Roses & Thorns (12 page)

Angelique
was, in her heart, determined to know the truth. Perhaps that sweet protector
of hers was indeed a misshapen anomaly of Nature, but she did not, for a single
moment, consider it possible that Drew was truly some perverted abomination.
She was more than willing to accept the bonds of marriage and all they
entailed. But since the night Drew had recounted the banishment by father and
stepmother, and since Drew flatly refused to discuss the actual possibility of
a marriage, Angelique realized Drew would never reveal that last truth. Why had
Drew's love for the stepsister been so forbidden? Drew had never actually
considered their own marriage a true possibility. And so Angelique had taken on
the responsibility of that final step. If Drew would not tell her willingly, then
Angelique would tempt and tease and tantalize until she could demand.

Angelique
assumed that, if Drew knew of her plan, Drew would think it brought on by pity.
If Culdun knew, he would think it stubbornness and applaud her persistence. Her
mother... Angelique suspected her mother would understand this driving desire.
Her mother knew what it was like to play with fire; she would only remind her
daughter to be certain she knew the costs of being burned.

Angelique
sat up abruptly and the old mare snorted in protest. Determination was etched
into her young face. Angelique could only begin to imagine what Drew's cost in
pain and despair had been. She was not about to let Drew's opportunity fade
with the twilight's mists.

As
the bluish haze of the twilight rose, Angelique turned the mare toward home.
The stars would be out soon enough and then it would be time for dinner and
another evening of Drew's company would begin. She glanced down at the flowers
in her hand with delight. She planned to arrange them for the dining table. The
magicked ones always seemed too formal and she wanted something less auspicious
and a bit more charming tonight.

A
beautiful patch of heather beside the trail caught her eye, and Angelique
reined in her mare gently. The slender stalks tempted her and she slipped to
the ground with eager anticipation. The tiny, dry blossoms rustled beneath her
touch as she sought the special stalk or two. Wandering down the hill, she
laughed at her foolish quest. It had been her annoyance at the magicked floral
perfection that had sent her out gathering the wildflowers in the first place.
To be so intent on finding such perfection again seemed rather contradictory.

A
sharp snap split the stillness and she fell with a cry. A sudden pain lanced
through her ankle and she gripped her leg to keep from jerking her foot in the
snare. The gut string was thick enough to hold, thin enough to bite the skin.
Angelique remembered the rabbits her brothers had snared for dinners and the
graphic pictures of their bloodied limbs. She bit her lip and inched closer to
the trap, giving the line as much slack as she could.

The
mare whinnied from the top of the rise, pawing at the trail in worry. Too late
Angelique remembered the warnings from both Culdun and Drew. This close to the
valley's borders, she should not have risked going barefoot or straying from
the path.

Again
her mare neighed and pawed anxiously. Even the stable horses had been better
trained to stay to those trails than she. Angelique swallowed hard, fearful
that the fretting mare would work herself into leaving the safety of the
hilltop path. What she should do, Angelique realized, was send the animal back
as a signal for help.

She
glanced around, attempting to ignore the throbbing in her foot while she
gathered up a handful of pebbles. She flung one at the white mare as the animal
prepared to lunge downhill. The mare stopped dead in her tracks as the stone
flicked her hide. "Home!" Angelique screamed, flinging another pebble
and then another. "Get yourself out of here!" Mane tossing in
protest, the beast rounded and took off in a canter.

With
a heartfelt sigh, Angelique slumped forward and discarded the last of her small
cache of stones. The squeezing pain sliced through her ankle. She winced,
grimacing as she clenched her teeth. This was worse than Aloysius' strap.

She
forced herself to relax and examined the contraption more carefully. The stake
was driven into the ground too deeply for her fingers to reach the knotted
ends, and her inexperienced fumblings only seemed to tighten the noose.

Undoubtedly
there was a spell to undo the whole lot quickly enough, but this far from the
palace, the "I wish" tricks would not work. She knew she was still a
long way from being a competent sorceress and this was beyond her.

Common
sense told her she needed to do something to keep the cord from inadvertently
tightening, and then she needed to sit quietly. Glancing about, she began
tearing up the stringy roots from the heather plants behind her. When the
fibers were separated, she patiently began to work them in between the snare
and her ankle. She concentrated, mentally blocking out the pain just as she
once had blocked out Aloysius' stinging blows. The fibers edged in slowly. She
was careful to always place the next on the opposite side, attempting to offset
the tension and redistribute it equally. She quit when the slicing feeling
ebbed into a tight throbbing, and then she felt another stab of pain, one she
recognized instantly as fear.

Above
the horizon, hanging low in the dimming twilight, was the white glow of a full
moon.

Angelique
glanced about uneasily, curbing her panic with the reminder that the hunters
never came deep into the valley until well after dark.

The
sun glowed distantly, lost now behind the mountains of the horizon. But
Angelique could not appreciate the sunset's beauty this night. She raised her
hand to her chest, as if doing so would slow her pounding heart. Her fingers
brushed across something warm and round. The talisman! Drew's words came back
to her like an embrace, "Through fey dreams or mountain storms, it will
reach me."

Angelique
pressed the locket between trembling fingers and whispered, "Drew, please.
Hear me."

Head
bowed, pressed wearily to an upraised knee, Angelique waited. Her hands were
folded about the small locket. Twilight had faded to a thick grayness, but the
darkness had not quite descended, telling Angelique that she had not been there
as long as it seemed. It
seemed
like an eternity had passed and, given
the odd tick and sway of time in this valley, she supposed it may have been
forever at that.

Splitting
the quiet evening air, a stallion shrieked.

Angelique
started. A white steed leapt from a portal that appeared out of nowhere and
onto the rest of the hill. She blinked. Was she hallucinating? No, there was
Drew, dismounting even before the animal's legs had brought it fully to a halt.
A torch flared as the cloaked figure paused to survey the downward sweep of the
hill.

"It's
a snare!" Angelique called, surprised to find her voice so hoarse. "I
don't know if there are others."

If
Drew heard her caution, there was no sign of it. Drew crossed the distance
between them in few swift strides. Sinking down at Angelique's side, Drew said,
"Your foot? Has the cord cut you?" The torch stake drove into the
ground, casting light in a defiant circle.

"I
don't think so." Angelique watched as Drew's hands covered her cold foot
and the bruised ring on her ankle. She swallowed thickly and managed, "I'm
sorry. I should have been paying more attention."

A
warm hand pressed her cheek for an instant, and a gentle, teasing voice said,
"I guess it's too late now to remind you about boots and snares and
such."

Angelique
gave Drew a half-smile.

"You
did well."

Angelique
blinked. There was genuine respect in the other's tone.

"These
roots may have saved you from a crippling." Drew pulled out a knife and
began to dig up the trap stake. "You also did well not to try your
magick."

At
that Angelique blushed, admitting, "I didn't know anything to try. I
haven't yet gotten to sewing knots, let alone these sorts."

"No,"
Drew corrected, "anything would have been disastrous. After three
generations of hunting in our bewitched woods, these poachers have gotten quite
clever. They usually have a local witch bespell their pieces against my magick.
Any spell you tried would only have tightened the cord."

Angelique
gasped in pain as Drew tugged the snare free, sliced the gut string and cast
the stake aside. The sting worsened as the cord was unwound from its nested
niche in her skin. "I know it hurts. Try to relax now. It will be better
in a few minutes," her companion murmured, thumbs stroking the swollen
ankle. The pain receded. The soothing magick balm lessened the chill in her
skin. Feeling began to flow back into her toes and Angelique sighed, closing
her eyes to savor the relief. The throbbing became a dull ache, then finally a
vague stiffness.

"Lie
back."

She
did so, settling on her elbows and stretching her leg out obediently. The
tender touch loosened the tautness of ankle and calf, easing the last of the
cramps away. As Drew's fingers kneaded, her skin warmed and Angelique tipped
her head back with a luxurious moan as the touch ascended to the sensitive
place behind her knee.

Drew's
hands stilled, Angelique's knee still captured in their enfolding grasp.

Angelique
lifted her head. Her tousled, brown hair framed her flushed face. Her blouse
had slipped from one shoulder and she could feel the intensity of Drew's gaze
upon her. The flaming torchlight flickered. The shadowy depths within that
crimson cloak rippled faintly.

"I
want to see you, Drew."

A
strangled oath squashed the flame. The torch disappeared.

As
soon as they had left her lips, Angelique knew the words had been wrong. It was
too soon. Cursing herself, Angelique fell silent. Drew lifted her carefully,
but there was a rough, controlled anger to the movement. Then they were on the
horse and Drew's booted heels were kicking them into a cantor. Drew raised a
hand to call up a portal but Angelique caught it and pulled it toward her with
something akin to panic.

The
horse slowed to a walk. The stillness in the figure behind her chilled
Angelique, but she refused to release Drew's wrist. She moistened her lips and,
with her voice shaking, said, "I want to ride back with you, not jump
through magick doorways."

"Why?"
The voice was hard-edged, impatient.

"Because
there are some pieces of your magick that still frighten me." Not a
complete lie.

"Meaning
I have frightened you," Drew admitted softly. There was a long pause,
until Drew carefully pulled Angelique close. "My anger frightens
you."

It
was Angelique's turn to stiffen. She thought she might bluff her way past this
moment, but stopped. She said nothing. How long had Drew known how anger
frightened her? How another's rage could turn her into stone, despite her best
intentions or most powerful desires? How could Drew know this one thing about
her that she kept hidden from everyone?

"Even
at my angriest, I have never intended to harm you," Drew's soft voice
assured her, seeming to ignore her silence. "But perhaps the tenderness of
a touch will reassure you where words cannot?"

Angelique's
throat tightened. But Drew's hand was gentle as it brushed her thick hair
aside. And Drew's breath was warm as it touched her ear. "Is this what I should
do to make you believe in me?"

The
kiss that pressed to her neck dissolved her fears. Lips of warmest silk kissed
a slow trail to her ear, and Angelique trembled, losing herself in the delicate
ecstasy of the touch. Suddenly, she didn't care what Drew knew of her heart or
secret fears. This was what mattered — Drew's arms about her, the tender
kisses, the soft caress.

And
then suddenly, magickally, they were in the whitewashed coolness of the
stables. Angelique felt the pain of betrayal with a jolt. Drew's attentions had
been merely to distract her — she flushed at her own naiveté.

They
dismounted. The stable master took the stallion's lead, pausing to speak with
Drew about the poachers' raid that everyone was anticipating. Angelique edged
away from the pair to the dividing wall between an empty stall and the tack
room. Her anger melted into chagrin. Of course, Drew was never going to be
fooled by any of Angelique's ploys for time or attention. Doubtless over the
years her companion had often seen the game played by bolder and more curious
maids than she.

But
it did not explain Drew's tolerance. Curious, Angelique glanced back over her
shoulder. No, there was only one possible reason Drew could have so willingly
followed Angelique's coy little games. Drew wanted to be led — to be pushed.
Drew would never make the first move, but would gauge a response by what
stimulus had been given, and so would take as much as Angelique could bear to
give. But up until recently, Drew clearly had not believed that Angelique
wanted to give
everything.
And, Angelique admitted, she hadn't known it
herself.

Drew
turned as the stallion was led away. The stables rang momentarily with the
clang of hooves on the stone floor, and then they were alone. Angelique's gaze
faltered. She stared at the half-wall in front of her, a finger toying with a
crack in the wooden planking. Drew approached, hesitated, and came near. From
the corner of her eye, Angelique saw a hand lift to touch her and then drop.