Heart Dance (29 page)

“Not time?”

She dropped her voice. “This is not the place to speak of time.”

“Or
the
time?”

She closed her eyes. “You’re going to be difficult.”

“Over the fact that you are breaking the law? Perhaps.” He took her hand again. “Or perhaps not. Being able to practice your Flair is important.” He glanced around. “Though I wish your primaryFlair was for embroidery. It would scare and confuse me less.” He reached for her other hand, brought both to his lips. “You are a very talented person, and I am a lucky man.”

Her heart jumped in her chest. “I don’t think so.”

His blue eyes went from dancing to serious. He dropped one of her hands and sighed. “Let’s go.”

She led the way. “The garment storage is here.”

Then she fell silent, and he didn’t speak, and instead of beinguncomfortable, she felt relieved that she didn’t have to think of things to say. More, he was letting her unwind from the event that had focused on her, until she wondered how to hold her hands, where to place herself in relation to her “art.”

They stopped at a piece, and he gestured. “I like that. I bought it.” It was a large tatting of her mother’s, worked in silverthread. It
did
look like a spiderweb.

“A very beautiful spiderweb.” Saille answered her thought.

He helped her on with her coat and frowned. “This seems light for a winter like we’re having.”

She shrugged. “I use a weathershield.”

“Dufleur, I know you’ve been as busy as Passiflora Holly with all your various—projects. That takes energy. You’re tired, and a weathershield can be draining. Get some gloves and a hat and scarf.”

Chuckling, she said, “The weathershield is a very minor bit of Flair for me. Hardly noticeable.”

“In that case, I don’t think I’ll tell you that I’ve never masteredit.”

“Oh.” A flush crept up her cheeks.

His eyes heated. “I like seeing your flush, it’s lovelier in more intimate settings, though.” He brought her hand to his lips and nibbled on her fingers. “Maybe I’ll reconsider gloves. You can keep my hands warm with your weathershield, and I can taste your—fingers at any time.”

The images he was sending to her weren’t of her fingers. She swallowed. “Your glider awaits?”

“Yes.” He led her out the door into the breath-catching cold. She slammed the weathershield around them.

He hummed with pleasure. “Nice. Warm.” He gestured to the massive old glider sitting on its stand a few feet away. The driver waved to them, but didn’t exit the warm vehicle to lift the door. No footmen.

"My Family is predominantly women, and my MotherDam discouraged men from staying in Druida and working at the Residence. A couple came back when I took over the title, but I think several more are waiting to see what happens.” He opened the door, put his hands on her waist, and raised her the couple of feet inside. He followed her in and shut the door without taking his arm from her waist.

“No light,” he whispered, and the soft glow in the back dissipateduntil it was dark. He turned his head and kissed her.

Her mouth opened on the press of his lips, and she accepted his tongue. He tasted of the sparkling wine punch that had been served. His body angled over hers, and she noted he was very aroused and that—and the passion flooding down their link— caused her to melt.

They kissed, and he stroked her breasts. She sensed that he liked the thickness of her garments. He savored anticipation.

Her mind swirled away under the tide of sensation—his hands on her breasts, his leg between hers, and the knowledge that
she
had invited him to stay with her.

The drive was far too long, since he’d spent every moment arousing her to fever, and then, finally, they were in her bedroom.

He pulled her gently into his arms, and she became aware of his solid erection. It caused her knees to loosen. He chuckled, rubbed his cheek against her hair. “Yes, I desire you. I always do. The most basic fact about HeartMates is that the sex will alwaysbe superb.”

His hands framed her face, and his blue eyes met hers. “But I want more than sex.”

“Everything,” she whispered.

“Yes.” He hesitated. “And I would give you everything in return.Dufleur, why don’t you trust me?”

She tensed, but kept her gaze locked on his. “I don’t know. I think much of it is that I don’t trust
me
.” But she probed at his question as if it had been a scientific hypothesis. “I don’t . . .” She sent her confusion, more, her bone-deep conviction that no one could get close to her. After all, her parents had never gottenclose to her. She didn’t have close friends. Something must be lacking in her.

“Dufleur, nothing is lacking in you.”

Then she showed him what she thought of as a closed door in her.

“What?”

“The horrors of the past. The explosion of the lab, my father’s death, the demise of the Residence. When I was kidnappedby the black cult and my attempted murder. I try not to open them for myself. Can you live with someone who has such terrible events closed to you?”

“They will open in time.”

But she doubted.

Saille was impatient. He wanted all of her now, despite any doubts. Her irrational doubts. All she needed to do was to trust in the HeartMate bond.

And trusting was the matter of the emotions, you couldn’t rush it, and it was obvious from what she’d just shown him that she didn’t trust him yet. Instead of a heavy sigh, he let his breath out slow and easy.

Think of his triumphs. He’d found her. She hadn’t formally accepted his HeartGift, but she hadn’t thrown it out into the street again.

He had her in his arms. They’d loved physically before and would do so again. And that was the last thought he had before he began to persuade her that he’d be a good mate in another fashion.

Before he’d been too hasty to savor lovemaking. Not tonight. His hands still curved around her face. He loved looking at her. Her wide brow, blue-gray eyes that seemed to see everything, weigh everything. Her lips that always tempted him because they plumped up so wonderfully with passion.

He lowered his head and brushed her mouth. Didn’t even allowhimself to taste. “Slow and easy. Tonight I’ll show you exactlyhow close I can get to you.” He nibbled her lips, swept his tongue across them to taste.

Dufleur. Rich. Sexy. With an exotic flavor of no other. Time.

“I’ll get close. Inside you. Physically, emotionally, spiritually.”

His hands caressed her soft skin, went to the tabs on the shoulders of her tunic, and opened them. He slid the garment down her, feeling the full roundness of her breasts, the indentationof her waist, the nice curve of hip and butt and stomach. Then the long tunic fell free, and he set his fingers at her waist and the tab there. He peeled it back and pushed her full trous down, down, down her long, sturdy legs. Legs that had wrapped around him as her body demanded release.

Twenty-two

He slipped his hand between the silkeen cloth of her pantlettes and her skin, knew his fingers trembled, his breath came short, his own trous tightened over his groin, as his cock grew in anticipation of fulfillment.

Her folds were damp and plump. “Low light,” he growled and looked at her face. Yes, her lips were fuller, too. Her eyes were wide and had lost the piercing intelligence. He stroked her, coaxing more slickness from her body, slid a finger into her, and she arched. Her stomach caressed his shaft, and his groan mingled with her whimper of desire.

“My clothes off,” he ordered and felt the rush of the spell around him as his clothes fell to the floor, his shoes and liners broke away from his feet.

He stood naked and ready, and she was still garbed in her breastband and pantlettes that showed a thick transparent white against her skin. One of his arms supported her back, and he saw her breasts with aroused nubs of nipples. He looked down her and saw his fingers around her, holding her damp sex. His skin heated, his own sex throbbed with need. Memories of how wonderful it felt to slide into her, feel her legs clamp around him, her hands go to his butt to pull him even deeper inside made him shudder with desire. He withdrew his fingers from her only to rip her pantlettes off. She gave a flinch, but her mouth curved.

Her breasts tempted. With a quick jerk, her breastband opened and fell away. His lips tasted her right nipple, and he laved it, sucked it. A different taste here from her lips. Sweet. He moved to her left nipple, indulged himself in the softness of her breast pressing against his mouth, the fullness of her flesh in his mouth.

She gave another whimper of need that fired his brain, set her hands on his shoulders, lifted herself, and slid down on his waiting cock.

Fabulous. So incredible. He freed her breast to gasp. She’d taken him by surprise, his hands clamped on her bottom, and the feel of her firm flesh in his hands, of her hot, wet sheath surroundinghim snapped his control. He took a pace to the side, another, and his leg touched the bed.

Then she was on her back, and he was thrusting into her, giving her all of him. Each stroke wound the tension tighter and tighter, until he spun off the edge of the world and into pure sensational pleasure.

Several minutes passed before he could piece himself together.Touch returned first. Her body was damp against his, her breasts cushioning his chest. He rolled from her, came up against the wall. They’d sleep close together. Good.

He tucked her under the covers, yanked the linens up.

She said nothing. He sensed her mind was still dazed, and he smiled, then he held her until she fell asleep, and he slipped into the darkness, then the dreams, with her.

She struggled and found herself battling Saille Willow. Her
breath came in panting gasps.

“Dufleur,” he said, and when she looked at him, his expressionof concern, the comfort of their link seemed so precious that she couldn’t face it. He was so whole. She was so fractured.

Saille let her pull from his arms. They were weaker than he cared. The nightmare—the
memory
—had been so terrible.

She left the bed, gave him a sad smile, turned away to dress. “It could have been worse. It could have been a nightmare about the dark cult.” Her gaze lifted to his. “If you stay with me, you’ll get to experience that, too. Unquestionably.” Her beautiful mouth turned down.

He was more shaken than he wanted to admit, even through their link. The horror she’d gone through that night, pulling her father from the flames, ’porting him to Primary HealingHall, then returning to her hysterical mother and watching their home burn down.

“I thought your father died in the explosion.”

“He didn’t. He lingered three days. Burned over most of his body. Brain damage.”

“Shouldn’t your night ills be less? I thought you went to a Mind Healer.”

Another of those smiles that wasn’t a smile. “I did, D’Sea herself. I
am
better. But the Mind Healer’s best tool is distancingFlair—as if a great deal of time has passed. That doesn’t work well on me.”