But his HeartMate was giving him a child to replace the one Genista and he had lost. A child of a HeartMate bond, conceived in love that she could never have matched.
Her fingers went nerveless and her mug crashed to the ground.
A hole opened inside her and sucked her in. The blackness of her deepest fear: She was not good enough.
Never good enough.
Not good enough to be a daughter who was praised and cherished instead of ignored. Not good enough to be wed by a man who wanted anything but sex and land and other things instead of her.
Not good enough to give the man she loved a child.
Never good enough to be loved for herself.
She swayed in a cold, cold wind full of dead and brittle leaves cackling around her. So much pain. She could endure it. She’d survived. She was good at that.
Rough fur pushed under the fingers of her left hand. Shouts pummeled her ears? Someone trying to draw her back? No. But a surging wave of feeling demanded she return to harsh reality.
Well, she would. She’d clawed her way out of the grief of the loss of a child. She’d endured seven horrible tests to get a divorce and break the brittle chains of a love that had died, a failed marriage. She’d established a new life, become a new person.
Maybe others might never think she was good enough—good enough to be a beloved daughter instead of a third afterthought and drain on attention. Or good enough to marry because she was pretty and sexy and had something they wanted.
But she knew she was good enough to carve and claim a space in this world for herself. She’d lived by herself, found and kept a fine job, was learning excellent skills.
She was good enough as Nista Gorse or Genista Furze to do what she wanted to do. To build a career, to find a man who would love her for herself. To have more babies—the Furzes were the most prolific of the FirstFamilies. She could have a child. She could even have a child or three without a husband, if she wanted.
This was a new year, with new possibilities. This was the year she’d become.
If she wanted to have a man, like Cardus, she would make sure she got him.
He said he loved her, for herself.
Did she want him?
Maybe.
Of course she was hurt that he hadn’t told her the truth right off, but if he had, she wouldn’t have stayed. Would have left this house in anger, never found her job, never crafted her new life.
And she believed what he said, that he’d reluctantly come to love her. Hadn’t she done the same?
She also believed her own instincts, the bond that they’d made between them, and with Whin.
She was good enough to work and get what she wanted. So she drew the pieces of her new self together and mended them with will and determination and let the tumultuous yells around her pull her out of the hole within her. The hole she filled and banished forever.
Cardus was fighting Tab Holly. Whin leaned against her side, panting, watching.
She blinked against the bright sun of the autumn day. Cardus was fighting Tab Holly. Now and then G’Uncle Tab could whip Tinne, or Holm, or the best fighter in the world, T’Holly himself.
Genista blinked again, drew in a shaky breath of crisp fall air. She hadn’t been in her pit for long, a couple of minutes maybe.
“I will find them and kill them.” Cardus thrashed against the older man’s hold.
He couldn’t be talking about Tinne and his HeartMate! Of course he wasn’t.
But at the thought, Genista realized she’d never acknowledged Tinne’s HeartMate by name, even in her own mind—Lahsin Rosemary Holly.
And no stab went through her as Genista thought of Lahsin. Genista was finally over that pain.
Tab was swaying, holding a struggling Cardus. “They’re just two punks who escaped. They’ll turn up later. Men don’t change their thieving natures,” Tab said, in a tone that Genista knew meant he was a hairsbreadth from wiping the floor with Cardus, the sidewalk, whatever.
“Stop it!” She ran to Cardus and tugged at his biceps. “Stop it.”
His eyes were wild, and she thought he might be seeing the world through a red haze.
“Stop it!” she repeated.
Tab let go and stepped back. Cardus wheeled but caught his balance as Genista helped steady him.
“Nista? Genista?” Cardus shook his head as if ridding himself of fury. He settled under her hands, took her fingers in his own. Then he glanced at Tab, who was standing like a large statue, arms across his chest, watching them with a piercing gaze.
“What happened?” Genista straightened her spine and settled into her own balance, something Tab had taught her. He nodded approval.
High color was fading from Cardus’s cheeks. The dark forest green of his eyes was changing to emerald as he held her hands and met her gaze. “Asant and his partner are still in custody, but the other thief that was caught got away last night.”
The one I caught, growled Whin.
“They haven’t been able to locate him, and didn’t have him long enough to discover who he was.”
Whin whipped his tail. Stup guards.
Tab stared down at the dog. “I can’t fault ya for thinkin’ that. But let’s not say it aloud.” He looked back at Genista. “Asant blamed an older cuz for starting him on the road to thieving, someone who was the head of the gang and working in Druida. Someone who has already been sentenced for theft and put in a house for the mind-broken. Another of Asant’s kinsmen has been banished.”
Genista frowned. “This ties into that case last summer?”
“Always plenty’a thieves around,” Tab said. “Asant said two men, not related to him, were in on the plan, too. Said they were brothers.” Tab shrugged shoulders thick with muscle. “Even said they were minor nobility. Who can believe him?”
Cardus scowled, slipped an arm around Genista’s waist. The scent of Cardus’s perspiration and the man came to her; the heat of his body warmed her.
“I told the guards two had Druidan City noble accents,” Genista said. “And that they were brothers.”
“No one can say that all Noblemen are honorable,” Cardus said.
“That’s right,” Tab agreed. “Just like no one can say that Commoners ain’t without honor.” Tab’s smile was sly. “You going to hold on to that girl there, Cardus?”
“You Hollys can’t have her. She’s no longer part of your Family.”
“No, but we wanna make sure she’s always well.” He beamed at Genista. “She was my G’Niece, T’Holly’s and D’Holly’s daughter, Holm’s sister. We mind what’s ours.”
Genista swallowed. “I don’t have any ties to you Hollys anymore.”
Tab waved a large hand. “Don’t mean we don’t care for you. Still want to see you happy.”
Genista wondered how much guilt bit at Tinne’s parents, realized that she was carrying a burden that tied her to the Hollys. “Please tell T’Holly and D’Holly that I forgive them for breaking their Vows of Honor and bringing such a curse down on their Family.” It was true, the bitterness toward them was gone. The scarred slash of grief on her heart for her lost baby would always be there, but she no longer had to blame anyone.
Tab nodded. “Good job, lass. Better for you.” He stretched his arms, linking his hands and cracking his knuckles. “You willing to fight for her, boy?”
Cardus dropped his arm from her. His eyes lit. He loosened his limbs. “Yeah.”
She knew those stances, too. Hadn’t spent three years in a household of male fighters without learning which challenges were real and which were posturing.
“No,” she said, moved closer to Cardus, and took his arm again. He didn’t pull away.
“You want him, girl?” Tab asked.
“Yes,” she replied without thought, but admitting the huge feeling in her for Cardus. Quiet, intense Cardus, her Autumn Lord.
Tab shifted and stared at Cardus. “What makes you think you’re worthy of her?”
Cardus fl
inched, stood tall. “I’m not. She’s the most beautiful, fascinating, strongest woman in the world.” He hesitated. Genista felt his gaze on her and looked up. He seemed to search her face, took her hand, and locked his fingers with hers.
He didn’t want to let her go, she realized. For some reason he didn’t believe he was good enough for her. The concept was a little dizzying. He stepped so he could steady her, set his arm around her waist with a gesture that meant he’d keep her always, wouldn’t let her go. Wouldn’t let her fall.
Or if she fell and needed help up, he would be there.
As he might need help right now.
“But I want her,” he said, as she said, “I want him.”
“I love her.” Cardus flashed one of his amazing smiles at Tab. “And she can fight. You should see her with a sword.”
Tab laughed, and pleasure and pride flooded Genista. She said, “I was good enough to capture Asant.”
“You skewered him.”
“Ya look good together. Good job, both’a ya.” Tab bowed with all the flourish that a properly brought up son of a NobleHouse of the last century could offer. Genista felt heat in her cheeks.
He nodded at them. “You’ll do, and do well together.” Though his smile was wide, his eyes held a shadow. “People don’t have to be HeartMates to have a great love.”
“No,” Cardus said, his arm around her waist tightening to near pain.
“No,” Genista whispered.
“Don’t be strangers. The Hollys’ll welcome ya both.” Tab rolled his shoulders, lifted a hand, and grinned. “Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year!” Genista echoed with Cardus.
Tab teleported away.
Bed,” Cardus said, and cursed his stupid tongue once more as Genista stared at him, color painting her face. He thought he’d done well last night—well enough to tell her more than once that he loved her. Well enough that she had claimed him. In words. Before a FirstFamily man.
“I need you, need to know you’re mine for sure,” he said.
Her head was tilted. “And sex will do that.”
“Yes.” And, yes, he was losing his words just thinking about it.
She bumped him with her shoulder. “You’re a man.”
“Your man. Want you in my bed.” He tugged her toward his house. Too slow. He scooped her up and used the lust wheeling inside him to jump over the fence.
Her arms came around him tight, and he liked that. Good first step.
“Where’s Whin?” she asked.
“Gone hunting. Something.” They were at his door and his mind was hazing and he could feel only her hands on him, her weight in his arms, the line of warmth of her body against him. “Shields down, door open.”
He leapt through it with her when the door swung back. “Close and lock, shields up,” he panted. Had to protect her. Newssheet reporters would come soon. Gossips. Who knew what else?
But loving first.
He nearly tossed her on his bed, atop the unmade linens of a restless night.
There she was, Genista Furze, on his bed. He stopped to stare at her loveliness.
Saw her surprised and amused expression.
Winced. “Too fast.”
“Maybe.” And her smile was all siren temptation.
He tried to find more words, heard echoes of emotions with words attached that he could use. “People don’t have to be HeartMates to form a bond.”
Her smile faded to musing tenderness, and he hoped that was a good sign.
“No,” she said softly. “And I have a bond with you.”
“Yes!”
And she was laughing. “Your words really have deserted you.” She shook her head, whispered, “My Autumn Lord.”
At her warm look, eyes full of desire, he felt like a god. “Clothes off!” he ordered roughly and stood nude before her, then flushed as he recalled the scars on his thigh.
“Beautiful.” Her eyes had dilated. She liked what she saw, then. His mind was losing great chunks of sense, shearing away.
She sat and opened her heavy robe to show a nightgown so fine it must be silkeen. He could see the color of her skin beneath it, pale and pretty and flushed. Dark pink nipples. Ready for him.
He tried to speak but the trickle of words were gone.
“Clothes off!” she said, and her robe and nightgown fell away from her, and she leaned back on her elbows and let him look, and there was only her in the universe. The lady, the goddess, his Nista.
He lunged toward her and blessed his leg for giving way so he caught himself, and one thought swam through the wash of desire to his brain.
Had to do this right.
So he lay beside her, staring up at her. No woman should ever be so beautiful. But she was, and if he wanted her to stay, he had to show her how much he loved her.
He lifted a shaking hand to her face. “Love your blue eyes.” He trailed his fingers down her cheek. “Love your lips.” He tested them, and she gave his finger a quick kiss, and he hauled her close. Now he was on his elbow, looking down at her.
“Gen. Nista. Genista. So lovely. Will you love with me?” He cupped a full breast, played with her nipple. She moaned and her eyes went blurry, and he feathered a touch down the curve of her waist and hip, over her thigh to the seat of her femininity.
She opened her legs for him, and once again he felt a hero, a god.
So he leaned over her and outlined her lips with his tongue, and the movement rubbed his shaft against her smooth skin, and his fingers felt her dewiness and he was lost.
He wanted to mate, to ride her hard.
Wrong.
So he flung himself back, panting.
“You go too slowly,” she said.
And the next moment she was sliding atop him, taking him inside herself, and nothing mattered except the heat between them and he arched and plunged and let her ride him hard until they broke together.
He lay, destroyed, soft woman upon him, and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her to him forever. His eyes were closed and the inside lids painted with all the colors of fall, of New Year’s, red and yellow and orange. Among them all he saw a thick bronze bond, a real mental, emotional link, connecting him to Genista.
Maybe that was enough.
Or maybe, now that he’d claimed her, and believed she would stay with him, he could find more words.
He actually had Genista in his house and in his bed. He opened his eyes to see her staring down at him. Her golden hair was tumbled, her eyes bluer than he’d ever seen. He remembered her clenching around him, so he’d managed to please, to pleasure her.
“I love you, will love you always, will never leave you,” he said. He set his hands around her face and stared into her eyes to make sure she believed it. For some reason the woman didn’t understand she was a treasure. The treasure of the world.
“Never leave?” she asked.
“Lady, you will never, ever get rid of me.”
Genista studied his face. His eyes were green fire.
“I’m willing to take the ancient vows—Vows of Honor—to prove it,” he said.
She thought her heart stopped; her breathing certainly did, and everything in her chest constricted. He would know how much she valued Vows of Honor. Broken Vows of Honor had cursed the Hollys.
“You don’t need to.” Her voice came out whispery and high.
He rolled her under him and he was hard and strong. He kissed her, his tongue penetrating her mouth and rubbing hers, withdrawing. When he lifted his head, his cheeks had a ruddy flush and his face his most intense expression. “We will both take the ancient marriage vows, Vows of Honor.”
“Yes.” She kissed his mouth, then had to look at him again. Her voice was strong and steady. “Yes.”
His muscles eased, and she realized just how tense he’d been.
He glanced out the door and she followed his gaze. “We’ll combine houses.” His entire body flexed as if it was already at work. “I can do it.”
<
br /> “You do wonderful work. We’ll have a fabulous, long front deck and porch. I think we should keep this as your den or the library. You aren’t going to be a stup about my gilt?”
He hesitated, but replied, “No.”
“Good.” She smiled slowly. “Most of the gilt is in a trust for my children, anyway.”
His hips arched and she enjoyed the rush of sensation.
“We’ll have children,” he promised roughly.
She knew that he couldn’t be sure, they couldn’t be sure of that, but accepted his word. Now she stroked his face. “My Autumn Lord.”
“That again.” He shook his head.
She kissed him on his lips, liked watching his skin color even more. “Auburn hair.”
“It’s red.”
“It’s a nice many-shaded head of hair, even some golden highlights. Leaves in the autumn.” She tugged at a swatch, then continued ruthlessly,
“Green eyes the color of leaves before they turn or ponds under the fall sky. And don’t tell me you haven’t heard that before.” She grinned, expansive in her delight. She was home with him, would always be home and his greatest treasure, as he would always be hers. “When we go up to Druida to inform my Family of our marriage, I will get T’Apple to do your portrait as the Autumn Lord. I’m sure the idea would intrigue him.”
Cardus squeezed the breath from her. “Only if you sit with me, or if I get a portrait of the Summer Queen.”
“Done.”
“You will work on our house, and maybe others.” Oh, she had ambitions for him that didn’t include fighting. “I will become a clockmaker. I am signing journeywoman papers.”
He stroked her hair, slid his fingers through it, and the sensations from her scalp rippled through her whole body. A tender gesture that had feelings welling within. This time she didn’t hide them, didn’t think she’d ever hide them from him, let her vulnerability show.
“My Genista.” He tugged her hair and she smiled. They would always be equal. “I’ve been reading about Earth lately and I know of old Earthan phrases.”
“Yes?” She was interested, everything about him intrigued her.
“They did not have HeartMates,” he said with an ease that seemed to take any sting from the word. It would only be a word for them, from now on.
Hearts and Swords: Four Original Stories of Celta Page 28
