Touch of Passion (39 page)

She accepted the glass he handed her and didn't blink an eye when, with the flick of a hand, he set the fireplace alight.

“I shall be glad to do as you ask,” she told him, looking about at the shabby room. “I confess the house looks just as
I remember it from so many years ago—perhaps a bit more tired. But I fear it will take more than a few days to make any great change, apart from a thorough cleaning, and we'll be going home soon. Won't we?”

He cast a smile at her as he poured himself a glass of whiskey and lied, “Quite soon. Yes.”

“Tomorrow?” she asked hopefully. “I shall have to make certain that everything is packed this evening, then.”

“Not tomorrow,” he said. “Tomorrow we will parade ourselves about Town. I shall take you shopping and buy you some pretty things, and in the evening we'll attend the theater, so that the
ton
can have a good, long look at us.”

“The day after, then?”

“Perhaps.”

She gazed at him steadily, waiting until he had settled himself in an opposite chair, before saying, “You gave me your promise, Kian, that you'd not keep me from returning to Tylluan.”

He fashioned his expression into one of innocence. “I gave you that promise before the Guardians, did I not? Do you think I would risk making a false vow before such witnesses? I'm pleased that you like the bracelet I brought from Tylluan. It looked very well with your dress today.”

A circle of gleaming rubies adorned Loris's wrist, and Kian was pleased to see her gaze at them with affection. She looked especially lovely in her wedding dress, composed of pale green satin with delicate gold trim on the sleeves and bodice.

“I do love the bracelet, Kian,” she said. “Have I thanked you for the gift of it yet? I believe I forgot to do so at the ball. But we were terribly distracted that night with the announcement.”

“Indeed we were,” he agreed. “And there is no need to thank me. The jewels are yours, as are the rest of what belonged to my mother, apart from those that she set aside for Dyfed. I suppose Desdemona Caslin will be wearing those
particular pieces soon.” He sighed aloud and took a long drink. “I'm glad this day is over.”

She was silent, and he looked at her.

“What are you thinking, Loris?”

“Of the curse,” she said ruefully. “It's been ten years, Kian. We may spend another ten trying to find the way to lift it. It isn't a pleasant thought on one's wedding night.” She looked away, raising her glass to sip from it.

No, it wasn't, Kian agreed silently. Despite the fact that they were wed, their relationship wouldn't change in any remarkable way, certainly not physically. They'd no longer have the time they had once enjoyed when he'd come to her as Liw.

“We'll find the solution, Loris,” he said. “Once the troubles have been dealt with I'll devote myself to nothing else. And when the curse is gone, I vow upon my life that I shall love you as no other woman has ever been loved. I'll do everything possible to make you happy.”

“I know you will,” she whispered, gazing into the fire. “There's always been something inside me . . .” She stopped, her brows drawing together slightly in thought. “Since that night at the Red Fox. In the alley. And later, when you gambled for me against Gregor Foss. It seems rather foolish now. Perhaps it was magic, or the
unoliaeth
. But there was a feeling that grew up in me as you spoke, though I thought you quite mad. A hopefulness. For the first time since my father had died. And it's never left me. Despite everything, over all these years, and all that's happened between us.” She lifted a hand to lightly touch the place over her breast where her heart lay. The gleaming band of Welsh gold that he'd placed upon her finger hours earlier shone in the firelight at the movement. “It's still here,” she said, and looked at him. “Do you think, Kian, that it might be love?”

He clenched his free hand to keep it from shaking. “Don't you know, Loris?” he asked, his voice not quite as steady as he might wish it to be.

She shook her head. “It's not like any other feeling I've had for anyone else,” she told him. “I can't identify it. I loved my parents and Ffinian in one way, and Dyfed in another. I always told myself that what I felt for you was only aggravation or anger or even fury. But I don't know what this other emotion is, save that it's grown much stronger since I left Tylluan. When I saw you standing in my grandfather's study, I knew a joy so strong that I couldn't help but weep with happiness. I felt whole again, and I knew everything would be all right, because you would make it so.” She looked at him once more. “But is that love?”

He had to swallow before his voice would work. “I hope so.”

“Is it what you feel for me?” she asked.

“What I feel for you,” he said, setting his glass aside and rising to his feet, “is a madness that often threatens to overwhelm me. Every moment when you were gone from Tylluan I felt the loss. It was empty, all of it. I longed for you to come home,” he said, holding a hand out to her. Loris put her own glass down and set her fingers into his open palm. His hand closed and gently tugged her upward, to stand before him. “If you had suddenly walked into the room where I was and railed at me, I would have been content. But I have always been glad of your fury, for it has had beneath it the passion that I dream of hearing in your voice when your heart has at last become mine.” Slowly, he drew her nearer. “And there's something more that you bring to life in me,” he said.

“What?”

“Frustration,” he replied, and lifted one hand to cradle her cheek. “Because I can't do more than this”—he kissed her tenderly but briefly—“without giving you pain. And because I don't know when the day, or night, will come when I can touch you and impart only pleasure.”

She held his gaze and then, very slowly, lifted her hand and stroked his cheek with her fingertips. It was the simplest of caresses, and yet it sent a shiver of delight coursing through Kian's entire body.

“Perhaps we'll find another path to pleasure,” she murmured, pulling him down to meet her kiss. “One to keep us sane until the curse is gone.”

The cook whom Niclas had lent Kian prepared a special dinner in honor of the newly married couple's first night together as man and wife. Malachi had earlier sent over several bottles of the best wine in Mervaille's cellars, including some French champagne that Kian and Loris drank as they lingered over the excellent meal. All in all, it was a pleasant end to an eventful day.

Kian escorted Loris to her bedchamber afterward with the intention of doing nothing more, regretfully, than kissing her and bidding her a good night's slumber. He didn't dare cross the room's threshold, lest he do something that might unintentionally cause her pain. Still, he thought as they neared the door, it was a damnable way to end their wedding night.

But Loris turned to him when they came to a stop and, before Kian could open his mouth, set her hands upon his chest and said, “I took the liberty of laying something special out on your bed before we went down for dinner. Give me a few minutes to change, as well, before you join me.” Then she went up on her toes and kissed him lightly and disappeared inside her door.

Kian stood where he was for a long moment, staring at the closed door and wondering whether Loris wasn't laboring under the false idea that marriage had somehow changed the way the curse worked. But no. She knew that far more than a mere ceremony must take place before the Guardians lifted the blight that kept them from physically coming together. Still, she had anticipated him coming to her for some purpose, and Kian, both intrigued and pleased, moved toward his bedchamber door to fulfill her bidding.

The delicate gown and robe that Julia had presented Loris with that morning before the wedding fit perfectly. Or, at least, she believed it did. Elen, who had helped Loris to don the thin, lacy garment, assured her that there was no other way to put it on, and Loris decided she must be right. If she tried to put the cream-colored satin on the other way, most of the front of her would be entirely exposed, and the gown was already revealing enough as it was.

When will he come?
she wondered, looking toward the closed door that connected their chambers. Elen had departed immediately after helping Loris don the fragile outfit and relieve her hair from the tight arrangement it had been put in for the wedding. It had been brushed out and left undone, and then the grinning servant girl had gone.

Loris looked about the room to make certain all was ready. Earlier she had dimmed the oil lamps, leaving the room lit only by the fire and a few flickering candles. The bedcovers had been turned down and the pillows fluffed in anticipation. She cast a glance toward the large bed, wondering if perhaps it looked more obvious than inviting. Kian would probably laugh at her, but perhaps, she thought, that wouldn't be such a bad thing. A dose of his teasing just now
might be the very best remedy for putting her foolish nerves in order.

A soft knock came on the adjoining door, and Loris stiffened. Turning, she watched as it opened to reveal Kian standing on the other side, garbed in the men's royal blue silk robe that Julia had also given Loris, explaining that it was a gift for Kian that would be far better given by his wife than a female cousin-in-law. There was a matching pair of silk trousers, which Kian had donned, and slippers, which he had not. Kian stood barefoot, his hair loose and falling about his shoulders, gazing down at himself with plain amusement.

“I feel like some kind of Eastern potentate,” he said. “Where the devil did you get these?”

Loris flushed with embarrassment. “They're supposed to be all the rage,” she said. “At least, that's what I've been told. Are they not comfortable? They look wonderful on you.” Which was true, for she thought he looked marvelously handsome and fine in such a half-dressed state. His chest, partly revealed by the robe, was bare, showing smooth, golden skin. Loris pressed her hands together and strove to swallow down her nerves.

It didn't help, for he was looking at her now.

“Loris,” he murmured, moving a few steps toward her. “You're . . . beautiful. I . . .” He shut his eyes briefly and gave a slight shake of his head. “I shouldn't come in. You know that we can't—”

Loris hurried across the room and shut the adjoining door, closing him in.

“I've been looking at this room more carefully,” she said quickly, her voice a touch too high-pitched. “It's not so awful as you made it sound earlier. Some new paint and curtains will make it look very well. The carpet is still good, and the furniture can easily be repaired. Do you recall how long I labored to sew all the little tears in the upholstery at Tylluan?”

“Loris—”

“Do you truly like what I'm wearing?” she asked, taking his arm and pulling him farther into the room. “Julia gave it to me as a wedding gift. I confess,” she said, coming to a stop and looking down at herself, “that it seemed rather naughty atfirst, but then it occurred to me that you've seen me in far less.” She swallowed again, her face heating, unable to so much as look at him. “At least once.”

“Loris,” he said again, setting his hands on her arms and drawing her closer. “You not only look beautiful, but very alluring. If I could stay with you the night, I'd be the happiest man alive, just to be able to remove this delightful outfit ribbon by ribbon. I'm going to dream of doing so until th curse is lifted, I imagine.”

She lifted her gaze to look at him. “I dream, too,” she whispered. “Of that night Of that onetime we had together. Every night since, I've dreamed of it”

“As have I,” he murmured “Butuntillthe curse is lifted,, dreaming is all we can do. You canfeel the pain of my touch already, can you not?” He pulled hishands away.

Loris lifted her own and very deliberately pushed away the edges of the silk robe Kian wore. She placed both palms flat against the bare skin of his chest and gazed into his eye “Your touch gives me pain, that's true,” she said. “But one thing we've never considered, never asked, is whether mine gives pain to you. You've never complained of the burning, even when I have.”

He stared at her for a moment, then lowered his gaze to her hands.

“Does it?” she asked.

He lifted his head, shaking it When their eyes met, she could see that his were beginning tofill with understanding.

“I've never touched you very muchor for long,” she said. “But it seems to me that the curse doesn't work both ways. You're not feeling anything yet, are you?” She moved her hands over him in a purposeful caress that made Kian suck in a sudden breath. “A tingling pain? A burning?”

“No.” His voice was strained. “It just feels . . . very good.”

She smiled. “You've always been the one to do all the touching. Now, I think, it's my turn.”

Kian's breathing was unsteady now. “It sounds delightful,” he managed. “But it's hardly fair to you.”

Her answer was to slide her hands up to the shoulders of the robe and slowly slip it down his arms.

“You touched me that night,” she said. “I scarce had a chance to do the same. But that was because I felt so uncertain when I thought you were Liw.” Her gaze was fixed on his bare chest. She had seen him like this before, at Tylluan, when he'd removed his shirt while undertaking difficult labor. Loris had always thought him beautiful to gaze upon, but never more so than this moment. She ran her hands lightly over the smooth, muscled skin. He was warm and silky beneath her touch, and the groan of pleasure he bit back only increased the sense of delight she felt. “I'm not uncertain with you, Kian,” she murmured. “I want to touch you. Everywhere. Just as you touched me.”

Leaning forward, she set her lips to his bare flesh. Kian shivered and groaned again, which only encouraged her to continue. Her hands kept moving over him, caressing his shoulders and arms, his waist and stomach, and her tongue explored the hollows of his neck. His breathing had grown so harsh that it made her feel wonderfully powerful.