Heart Choice (14 page)

“It isn't going to be as easy to win as you think, Straif. Get your testimonials in order, your documents showing that you didn't totally neglect your duties.” T'Holly glanced at Mitchella. “Restore the Residence as quickly as possible.” He stood and stared down at Straif, expression stern. “I sought you out because I wanted to tell you of this in person. But I also wanted to warn you, the T'Blackthorn Family funds on deposit with T'Reed will be frozen tomorrow until the title of T'Blackthorn is awarded again to you—or to the new claimant.”

Blood drained from his head, leaving him clammy with cold sweat. He'd been without gilt before, usually in the wilds of Celta where it didn't matter. But he'd always known that he only needed the nearest bank or NobleHouse to replenish his gilt. No more. What would he do?

Drina mewed. Mitchella's warm fingers draped over his closed fist. “I'm a middle-class woman. I can make the Residence a showplace on a small budget.” Since his vision had narrowed, he turned his whole head to see her. Her smile curved in appreciation of a challenge. A kernel of relief budded. She could do it.

“You came last summer at my request to aid me in my feud with T'Hawthorn and stayed at T'Holly Residence, but I paid you no gilt,” T'Holly said to Straif.

Anger spiked. “As if I would take gilt for supporting my Family.”

One side of T'Holly's mouth quirked. “You are blood of my sister. Your FatherSire, father, and you are all formally allied with my Family. You also came when we needed you to track your cuzes who had disappeared. You took no payment for that, either.”

“I don't want payment for that.” Straif recalled the accounts he'd studied in the afternoon. “I've done many explorations for the Councils, sent reports, charts, and maps to the Councils for their use. I've earned my annual noblegilt.” His glance fell on his hands, scarred in his travels. He told the truth. But any gilt he'd accumulated sat in the same account as the T'Blackthorn fortune. “I'll contact T'Reed tonight and separate my personal funds from my Family's.”

Mitchella's and Drina's resolve infused him, but his own feelings were far beyond that. This was war. “I think I should move up the GreatRitual to rehabilitate the Residence from the full twinmoons to the new twinmoons.” He shot Mitchella a glance. “That's only three days away. I can take care of the Grove of the Dark Goddess and clean out the fountain, but can you help with—say the west terrace for refreshments?”

An instant of panic lit her eyes, then she blinked. “Yes.”

Smiling at T'Holly, Straif said, “Please bring as many of T'Holly Household as you wish to the GreatRitual, next new twinmoons.” Mitchella's fingers twitched, but the more he thought about it, the more he believed it to be good strategy. He could remind everyone of his great Flair, Flair enough to rebuild a home, to direct a GreatRitual.

T'Holly inclined his head, one Noble lord to another. “I have no doubt that you will remain T'Blackthorn. The Noble Council is investigating the claim of the other, the qualifications, the character.” T'Holly hesitated, then spoke lowly. “You should know, the other is not only a Noble, but one who takes Noble duties quite seriously, a respected member of the Noble Council.”

Straif grunted. He'd already accepted that he'd made a bad mistake in leaving Druida so long to search for something that would make his Family safe again. Now he knew that mistake might very well cost him more than he could afford.

 
 
Mitchella steadied her breathing. The evening had been
one surprise after another. The most astonishing of all was how emotionally involved she was already with Straif Blackthorn. As she watched him absorb blow after blow, she reacted herself, with tenderness, determination, ready to fight his battles with him. She'd never in her life thought of fighting anyone's battles but Antenn's and her own. Perhaps it was living with Antenn that made her more vulnerable to Straif. Just as with Antenn, there was something a little lost under outward toughness.

She shouldn't take on his fights. She was a Commoner, with average Flair. In every way, he'd outclass her, win any contest. Still, the image of him wielding a broom at a huge cobweb or two that she'd spotted in T'Blackthorn Residence was apt, and if the battlefield was renovating T'Blackthorn Residence, she was the expert and he the novice. She didn't know how much gilt he might have personally, probably what she considered a fortune. With that she could certainly rehabilitate the house. Even with a tiny budget, she could convince suppliers to donate furniture, especially the Clovers. She could wheedle loans, call in favors. But the man belonged to the highest circles of Celtan society, so he'd have powerful alliances of his own. She was sure that there were vast storerooms of out-of-fashion furnishings in T'Blackthorn Residence. She'd bet her salary that most of what she needed to make the Residence a showplace was available there.

While she mulled over the new circumstances, T'Holly rose and bowed to T'Ash and Straif, kissed Danith's fingers and crossed to Mitchella. He studied Straif's grip on her hand with a slight smile, then bowed deeply, as if she was a Noble Lady. He waved a hand at the chamber. “You have shown excellent style and understanding of your clients, here. I am sure you will be equally successful in redesigning T'Blackthorn Residence. With your help, Straif will keep his title, estate, and fortune.”

Mitchella's stomach plummeted as she realized that the outcome of this high-stakes maneuvering could very well rest on her shoulders—or depend on her taste.

Straif kept hold of her fingers and cradled them in both of his hands. “I have no doubt that between the two of us—”

Drina yowled. He glanced at the small cat on his lap.

“—between the
three
of us, T'Blackthorn Residence will amaze the Councils with its beauty.”

“Of course,” Danith said.

Before Mitchella could find words to answer all these expectations, T'Holly had left, escorted by T'Ash. She consulted an antique timer on the wall and smiled brightly. “I must go.” It was earlier than she usually left, but she began to feel trapped in a net of Noble schemes. If so much depended upon her, she wanted to return to work immediately.

She jerked her hand from Straif's and stood. Drina increased the level of her purr, and Mitchella understood the FamCat preferred Straif's attention focused on her. Once again she hoped that their tastes would not clash. She glanced at Straif and found him watching her. They, and the Residence, must learn to work together, though she was sure each of them was used to working alone. Each of them had definite ideas. Wonderful. This project was becoming more difficult by the moment.

“I must go. There's much to do, and I have a feeling that we have little time.” She glanced at Danith. “Do you have any idea how long AllClass Council will give us to repair the property?”

Danith shook her head.

Hands on hips, Mitchella stared at Straif. “Do you?”

“No,” he said. “I don't. Perhaps a season, probably not longer. Since spring equinox is upcoming, I'd say we should plan on a large open-house or party on summer solstice.”

A wave of horror washed over her. “So soon?”

He raised his brows. “Plenty of time.”

That's what he thought. She turned on her heel and marched to the door, but he was there ahead of her, holding it open for her and Danith, who had followed.

Danith glanced from Straif to Mitchella, looking anxious.

Mitchella sailed through the door and down the corridor to the great hall and front door, aware of Danith and Straif following. The butler and T'Ash were in the entryway. When the butler saw her, he opened a concealed closet door and withdrew her wrap.

T'Ash took her cloak and dismissed the butler. Thrusting her cape at her, T'Ash scowled at Straif. “You're sure about this GreatRitual on new twinmoons? It's in three days.”

“We can do it,” Straif said. Mitchella nearly snatched her wrap from T'Ash's grip. The sooner she was out of Noble Country, the better. She'd have time to consider the new circumstances regarding the project, and plan.

But Straif took the cloak from her and settled it around her, resting his hands on her shoulders. They were warm and strong and strangely comforting.
He
should be the nervous one, but apparently he'd already accepted the startling situation.

Straif narrowed his eyes. “I must choose who I invite carefully.” He bowed to T'Ash. “Thank you for saying we are allied.”

T'Ash stuck out his hand. Straif stepped from behind Mitchella to grasp arms with T'Ash. “I affirm a formal alliance with T'Ash,” Straif said.

“I affirm a formal alliance with T'Blackthorn,” T'Ash said, squeezed Straif's arm, then dropped it.

“Good,” said Danith. “A person can never have too many friends. We'll be at your Ritual. We'll bring some Fams, too, those whom I'm training and have good Flair.”

Drina sniffed, making it echo throughout the great hall.

Straif's lips twitched. “A good idea, D'Ash.” A considering look came to his eyes. “I trust the Ashes, and any Fams. But as for human participants in the Ritual—”

“Invite Holm and Lark,” T'Ash said.

Straif's startled look matched her own spurt of surprise.

“Do you think that's wise?” he asked.

T'Ash said, “It's been eight months since T'Holly and D'Holly have seen their son. Their broken vows of honor wear on them. Time to start the resolution of this whole mess. No better place than the neutral ground of T'Blackthorn estate. No better occasion than a GreatRitual where natural bonds can mend. All the other Hollys will welcome Holm and Lark, will make it easier on everyone.”

Mitchella stared at T'Ash. She hadn't thought the man had such sensitivity. Danith went to her husband, stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips. “A very good idea, HeartMate.”

T'Ash flushed. Danith slipped an arm around his waist, tilted her head at Straif, then a distant, inward look came to her eyes. “Ask Captain'sLady Ailim SilverFir Elder, too. She's heavy with child, due to birth soon, and such energy will help your Ritual. You can ask her to officiate as the Lady to your Lord.”

Straif caught Mitchella's hand and lifted it to his lips. “Mitchella will be the Lady of that Ritual.”

Again Mitchella jerked her hand free. “Absolutely not. I will
never
act as Lady in a GreatRitual. I have not the Flair.”

Scowling, Straif said, “You're the woman who is and will be responsible for restoring the Residence, thus you are integral to the Ritual.”

Mitchella took two strides away from him, toward the door, hugging her cloak close. “No. I
will not.
You have a HeartMate, I won't
ever
act as your Lady in a capacity that should belong to her.”

“Ask Ailim Elder,” T'Ash said. “Since her husband nullifies Flair and can't participate, she will be a single woman in the Ritual. Best to invite pairs, or ensure there is an equal balance of male and female.”

“I agree that I should take part in the Ritual,” Mitchella said coolly, “but I can pair with G'Uncle Tab Holly. He's the only Holly I know well.” She smiled as she thought of the old man, owner of a fencing salon.

“How do you know him?” demanded Straif.

“He has many treasures from his seafaring days and wanted advice on what to display and still keep his rooms comfortable,” Mitchella said. “I've worked with him. He's charming.”

“I'll consider it,” Straif snapped. “Yes, I'll have to think on who to invite.” His smile was grim. “I might offer alliances.” His expression sharpened.

Mitchella took three more steps toward the door. His Flair throbbed from him, nearly visible. She was seeing a powerful GrandLord calculate strategy.

“Right,” he continued, more to himself than to her. “If I'm in the debt of several, they might be more inclined to keep me as GrandLord instead of the new claimant. More advantage to them.”

The thought of being in debt to the most powerful cadre on Celta made Mitchella's stomach twist. She laid her hand on the door latch. The evening had been exhausting. She remembered Straif's words when they first met and shook her head at the irony. Restoring a GreatHouse, making it a showplace, with gilt no object. She always knew such a job was too good to be true.

“Merry meet,” she began her good-byes.

“And merry part,” Danith and T'Ash replied in unison. Straif's brows lowered. Drina made a happy sound.

“And merry meet again,” Mitchella said.

“I'll escort you home,” Straif said.

“No. It's after working hours, GrandLord. Please allow me the choice of my own company.” She smiled not too sweetly.

Danith frowned and T'Ash growled, “T'Blackthorn.” There was no future for a FirstFamily GrandLord who needed to reestablish his Family bloodline and a sterile woman. Mitchella was surprised T'Ash was concerned for her, but he'd do anything to spare Danith worry, especially now she was pregnant, including protecting her friend. Mitchella dipped her head in thanks, and his gaze softened. Perhaps they'd come to a common understanding after all. They both loved Danith.

“I'll see you tomorrow morning, then, at Work bell,” Straif said, looking thwarted.

“Yes,” Mitchella said. She'd just opened the door when a mental shriek and stabbing pain flung her against the wall.

Ten