by Kay Hooper
She made the effort because she had to. Even as she responded eagerly to his passion, Serena fought the compulsion to melt against him, to give herself up completely to the astonishing need spiraling inside her; a new voice of wisdom in her head warned that this was only a first step for them. The conflict inside Merlin was far from over; even now, in this moment of closeness, she could feel something in him trying to pull away or push her away. The fact that he could hold her and kiss her with passion was definite evidence of his struggle, but not of his triumph over it.
We have to be careful. God, we have to be so careful. If we move too fast…
Every instinct Serena could lay claim to insisted that if they gave in to this suddenly unleashed, intense desire for each other and became lovers before the conflict inside him had been resolved, the price they would pay would be incalculable pain. She would have to bear the devastating knowledge that he could offer her nothing of himself wholeheartedly, and he would find himself bound forever by the heavy, anguished links of a chain his ancestors had forged out of fear.
She didn’t think about how he had responded to her admission of love, simply because she had expected nothing else from him. He was literally incapable of loving her in return, at least for now, and she knew it. Only time would tell if it would ever be possible.
Though it took every ounce of willpower and resolve she could command, she managed to control her desire for him, and she knew he could feel her restraint. When he raised his head at last, she struggled to listen to the wise voice in her head rather than the clamoring demands of her body, and smiled up at him a little wryly. “I really didn’t hide it very well, did I?” she asked him huskily.
“I didn’t know.” His voice was a little hoarse, and his liquid eyes were burning like black fire.
“Maybe you just didn’t want to know.”
“Maybe.” He smiled down at her, but there was a sharpened look of strain and tension in his lean face. His hand had slid underneath the weight of her netted hair when he kissed her, and now his fingers stroked her sensitive nape almost compulsively. “If I had known, it would have forced me to do something I didn’t want to do.”
“Send me away?”
Merlin nodded. “I wouldn’t have had a choice. Not then. Not back in Seattle with things the way they were.”
Serena managed another smile. “Then I’m very glad you didn’t know. At least now we have a chance. Don’t we?”
“I hope so. Serena, I can’t lie to you. I—”
She reached up and touched his mouth gently, stopping him. “It’s all right. I don’t want lies, Richard, only the truth. As long as you’re honest with me, I can bear whatever happens.” Touching him was like becoming addicted to a powerful drug, she realized, forcing herself to take her hands off him and move half a step back.
“I don’t want to let go of you,” he murmured, one hand on her shoulder and the other still curved around her neck.
The husky note of longing in his deep voice almost yanked her back against him, but Serena managed to hang on to her resolve somehow. “The sun’ll go down in a couple of hours,” she reminded him a bit unsteadily. “If we’re going to stay in the valley, we should make camp before the Curtain falls.”
Merlin hesitated, then glanced up at the nearest mountain. “We have time to get up there, and I can hide our presence from whatever male wizards live on that mountain. By now you must need a break from the Curtain.”
“It has made life uncomfortable,” Serena admitted with forced lightness.
“Then we’ll spend the night up there.”
“Good.” When his hands left her reluctantly, Serena added somewhat dryly, “You can tell me about that blond.”
“What blond?”
She accepted his puzzlement as genuine, but had no intention of allowing the subject to drop—not when it had hovered in the back of her mind despite everything that had happened since. “The blond you were with the night my mind decided to inhabit yours,” she reminded him.
“Oh. That blond.”
Confronted with the incident a second time, Merlin didn’t stiffen or take refuge in offended anger, as he had the first time, back in Seattle. Instead he seemed to Serena definitely uncomfortable and a bit defensive, and he settled his shoulders in an odd motion, as if bracing himself against some anticipated blow.
“You didn’t think I had forgotten?”
Merlin smiled suddenly and turned away to retrieve his coat and backpack. “No, I didn’t think that. You’ve always had a talent for remembering—even what it would have suited me better for you to forget.”
Serena watched him shrug into the coat and thought again how regal it made him look. “All things considered,” she said, “I think I have a right to ask. Now.”
He looked at her seriously. “Yes, you do. Let’s get up above the level of the Curtain and make camp for the night, and I’ll tell you all about it. Fair enough?”
Nodding, Serena said, “Fair enough.” She could only hope that his answer was bearable, especially after her claim that the truth was something she could stand.
From his position on what had once been the wide terrace of a large private home in the Old City, Varian watched the couple gather their things and start winding their way through the ruins heading north. Shielded from their awareness by distance and his ability to hide himself, he had watched them throughout what appeared to be a tense discussion that had culminated in a curiously restrained yet obviously intense embrace.
Surprised when nothing but kisses came of the interlude, Varian frowned. They were an odd couple and no mistake. If he had been days away from his only concubine and had not eased himself with any other bitch during that time, he certainly would have ridden her within moments of returning to her. Merlin’s control, though admirable, seemed somewhat excessive.
And where were they off to now? The northern mountain was inhabited by a number of male wizards, though it belonged chiefly to Justin, Sinclair, and Linus—none of whom was observant enough to take note of strangers on their property unless a red flag was waved in their faces. Varian didn’t doubt the wizard of Seattle and his concubine would be able to spend the night undisturbed on the mountain.
Varian looked toward the setting sun and calculated that the Curtain was no more than a couple of hours away. So that was why Merlin had postponed a more lustful reunion with his bitch; he wanted to get above the Curtain, where a full night of passion was possible. The logic was clear, and Merlin’s deferral of sex was much more understandable to Varian once he reached that conclusion.
He didn’t follow the couple, but leaned against the remains of what had once been a fine balustrade and stared after them broodingly. A redhead. Even more, a beautiful redhead with spirit, her body as strong as it was ripe and her green eyes full of life and intelligence. Her coloring and striking beauty were certainly rare enough to invite comment, but that vibrancy was even more singular, and it had ignited a smoldering fire in his loins. He wanted her.
Merlin said she wasn’t for sale, and he’d made it plain he meant it, so Varian didn’t even consider the possibility of changing the other wizard’s mind. No, he would have to deal with the matter a little less directly and simply take what he wanted by trickery—or thievery. It wouldn’t be the first time Varian had stolen a desired concubine from under the very nose of her Lord.
But his wariness of Merlin had, if anything, increased after their brief and civilized skirmish over ownership of the redheaded bitch. There was iron in the younger wizard, and Varian sensed that Merlin’s reserve of power was far greater than he was willing to reveal. So he would have to be very careful and clever if he was to be successful in carrying the redhead off to his own mountain and the stronghold of his palace—where Merlin would not dare to come after her, not if he valued his life.
There were many benefits to having sired so many sons, not the least of which was the protection they provided. Varian had lost several sons over the years when they
had stepped between their father and his enemies just as dutiful sons should—and if Merlin was rash enough to come after his redhead, he would have to fight his way through as many of Varian’s sons as were required to destroy him.
Varian glanced at the setting sun and briefly debated. When he began moving through the ruins, it wasn’t toward the south and his own mountain, but toward the north.
“So it was a bordello,” Serena said.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Oh, no?” Serena leaned against the log that provided a backrest for her and gazed across their small fire at Merlin. “Maybe you have another word for it. You described a house where carefully selected women—barren, powerless, and apparently a little dense, since they never ask awkward questions—are kept in comparative luxury and paid a generous fee for the sole purpose of servicing the men who occasionally visit the house.”
After a long silence Merlin sighed. “All right, it’s a bordello. But that isn’t how I thought of it.”
Shrewdly Serena said, “I get the feeling you didn’t think very much about it at all.”
“I didn’t.” He shrugged, gazing into the fire. “It was simply part of being a wizard, Serena, a practice as traditional and matter-of-fact in my life as spell-casting or conjuring. It simply wasn’t one of the things in my life that required thought.”
Keeping her voice neutral with some difficulty, Serena said, “So your ancestors didn’t demand celibacy as a law despite their fear of women of power and their wariness of powerless women. They simply arranged matters so that you all could have sex when you wanted it with the least threatening women they could find.”
“Males have rarely accepted celibacy as a way of life. You know that. Only religion seems a historically acceptable reason to forgo sex, and the jury’s still out on just how successful that’s been.” Merlin shrugged. “My ancestors were afraid, but clearly not so terrified that they elected to go without one of life’s pleasures. So, as you say, they arranged matters to provide reasonable access to ‘safe’ women. The practice is virtually the same now as it was in ancient times. There are … houses scattered all over the world.”
“Where’s the one you go to?”
He raised his eyes to meet hers across the flames. “Northern California.”
“So far from Seattle? I’m surprised you haven’t made more convenient arrangements.”
“Serena, I’m sorry this upsets you, but you did ask. I’m trying to be honest about it.”
He was right, and Serena knew it. She got a grip on the painful emotions and struggled to keep the hurt and dismay out of her voice. “Yes, I know. Forgive me, it’s just … it sounds so damned cold-blooded.”
Evenly Merlin said, “Knowing what I do now, I agree, but until we came here, I had no idea where or why the practice had originated among wizards because I never questioned it. Try to understand how I was raised, please. I was taught to always be in control, to waste as little energy as possible on unnecessary emotions and needless complications. To take care of my physical needs as efficiently as possible in the way that had always been accomplished.”
It was chilling to hear him explain what sounded like a horrible upbringing, and Serena had to remind herself that there were prices, as well as rewards, for being a wizard. “So it seemed normal to you to travel to northern California whenever you needed sex and spend a few hours with some woman you knew only in the biblical sense.”
“So normal I never thought twice about it. At least …” He hesitated, then continued quietly. “These last years my visits to the house became less and less … satisfying even as they became more frequent. Sex had always been no more than a physical release, never touching my emotions and hardly causing a ripple in my life, but lately even that was a fleeting pleasure that did little to drain the tension I felt.”
“Why was that?” Serena was trying hard to match his dispassionate tone.
“I didn’t know why, not then. Not until that night, when your consciousness slipped into mine. I felt your shock and your pain, and it forced me to think about what I was doing.”
“I’m glad something positive came out of it,” she muttered almost to herself. “I practically wrecked my room when I came back to myself.”
“You always were very … intense in your emotions, Serena. Maybe that was why your feelings affected me so profoundly that night. You made me realize the wrongness of what I was doing. Not the act itself, but the fact that I was having sex with another woman … when you were the one I really wanted.”
“You hid it very well,” she managed. “Before then—and when you came home after that night.”
“I had to. Everything inside me insisted it was wrong for me to feel anything for you, especially desire.”
Serena pulled her gaze from his intent one and looked out over the valley. The Curtain was a glimmering blanket lying heavily over the dark valley below, and she gratefully drew a deep breath of the clear, crisp air. It was a relief to escape the smothering nightly exhaustion she had endured in Sanctuary.
“Have I answered all your questions, Serena?”
“About the blond? I suppose.” She didn’t look at him. “You really didn’t feel anything for her, did you? Or for the others over the years.”
“No.”
“I almost wish you had.”
“I know.”
Serena looked at him finally, finding his firelit face drawn and grim. She could feel his tension, and he still had that braced stiffness of a man awaiting a blow of some kind. Hesitantly but truthfully she said, “Sometimes I had the sense there was something lacking in you, something missing, but I didn’t want to believe it.”
“Now you know it’s true.” Merlin’s brief smile didn’t touch his eyes. “God forgive me, I never felt very much about anyone in my life until you came along. I even treated both my parents with the distant courtesy of strangers. Perhaps I can one day make amends with my father—if he permits it, of course, and he probably won’t—but I’ll never have the chance to tell my mother how sorry I am that I wasn’t a better son.”
Serena got to her feet and went around the fire to kneel beside him. She felt a bit diffident, but since he seemed willing to talk, she had to take advantage of the opportunity. The only way she could get close to him was to make the attempt. “This isolation you’re describing—it’s more than a taboo against women, isn’t it?”
Recalling his discussion with Tremayne, Merlin nodded. He turned slightly to face Serena, wishing she didn’t look so alluring in the firelight. Just the sight of her caught at his breathing and made his heart beat faster. It was difficult to think, especially when he remembered so vividly how her erotic lips felt under his, but he wasn’t willing to do anything to risk disturbing this interlude of honesty.
“Wizards have always been solitary creatures, holding others at a distance emotionally. In our time it’s especially true; all the other wizards I know are nearly emotionless, and I … I’m not much better.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it’s because power is such a dangerous thing and ours can escape us if we aren’t careful, or because so much of what we are is inside us and has to be controlled so strictly. Whatever the reason, our inward gaze makes it all but impossible to reach out to others. And when we do, the contact tends to be very shallow, casual, and more than a little dispassionate.”
Frowning, she said, “We never see ourselves clearly, but I don’t think I’m like that. Am I?”
“No, you aren’t. You reach out to others easily and often, Serena; that’s obvious from the number of friends you have in Seattle.”
“Then why am I different? I’m a wizard, too.”
“Judging by what we’ve observed here, being a woman may have something to do with it. The female wizards here seem more able to accept friendships and are less wary with each other than the males I’ve encountered.” He remembered Varian’s seemingly endless number of sons, all of whom had displayed loyalty to, and fear of, their father but had clearly
viewed one another with a strong suspicion despite being related by blood. There was a revolt just waiting for the right moment, Merlin thought, then brushed the memory aside to concentrate on answering Serena’s question.
“But I believe there’s another reason, as well. The first sixteen years of your life weren’t influenced by the formal, rigid training that I and most other wizards of our time were expected to endure. By the time you came to me, much of your personality was already set, unaffected by ancient laws or beliefs and restrained by nothing except your innate self-control.”
He smiled slightly. “You were like a breath of fresh air in my life, Serena. You were willing to work hard and wanted with every fiber of your being to be a wizard—yet at the same time you had no intention of being only a wizard. You questioned the rules and turned many of the ancient customs upside down, and generally maddened me. However emotionless I’d been trained to be, my composure was attacked on all sides by your intensity and enthusiasm.”
She couldn’t help smiling back at him. “Should I apologize for that?”
“No.” Seriously he added, “It will no doubt take you longer to reach your full potential as a wizard than it would have if you had begun the training as a child, but in the end you’ll be a much better wizard than I am in many ways. You have the gift of humanity, Serena, and that’s something no amount of learning or training can produce.”
She wanted to cry suddenly, but managed to sniff back the tendency. Seeing Merlin in this new and definitely more vulnerable light was both unnerving and moving; he knew there was something lacking in him, something she possessed in abundance, and he was willing to be honest about that with her. She hadn’t dared to hope he would let her in like this. Before she could speak, he went on quietly.
“If you hadn’t come into my life, I would probably never have noticed anything missing. But you did. And while I tried to teach you how to be a wizard, you taught me about things I hadn’t even realized I needed to know.”