Heart Dance (6 page)

“It’s a pleasure to see your enthusiasm.”

For the first time this morning she thought she’d be able to be a good companion to Passiflora. In truth, D’Holly seemed easy to be around; Dufleur thought she herself would be the difficult one in this pairing.

As she would be in any pairing. She took after her father, obsessedmore with her time experiments than interested in any other aspect of her life—even a spouse. Just like her father had been, more interested in his work than his wife and child—until that child showed a Flair and curiosity for experiments in time.

After another long look at the wondrous work in progress, Dufleur trailed after Passiflora and into the cold, gray day. When they were in the toasty glider, the GreatLady leaned forwardand tapped an icon of a clef on the burled wood panel beforethem. A quiet, sweet melody filled the interior of the vehicle.

“Thank you, my Lady,” said the driver.

D’Holly’s lips trembled, and her hand fell to her lap. She leaned back against the richly cushioned seat. She sniffed. “My first composition in two years.”

“It’s wonderful,” Dufleur said. She didn’t pay much attentionto music, but a notion tickled her brain that a tune like this might stimulate her Flair. She tilted her head. “I know this music.D’Dandelion bought the flexistrip for the shop.”

Now D’Holly’s eyes gleamed. “It’s selling very well.”

A realization dazed Dufleur. She wouldn’t be working at Dandelion Silk. Her days would be free. Even if she whiled her nights and early morning septhours away following her mother’s and D’Holly’s plans, she could work on her experimentsduring the day. She never needed more than five septhours of sleep.

Still disbelieving of her luck, Dufleur asked, “You really think your brother would hang a robe in his gallery? Who would buy something embroidered with Willow symbols?”

“Quert often displays textile art. Again, a contrast to my father’s painting and my niece’s sculpture.” Passiflora smoothed the “fur” of her heavy cloak of the highest quality of mock-fox. Fox-everything had become the rage of the new year. “The looserobe will showcase your talent, not necessarily be for sale.” She frowned. “I have heard that the late D’Willow did not treat her Heir as she should have done. Banishing him to the countryside his whole life—” She stopped abruptly, eyes filling with tears, flushing, and turned her gaze to the window. No doubt recalling how her own firstborn son had been disinherited and essentially banished.

Dufleur touched Passiflora’s shoulder. “That’s all in the past.”

Clearing her throat, Passiflora said, “Yes it is. I hear T’Willowis a fine GreatLord and an exceptional matchmaker.” Though her tears had been fought back—or vanquished by a silent spell—Passiflora’s smile trembled on her lips. “It’s odd to think of a male matchmaker after so many generations of females.”

Dufleur didn’t want to think about Saille T’Willow. There was something about the GreatLord that sent tingles of alarmed awareness through her when she saw him. In the last two months he’d purchased many gifts for his Family members from Dandelion Silk. More than once Dufleur had been called from the back of the shop where she embroidered to consult with them. His bright blue-eyed gaze had fixed on her, watching her the entire time.

And, of course, since she’d determined not to think of him, he was in the shop when she and Passiflora walked in.

His HeartMate, Dufleur Thyme, was beautiful. Oh, per
hapsnot in others’ eyes, but to him. Tall, carrying her body slightly awkwardly as if she wasn’t comfortable in it—and that roused his interest with fantasies of
teaching
her how to move—under him, with him in bed. Yes.

“
Yessss
,” hissed Fairyfoot as she jumped down from a chair in the corner where she’d awaited Dufleur. He and the small cat had arrived separately so they wouldn’t warn Dufleur that they’d become allies. The secrecy had been to no avail, since she hadn’t been at the shop. GrandLady Dandelion kept the cat within her view at all times—he’d watched their interaction from outside the large window until the store opened.

When it had, Saille had immediately asked for a pouch embroideredby Dufleur and was examining six, trying to decide on the one
she
might favor the most, when GreatLady Passiflora D’Holly and Dufleur swept into the shop.

He straightened and made his courtliest bow to the GreatLady,sorting and discarding ideas as to why Dufleur was in the Noblewoman’s company. He came to no conclusion. With his hesitation, he’d missed the first exchanges between the women.

“—Dufleur will be attending the social season with me,” D’Holly said.

The social season! He stared at Dufleur. Why? He was certainit wasn’t Dufleur’s choice.

Dufleur didn’t seem to notice him, seemed turned inward to her own thoughts.

Fairyfoot had been vocal about Dufleur’s
mean
mother. Something D’Thyme and D’Holly wished, then?

Damn. He wanted no other to polish her, would go mad if any other man won her. That couldn’t be allowed.

GrandLady D’Dandelion made a distressed noise and flutteredher hands.

Passiflora’s glance was full of sympathy. “I know you will be sorry to lose her, but I promise I will make it up to you. Surely you didn’t expect someone with Dufleur’s artistry to work for you for long?” Tilting her head Passiflora appeared genuinely baffled. “My brother will be showing her art in Enlli Gallery.” Her gaze went to the pouches spread out on the glass counter.

Saille moved quicker. He scooped them all up and sent GrandLady D’Dandelion a brilliant smile, reminding her that he’d been an excellent customer. “I’ll take them all.”

Eyes narrowing, Passiflora said, “I’d like to see anything you have of Dufleur’s.”

Dufleur sank into the chair corner, eyes wide with shock, not paying attention. Saille got the idea that she’d had several major shocks this morning. He wanted to take her away. Wanted to pull her into his arms so she could rest against him. Instead, he put the pouches near the sale processor along with twice the amount of gilt, then went over to her and bowed as deeply as he had to D’Holly.

Dufleur blinked then straightened against the chair, lifted her chin. “T’Willow.” Her voice was husky. With tears? He tensed, narrowed his eyes, stepped closer until he could bend and whisperin her ear, and forgot what he was going to say.

The scent of her distracted him, a cool fragrance that made him think of pristine snow on a mountaintop, but there was a slight difference in her natural scent than usual, an added note of brief mountain wildflowers.

“Yes?” she whispered.

Fairyfoot came over and swatted his calf, jarring memory back into his head. Locking gazes with Dufleur, he murmured, “Do not let anyone bully you into doing what you do not wish to do. I hope you know that you have a friend in me.”

She cast him a wary look. “I have not found the Willows helpful to my Family in the past.” Her mouth set, and anger flashed in her eyes. “Your MotherDam ruined my father, our entireHouse.”

Shock snapped him upright. What was she talking about? “I didn’t know,” he said.

Her nostrils pinched. “How could you not know?”

“I’ve been in Druida less than three months.” He could well believe that his MotherDam had arranged matters so that his HeartMate would hate him. Another unpleasant surprise. Anotheremotional ambush.

He took her hand and kissed her chilly fingers, looked steadily into her eyes, which had darkened to deep sapphire. “I don’t know what my MotherDam did to your Family, but I am not she. I promise you, I’ll remedy the situation.”

“You can’t,” she said flatly. “You won’t.” She jerked her hand from his. “No one believes in my father’s intelligence and honor except me.”

Saille slanted her a look. That was an odd combination, intelligenceand honor.

A little hiss issued from Fairyfoot. Saille didn’t know to whom it was directed.

Dufleur looked down her nose at her Fam. “You’re a traitor. I’m not speaking to you until you apologize for your behavior.”

Saille didn’t know much about cats, but he figured they apologizedabout as often as a star went nova. Both woman and cat emanated anger. So he tried to lighten the moment. “A traitorousFamCat. I’ve never heard of such. Interesting.”

Fairyfoot arched her back, hissed again, and stalked off to jump onto the counter.

“No you don’t!” D’Dandelion swept the bag containing Saille’s purchases close with one protective arm, swiped at Fairyfoot with the other. The cat was forced to jump onto the floor. Now she growled and stalked to sit and turn her back to the shop and look out the glass of the door, lashing her tail.

Dufleur sighed, and the sound made Saille’s heart twinge. He could see her morning had been stressful. “Whatever you thought of my MotherDam, I am not she. I will always stand your friend.”

She sniffed, sounding like her cat. Her mouth twisted in disbelief.

The more he looked at her, the more he wanted her, wanted her to like him, believe him,
want him.
He’d been told by a lady or two that he had a good smile. He used it now, slow and easy, and appreciative.

Anger faded from her expression, she shifted in her seat, her head tilted slightly, and she gave him a sidelong glance.

He made her nervous, which meant she was aware of him as a man, and he liked that.

A moment spun between them, their gazes locked, hers searching, evaluating. His determined, unflinching.

Five

We’d also like to see the flat hat and the looserobe you made for D’Willow,” Passiflora D’Holly said loudly to D’Dandelion.

That snapped Saille from his reverie. “D’Willow? Anything that you made for D’Willow I will purchase.”

D’Dandelion looked dazed. “I’d forgotten the looserobe.”

“Why haven’t I seen it before?” Saille said.

“I’d forgotten it!” D’Dandelion drew a softleaf from her tunicpocket and dabbed at her face. Her gaze flickered across them all, then she bustled into the back room.

D’Holly turned to him with a steely smile. “I can’t see you in a looserobe made for your MotherDam, T’Willow.”

Again he made a half-bow, polite but implacable. “No more than I can see you in such a garment, GreatLady.” He always enjoyed looking at Dufleur’s pieces, one more would be a pleasure.“So why do you wish this?”

The noblewoman graced him with a smile as charming and polite—and with as much underlying wariness—as his bow had had. She said, “For the Enlli Gallery. I’m sure the looserobe will be an excellent showpiece of dear Dufleur’s talent. Can you tell me that anyone in your household would love it and wear it?”

She was right there. He couldn’t imagine any of the Willow women wanting the thing, no matter how beautifully embroidered.

“Better that it be seen by many instead of only a few,” Passiflora pressed.

“My MotherDam would hate that,” he murmured without thinking.

D’Dandelion thumped the box on the counter. She was smiling.So was Dufleur. Even Passiflora’s lips curved. Obviously none of the women cared about his not-quite-late MotherDam’s feelings. She’d cheated D’Dandelion, ruined Dufleur’s father— how? He’d have to find out as soon as possible—and Saille sensed D’Holly had a personal animosity, too.

Attending the functions of the social season—and he had to do that if Dufleur was—would probably be very revealing as to nobles his MotherDam had alienated or allied with. He had a feeling that the people she’d considered acceptable wouldn’t be those he’d want at his back in any FirstFamilies noble maneuvers.

Dufleur cleared her throat, glanced at him with a faint flush in her cheeks. She gestured to the box that D’Dandelion was opening, pulling back layers of softleaves that protected the looserobe. “Some of that embroidery is my best work.” Her lips thinned. He wondered if she’d done the robe before or after his MotherDam had ruined her father.

Lifting her stare from the panel D’Dandelion was unwrapping,Dufleur said, “I’d like it to hang in the Enlli Gallery.”

“You had but to ask,” he said, then he glanced at the looserobe and caught his breath. It was magnificent—a shimmering pale green silkeen the color of new Willow leaves, with varyingshades of darker green embroidery. The scene of a weepingwillow shading a deep green rushing river seemed three-dimensional.

“Quite, quite fabulous,” Passiflora said. “The robe certainly belongs in Enlli.”

“Of course,” Saille said, staring at the exquisite stitches that must have taken septhours and Flair to be so striking. Septhours and Flair of Dufleur’s talented hands. What other precise talents had Dufleur’s hands mastered? Desire shivered through him. He cleared his throat, met D’Dandelion’s eyes. “Send T’Willow GreatHouse another bill for the looserobe. It will be paid before WorkEnd Bell.”

D’Dandelion smiled. “A pleasure conducting business with
you, T’Willow
.”

A calendar sphere popped into existence, flashing red. “T’Willow, your first appointment of the day is in ten minutes.”

Dufleur saw T’Willow’s hand, stretched out to touch her embroideryon the robe his MotherDam had rejected, fall. He frowned at the calendar sphere, bowed to Passiflora, then to D’Dandelion. To Dufleur’s surprise, he took one of her hands and pressed a kiss on the back. “Later,” he said.

She nodded.

He scooped up his bag and nudged Fairyfoot away from the door before opening it and striding with masculine grace into the cold, gray day. Her hand tingled, but she didn’t want to considerthe attraction she had to the nobleman. So she turned her thoughts to the afterimage of the calendar sphere that floated before her eyes.

It was another small object a long-ago Thyme had invented. Perhaps, perhaps, if she could invent something small and very useful, she could persuade the FirstFamilies to lift their ban on time experimentation. She’d have to cudgel her brain.

Passiflora scooped up the box holding the rewrapped looserobeand indicated the counter where much of Dufleur’s work lay.