Heart Dance (24 page)

“And the help of my MotherDam,” he said quietly.

“Yes.” Her lip curled. “She was a moving force in the vilificationof the Thyme name.”

“But you must admit that Druida is more populated than ever before. An explosion . . .”

She looked aside, at the windows where the light of the twinmoons was being swallowed up by the rising sun. “The Thyme estate is on the edges of Noble Country, but we have a good-sized land parcel. No one was harmed except the . . . the Residence itself. I had a good home.”

He shifted and put an arm around her. “And that’s an additionalgrief. It’s odd how a person can become attached to a house entity. I am already to the Willow Residence.”

“Willow Residence is not my home.”

“It could be. And your mother’s.”

He didn’t say that it appeared her mother would soon need another home.

“My mother can be a difficult woman. In that list of yours, status would be her first priority.”

“Living here, she could move in the highest of social circles.” His tone was neutral.

“As the mother of a GreatLady. I can’t think of that.” She rubbed her face again. “She would be wild for me to marry you.”

“Additional pressure on you.”

“Yes.”

“I like Winterberry Residence.” She reverted to the previous topic.

“It obviously likes you.” Again the dry note in his voice.

“Because it kept my secrets.”

“Plural? Is there more that you aren’t telling me?”

She stared at him. “No. But you have secrets, too.”

He hesitated.

“I don’t need to know them.”

Rubbing a hand over his heart, he said, “That hurts.”

“I’m sorry. Back to your list of wonders. Having gilt is good. I’ve been poor, but now I’m—we’re—doing better. And it’s good to know that my embroidery will sell well.”

“Your embroidery is art. I’ve always thought so.”

She closed her eyes. The man was too good to be true. There must be something wrong with him. He didn’t like her working with time, practicing her primary, Familial Flair. His words and the feeling behind them were too cautious.

“As for a loving Family . . . I have Ilex and Trif Winterberry. My mother loves me in her way. I know you believe your Familywould accept me . . .”

“They’d adore you. So modest and talented and undemanding,and you make me happy.”

Dufleur sniffed, and it was more watery than she cared for. “Nevertheless, they’re strangers. All of them. I’ve had to watch my step with so many strangers lately. And your Family is not goingto be pleased if I smudge your title or status with my actions.”

His grim smile was as good as her own. “We can fight any dishonor together.”

“My father wasn’t dishonorable! He wasn’t mad, or stupid, or a fool like those women said last night.”

“So that’s what you heard.”

“That’s what was said to my face. I’m not used to highborn nobles insulting me at social events—”

“Especially since you didn’t want to attend the social events in the first place.”

Some of her anger drained. “No. But now I’m stuck, and I must admit Passiflora has been wonderful, and I repaid her poorly last night.” Her lips pressed together, then she said, “I’ll do better, but D’Birch and her friend were spreading all the lies and rumors again throughout the room. I didn’t want to face it. You were right, I was cowardly and ran away.”

"HeartMate.” He put his hand on her cheek and stroked it with his thumb, and her blood fired once more, and she nearly despaired. They’d just loved, and he aroused her once more with a small touch.

She was overwhelmingly aware that he was naked, and as her pulse ignited with passion, it cycled to him and returned to her with the taste of his own desire. She couldn’t resist. Morninglight was filtering in the window, another clear, chilling day, she should be home for breakfast.

“Saille,” she breathed out, knowing his name roused him further, but wasn’t the word he wanted to hear. She added more, echoed what he’d said earlier. “Lover.”

And he used that word as a basis . . . his gentle fingers caressedher, his lips pressed against her skin in tender kisses. She strove to keep the mood, to return his gentleness, and allowed herself to slow and explore him, cherished his low moans and quivers.

Once more he tucked her under him and met her eyes. This time his looked blurry with desire. Though he kept the loving slow, it cost him in his ragged breathing. The pleasure inside her slowly spiraled until the ecstasy heightened and she arched to shattering completion and took him with her.

The late dawn of winter brightened the windows before she wriggled from under him.

He groaned again, swept out a hand, and caught her wrist. "HeartMate,” he said.

She grabbed his hand with her free one, slipped from his grasp, kissed his fingers. “Lover.” She hesitated. “I can give you that much. Lover.”

“I have never had such loving,” he mumbled. He opened his eyes, and they were less than sharp. She bent and kissed him on the lips.

“Neither have I.”

“Another temptation for me to give you.”

“I must go.” She grimaced and dressed. “Apologize to Passiflora and my mother. She’ll expect me for breakfast. I can just manage a quick waterfall and change of clothing.”

The FamDoor flapped, and Fairyfoot appeared. She looked at them critically.
You noisy. As noisy as Cats.

Dufleur felt a flush heat her neck. Saille put an arm over his eyes.

“I’m ’porting on three,” said Dufleur.

Fairyfoot leapt, and Dufleur caught her. No extended claws. Good. “One, fabulous Saille. Two, my sweet lover. Three, see you later.” And they were on the teleportation pad of Winterberry entryway.

Dufleur dropped Fairyfoot, who made a startled sound.
Rug. No cold stone floor.

Glancing down as she hurried to the steps to her level, Dufleur saw Fairyfoot was right. An old but beautiful rug—clean as the entryway was clean—now filled most of the chamber. It helped muffle her steps down to her rooms. Good, her mother and D’Winterberry were spending more gilt on the Residence.

A few minutes later, she left Fairyfoot eating furrabeast and walked into the breakfast room.

Her mother was waiting at a small table covered with pristinelinen and studying household documents. Grateful for a littlerespite before a scolding, Dufleur took cheesy eggs and porcine strips from the buffet and ate, refueling herself after the wonderful activities of the morning. She shifted a couple of times in the wooden dining room chair. It had been nearly two years since she’d had sex, and her body twinged.

Several minutes passed as Dufleur ate. She knew her mother was aware of her, and hoping the anticipation would bother Dufleur, but this morning she was hungry enough to only concentrateon the food and not worry about her mother’s mood.

“Dufleur,” her mother finally said in a tone that sent chill slivers of ice down her spine. Definitely a mother tone. A disapprovingmother tone. Nothing to do but keep her back stiff and face expressionless and take whatever berating there would be. No getting out of it. No defense allowed. The action had already been judged a crime and eternal nagging punishment was about to begin.

“Yes, Mother.” She set down her silverware. She wouldn’t be able to eat further. Just looking at her cooling eggs made her queasy.

"GraceLady Caraway scried me this morning.” Dufleur cringed inwardly. That was the name of the woman who’d been Dringal’s false friend. “Already, this early in the morning.” Dringal’s nostrils pinched. “And told me you’d been rude to D’Birch. D’Birch of all people. She’s not a woman you want to rile. And that you revived the old gossip about your father and the Thymes.” Muscles clenched in her jaw.

No use in telling her that Agave had primed the women. Especiallysince Dufleur knew miserably that she’d fueled the fire by leaving.

“I’ll scry Passiflora and apologize,” Dufleur said.

“Of course.” Dringal waved that away. Shook her head. “Why? Why did you have to misbehave at this particular moment? The night before the opening of your show at the Enlli Gallery.”

Dufleur froze. She hadn’t wanted to think about the gallery opening, so she’d forgotten. Lady and Lord, it was tonight!

“Mother, it’s for you, too.”

Dringal went on as if Dufleur hadn’t spoken. “You can deal with the talk on your own tonight. I’m not going.”

“But Mother—”

“Absolutely not. I am not going. I’ve been the object of enough pity and scandal for the rest of my life.”

Now Dufleur knew where she’d gotten the instinct to run and hide. From her mother. How awful. She hoped she didn’t becomemore like the woman.

“You can deal with the gossip and consequences of your actions. I’m sure Passiflora will help.” She sounded as if she didn’t care. Dufleur knew otherwise. Her mother had anticipated playing the artist. Had purchased a new dress. Dufleur would pay for ruining this moment of her mother’s life forever. She should just forget trying to be a good daughter.

“Worse, Dufleur.” Dringal’s voice lowered, and Dufleur wanted to bolt for the door at the ominous sign. “You have been experimenting like your father. With time. Downstairs in that room, in the foundation of the house.” She lifted a hand to stop any protest, but Dufleur was far beyond that. Her mouth was so dry, she thought opening her lips would peel away skin.

“At least your father had the good sense to use one wing of Thyme Residence. It’s all that saved our lives. How dare you put us in danger here, after all D’Winterberry has done for us! After all I have done for us.”

Anger freed her, overcoming good sense, and Dufleur snapped, “There was no chance of any danger to you of the Residence.” But her mother caught the little flash of guilt.

“Dufleur!”

“It was a very minor eruption. Nothing more than one of the pops that occurred in the old lab.”

Her mother paled, and Dufleur realized she’d never understoodwhat went on in the Thyme laboratory.

She hurried on. “Hardly more sound than a noisy teleportation.And I stopped working here immediately so there would be no harm to you or the Residence or D’Winterberry. Now I have an outbuilding on the new estate to work in. With maximumshields.”

After staring at Dufleur for a couple of minutes in silence, Dringal obviously gathered her composure and said bitingly, “I wondered about you taking reparations. I didn’t think you’d have such sense. But now I know you weren’t thinking of me at all, only your work. Again. Still. Just like your father. If you believeI’ll live in that house near the laboratory—maximum shields or not—you are very, very wrong.” Dringal had put down her silverware and pushed her plate away.

Eyes wide—eyes the same shade of smokey blue as Dufleur’s—Dringal said, “Dufleur, I want to see you settled.”

Distracted by a husband and children and Residence and sociallife, Dufleur understood. And her mother was telling the truth. Dringal loved her, in her own way. Dufleur swallowed hard, reckoned her fingers were steady enough to drink her tepid cup of caff.

“I know, Mother.”

“I just want you to have a more satisfying life than my own.”

Dufleur released her breath slowly. That was true, too, but now Dringal would begin a standard recitation of her woes and who was responsible for them. Dufleur’s father used to be at the top of the list, now it was Meyar Winterberry, Ilex Winterberry, then Dufleur. Dufleur was only glad that she hadn’t taken first place. She listened with just enough attention not to be reprimanded.Her input in this portion of the discussion wasn’t necessary.She wondered if Passiflora would have arisen. It was past WorkBell, but still relatively early, especially for those who’d stayed up much of the night.

“I know it’s early yet, but has any young man shown interest?”

Jerking her mind back to the conversation, Dufleur made sure her expression went from attentive to blank.

Dringal tssked. “I thought not. Not even that young man who escorted Passiflora here last night?”

“Saille T’Willow.” She kept her tone offhand, refused to rememberhow she’d lain in his arms a couple of septhours ago.

“Willow,” Dringal said with loathing.

“Yes.”

“That old besom’s Heir.”

Another person who didn’t think of D’Willow as dead.

“Yes.”

Dringal’s fingers clenched and unclenched. Then she narrowedher eyes, glanced at the newssheets. “He seems well regarded.”

“I saw him occasionally in Dandelion Silk, buying gifts for his Family. He is nothing like his MotherDam.”

“Well.” Dringal tapped a forefinger on the newssheet absently.“They were estranged, I heard. And he is of a different generation, probably would not ally with those close to D’Willow.” She studied Dufleur, then her mouth twisted down. “You seem tired. Try and get some sleep today. That might help your looks.” She went back to pondering. “Still, he did escort Passiflora here.” She reached for a biscuit. “He defended you to the examiners last night.”

He’d done so much more in bed, but sex could be easy. Standing steady for her before authorities could be harder. Even if he was one of those authorities himself.

If she were a GreatLady ... Don’t think of that. That way lay temptation, and there were plenty of instances where FirstFamilyLords and Ladies had been chastened lately.

Why, the whole Council who’d condemned Ruis Elder had had to walk in ritual robes barefoot in autumn and kneel to him and publicly ask his forgiveness. All of Celta, including Dufleur, had watched the viz in fascination. Hadn’t old D’Willow had to do that, too?

Oh, she would have hated that. Dufleur smiled.

“Pay attention, Dufleur, you are as irritating as your father.”

Her mother’s sharp tones brought her back.

“Good, now I have your attention, I think the fact that he defendedyou is quite telling,” she said.