Heart Legacy

by Robin D. Owens

  Baccat snorted in her mind. Just translocate the pouch.

  Yes? she asked privately, and doubtfully.

  Trust Me on this, Loridana Itha. That shabby pouch of gilt you have is less than what a regular mercenary guard keeps on his person, let alone takes south to Gael City, and much less than Draeg has. Her Fam hopped down from his basket and trotted to sit on her feet and look up at her with a cat grin on his face. I could go up and find HIS pouch in his rooms and see how much he has.

  Absolutely not!

  “Is your cat making fun and laughing at me?” Draeg asked. He had the reins of both stridebeasts in his hands and was leading them to their stalls.

  “I think you’re very good at figuring out what’s going on through our link.”

  Draeg stilled, his expression going impassive, eyes wary. “Is that a problem for you?”

  “No, I like our connection,” she said immediately, then thought of the drawbacks, of her private plans that began to feel like secrets she was keeping from him.

  His smile flashed and he ducked his head in respect. “I think I might have had more practice than you with bonds.”

  He was probably right; she kept her own Familial bonds as narrow as humanly possible, her personal shields up. So she might not be as observant as he, either, but she couldn’t live with open links or revealing the true self—the real woman—she longed to be. Only her animals and Fam had wide bonds with her. With that thought, she held out her hand, visualized the pouch in her saddlebags, and brought it to her. Opening the drawstrings, she pulled out a handful of silver slivers and counted them out on the gravel for Corax.

  Draeg didn’t even glance at the bag.

  I’m sure all your gilt is pocket change for Draeg, Baccat sneered.

  Shiny! Pretty! Corax trilled. He came by and walked up and down the line pecking at them, lifting his wings and cackling, appearing supremely pleased. Then, one by one, he took a coin in his beak, flew away to stash it somewhere, and returned.

  “Tell me about the twins,” Draeg asked. “What are your cuzes’ Flair psi powers?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know.”

  “They do have Flair?”

  “I’m sure.” She shook her head. “They went through their Second Passages within a couple of weeks of each other, with Vi first, I think. No doubt hers triggered Zus’s, or maybe the other way around.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t allowed in their rooms because I might disturb them. I haven’t really seen either one of them practice their Flair—I mean, use any Flair they have.”

  “You practice your Flair,” Draeg commented quietly. “How strong is Zus’s and Vi’s Flair?”

  “I don’t know. Substantial, probably, since they are Cuspid’s children and he has a good amount.”

  “Can’t you tell when you are in a circle with them?”

  She hunched a shoulder in disdain. “They are lazy, always. They only contribute the minimum amount of Flair and energy necessary in any circle.”

  His eyes fired. “They disrespect you.”

  “Always.”

  He opened his mouth, looked away, then shut it and said nothing more.

  As a precaution, Draeg and she put the stridebeasts and the horses in the stalls of the east block, more secure than leaving them in the open. Lori checked on the store of Flair needed for a loud alarm that would be heard throughout the estate and began to top it off when Draeg shook his head and did it for her.

  Without words but with a flow of images and feelings, she and Draeg and the Fams had organized their evening; Baccat would explore Druida as usual, Draeg and she would make love in the boathouse while Corax kept watch on the stables, later she and Draeg would meditate in the grove, and then they’d retire to their separate beds.

  A very simple and homey evening, but she found herself anticipating it more than any exotic excursions in the city.

  Her calendar sphere popped into the air, chiming to remind her of dinner, and suddenly the air constricted in her lungs. She shook herself out and began the cycling of gratitude, love, and joy that she felt for her animals and Draeg. With a last blessing, she ended the daily ritual, more at peace.

  Until Draeg yanked her into his arms and kissed her. This was a kiss like no other. A kiss as intense as the man. The kiss of a real lover. One that involved his tongue sliding along her mouth, dampening it with his taste, causing her lips to feel fuller. The arm around her back squeezed her close, until his erection pressed against her stomach.

  Her mind began to spin, thoughts draining from her, only desire flowing in her veins, lust sizzling along her nerves. His tongue thrust against her teeth and she opened her mouth and discovered a whole new range of sensations as she rubbed her own tongue against his, played with him, dueled with him, then daringly darted her own tongue into this mouth.

  Her knees went weak and his arm held her up, held her tight. The taste of him was like nothing she could ever imagine.

  Wildness held under a thin layer of control, but deep earth ready for roots, winter herbs, an explosion of tastes that flashed memories or sensations or images that went straight to the core of her and tugged her close to orgasm.

  Corax screeched, interspersing his cries with the alarm sounding on her calendar sphere.

  Mushy stuff, cawed Corax. I will go eat, then come back to watch the animals.

  “Ouch, dammit, cat!” Draeg jumped back, leaving Lori wobbling on unsteady feet. Blood welled from his cheek.

  Lori must depart NOW or all might be lost! Baccat yowled.

  Not enough time for her to cleanse in a waterfall and dress for dinner. She’d have to suffer through another Whirlwind scouring spell and the scolding during dinner at not managing her time.

  You have the excuse that everything You did today took longer because of Your injury last night, Baccat snapped. Now GO!

  Without another word to her lover, she teleported away.

  * * *

  Draeg ran lightly down the steps to the boathouse. Once there, he touched his hooks. Zus was off the estate but in a different part of town than he had been the night before. Wherever he was, he’d teleported there because after Draeg had settled the animals in the stables, he’d checked the garage, where both gliders sat, accounted for.

  Zus’s twin was with him, but if good and proper Loridana Itha Valerian D’Yew found this place boring and needed excitement in her life, Draeg would bet the whole magnificent T’Blackthorn land and fortune that those twins also considered Yew estate deadly dull. However it didn’t appear that they were much hampered by the rules that surrounded Lori.

  Draeg opened the door to the boathouse and paced, waiting for Lori. He’d done as many drills and exercises as he could to tamp down his lust, moderate his anticipation of seeing his woman again.

  The interior of the place appeared half-finished, but he thought that under a cover of dust, the wooden floor would gleam, and if cleansed, the walls would be a lot less rough. A tarp lay over a section of built-in cabinets.

  He searched for a bedsponge. Nothing. This would be a party place, a meeting place, a place for picnics and gatherings and embarking onto the boats in the dock a story below. He wondered if any of the boats were river cruisers, maybe as old-fashioned as the gliders. With beds.

  Standing in the middle of the room, simmering with sexual frustration, he squeezed his eyes shut, visualized one of the storage rooms in T’Blackthorn Residence, and with a mighty grunt translocated a bedsponge big enough for two, then realized as he panted that sweat covered his body from the effort.

  The door opened and Lori walked in.

  He pounced.

  Twenty-five

  Lord and Lady, she felt good in his arms, like no other. All other women’s faces, bodies, had vanished from his mind. Only perfect Loridana. Perfect for him.

  They were much of a height, but she was so slender, her curves so subtle, that he felt strong and manly, and just simply wide.

  But her flexible body showed lean muscles, often
used, under soft and smooth skin.

  He couldn’t wait to get her out of her clothes. Hauling her over to the bedsponge, he dropped her on it, stripped off his shirt that stuck a little to him.

  Bouncing a little on the thick bedsponge and laughing, Lori said, “What’s this?”

  “I got it.”

  “I can see that. From where?”

  He shrugged. “Home.”

  “It’s dusty.”

  He grunted.

  With an exhalation of breath, she raised her arms and said a simple housekeeping spell of a few lines. One he should have thought of, if he’d been capable of thought, but he had all the mind and finesse of a stallion in heat. He thought his cock would pretty much look like a stallion’s, too, released from loincloth and trous.

  Before she had lowered her arms, he’d whisked off her tunic and thrown it atop his shirt, staring at her small breasts outlined by her breastband. Like the stained work tunic, her breastband was a simple horizontal piece of cloth in white. The kind of underwear a virgin would wear.

  And she’d been a virgin before him. Before just this early afternoon.

  The idea drove him crazy. He’d been her first lover, and he’d barely touched her. They hadn’t had time. Tonight, maybe, they’d have about three septhours. Hardly enough time to explore her the way he wanted.

  He had to go slow. He’d thought of that during their first lovemaking, and he’d tried hard to do it, but the whole thing blurred in his mind.

  She was here, and looking at him with desire in her eyes, so maybe he hadn’t bungled too badly. Her nipples tightened into hard little nubs and he groaned.

  “Clothes of—”

  “Wait!” Lori said, hopping up from the bedsponge where he’d put her, needed her.

  With a sweeping gesture from her, the mattress disappeared. Draeg felt wetness sting his eyes. He thought he growled. Until she took his hand, tugged.

  Naturally, he followed, to a small room in the back. There lay the bedsponge, fully covered with linens, a comforter at the bottom, four pillows at the top. Atop a small cabinet was his shirt and her tunic, folded. A spellglobe glowed softly in the corner, adding romance.

  The room smelled of Lori, fresh springtime, the promise of summer blooms.

  Oh, yeah. Draeg inhaled deeply and his nerves dropped away, his mind cleared from lust. Better grab this moment.

  He turned to her, grasped both hands in his own, stared into her wide eyes that showed a hint of that springtime green.

  “Lori, Loridana, you honor me by joining with me.” First he lifted one hand, then another to his lips. “I have never known anyone as valiant, as caring as you.”

  She pinkened and the blush flowed from her cheeks to the top of her breastband. “Surely you have,” she whispered.

  “I don’t recall. I don’t recall any woman other than you.” Not romantic, dammit! He reddened. “You eclipse everyone, like . . . like the sun rising at dawn outshines the twinmoons.” Better.

  “I don’t think so—”

  “Say, ‘Thank you, Draeg, for the true compliment.’”

  Her expression, her manner, lost the insecurity he’d seen, that being with her Family in the Yew Residence had put in her since he and she had been apart. No, he didn’t like the effect her folk had on her. Something to think of later.

  Not daring to touch her yet, he bent forward, angled his head, and placed a soft kiss on her pink lips. Lips as pale as he recollected her nipples to be. He lingered, tracing her lips with his tongue to get a hint of her taste, as subtle as her scent, as potent.

  She opened her mouth, and he didn’t thrust his tongue quick and hard into the depths like he wanted. Control, control, control. He slipped his tongue along hers and groaned, opened his eyes to see that she’d closed hers, and he pulled back, rocking back on his heels to put a little distance between them. “A very beautiful woman.”

  “I don’t—” She stopped herself. “Thank you, Draeg.”

  “A very beautiful woman I want to undress slowly, to see and savor every view of her.”

  She wetted her lips and the sheen of it nearly did him in. He released her hands and placed his palms on her shoulders, smoothing them down her arms to her wrists, letting himself feel the soft and throbbing bond between them, see the effect of his touch in her eyes, the way her lips curved, the relaxation of her shoulders.

  Under his hands, her skin was warm and he understood that she’d heated the full boathouse since he’d come in. The Flair this woman had mastered!

  Another turn-on for him, that her power might be more than his own, that she outstripped him in that as he did with her physically.

  Power and control and responsibility and caring. Qualities to be prized. Qualities he couldn’t live without.

  Her pulse beat fast and steady; their breathing had synchronized and he swallowed, fighting down the rising tide of desire.

  He rested his hands on the faint flare of her hips and the unfashionable narrow-legged work trous as stained as her tunic, yet beneath his fingers, the weave of the cloth was tight and fine.

  “Trous off,” he said, smiling as the trous folded around her workboots, then fell away from those. Yes, she wore white pantlettes of a cut his sisters had worn when children. The heat in him ratcheted up another couple of degrees and he had to swallow, then clear his throat. He took another step back, two, to let his gaze linger on her. He scanned her from her hair pulled back and braided to keep it from her face, straight shoulders, slender torso still girlish, flat stomach. Her arms and legs were well toned from riding; he’d felt that, under his hands, as her body moved against his. Now he appreciated her lines as a whole.

  He smiled and glanced into her eyes again, discovering that her own gaze lingered on his chest. He glanced down. His nipples were tight, too, of course. Not too many scars, and none from stupidity to be ashamed of.

  She strode toward him, her lips parted over perfect teeth, her lips moist again. Had he missed her tongue swiping them? Too bad. But better, right now, not to think of her tongue or mouth.

  His thick leather belt didn’t prevent her from hooking her thumbs under his trous and loincloth. Their flesh met flesh and he shuddered.

  “Trous off,” she said, and the cloth fell away from his legs and feet as well. He stood only in his loincloth, his erect cock prominently pushing against his underwear.

  “You’re wearing a blue loincloth.” She blinked. “And it’s not like those I see in the laundry.”

  “It’s a fighter’s breechclout,” he explained, but felt his cheeks redden. He felt overdeveloped—the thickness of his thighs, his shoulders, his neck. Did he appear brutish to her as well as her cuzes? He sincerely and desperately hoped not.

  He cleared his throat again. “I’m a fighter, a mercenary guard. I’ve trained since age seven. I consider my body my greatest tool.”

  She nodded.

  “You find my body . . . pleasing?”

  Her brows went up and her smile grew wider. “Draeg, I told you this morning you were gorgeous. Say, ‘Thank you, Lori, for the true compliment.’”

  “Thank you, Lori, for the true compliment. And I thought you were complimenting my eyes, earlier,” he teased.

  “They are a beautiful blue, but your body is . . . exceptional.” She laughed. “I stopped in our library a few minutes to peruse anatomical art books, and I can tell you that you compare very well to the male studies. I like your shape.”

  “I like yours, too, and will like it better when I can see all of it. But I must confess that I don’t recall much about this morning. I wasn’t thinking much. And I can pretty well guarantee that shortly I won’t be thinking again, so you, uh, must take that into consideration when I fall short in the memory department.”

  “Oh.” She looked thoughtful.

  “What?” he asked.

  “So you were running mostly on emotions this morning?”

  “Mostly basic animal instinct.”

  “Oh. Me, too. I
t’s a wonderful thing, animal instinct.” She dropped her gaze and stared at his crotch. He hadn’t thought he could get any more aroused, but he’d been wrong.

  “Thought is fading even as we speak,” he said, panting.

  Her smile was slower, completely amused, and lit her eyes. “Good.” She sucked in her bottom lip and his shaft twitched. Keeping her gaze on him, she said, “Pantlettes off.”

  His stare zoomed to between her legs and the blond hair there.

  She held out a hand. “Let’s go have sex.”

  “Make love,” he corrected, his words coming from a dry mouth. He drank in the aroma of her once more. “Loincloth off.” The cloth constricting his erection fell away, and Lord and Lady, did he feel good, really ready to touch this lady, sink into her. Slow down! He grasped her fingers and circled around her in a dance pattern in the two strides it took to reach the welcoming bedsponge. She pivoted with him, matched his steps.

  “You dance.”

  “I was taught. We have big parties for all the Family on Mid-Summer’s and Mid-Winter’s Days. I dance then.”

  “But not with your cuz Zus.”

  Her expression soured. “Do you want to spoil the mood?”

  “Sorry, really don’t.” He locked his arm around her waist and spun fast, gauged the angle of the bedsponge, and took them down. They landed side by side and laughing, and the beauty of her laughter hit him so hard that he lifted her leg over his hip and plunged into her, watching the surprise in her eyes. Liking how she closed her lashes and moaned a little. Maybe liking that too much.

  He closed his own eyelids, just to savor the moment. Not moving. Thankfully, she’d been wet enough for him. Now heat and dampness closed around his cock and being inside her was the most important thing in the entire universe. He could feel her tight nipples against his chest, the softness of her breasts. One of her arms had gone around his neck, and he moved his hand on her hip along her sweet spine to the nape of her neck where her thick braid tangled. “Undo,” he whispered rawly.