“So I heard from Mica, who also seems to love them.” His smile flashed. “But I have a chef, so I only have to request and it is mine.”
Camellia lifted her nose. “I have two chefs.”
“Yes, but I’m sure you wouldn’t give them orders for your personal meal.”
With a roll of the shoulder in agreement, Camellia said, “Maybe not.”
They ate greedily with their fingers, laughing and getting to know each other. He told her stories of his apprentice, Jasmine Ash. Camellia responded with tales of getting the HouseHeart up and running. The talk segued to business, of upcoming technologies, as they walked on the beach. Camellia left her shoes and liners on a seatlike rock, unbuttoned the cuffs of her trous and rolled them up to her knee, said a “stay up” spell.
The ocean was wonderful, the sound of the surf thumping through her like a scour, rubbing away care.
She and Laev held hands and it was marvelous.
Later they returned to the pavilion, finishing up the last of the springreen wine and enjoying the atmosphere of the moment. All that they were to each other that they didn’t want to admit enveloped them like a prickling mist.
Laev tipped his glass against hers and a crystal note sounded. A smile lurked on his lips. “Lovers.”
“Lovers,” she whispered. She drank, knew her emotions were churned up enough to affect her taste, and set her glass aside on the windowsill. She took one of his hands in her own and quivered inwardly. She wanted those hands skimming down her body, wanted her own on his. “I don’t think I am brave enough to make love with you in a Residence.”
He frowned.
She said, “So I’d like to invite you to my home tonight.”
His eyes widened. His hand turned in hers and he lifted her palm to his lips, pressed a kiss in the hollow of her hand, a caress of tongue that went straight to her sex.
“Thank you.”
He was good at the sophisticated moves. She let a sigh filter out as she looked at his face, thought that she would be watching that face and all Laev’s expressions in bed tonight. A gift fate had given her that she would finally enjoy with a light heart because of the understanding between them. Easing forward, she kissed his mouth gently, felt the connection between them form deeper with the touch of lips.
“The cats can show you how to teleport to my home.” Then she recalled the men of her Family. “Please promise me that you will always use the teleportation pad.”
With a lift of his brows, he said, “Since you or Mica might be moving around the house, of course.”
“Of course.”
“What time?” he asked, voice husky.
A flush rose along her neck and face. “NightBell?”
Again he kissed her fingers. “NightBell it is.”
“I have dinner with my friends several times a week,” she said.
He nodded. “Understood. But we will also meet at the Green Knight some evenings for the open melees.”
“That’s right.”
“We’ll keep it slow and easy,” he said.
“Yes. One more thing.” She didn’t look at him. “During Second and Third Passages . . .” They were being so delicate, and she liked that, didn’t want to confront any inescapable knowledge head-on. But it made choosing words difficult. She sipped in a breath and continued, “It’s a time when some people make a HeartGift.”
His hand tightened hard on her fingers. Everyone knew that Laev had given his HeartGift to Nivea. Everyone.
No one but Laev and Nivea knew what had happened during their wedding night when they tried to HeartBond, and Camellia shoved the thought aside. She didn’t want him to give her his HeartGift. “I’ve heard that such objects have peculiar properties.”
Like igniting such lust in the HeartMates that they had sex right then and there, HeartBonded then and there. She didn’t want that happening to her—to them. Was it wrong to be thinking of mostly herself, even now? She didn’t know. Didn’t know too much. She’d have to come to understand him and herself and this relationship better before she moved forward with her heart instead of listening to her head. “I’m not sure I would care to receive such a gift,” she said.
Twenty-three
“No.” Just one word, but stilted. He obviously didn’t want to talk about the HeartGift. He dropped her hand. Despair curled in her, she’d insulted and offended him. She still didn’t want to be less than obscure, so she met his eyes, and slowly, carefully, bit by tiny bit, she opened the bond between them to the widest. He would feel, then, that she didn’t mean any offense.
She met his eyes.
He was frowning, then staring, and he angled his head as if listening.
Then he touched her again, easily, as if he had the right—as if she’d granted him the right simply by opening the bond. His forefinger traced between her eyes. “You have a line, here. Don’t be so concerned.” He smiled and it seemed as if she’d never seen such a smile from him before. A special smile for her? Her alone? Her chest tightened and the backs of her eyes stung at the very thought that she’d receive a smile shaped for her alone.
His lips turned down. “And that’s worse.” He shook his head. “I can feel your worry.” His hand went to her chin now, made sure her gaze matched with his. “I don’t think there’s anything we can say or do that would be wrong between us.”
She stared at him. She hadn’t heard anything so stupid in her life. Of course he could hurt her more than anyone. But she said nothing, just wrenched her gaze away from the depths of his eyes and scrambled for more indirect words. “My—our—my circumstances . . . that is, when I had my Second and Third Passages, I didn’t feel, I mean I didn’t act on the urge to, um, work with my creative Flair.”
Again his face went immobile, but she felt the spurt of disappointment from him. He’d understood that she’d made no HeartGift to give to him, would never be claiming him by giving him a HeartGift.
He leaned away. “What is your creative Flair?”
“Flair manifests the gifts of a person, the personality, the interests,” she babbled, covering renewed disappointment.
Waving that away, he said, “I know.”
She shrugged. “I don’t have a separate creative Flair. I mix teas, blend different herbs and spices and tea and caff or whatever—” Her gesture wasn’t nearly as graceful as his had been, nor did she think her smile was as pleasing. “I’m also good with cooking recipes.”
“Mmmm. One of my favorite pleasures.”
He stood and drew her to him, into his space, close enough that his chest was just brushing her breasts, and the slight pressure had her sex clenching. He knew her reaction to him because his eyelashes lowered and his smile turned dangerous. Spiraling sparks of desire came from him to her through their bond.
He bent his head and their breaths mingled and his lips glided against hers, once, twice, teasing her before his mouth settled on hers and his tongue probed.
She let him in, more, she closed her eyes and savored his mouth, his taste, and leaned against him.
Why hadn’t she done this before? The feel of his body against hers was superb. Taller than she, broader, stronger. His muscles long and lean, virile, male. Then one of his arms was behind her back, arching her toward him and she strained to match her body with his. He was hard and desire bloomed and she was needy.
The fingers of his other hand slid along the back of her neck and more nerves blossomed with desire. She whimpered and rubbed against him, glorying in the rising passion. Knowing he could fulfill her.
And it wouldn’t be only in dreams.
The notion was so delicious that she let all thought fall away. Her hands went to the tabs of his shirt at the shoulders and she peeled it down, letting her fingers roam on his back, enjoying the flex of muscle under skin.
Then air came between them and his lips were ruddy and he was panting, as she was. He lifted his hands and snapped a Word of command and they were nude.
He was the most beautiful man she�
��d ever seen. Nothing mattered but staring at him, at the lines of his shoulders, his waist, his thighs, at his need for her. Her knees went weak, wobbled.
With that devilish smile, he swung her into his arms. “Wha—” she managed, too many things making her dizzy, but mostly sheer, winding passion. Skin against skin was almost more than she could bear. Mind sex with him had been fabulous, but she hadn’t known what she was missing. Small details like the rub of his chest hair against her, his soft breath on her cheek. Details that she might have imagined, but were true physical sensation now.
She was awash in pleasure. Every whisk of his fingertips was delight.
One fluid turn and she was lowered to the window seat, felt the sun-warmed cushions against her back. She grabbed the edge for balance and found that both seat and cushion had extended.
Plenty of room for sex now.
Her mind spun and her head was weak and the spring light coming through the wide and fancy windows dazzled. She shut her eyes, but then she couldn’t see him and she needed to see him, the colors of him.
The ruddy sexual flush on lips and cheeks, the rise and fall of his chest with the swirl of black hair, the controlled wildness in his eyes darkened to purple. Yes, she needed to see all that, to feel this joining was right in her entire being.
She lifted her arms and he smiled and she saw white teeth and yearned to feel them on her, shocking her.
He stood over her, then sat next to her, both of his hands reaching for her chest, then his hands were on her breasts, her nipples caught between his fingers as he shaped her, and the slight sensations combined into an increasing coil of desire, winding her tight. He bent down and once again she arched, aching for his mouth on her.
And again he surprised her, kissing her lips, opening her mouth with his as his fingers stroked and rubbed and she went hot and wet with passion and yearning.
He moved, angled his body, and thrust into her, and she cried out, her arms clamping around his back. So good!
Together. They were truly together and the slide of him, inside and out, was so much more intense in reality. Their hearts pounded, but began to beat in the same rhythm. Her moans matched his groans. And the scent of him and the sound of him and the taste of him . . . Laev filled her world until they exploded with ecstasy.
Slowly her wits coalesced, as if they’d been spread through the atmosphere and sank back into a ball in her head.
He was heavy on her, and she didn’t mind that, much, but though the benches beneath the windows of the pavilion were wide, they weren’t at all like a bed. Odd that in their shared fantasies they’d always made love—had sex—on a bed.
“Ummm,” she murmured, words still locked in her brain and not falling to her lips.
He pushed her hair back, smiled with a tenderness that made her uncomfortable, then held her tight. Seconds later she was being teleported and found herself on a soft blanket on the beach.
Gasping, she thumped him on the back and he rolled off her, laughing. Before she could catch her breath, he picked her up again, then ran across the sand to the ocean. She screamed as the cold water hit her, fought to escape his hold, and swallowed salt water as she slipped from his grip.
“You. Are. Crazy!” she panted, bare feet striving for purchase.
“Just getting us clean.” He held her tightly enough that she knew he’d keep her safe, but let her find her feet. He seemed at ease in the water. With a quick spell couplet, he’d created a bubble of warm air around them and they walked out, his arm around her waist.
As soon as they reached the beach, he translocated not only their clothes but some huge, thick towels. She’d been planning to do an air-dry spell, but liked it when he picked up the soft cloth and wrapped it around her, pulling her to him and nibbling her lips with little kisses.
“I hadn’t planned on our discussion reaching this conclusion, so soon,” he murmured. “I’m hungry again.” His smile flashed. “For food.”
Once again he gestured, muttered a phrase or two, and the basket appeared on the equally large blanket. He began patting her dry with the towel, but now she was a little shy and took the task over. “You need to dry yourself before you take a chill.”
He laughed. “FatherSire and Father and I did sea plunges weekly from the beginning of spring to midautumn.”
“Tough men, the Hawthorns.” She took advantage of him briskly drying his head and hair to slip into her clothes. After that, she felt more at ease with him. She wouldn’t pretend that sex between them hadn’t happened, exactly, but was content to keep the mood light, as if this were a passing affair.
He’d wanted to treat it as a passing affair, hadn’t he?
She was fine with that.
“No food that I don’t like,” Laev said. He’d dressed, too, and was spreading wonderful-looking stuff out on the blanket, all with a small spell to keep dirt and bugs out. Such Flair, and used so casually. She wasn’t used to it.
“One thing we didn’t discuss.” Laev sat beside her, picked up a piece of cheese on a cracker, and offered it to her. The touch of his fingers against hers felt sweet.
“A lot of things we haven’t discussed,” Camellia said, then popped the food into her mouth. She recognized the nutty-tasting cheese, wonderful and too expensive for her personal budget.
“How serious do you want this affair to be?”
Camellia choked, forced the now tasteless cheese down her throat.
Laev thumped her back until she was breathing easily. Then he put his hand on her chin and turned her head to meet his amused gaze. “Yes, me, too. Not serious.”
Breath whooshed from her. “No, not serious.”
“But if we’re seen a lot together, particularly by people who know our circumstances . . .”
“From the way I was treated at tea, I think some of your Family and Residence might have guessed,” she said.
“There will be considerable pressure for us to formalize our connection.”
The very thought of watching eyes, gossip, rumors, made her want to leap to her feet and run. Since the link between them was wide open and the flow of emotion back and forth told her that he was in agreement with her, she stayed where she was. “No,” she said. “We’ve . . . just met. I’m not ready for more.”
“No,” he agreed. “I want to be private with you. Not ready for more.” He kissed her temple. “My Family and Residence would have huge expectations, what of your friends?”
“They might tease. Tiana—the priestess—might push a little. Glyssa—the librarian—will be curious, but on the whole they would leave us to be ourselves.”
“Nice.”
“They are. Very.” She thought of something else, smiled wryly. “I’ll be changing my sparring schedule with Lemongrass back to what it was.”
“He’s an amiable man,” Laev said.
“Yes.”
There were yowls, then two cats were there, nosing around their plates and the basket. Mica hopped onto Camellia’s lap. When do We move into Brazos’s Residence? demanded Mica.
When will the architect come to remodel Our rooms? I want a bigger room! stated Brazos.
I want a room bigger than Brazos’s.
You can’t have that. MY FamMan is GREATLORD! Brazos said.
I can! Mica insisted.
“However,” Camellia said drily, “our Fams may be a problem.”
“Quiet!” Laev commanded.
The cats sat and stared at him. He’d taken on the manner of the highest Nobleman. A tingle of wariness slid over Camellia’s skin. Definitely not ready to give up her independence. Only ready to explore sex with Laev, and some time out of bed with him.
Laev continued, “Camellia and Mica will be staying in her house. Brazos and I will be at T’Hawthorn Residence. We will take this association very slowly.”
But you are HeartMates! Mica complained.
Laev’s jaw went hard. “We will not be using that word.” With a gesture, Mica vanished with a screech.
Brazos growled, then he, too, vanished.
“Sent them outside the estate pigsty,” Laev said, then, “I apologize. I should not have teleported your Fam away.”
“Apology accepted,” Camellia said. “It’s a lot quieter without them.” She added thoughtfully, “And I think only a demonstration would have shut them up.”
“And keep them in line,” Laev said.
“I suppose so.”
He rolled until they were face-to-face. “This is new to me.”
“Me, too.”
Inclining his head, he smiled, then said, “Slow.”
“Slow,” she agreed.
“Private.”
“Private,” she repeated. Again with the terms, but since they were in accord, she didn’t mind.
“Which means discreet.” He pushed hair away from her face. “And that means a little planning if we want to be together but keep gossip and expectations at a minimum. Open your mouth.” Again he held cheese on a tiny cracker. This time the wafer had poppy seeds and the cheese had streaks of wine.
She ate the bite and chewed slowly, humming with pleasure. He offered her more wine and the clash and complementary tastes made her close her eyes to savor. She sighed at the pleasure of the moment.
When she lifted her lashes, she saw his intent gaze focused on her. And a blush heated her cheeks as she noticed a flush of desire along his cheekbones.
He leaned toward her and kissed her, and they were falling over on the blanket and the scent of herbs from the soft cloth and the ocean and the summer flowers made her dizzy.
Or maybe it was just Laev.
He rolled back and took her with him, and she could feel that his body wasn’t exactly in “planning an affair” mode. More like acting.
“Plenty of time and ways to figure out being discreet,” she murmured, kissing him on the mouth, sliding along him so their sexes met.
He groaned. “Plenty of times and ways to have sex.”
And that was the last time they spoke.
Later, they sat and fed each other and it was easy and so lovely her heart hurt. A good beginning to an affair.
Heart Search Page 24
