She knew it from the echo of old anger it roused in her. Rage at being trapped. She had been trapped in the Saille House of Orphans, at once angry at being forced to obey institutional rules at all times, and fearful of the outside world.
Timkin, her old playmate and first love, had once contained such rage, greater and more destructive than her own. It had faded when he made a life for himself outside the orphanage.
Destructive anger. This Ruis Elder was a destroyer. His fury would allow him no other outlet. And Danith was as sure as if she saw words of fire circling his head, that in the end, he would destroy himself.
She caught her breath. He turned, and when he looked at her, his face was once more slightly amused—but deeper than that, Danith saw self-mockery.
"GreatSir Elder."
She hit a nerve. She knew it. He was of the nobility.
"I don't care to be called GreatSir any more than you like GentleLady."
Heat rose to her cheeks. Perhaps she could defuse the tension a little. "What time is it?"
He looked startled, then glanced at his old-fashioned watch. Danith peered at the piece, fascinated. She had never seen one before, had only used timers herself.
"One septhour past midday."
"Thank you. Now, your business?"
From a concealed pocket in his shirt he took a long, thin flat box, a jeweler's box.
He placed it on the cafe table in front of him and snapped it open.
The seduction spell necklace.
Before she even saw the gems, the power struck her, dizzying in its force, its sexuality. T'Ash. She thought of his hard body against hers and the scent he carried of man and hot metal. She felt the virility of the man, and something more, an essence of the man who compelled her. And she wanted the necklace. Wanted his touch. Wanted more.
She made a mewling sound and retreated to the threshold of the back door.
Ruis Elder snapped the jewelry box lid shut and placed long, fine fingers atop it. Somehow that eased the frightening lure of the thing. But now she knew it was here, in the box.
She pressed a hand to her breast, found her heart thumping, and her breath came raggedly. A residual sexual heat flushed her body. She trembled.
The man signed as he studied her. He smiled crookedly. Now his self-mockery was open. "Yes, I see. I made quite a mistake. All this time with me and it still has that effect on you. That's truly powerful Flair." He shook his head. "A bad mistake."
Danith wet her dry lips. "How?"
His smile turned more amused. A pity he had such rage in him; his humor could have saved him. "I took it."
"You stole the necklace from T'Ash?" Inconceivable.
His brows lifted. "It wasn't protected by spellshield. That wouldn't have mattered, of course. But to see such an extraordinary piece displayed without even the hint of protection…" His shoulders lifted and fell. "Simply irresistible."
He opened the lid, and liquid desire surged through her, settling in her loins. She gripped the doorjamb with all her strength to keep from moving toward the radiant temptation of the necklace.
He shoved the box away, to the far edge of the table, but the tiny distance didn't help. The virile, carnal power of the necklace poured off it in waves.
Elder looked at the thing, ran his forefinger down the beads, redgold links, and gems to touch the roseamber heart. "The magnificence of the piece. Obviously an early work, but the sheer skill it displays! And this, a great roseamber heart with a flaw in the shape of licking flames." He shrugged again. "Positively too tempting."
His smile was once more ironic. "I said skill, not Flair. I am blind to that, but not to pure creative artistry. And my blindness ambushed me, as always." He sent her a slanting glance. "How was I to know it was a HeartGift?"
The last word penetrated the sensual fog enclosing her. Shattered her plans. They fragmented before her.
"No," she said. That morning she had been able to deny that she'd lost her desired future with Claif. She couldn't now. But even with the potency of T'Ash's necklace—she would not even think "HeartGift"—swirling around her, making her knees so weak she slid down to the floor, she still would not accept that her only future lay with T'Ash. Not T'Ash.
"No," she repeated.
"Danith," T'Ash said.
She turned her head. He stood just inside her back grassyard gate. Zanthoxyl sat straight and proud by his side. "Lord and Lady," Danith prayed. Passion matching the necklace burned in his eyes. He looked large, dark, strong. And very hard. The muscles of his shoulders tensed, his hands clenched, his thighs strained the fabric of his trous. All of him was hard.
She gripped the doorjamb tighter, closed her eyes, and turned her head away.
"Thief." T'Ash flung the word like a knife.
"I returned it," Ruis Elder said.
"To the wrong person. She did not know it was a Heart-Gift. Now you'll pay."
"Damnation! Just my luck."
The table crashed. Danith's eyes flew open, she jerked to her feet to see two men fighting on the ground. T'Ash was the larger, the broader, but he fought a man whose checked fury lay beneath a shallow surface.
They rolled. They punched. They grunted and swore.
Danith could almost see the raging emotions pouring into the summer afternoon sky, heating the grassyard. Emotions that were magnified by the necklace.
Zanthoxyl circled around the two, eyes narrowed, as if waiting to pounce on Ruis Elder. Now and again a fast paw would strike out at the thief's leg or back. It only made the man fight harder.
"Zanthoxyl, the necklace! Get it and put it away!"
The Fam spared her a feral look and growled.
"Do it!" Danith ordered, wondering if he'd obey.
His growl rolled louder. They matched gazes.
Danith narrowed her eyes and set her mouth.
With a final snarl, he picked up the necklace with his teeth, the box fell off the table. His muzzle pulled back from the thing.
He shot past Danith and into her house. She ran after him. He knocked over two chairs as he raced to her bedroom. He jarred the bedside table with his shoulder before depositing the necklace square in the middle of her bedsponge.
Then he roared a sound of utmost glee, and shot by her, back to the still fighting males.
Danith slammed the door to her bedroom. One glance in the Mainspace showed Pansy cowering on top of a bookcase, with only the ruby beads and two chains on, peering at the action.
Danith stomped back to the grassyard. "Stop this at once. T'Ash, I will not have you fighting in my yard. The necklace was stolen. Now it's back. You've pounded the man. That's enough! You, Ruis Elder, take your anger away. You pollute my home with it. Stop!"
They paid no attention. She thought of the waterhose. The idea didn't satisfy, not physical enough. She ran over and crouched near. She grabbed a handful of T'Ash's hair, he was on the bottom. He clenched his jaw, but stilled. Elder reared up, and she interposed her body between the men, absorbed a breathtaking blow on her shoulder, and collapsed on T'Ash's chest. Pain threatened darkness.
Zanthoxyl yowled.
"Danith!" T'Ash cried, clutching her close.
She forced her eyes open, sputtered words around the pain as she met Ruis's eyes. "Go. Now. Fast."
To her amazement, fury drained from his gaze, replaced by regret. He bowed quickly, respectfully. He ran into the house before Zanthoxyl reached him and slammed the door on the Fam. Zanth darted around the house and out to the front. Danith heard her front door slam, and Ruis's running footsteps down the stone sidewalk.
"Danith, dear one," T'Ash murmured, then lapsed into wordless crooning, cradling her awkwardly.
She turned a moan of pain into a sigh. And though some weak part of her wanted to remain in such strong, tender arms, the changes in her life were too new to be readily accepted. "Please. Release me."
His jaw hardened, his eyes glinted ice blue. He stood with her, made sure she was steady, and stepped back.
/>
He met her angry gaze with equal intensity. "Now you know. Not an illegal seduction spell. The necklace is a HeartGift, made during my last Passage."
"No."
"You always deny it. 'No.' But it's 'yes.' A HeartGift. We will be bound together forever, HeartMate."
She shuddered. "No. I don't want that."
"Too bad." His smile looked more than a little like Zanthoxyl's feral one. "I am making another HeartGift, to reflect more of the man I am now. You may be able to resist the necklace, and my Testing Stones, but not the new Heart-Gift. We've kissed. I've felt your response. Kissed only this morning, yet I've thought of it all day. You'll think of it, too, won't you? I'm making marriage armbands, also."
She ran to the stoop, jerked the door open, and slammed it behind her.
Her blood thundered in her ears, more from the fear he was right than the minor exertion. She stared, but didn't see anything but an image of both of them as entwined lovers.
"Do you always run from challenges?" His voice easily penetrated her door, making her jerk with surprise.
Ire flared in her. "Always from danger," she said, raising her voice.
"I can help you get over that."
She didn't see it as a fault.
She spun to the door and opened it again. He stood in the grassyard, a wicked smile on his face, hands on his hips.
She simmered, gestured to herself. "Look at me. I'm smaller than average, of common birth, an orphan with no Family name and no relatives. I'm insignificant in this world. Nothing. Avoiding danger not only makes sense, it works!"
Though his face softened, a molten, caressing look entered his eyes. "You're not nothing to me. I couldn't admit it before, but you are my HeartMate."
She scowled and crossed her arms. "I don't want to be a Noble. Your life includes too much obligation, and is too public. All I want is a simple life, surrounded by an easy man and a large Family."
The fire of desire in his gaze transformed to flickering anger. Instinctively she stepped back and took hold of the doorknob.
"We're HeartMates." Now it was he who flicked a hand down his large body. "I will suit you."
"You… don't appear to be an easy man."
His eyes narrowed. "Sorry. But we have much in common. I, too, am an orphan, without Family—"
"That's not what I want—"
"I've been even less than middle class, I grew up Downwind." He prowled forward. "I want a large Family. A new Family. With you."
She whirled and stepped back inside, then shut the door again, refusing to hear any more.
Once more she stopped just over the threshold. She stood for several moments, but did not hear him leave. His knock jolted her.
"Danith, Miz Mallow. I would like to get to know you."
"No."
His sigh was audible. "No, again. Unfortunate that you know we are HeartMates, but I didn't tell you myself. That will be taken into consideration when brought before the Councils. Common Council, NobleCouncil, perhaps even the FirstFamilies Council."
Danith gnawed her lip.
"Holm Holly has registered your Testing as a Noble. That will generate some publicity. I will send a Healer to tend you, causing more talk. With my claims before the Councils, everyone will talk."
He tapped on the door again. "Let me in. Let us get to know each other on an informal basis."
Danith muttered under her breath. "You will leave when I request it?"
"Of course. I am an honorable GreatLord."
She opened the door, but wrapped her arms around herself and kept a wary distance from him.
He strolled in, once again reminding her of Zanthoxyl. His hands were in the pockets of his black trous. He glanced around her home, slanted a look at her, and closed his eyes, tilting his head back. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.
Danith froze. Danger swirled around her. Sensual danger.
A flush came to his cheeks. His hands fisted in his pockets. When his eyes opened, they were heavy-lidded. "Nice. Not ugly like my Residence. Warm. Welcoming. You."
Her heart picked up beat.
Now he looked around with a lingering gaze. He smiled. Once more it was a genuine, engaging smile. Deep inside, Danith felt an attraction to him on more than a physical basis and squelched it.
"Where is the HeartGift?"
Danith gestured to the closed bedroom door. He walked to it. With a deep breath that expanded his large chest, he opened the door.
"Take it with you," Danith said, averting her eyes from the tangle of jewels pulsing with sexuality on the bedsponge.
"I don't think so." He snapped the door shut. "I touch that bedsponge and you'll be under me."
Danith trembled. She compressed her lips at an image of them as lovers. "I don't have anywhere else to sleep."
He went into the mainspace and saw the too-short divan. "I see." He looked at her, desire in his eyes. "Come with me."
"No."
"You're going to fight me on this."
"Yes."
His lips curved. "A 'yes' at last. This time I would have preferred a 'no.' As you wish." He rolled his great shoulders.
Danith lifted her chin, knowing he took his winning for granted.
He moved around the room casually, but she sensed he was noting every texture, every objet d'art, every book, every hologram.
He went into the kitchen and she heard a hissed breath. "Your scrybowl is disabled."
"GreatSir Elder."
There was muttering, a small clap of air. "Come here, please."
She walked to the open threshold of the kitchen. A large flowered cloisonne bowl with a soft yellow background that exactly matched her walls sat on her counter.
He looked at her, a satisfied expression on his face. "A bowl from my Residence." Gently he traced his finger around the rim, then dipped fingertips in the bowl and sent the water swirling. "Not mallow blossoms, but Ash. Come anoint it with your own energy and dedicate the scry image."
She gestured him out of the kitchen. It was only big enough for one to comfortably work in.
His brows lowered, then he passed her as she stepped aside.
She concentrated on setting the image and initiating the spell. The metal didn't make it easy, like the porcelain did.
"I can help," T'Ash said.
"No."
This time he smiled. "No. You must encourage your Flair, nurture it, starting with minor tasks. The bowl will accept your spells. You have the power to work with it. And it is, after all, my bowl."
"Crafted by you?"
His smile broadened. "Indeed."
"Another gift."
He matched her irritated gaze, gestured briefly. "You need a scry bowl. There it is. Will your pride make you refuse it?"
She felt more than irritation flare between them, but wanted nothing of it. "I have little pride. It is not a luxury an unwanted orphan can afford. You, I think, have more than you should."
She saw he didn't like that and couldn't refute it. He turned abruptly to prowl her mainspace.
Focusing once more, she worked with the air and the water, the image and energy. Knowing she had the Flair to bespell the bowl made all the difference. For the first time in her life, she didn't use a programmed spell on a magical object, she created her own. And it felt wonderful.
When she left the kitchen, she saw him hesitate by the table where the two cards she'd drawn earlier lay in all their glory. She hurried to stop him, too late.
His mouth quirked again as he tapped the Lord of Blasers and the Lovers. "Good." He hesitated, then touched his finger to the deck of cards. His breath hissed out, a shock rippled through his arm and down his body. The cords of his neck stood out.
He turned to look at her, pure passion glinting in his narrow gaze. When he spoke his voice was thick. "HeartMates. We two. Loving. Ecstasy. Forever."
She sidled to the front door and watched him. He turned his head away, and silence enveloped them for a few moments, a quiet that seem
ed to spin a strand between them.
"You might have noticed that I revert to short Downwind speech when—emotionally charged."
She didn't say anything.
Pansy mewed.
He looked up, a quick laugh broke from him.
Pansy was sitting, regal as a queen, on top of the bookcase. Once again she was draped in every glittering piece of jewelry she could insinuate on herself. The diamond earclip was back.
T'Ash walked over to her and held his hand up before her nose. She was easily within his reach. Danith would have had to use a stool to pick her cat up.
Pansy sniffed at his hand, then rubbed it, her loud purring filled the quiet between the people.
"Pansy, who would prefer to be called Princess, I presume."
The statement jolted Danith from her complacency. "Princess?" She looked at her cat. "Surely not."
"She is very beautiful. I thought so." He shot Danith a glance. "Like her Lady."
"Princess?"
"So Zanth says. She would prefer to be called Princess."
Danith muttered.
"I've designed a collar of citrines for her, and later an EarthSun pendant."
"No."
"Rrrow!" The wail for attention came from outside the front door.
T'Ash crossed to it and opened it.
Zanthoxyl strolled in, the bag of jewels that Danith had returned to T'Ash clamped in his teeth.
Danith saw the open door and took advantage of it, ignoring the gentle clink of the gifts as the Fam lowered his burden carefully to the floor. "It's time for you to go."
T'Ash's jaw tightened and he looked mutinous before stepping out onto the front sidewalk. "You won't come with me? Stay at my Residence?"
"No."
He nodded shortly, and reached in a hand to grab her broken antique scry table.
"Don't—" Danith started.
He smiled coolly. "My mistake, my redress."
The table looked delicate in his large hands. Despite the scry table, he managed a creditable bow. "I will send you a bedroll that will fit in here. Also expect a Healer to tend your shoulder; you've been favoring it. Merry meet."
Danith glared at him.
"Merry meet!"
She said nothing.
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