Hearts and Swords: Four Original Stories of Celta

by Robin D. Owens

  Scowling, she glanced at his impassive face—yes, his face showed nothing, but his eyes moved as if he was scanning the night for any danger.

  She realized with a jolt that he was shielding her from any threat from the park. He’d put himself in harm’s way to protect her. Just because she was an acquaintance, a woman he respected, not because of her rank or wealth.

  At that moment she tipped from reluctant attraction to acute interest in the man. So she did as he’d asked, looked past the weapons to the hallway leading toward the front of his house. The wood on the floor gleamed a polished red brown, the walls were a soft cream with a hint of warm yellow. She could just make out a large, comfortable, and shabby burgundy furrabeast leather chair in his mainspace, manly but still welcoming for a woman.

  After another glance to see that he was still focused on any threat, she strove to peer into the shadows of his bedroom, beyond the open hall door. The angle was such that she saw a shade of teal, close to the tint she’d painted her house. She could relax in that bedroom . . . or do more energetic things than relax.

  Heat welled, gathering in her center. Focused on her newly admitted attraction to Cardus, the lovely trickles of desire that had been absent for so long, Genista forgot about the steppingstone tilted a few centimeters up and caught her foot. This time she fell into Cardus and felt the tensile strength of his lean muscles.

  Again he steadied her. She stopped. “I didn’t do that on purpose.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” he replied matter-of-factly, as if he believed it.

  She stopped and he stopped with her. “I was a very sexual person earlier in my life,” she said.

  He laughed. “You still are.”

  “I’ve stumbled deliberately against men in the past. I had a lot of lovers.”

  “And that should bother me, why? Feel free to stumble against me anytime.”

  She felt foolish that she hadn’t really noticed. “You’re attracted to me.”

  “Of course.”

  The cheerful sizzles of lust inside her dimmed. He was straightforward as always, but it hurt that he only thought of her appearance.

  “You’re a fascinating woman. You could have any man you wanted, yet you live alone.”

  “I like living alone.”

  “Which is intriguing in itself. Your beauty and charm ensures that you could marry however high you wished—”

  “I would never marry just for status.” And she hadn’t. For sex, to get out of T’Furze Residence, to be loved.

  Cardus continued, “You don’t need to marry for rank, but you could. But what is fascinating is that you work hard at your job.”

  Her chin went up. “I love my job.”

  “And that’s fascinating, too.” His arm had gone around her waist and now he urged her forward. “It’s not a very interesting job.”

  “You don’t know so much,” she said, and used his word. “My job is fascinating.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “Most wouldn’t think so.”

  They’d reached the step to the back stoop of her house, and his grip changed from her waist—drawing away slowly, and the tingles were back—to cup her elbow as she took the step. So she did, and to her surprise, he followed her up.

  He leaned close, and again she became aware of the fragrance of his skin, the heating of her own blood, the pleasure of the rush of desire and anticipation of his kiss.

  Closer, closer. His lips slid across hers, and there was a melting inside her as feelings long clenched in frozen stasis began to thaw.

  She thought he smoothed her hair with the lightest of touches but didn’t know for sure. Then he stepped back and she became aware of her rushing breath, that she’d closed her eyes.

  Sweet, sweet stirrings of arousal.

  An instant later he was back and strong arms were around her and she was pulled against a hard body and it felt wonderful.

  He was a fighter, but he was not like Tinne. Cardus had shorter muscles, a bulkier build, wasn’t as tall as Tinne. Was perfect in height for her.

  Their centers met, and she closed her eyes in bliss that one crucial muscle of his was like steel. Her mind whirled. He was attracted to her.

  “Nista.” Her name escaped his mouth on a sigh. He lifted his soft lips from hers, kissing her down her neck.

  He wanted her, Nista Gorse, not the notorious and wealthy Genista Furze! He respected her.

  Fiery lust bloomed in her. She wanted him inside her and she arched against him. His hands came up to frame her face, and he pulled away.

  A breath shuddered from her and she opened her eyes to see his skin taut on his face.

  “Be very sure what you want, Nista Gorse, because I won’t go back to being neighborly once we love.”

  Love! It was just lusty sex.

  Wasn’t it?

  Her mind spun, trying to define concepts. She’d known love with only one man, and it had hurt, hurt, hurt.

  She’d known sex with many and it had meant little.

  She’d been celibate since her divorce, had no sex drive.

  “What do you want?” he pressed.

  There were words that had once come easily to her lips, but not now. She panted, tears of confusion pressed against the backs of her eyes, and she wouldn’t let them fall. “I don’t know.”

  He gave a short nod. Stepped off the stoop and flinched as if his bad leg had jarred. “Open the door to your bower, lady, and go in.”

  She fumbled with the latch, pushed open the door. Her chimes sounded a welcome. Light poured from the house in yellow comfort—from the spellglobes that had come on automatically in the mainspace at the front, the tiny ones lining the hall, to a bright one that floated in the back room.

  Cardus made a choked noise. She glanced at him, but he was staring inside.

  Voice strained, he said, “That holo painting looks like a student of GrandLord T’Apple.” It was by the master himself, but Genista suddenly realized that her home didn’t match the new persona she’d cultivated. She hesitated. “Yes. I like his work.”

  “Beautiful rooms,” he said in still strangled tones. “Nice colors. Like shades of a ripe peach.”

  “Thank you.” Genista smiled at Cardus. He seemed stupefied. She didn’t think her little house should garner such a reaction. It was true, she kept the windows spell-tinted for privacy, so he couldn’t have seen inside before, but her tastes were simple.

  Cardus was shaking his head, expression stern. “Must you have such valuables displayed?”

  She stared at him, shrugged. “Simple furnishings.”

  “Simple antique furniture, Chinju rugs, objets d’art that belong in a museum. Cave of the Dark Goddess, you have a fortune here.”

  Glaring, she said, “I have excellent spellshields.”

  “You should have that high iron fence around the front, too.”

  “Thank you for your advice.”

  “Dammit.” His fingers speared through his hair. He bowed. “My apologies.” Then he continued in a stiff tone. “I shouldn’t have commented upon your personal belongings.”

  A retort was on her lips when she saw his gaze shoot once more into her home. Yearning was in his eyes, as if he saw something he’d always wanted but could never have. Her irritation faded.

  And she realized that all flirting aside, he had looked at her that way more than once. She knew he wanted her, and just for herself. If she’d been ready, they’d be in her bedroom right now.

  Was he craning to see her bedroom? Yes. And it was dark. And he wasn’t hiding that he wanted to know more about her.

  “Why stop commenting now,” she said lightly. “You’ve said something about my fragrance—”

  He winced.

  “—my personality, and now my belongings.”

  “Again, I apologize.” He jerked straight as a guardsman, bowed with the utmost formality.

  She couldn’t help it, she offered her hand. His gaze, which had been focused somewhere other than her face,
lifted and met hers. Stepping forward, slowly raising his hand to take her fingers, he bowed over them. He dropped his head and his gaze—unheard of for a warrior, not to gauge the eyes and to present the vulnerable neck.

  His hand cradled hers as if it was more precious than her treasures. With the utmost respect. As if she was truly fascinating.

  His lips pressed to the back of her hand and he inhaled, once again drinking in her scent. He gave her a real kiss. Delightful sensation rolled through her.

  Then he lowered her fingers, let them go, took a stride back. When he looked up at her again, he didn’t mask his desire, and everything within her pulsed hot.

  “Go inside. So I can see you’re safe.”

  Her head was a little dizzy. He was the most dangerous person she’d met since she’d moved away from Druida City. A man who’d made her feel, a man who could threaten her new life, her heart.

  “Blessed be,” she whispered.

  He inclined his head. “Blessed be.” He hesitated, his stormy gaze meeting her own. “I don’t have a woman, or a wife, or a HeartMate. I want you to know that.” His next breath was audible. “The Lord and Lady keep you.”

  She bent and kissed his lips, stepped inside her back room, and closed the door, watched from the windows as he seemed to shake himself from a daze—from another simple kiss? He used Flair to jump over the high iron fence and whistled for the dog.

  Then both man and FamDog were in his house and she was standing, alone and watching, behind shielded windows.

  Cardus strode through his back door, holding it open for Whin. He tried not to compare his house to Genista’s, where he longed to be.

  The deep red furrabeast chairs he’d been so proud of now looked shabby. He’d purchased them secondhand after he’d received the most gilt he’d ever had in his life as a deposit from the Hollys to watch over Genista.

  When she’d opened her back door, he’d barely believed his eyes. The house might be small and unassuming from the outside, but inside it was a treasure box full of luxurious items only a FirstFamily Noblewoman could afford. Of course Cardus hadn’t known how much gilt Genista had, but it was obvious just from a glimpse of one rug that she would never be poor.

  Bitterness coated his tongue as he realized that if the Hollys had provided a guard—himself—for her, they most definitely would ensure that she had plenty of gilt. Tab had said so, but Cardus had never seen a display of FirstFamily wealth until now. Staggering.

  The woman lived far beyond Cardus’s idea of luxury. What was he thinking, that he could ever have her?

  He’d loved the light of the house, the colors. It was warm, welcoming. He wanted to be invited in.

  Just like he wanted in Genista.

  Whin stopped near the galley kitchen. I could eat again. His tail wagged.

  Cardus hadn’t had his dinner at all. The steak he’d prepared for himself and cut the fat and bone from for Whin was still waiting, steaming with white tuber in the no-time.

  “I have another meaty bone.” He’d gotten a couple when he’d decided to feed the dog. “But my food is furrabeast steak and I want to eat it in peace. You’ve already had your portion. No begging.”

  Whin’s gaze slid to Cardus. I don’t beg.

  Cardus didn’t bother to contradict the lie, just bent and took out a warm bone. A droplet of juice hit the floor behind a string of Whin’s drool.

  Cardus handed the dog the bone and said a floor-cleansing spell.

  After taking his meal from the no-time along with a tube of ale, Cardus went to a small area off the mainspace that held a single wooden table of pure oak. He’d bought it with a chair. After some weeks of speaking with Genista, in a fit of optimism, he’d purchased another chair.

  They didn’t match.

  He knew enough to have a corkstone on the table so the heat of his flexiplate wouldn’t ruin the wood, and his setting of good silver—an indulgence—waited at his place.

  Automatically he ate, thinking of Genista. He wanted her more each day, loved seeing the changes in her as she discovered her strengths.

  Thinking of how he’d insulted her again, he winced.

  If the steak is bad, I could eat it, Whin said.

  Cardus’s thoughts shot off toward his new companion. He had no doubt that somewhere during his time as a stray, Whin had dined on rotten meat.

  First things first. First the Fam. Cardus had successfully lured him into his home. Maybe he could also get Genista. For a while there, when he’d forgotten everything but the woman in his arms and kissed her, he’d felt her response and figured they’d be lovers.

  He’d forgotten his job, that he wasn’t who he seemed to be to her. That he’d known all along who she was and she didn’t know that. She didn’t know him, either.

  Whin woofed and Cardus realized that, once again, his train of thought had focused on Genista. Not his job, not his new Fam, but the woman he longed for.

  Staring down at the dog, he asked, “You have any vermin?”

  No!

  Still eating his tuber, Cardus scanned the dog. Whin was beige and brown and didn’t look too dirty. His brown eyes were bright and clear, his ears ragged but straight.

  “Why don’t you have vermin? Where do you come from, anyway?”

  The FamDog whined, took his bone, and backed up to the hallway, where he could run—or teleport—away. He glanced at Cardus, then away.

  There is a patch of BaneAll near City Salvage; I roll in it to prevent vermin.

  “Good job,” Cardus said.

  Was born and grew in the south, near the Plano Straight. Was given to a merchant to be a watchdog for merchant trips. I like to run and sniff and hunt. I am not a good watchdog. Not like you.

  Yes, Cardus was a damn good guard. And he keenly observed anything that affected Genista. He rubbed the back of his neck. Logic said that he wasn’t in her class, never had been and never would be. But all his instincts said that she was the woman for him. More, he was the man for her.As far as he could tell, no one had ever appreciated Genista just for herself.

  Yes, her face and her body were fabulous. She had enough charisma and sex appeal to stun any man into incoherence. But during the days since they’d met, he’d looked beyond her physical attributes to the hurt woman striving to build a new life. A strong woman who hadn’t let society’s rules dictate her life.

  She had known her husband had a HeartMate, had known her marriage with Tinne Holly was broken. By all the customs of the highest nobles, she should have continued to endure her husband until they produced children, then simply moved to a separate suite, a separate estate. She could have taken lovers; her husband would have had his HeartMate.

  But her husband wouldn’t have been free to offer marriage to his HeartMate.

  Genista had taken a strong and honorable path. She had suffered through the long, arduous seven tests of divorce, then had broken with her husband.

  Cardus admired her more than he could say, more than he had said.

  Of course she hadn’t been supremely unselfish. The life she’d lived had hurt her, so she’d changed her life so it wouldn’t be so painful. And accepted the price of a scandalous reputation.

  Given them all a new start.

  Including him.

  Four

  After being wounded on a merchant trip, Cardus had been given thanks, a small pension—enough for him to eke by—and a slap on the back from the man he’d guarded. He’d known then that there were plenty of other guards, young and adventurous, who would be hired before him.

  He’d had no idea what he was going to do, vaguely thought he’d apply to be a Gael City guardsman, but didn’t care too much for the regimentation. Then an old friend had recommended him to the Hollys as a very discreet guard. Cardus had signed on to unobtrusively watch over Genista, and gotten a huge down payment and a nice monthly salary.

  And his heart entangled with her.

  Brooding again. He pulled his gaze back to the dog, who had sprawled in
the small hallway, blocking it, gnawing on his bone.

  “Let’s get you clean, Whin.”

  The dog cringed, rolled over on his back.

  “It’s not going to be that bad.”

  Whin moaned.

  “Let me put it like this, FamDog. I can cleanse you or Genista can do it.”

  One of Whin’s eyes opened, rolled. Saw her house. Very clean. Very fussy.

  Cardus didn’t think so, but he wasn’t a large dog who could inadvertently destroy something.

  With a huge sigh, Whin rolled to his feet, his head drooping.

  “Into the waterfall room.” Cardus gestured.

  Whin trudged inside.

  Cardus closed the door behind them, eyed Whin. “I’ve done a lot of dry cleansings. You happy with that?”

  Whin’s head came up, he yipped, his tongue lolled. Yes!

  Several minutes later, Whin was clean and Cardus stepped into the waterfall himself, scrubbed, massaged his thigh under the hot water. Each time he saw Genista, he wanted her a little more, his feelings for her deepened. His protectiveness rose.

  She was a strong woman, but he didn’t want her hurt again.

  The hot water was fine on his thigh, but not on that part of him that needed her body. He ordered the waterfall to cold.

  When he went to bed—his bedsponge was on a platform now for his bad leg—Whin welcomed him with a thumping tail.

  Cardus rubbed his head.

  Very good night, Whin said, settling into the bedsponge.

  A year ago, Cardus would have been thrilled that he’d bonded with a rare Familiar Companion. Now, all he could think of was scheming on how he might win Genista.

  The Autumn Lord strode through Genista’s dreams, dazzling and dangerous. His eyes were intent, knowing. His smile promised sensual wonders. He held out a hand and she just stood, bespelled by his offer. The trees around them were glorious color: gold and red and orange, the grass yet green, green. As leaves drifted through the air, they released scent.

  Fragrance that sparked desires in her body, made her ache. Made her sweat.

  He stood there, not moving, with his hand still out, and she wondered how long he would wait.