Heart Dance (3 page)

Saille could only agree. But he couldn’t say so. “This is what she wants, and I will obey her instructions.”

Ruis slanted a look at him, lifted and dropped a shoulder. “I hear your Family has welcomed you as the new head.”

Now Saille could smile with real feeling. “Yes, the ladies are an affectionate bunch.” He spared one last look at the mound of his MotherDam. “She was a difficult woman to live with as the disease took its toll.” And for about a hundred years before that, too.

“Well, then, you have some blessings in your life.”

“Many.” That was the truth.

A high, giggling shriek echoed down the hallway outside the room, and Ruis laughed as the metal door slid open and his daughter toddled into the chamber.

Saille’s smile faded. The little girl only reminded him that he had no beloved HeartMate. Yet.

Once more he glanced at his predecessor. She’d deliberately hidden his HeartMate from him. That had been his greatest shock when he’d ascended to head of the Family.

It had taken extraordinary measures—sending his barely spellshielded HeartGift out into the world—to find his HeartMate.

Now he knew who she was, and it was time to plan another casual meeting. For tomorrow.

He turned away from the woman who had ruled his life in the past and toward his own future and the woman he hoped to share it with, Dufleur Thyme.

Yet still he wondered what other traps his MotherDam had set for him.

Two

Weary from the workday, Dufleur leaned against the thick doorway opening to her laboratory, looking at the windowless blocks of light gray stone, measuring the room.

Coming home from work on the public carrier, she’d fallen into a doze and had nearly slipped into a nightmare. This one wasn’t of the lab explosion and her father’s death a year and a half ago. Thankfully, it wasn’t of her kidnapping and attempted murder two months and a day ago. This dream that had begun to suck her down into terror was of her own negligence and the destructionof Winterberry Residence.

More often she’d been moving in the Time Wind and finding herself on that flat, gray plain. Using the Time Wind as if it were an extension of her personal Flair rather than a scientific phenomena. Her father hadn’t done that. She didn’t know if he
could
move through time.

In any case, huge doubts had arisen in her mind, and in good conscience, she couldn’t continue to work in this place if she endangered people or the Residence. She had a small place outside city limits, but it was only four canvas walls and a roof. Not somewhere she could work in the winter.

She had several options. She could quit experimenting. That thought knotted her stomach. She wanted to clear her father’s reputation! The Thymes had been studying time for generations.Why, everyone on Celta had a no-time storage, where food placed inside a properly tuned cube remained exactly at the same temperature and freshness until it was withdrawn. That had been a Thyme invention.

The new laws against time experimentation had been generatedby one source, the late D’Willow, who’d convinced the FirstFamilies Council that “messing with time” was too dangerous.Dufleur’s temper went to slow burn. There were certainlyother scientific Families that had an explosion or two in their laboratories. Dufleur had surveyed the ruins of their house and land and sensed no temporal discrepancies. Not that anyone would believe her if she told them. The land had gotten a reputation for being haunted and perilous and thus would not sell.

She slid a portion of the wall back into place to stop temptation.She’d want to try one simple experiment, despite the fear. Then she might get engrossed and continue through the night. She went and laid down on her narrow bed and stared at the ceiling. Dark had already fallen, and the ceiling with the well-knowncracks was lost in shades of gloom. Every few weeks the cracks became boring and she moved her bed to where she could map new landscapes.

Thinking mode.

Deciding mode. Her lips quivered. She didn’t
want
to give up her experiments. They were the only things that gave her life purpose. How could anyone deny her the right to use and train and expand her Flair? As long as she harmed none.

Her father had only killed himself.

She had singed Fairyfoot’s whiskers.

Her eyes stung in fear and failure.

With a clatter, Fairyfoot entered the cat door set into one of the high windows and hopped down to land on an old-fashioned chest of drawers.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Dufleur said.

Fairyfoot sniffed.

“Since the experiments aren’t safe, I’m giving them up.”

“Rrrow!”
What? You can’t stop. I want to be the Time Cat.

Dufleur stared. “What do you mean?”

Even in the dim light, Dufleur could see Fairyfoot’s thrashingtail.

Clearing her throat, Dufleur said, “I do have a couple of other options.”

Another sniff.

“I could find some way to shield the room—make a room within a room with shields, then if anything goes wrong only I would die.”

“Huh.” She didn’t want to go into that. Not her specialty. “But such shields would be unusual and expensive. I don’t have the gilt for them.”

“Grrrr.”

“I could find an abandoned warehouse. Maybe down by the docks, work there.”

“Probably.”

Dufleur sighed. “Perhaps I could cut a deal with someone who has shield Flair.” She massaged her fingers. She was an excellentembroiderer and could usually trade for those skills, but embroidering outside her work for Dandelion Silk cramped her hands.

She’d have to make a special piece, use Time in her stitches, as she was doing more often, experimenting that way.

Perhaps a shield
, Fairyfoot said dubiously.

With a Word, Dufleur opened the door to the secret room. “Will you go get my notes, please?”

Rising, Dufleur went into the chamber. “Lights on,” she ordered.Then she closed the door behind her. She would compare the explosive experiment with every other one she’d conducted, step-by-step, and find out where she went wrong.

Furious scratching came at the stone outside.
Let Me in.

“No. I don’t want you hurt.” She glanced at the equipment, and the threatening nightmare came back. She couldn’t let fear trigger a flashback to her kidnapping.

A piercing yowl came from outside the room. Dufleur considered.No, her mother would
not
come down to investigate. She blocked the continuing feline hissy fit from her mind and began going over the documentation of the last two experimentsitem by item.

After a couple of minutes, she heard,
I will get you.

That evening after a quiet dinner, Saille lay on his thick bedsponge, aching. What had possessed him to send his HeartGiftout into the world? It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

The notion
had
been good. His MotherDam, the Mother of his Mother, had hidden his HeartMate from him, had set a spell upon him that he couldn’t find his love. He ground his teeth, realizedwhat he was doing, and stopped. The only way he’d thought of finding his HeartMate was by placing his HeartGift into a tiny box, then in a rough furrabeast leather pouch, and having it circulate.

He’d known a few things about the woman he’d connected with during his last Passage a year ago—and her last Passage four months ago. She was near him in age, he slightly older. She was in Druida City. She had a substantial amount of unique Flair, which he couldn’t pinpoint. She was of the lower-noble or upper-middle class.

All those things applied to a multitude of women. He hadn’t known who she was.

The plan had worked, too. She’d been drawn to the HeartGift.Had found it, then had immediately been kidnapped.

His HeartGift had unbalanced her Flair and led her into mortal danger. She’d nearly died. His fists clenched. He would not forgive himself for that.

He’d learned who she was, Dufleur Thyme.

But, at the start of the whole business he’d made a vow to proceed along a completely ethical course with his wooing. Let his HeartGift be found, then he would go to his Lady, ensure she accepted his gift as was demanded by law. If she did, he could reveal himself as her HeartMate. He could even claim her; erotic images flooded his mind at the thought, and he banishedthem. The plan had worked. Much better than Trif Winterberry’s quest of going door-to-door with a charmkey to find her HeartMate.

But it had taken a toll.

He was intimately connected to his HeartGift. He suffered when it was touched by those with incompatible Flair.

The pouch had been handled roughly. By virile men whose Flair clashed violently with his. By mad women. By murderers.

Only he and his HeartMate could see it clearly, to everyone— everything—else it was a blur to all senses. He could not spellshieldit and have it call to her.

So he suffered as other fingers touched it briefly, sliding over him and engendering nausea, or absently kicked it, he feeling the blow. He thought by now, after two and a half months travelingthe wintry streets of Druida, the pouch was coated with dirt . . . and worse. If he stretched his senses, he might find it. But he’d promised himself to let fate take its course.

It was somewhere dark and cold, sitting in a puddle of a disgustingliquid that was freezing around it, coating it.

Then it was found. Snagged.

Worse. It became a cat toy.

Dufleur studied for a couple of hours, then quit. She stood,
stretched, and walked back into her bedroom, lit by two small glowing spell lights that Fairyfoot had ignited. Taking her papyruswith her, she smiled and closed the door behind her.

Then Fairyfoot, sitting in the middle of the carpet, lifted her paws.

Disorienting lust speared through Dufleur. She doubled over, dropping her papyrus, scuttled to the far corner of the room, and folded in on herself.

She’d felt this before, wave after wave of crashing sensuality coming from an object, tightening her breasts and sensitizing her nipples, so that any clothes over them caressed her to madness.Her core melted. She yearned, she wanted, she
ached.

A golden glow throbbed in the middle of the floor, pulsing. She thought if she just watched the light, her hips would move in seductive rhythm, and she’d climax. She dared not touch the object. She knew what it was. A HeartGift, and if she accepted it, whoever he was, the man could claim her. She had no room in her life for a man.

She hadn’t been able to stop herself, and had picked it up once, fallen into murderous hands.

Take. It. Away,
she sent to Fairyfoot.

Fairyfoot licked her paw.
I decided we needed a FamMan to help Us.

“No,” Dufleur ground out.

The cat batted the filthy pouch with her paw, spun it.

An odor of dead things wafted to Dufleur. “Take it away. I don’t accept it.” She wouldn’t have it near her, stimulating her senses, overwhelming rational thought, making her a creature that lived to be touched by her lover.

She struggled to find a threat, a promise, a grovel that would impress her Fam. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you into the lab.” Her voice was hoarse.

“I see the error of my ways.” Was the light strengthening, beingmixed with red streaks? She could almost feel the man there, in her bedroom, moving toward her, ready to strip her bare. She pulled her knees up, dropped her head on her legs, turned her head away, closed her eyes.

Warm waves of darkness enveloped her. A man’s hand caressedher, her cheek, her arm, lingered against the pounding of her pulse.

Furrabeast would be good
, Fairyfoot purred.

This was blackmail. She couldn’t give in to her cat.

She couldn’t give in to a lover.

She couldn’t give in to her own sensuality.

She sprang to her feet, leapt for the pouch, fumbled for the encrusted strings. Stench of rotting sewer rat rose, helping her keep her fingers from the pouch. Her need built.

Lunging for the door, she yanked it open, hurled through it, up the stairs. Her legs trembled with the need to raise them around a body pressing against hers, a man’s tall, strong form, sex hard.

“Open, open,
open!
” She panted the spellword at the locked, shielded, secured door. Dampness dewed between her legs. The door swung outward, she fell into the cold. Big snowflakes drifted down, mesmerized her with their soft beauty. Fell against her skin sizzling with passion. Vanished. The barest touch of cold on raging heat had her shuddering with release.

She flung the HeartGift as far as she could, staggered back inside, spellshielded the door, and curled up on the landing. It had been the most intense orgasm of her life.

Saille arched in bed, as release thundered through him. For
a few moments he’d sensed her, been with her, his HeartMate.

His breathing came rough and ragged. Sweat sheened his body. Uttering a quiet curse, he stumbled to the bathroom and the waterfall, stood under warm scented water, arms braced against the stone wall.

For a while, his gift had been with his HeartMate. A cat had taken her the gift. Dufleur had rejected it—but not before their Flair had mingled, had spiraled them both to orgasm. Was this a good development, or bad?

He scrubbed his scalp with soap, as if he could stimulate his brain.

He’d known his HeartMate had a Fam animal, but hadn’t considered that the companion could be an asset. Now he sensed it could.