. She never listened to me, so I doubt if she will now.”
Saille sipped his own liquor, shook his head. “She won’t listen to me.”
“A difficult, willful woman. Her health has been bad for a long time. The virus made it worse. Now through the miracle of Dufleur Thyme, the virus is gone, but the deterioration in her bodily systems is still substantial.” He went over and slouched onto the large leather couch.
Saille stared. In the dimness under the couch, yellow eyes blinked. Myx was there, and now Saille could feel the touch of his Fam, radiating support. It helped. Thank you.
I love you, said Myx. Healer good man. Listen to him. He shifted subtly on his pad.
I love you, too, Saille said, then dragged his mind back to the harsh topic. “In your considered opinion, how much time does she have to live?”
T’Heather snorted. “To make trouble for you all as GreatMistrysWillow? Six months.” He studied the amber liquid in his glass. “If she gave up the ructions and allowed herself to be pampered, followed a good diet, exercised some . . .” T’Heather swirled the drink, then took another swallow. “Two years. At the most.” He met Saille’s eyes. “We both know she won’t do that.”
He fell into silence, and Saille didn’t interrupt, preoccupied with how his MotherDam would try to circumvent his orders— issue counterorders and spew filth at the person if they weren’t followed. She’d ruled this household. Perhaps he could have a Family meeting and rearrange duties. Younger, stronger membersof the Family, whose loyalty was always to Saille, men relativeswho’d come to the household from outlying estates to live in the city, could interact with his MotherDam. Older memberswho’d lived under her thumb could take a well-earned rest or holiday or try some other duties.
Frowning into his glass, T’Heather said quietly, “Why would someone go to such lengths to live a few more months?”
Trying to keep his voice perfectly even, Saille replied, “She always knew she’d be D’Willow, was always given her own way. Enjoyed her life and her title and her great power. I don’t think she’s accepted death.”
T’Heather grunted again. “What’s to accept? It’s the natural cycle of things.” Now his violet eyes raised to Saille’s. “A person’s soul is drawn into a human form, they live, the soul learns, the body dies, and the soul progresses.” His gesture was an open sweep of the hand. He rolled his big shoulders. “Though from what I observed as how she conducted this life of hers, I don’t envy her the next. Les
sons to learn.” He placed his glass on a sidetable and rose. “We Healers have mended what can be mended in her. I will, of course, continue to be her personal physician. Call on me any time.” His smile quirked. “My fees are extortionate.” He went to the door.
“I do have a question,” Saille said.
T’Heather paused, hand on the door latch.
“If I were to send her to the country—”
But T’Heather was shaking his head. “Sorry, but not this winter. Not in this cold. Even a short journey would be hazardous.”
Saille pried his teeth apart to ask the final question he wanted to hear for himself. “In your considered medical opinion,could she carry out the duties demanded of a FirstFamily GreatLady?” Duties she hadn’t shouldered for some years due to her lack of Flair.
“In my considered medical opinion she could.”
Saille stiffened.
“For about a month. Then her health would fail. She will, of course, try.” He sighed. “You will, of course, oppose her. Try to be gentle. She is not an estimable person, but she is a human being.And you are right, she is afraid of death. She must be panickedat the thought of it to go to such lengths to live. Not something I understand. I pity her.”
With his best bow, Saille said good-bye to T’Heather and let his mother show the GreatLord out.
Dufleur didn’t know how she was going to correct her terrible mistake—not of helping his MotherDam, that was bad, but not the worst. The worst was that she hadn’t believed in his love. Because she hadn’t believed in herself. Because most peopleshe’d come in contact with, especially her parents, had belittledher. And she’d never matured enough to know that their vision of her was false.
She was a valuable person. She was honorable—she fought for her father’s good name. She was a survivor—she’d managed to put the murderous attack on her behind her. She knew her craft—she could kill a fatal virus through the manipulation of time. She was learning not to be cowardly.
And it wasn’t the recent events of exonerating her father and proving her own research abilities and strong Flair that had made her see who she was and accept her own flaws and strengths.
It was Saille. He’d taught her to believe in herself. Just by believing in her.
Now she had to show him that she’d learned her lesson. Would he think she was apologizing for reviving his MotherDamif she came to him as his HeartMate? She didn’t want him to believe there was any other reason for her to accept her lovely fate than Saille himself.
There would be work to be done in the Willow Household, since GreatMistrys Willow would try to return to her old ways, usurp Saille’s position. Dufleur could stand with Saille, against his whole Family if need be. Help him deal with the tyrant and his Family. Give him strength and comfort in this test of himselfand his will.
And she would.
How to show him that she loved him, that she would never doubt him again? She lay back on the bed and opened her mind. Fairyfoot tromped up to her stomach and settled there.
Dufleur sensed the quiet wind of time. There were more molecules of time here than other places, and a little more concentrationwould remain when she left. The secret room, however,now seemed more a ritual place, as it had originally been, rather than a laboratory, a brief episode in T’Winterberry Residence’s life.
Her mind caressed the stone containing the essence of D’Thyme Residence. Hers. She was probably now D’Thyme, and a little warmth came to her at that thought, but what once had been her destiny and her major ambition was not as vital.
She followed the flow of time around the room, noticed the swirl around the no-time safe.
Saille’s HeartGift!
She’d never returned it to him.
She’d never formally accepted it, either.
Until now.
Surely he’d know when she opened the pouch and saw what he’d given her. Know she’d accepted him and his HeartGift.
Know she loved him and would always do so, that she no longer had shields around her heart and she’d accept the HeartBond.More, she’d initiate the HeartBond in their next bout of loving.
Where was her HeartGift?
She’d made one. Stowed it back in the corner of the closet. Spellshielded and bespelled for her to forget about it.
Until now.
Not only would she open their bond wide and accept Saille’s HeartGift, but she would take her own to him. Fully vulnerable, if he cared to reject her.
A lump jammed her throat shut at that thought, but it was right. Giving Saille the chance to love her or not, accept her back into his life.
She was not a coward anymore.
Still her palms dampened and her pulse sped as she rose from her bed and went to the safe. It was still transparent, only she could see the pulsing red aura inside.
She inhaled deeply. With an even voice she recited the coupletto unlock the safe, with steady fingers she drew the door open.
Lust washed over her, and she welcomed it. The essence of her lover, her HeartMate drew her. She wanted Saille, yearned for his body, needed his spirit close to her. Heat suffused her, passion settling in her nerves, welling in her core. Greed for the man, his arms around her, his body damp atop hers, entering her, filling her, possessing her.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the red silkeen pouch that she’d made herself. Her fingers slid over it, so sensitive that she felt the tiniest stitch. She whimpered in delight, feeling the Flair and essence of herself merged together with the Flair emanatingfrom his HeartGift, as right as anything in life or time. Her fingertips tangled in the strings, and she was panting when she had it firmly in her hand.
Anticipation skidded down her spine, thrilled her every cell, as she opened the pouch. She frowned when she saw a small brass and wood box that showed a corner of scarlet silkeen fabriccaught between the edges. A wave of passion—as if Saille had come close behind her, brushing her body with his nude one.
She staggered to the bed.
Fairyfoot opened one eye, grinned. You have it. The HeartGift.Good.
“Yes.” She could barely get the word from between her teeth. Her body was hot, clothes constricting, binding her in places so she could hardly stand it, harsh against her skin, which only wanted the slide of Saille against it.
She fell on the bed and moaned in rising desire.
Fairyfoot hopped aside and stalked away.
With fumbling fingers, she drew out the box, and her hand clamped over it, impressing the pattern of the metal on her palm.
But it wasn’t enough. She had to see what he’d made her. She had to claim what was hers. Her vision dimmed, and she thought she saw him in the shadows of the room. Come to me, she sent to him but knew he wouldn’t. It was her turn to come to him, heart, mind, body open for him, offering all. One by one she forced her fingers from the box, stuck her thumbnail in the crack, opened it. The box tilted in her hands, the fabric and swathed object rolled out and lit on the bed, gleamed pretty white and green and gold. A thimble, glazed white and painted with tiny thyme sprigs.
Perfect. She touched it, and it slipped onto her middle finger.
Perfect. Her release rolled through her, as if he’d stroked her to climax.
Taking off his robe, Saille laid it over the round arm of the couch and smoothed it. Myx came out from under the couch, stretched, trotted over to Saille’s robe, and sniffed at it. Sneezed. Strong smell.
“Incense.”
The cat wrinkled his nose, sat and cleaned his whiskers with a paw. Cats have nine lives.
“I’ve heard that.”
It is true. But We go into the shadowlands a little between each life. So We know of this transition death. It is nothing to be frightened of. A path to the next place. Like your Wheel of Stars.
“Good of you to tell me.” Saille had always thought of death as a door.
Myx cocked his head. You still not happy.
Saille lifted a shoulder. Waiting on the conflict wore on him.
You need nice fat rat.
“Uh—” He’d accepted Myx’s gifts with profuse praise. But before he could say anything else Myx was through the cat door and into the cold. Good hunting, Saille sent.
Yes. I need to hunt. Too much inside makes a Cat slow.
I’ve never seen a faster cat, Saille said.
I am faster than old Zanth.
Saille was still smiling, his mind and emotions and links wide open, when Dufleur’s mental fingers stroked his body, settled on his cock, and lust took him to his knees. She had his HeartGift. Not again.
Yes. Again.
Come to me, she called.
He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t let her wound his heart and throw it out into the cold as she’d done the HeartGift itself.
She’d opened the pouch and took out the box and fit the thimble on her finger. She’d accepted it.
His last coherent thoughts were that this was not a good time to be ambushed by lust for a HeartMate who’d hurt him deeply. Did Dufleur think that if she accepted the HeartGift everything was mended between them?
Desire and despair filled him as her orgasm triggered his.
Dufleur lay physically satisfied and emotionally wrenched. Saille had participated in the mental loving, as usual, but it had been less loving and more sex. She’d completely opened her body, mind, soul, but he’d kept their link narrow.
She’d sensed his hurt, tried to send love, contrition, comfort, but he’d refused it. She’d fumbled with the HeartBond, too, but she thought they could only HeartBond when they were physicallymaking love. She still didn’t know as much as she should about HeartMates and HeartBonds and everything.
Stopping to research it, even to ask Winterberry ResidenceLibrary,would be cowardly. She rewrapped the thimble in the silkeen, in the box, in the pouch. Then she rose from the bed and went to cleanse herself under the waterfall, aching inside because she knew Saille was far ahead of her in recovering from the bout of lust and had already washed and had his clothes cleaned and dressed again. He was refusing to accept that their mental mating was anything more than a bout of lusty sex. As she had once refused.
Heart Dance Page 34
