Her Reaper's Arms (26 page)

hallway until they came to the anteroom of the High Council, stopping now and again

to point out something he considered might be of interest to her.

“Am I taking too much of your time?” she asked, fearful the Shadowlords would

grow irritated and punish Bevyn for her tardiness in meeting with them.

“Not at all,” Giles assured her. “We want you to feel at ease here.”

He opened the door for her, allowing her to precede him, then took her toward a

long desk at which sat three indescribably beautiful women. “Lady Lea, may I

introduce Argent,” he said, indicating the woman in the middle.

“Hello,” Lea said, feeling very insecure in the presence of three such gorgeous

ladies.

“Welcome to the Citadel, Lady Lea,” Argent said with a lovely smile. She had gray

eyes a shade darker than Lea’s and silver hair that fell in soft waves to her shoulders.

“These are my sisters Corallin.” She indicated the woman on her right who had an

abundance of thick red hair and then the stunning blonde on her left. “And Aureolin.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Lea said.

“The pleasure is ours,” Corallin replied.

“Lords Arawn and Bevyn are in with the Shadowlords at the moment so please

have a seat and make yourself comfortable.” Argent indicated comfortable-looking

128

Her Reaper’s Arms

chairs ranged along one wall. “May we get you anything?” she inquired. “Something

warm to drink to chase away the rain perhaps?”

“No thank you,” Lea replied. “I’m fine.” She glanced around as the man in the

brown uniform ushered Penthe into the anteroom.

“Ah, the Blackwind,” Argent said, and the smile slide from her beautiful face.

Penthe took one look at the women behind the desk and stopped dead in her tracks.

Her eyes widened. “You are of the Multitude!” she said.

Argent lifted her head. “Aye, Amazeen, we are Breitheamhtái for the Daughters.”

Penthe lowered her head. “I am unworthy to stand before you.”

“That you are,” Argent replied in a hard tone. “So sit and be silent. Your presence is

disturbing to us.”

Without another word the Amazeen scurried to a chair and sat down, not even

glancing Lea’s way.

Surprised by Penthe’s behavior, Lea barely acknowledged Giles’ goodbye as he left.

She looked to the trio of women and smiled tentatively at Argent. She was relieved

when the silver-haired woman gave her a bright, friendly grin.

* * * * *

Bevyn stood at attention before the lords of the High Council with the Prime

Reaper—Arawn Gehdrin—at his side. For the last half-hour he had been standing

rigidly as he was chewed out first by Lord Kheelan and then by his immediate boss

Gehdrin. He was tired. He was hungry. His need for Sustenance was overpowering and

the itching, burning, aching sensation caused from his lack of the daily dosage of

tenerse was making it hard for him to hold still for it felt as though a million biting ants

were crawling all over his body.

“We will be offering the Amazeen a chance to aid in our mission here on Terra but

we will not allow her to ever leave this fortress,” Lord Naois Belvoir was saying. “If she

refuses our offer, she will be permanently incarcerated here. We’ll have no loose

cannons at the Citadel.”

“Bringing her here was not the wisest move you’ve ever made, Lord Bevyn, but it is

reasonable under the circumstances,” Lord Dunham Tarnes remarked. “We certainly

could not have allowed her to run loose among the general population, not with her

abilities.”

“I understand she aided you on the train?” Lord Naois inquired.

“Aye, Your Grace,” Bevyn agreed, taking the Prime Reaper’s warning to heart that

he speak as little as possible while before the High Council.

“And you saw her dematerialize?”

“Aye, Your Grace.”

129

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“Fascinating,” Lord Naois observed. “That is a trick she must teach our men if

possible.”

His skin was on fire and itching so badly he had to dig his fingernails into his palms

to keep from moving. Though he kept his eyes straight ahead—at a point just above the

High Lord’s head—his eyelids were flickering as he tried to maintain his control.

“You are hurting, aren’t you?” Lord Kheelan asked.

“Aye, Your Grace,” Bevyn replied.

Lord Kheelan nodded and the Prime Reaper reached into his pocket and extracted a

vac-syringe, the contents of which he injected quickly and efficiently into Bevyn’s neck.

A long sigh of relief followed the hiss of pain the thick med brought to the Reaper.

“We can not have you greeting your lady in a state of severe discomfort,” Lord

Dunham said. “That would not be fair to her.”

“And she is the innocent one in this,” Lord Naois added.

Bevyn wanted to ask if he would be allowed to keep her but Arawn had already

cautioned him not to.

“More than likely they will not take her from you but let them be the ones to give

you the decision on their own terms and in their own time. If you piss them off, they’re

as liable to deny your keeping her as not,” the Prime Reaper had warned. “Don’t bring

it up.”

“Look at me, Lord Bevyn,” Lord Kheelan ordered.

Bevyn lowered his gaze and met the eyes of the High Lord.

“Do you love this woman?”

“With all my heart, Your Grace.”

“Will you be her friend as well as her lover, a faithful partner who will honor and

support her, respect her as your mate and cherish her as the only mate you will ever

have?”

“I will, Your Grace,” Bevyn said.

“Will you protect her in good times and in bad, through joy as well as sorrow, see

to her comfort in sickness and in health?”

Bevyn’s heart did a strange little jump in his chest for he realized these were closely

akin to Joining vows he was making yet he did not hesitate.

“Aye, Your Grace. I swear before all that is holy that I will,” he said, tears blurring

his vision.

“Then we entreat you never to leave her or to return from following after her for

where you go so will she go, and where you stay she will stay. Your people will be her

people and your goddess will be her goddess. Should you break even one of these vows

to us, we will remove her from your care. Do you understand?” Lord Kheelan asked.

“I do, Your Grace,” Bevyn said, his heart now pounding in his chest.

“At ease, Reaper.”

130

Her Reaper’s Arms

Bevyn shifted his feet apart and put his hands behind him, his right hand gripping

his left wrist at the small of his back.

“Lord Arawn, escort Lady Lea into our presence,” the High Lord bid.

The Prime Reaper nodded and took one step back, pivoting gracefully on the ball of

his foot before striding to the door. He opened it with a smile. “Lady Lea, would you

join us please?” he asked.

Lea stared at the handsome man who stood in the doorway as she got to her feet.

He had dark hair and amber eyes like Bevyn’s, but appeared to be a few years older

than her Reaper. In his left ear was a small gold hoop and the tattoo on the left side of

his face was different from Bevyn’s, but he wore the same black silk shirt and black

leather uniform pants as did Bevyn. He was tall and muscular—another version of

Bevyn with a smile just as white and even.

“I am Arawn,” he said as she came to him.

“It is a pleasure, Lord Arawn,” she said, looking up in his gentle eyes.

“Just Arawn, Lea,” he said, and shut the door behind her. He walked beside her to

the front of the room.

Lea was intimidated by the three older men who sat on a dais in front of which

Bevyn was standing, his back to her. Clothed in dark gray robes, they were sitting so

still she might well have thought them statues had not the one in the middle blinked.

“There is no need to be afraid of us, Lady Lea,” the man said. “We won’t bite unless

you ask us to.” He—like his fellow Shadowlords—was sitting forward in his chair, his

hands clasped on the top of the desk.

“And then only very gently,” said the one on the right.

“And neatly,” the other agreed.

Lea couldn’t keep from smiling. “I am grateful then, Your Graces, for I believe I will

pass on being bitten.”

“She is a very lovely lady, Lord Bevyn,” the man on the left said. “I can see why

you would give your heart into her keeping.”

“I am Lord Kheelan,” the man in the middle said. “The man on my right is Lord

Naois and on the left is Lord Dunham. We are the High Council.”

“Your Graces,” she acknowledged with a clumsy curtsy.

“First, let us put your mind at ease,” Lord Kheelan said. “Since Lord Bevyn has

sworn to protect you and honor you as his mate, we will not remove you from his care

unless he proves himself unworthy of you.”

“A situation we do not feel will happen,” Lord Dunham stated.

Relief flooded through Lea’s body. The blood was rushing through her head and

she felt faint at such wonderful news.

“Nevertheless,” Lord Kheelan said. “Your mate acted without the sanction of the

High Council and because he did, he must atone for his transgression.”

131

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Lea lifted her chin. “I understand that, Your Grace, and I am prepared to stand

beside him and undergo whatever punishment you see fit to extend to me.”

Lord Kheelan blinked again then sat back in his chair. “Milady, you are not the one

at fault here,” he said.

“I beg to disagree, Your Grace,” she said. “I am a firm believer that if a woman

stays in her place, the man will be forced to. I opened the door for Lord Bevyn and he

walked through. I am as much at fault as is he.”

Bevyn’s pride in his woman soared. He could feel Arawn’s respect as well and

though he dared not turn his head to look at either one—Lea on his right and the Prime

Reaper on his left—he could not stop the smile from twitching at his lips.

“I see,” Lord Kheelan said. He folded his arms over his chest. “You are far wiser

than your stubborn Reaper, milady. He believes he instigated the entire situation.”

“Not so, Your Grace,” Lea stated. “I desired him as much as he desired me.”

Lord Kheelan tilted his head to one side. “And why is that, milady, other than the

fact that he is a prime specimen of maleness?”

Lea relaxed under the High Lord’s steady gaze for she sensed an ally in this man

despite the fact that he was not smiling. His eyes were kind.

“Because I saw his loneliness, Your Grace, and it echoed my own,” she said softly.

There was complete silence in the room for a long time. The three men on the dais

were looking at her with unwavering attention and she could have sworn she saw

moisture glinting in Lord Kheelan’s gaze. When he spoke to her, he had to clear his

throat before he could begin for it seemed he was finding it difficult to speak.

“Milady, you have our deepest admiration and our fondest wishes that your life

with Lord Bevyn will be a long and fruitful one. We pray that happiness will ever be a

guest in your home,” Lord Kheelan said in a gruff voice.

Bevyn’s lips were trembling when the High Lord shifted his attention to the Reaper

2-I-C.

“Lord Bevyn?” Lord Kheelan queried.

Bevyn snapped to attention at the tone.

“You are to take your lady to your quarters and make sure she is comfortable. We

will give you one hour in which to say your goodbyes to her before you are to report to

Level One,” the High Lord ordered. “Do not waste a moment of that time in showing

your lady what a true treasure she is. You are dismissed. Send in that annoying

Amazeen.”

“Aye, Your Grace!” Bevyn said. “Thank you, Your Grace!” He saluted then reached

out for Lea’s hand, tugging her with him as he started for the door.

“Reaper?” Penthe questioned as Bevyn and Lea came out.

“They want you in there,” was all Bevyn said. “Hop to, wench, or you’ll be sorry!”

132

Her Reaper’s Arms

Bevyn kept up a running commentary as he pulled Lea with him up the stairs to the

fourth floor. He was like a little boy showing off his proudest possessions.

“There are ten suites on this floor. We each have our own suite and it’s huge!” he

said. “If you don’t like the way it’s painted or the furniture, just tell Giles and he’ll get it

changed.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it, milord,” she said, stumbling along behind him, her skirt hiked

up to keep from stepping on it.

“There’s a big marble tub and a thing they call a shower,” he said as he let go of her

hand to press his palm against a strange-looking black glass panel to the side of the

door. “It’s like a mini waterfall and I’ve spent hours under it.”

“Hours?” she questioned, not believing that for a moment.

“Reapers can’t swim but they love water,” he said as the door swung open as if by

unseen hands.

The room into which he led her was the most wondrous thing she had ever seen. A

large sitting room was illuminated at one end by a long bank of windows that

overlooked the scorched plain, but beyond was the North Sea and the view took her

breath away.

“Oh Sweet Merciful Alel,” she whispered as she stared at the view. “Is that the

sea?”

“Aye,” he said. “And you can sit on the settee and stare at it all you like!”

There were three large settees, each of which had to be at least six feet long, that