Heart Dance

by Robin D. Owens

  Dufleur only saw nodding faces around her, not a trace of doubt. Maybe that would come later.

  “You saved us,” Saille said simply. “You prevented a tragedy that would hurt this Family for generations.”

  “Especially if what happened ever became common knowledge,” someone said.

  Saille’s expression hardened into steel. “I will want everyone’s solemn Vow of Honor, on pain of banishment to the country,that you will not speak of the events that took place here. Ever.”

  Shaky assents came from the women.

  “You must report me to the guards,” Arbusca said.

  “No. That will never happen. Dufleur’s right. You’re the heart of this Family. I don’t know how we’ll do without you when your HeartMate claims you.” He kissed her hand, the one that wore her HeartMate’s gold ring.

  “I can’t be rewarded for—”

  “You made a mistake. A mistake that would not reflect well on the Family. Therefore it will remain a Family secret.” His mouth pulled down. “We have plenty of secrets, and all of the recent ones because of my predecessor.”

  Exchanges of curious looks.

  “You will have to live with your secret, and the knowledge of what you did and what you are guilty of, and that the Family knows. That is your punishment.”

  Arbusca lowered her head, face flushed. “Yes, Saille.”

  All Families have secrets. Especially FirstFamilies. I know many. And I know All About Time, Fairyfoot said smugly, movingfrom where she’d stretched along Dufleur’s side to her lap. Her purr revved.

  But Dufleur had tensed.

  Saille frowned. “Dufleur has her own secrets. I hope she shares them with me, and together we will decide how much to tell the rest of you. But again, there will be Vows of Honor involved,and breaking those will have an ill effect on your health.”

  “I don’t think I’d care to know,” someone murmured. There was some agreement.

  “Very well. These will be secrets between the GreatLord and GreatLady of the House of Willow.” He picked up Dufleur’s hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, sending her strength and energy.

  The Residence said, "FirstLevel Healer GrandLord T’Heather is here to examine the body.”

  At that, the women whisked away to their duties, leaving Dufleur and Saille alone. He sat on the bed next to her, put his arm around her. “You are such a fascinating woman, Dufleur, and Flair such as yours should have been incorporated into the FirstFamilies long since.”

  “I’m not sure how much I want to tell the FirstFamilies.”

  He kissed her lips, a gentle brush. “That is your decision.”

  “One I’ll make with you. I can share everything with you.” A great weight drained from her. She wasn’t the sole person responsiblefor decisions about time.

  “Thank you,” Saille said wryly. He played with her fingers. “I’ve ordered a large meal for you.”

  There was a knock on the door. Saille rose. “All your favoritefood. And that’s your dinner.” One side of his mouth lifted in an unamused smile. “Now I go deal with T’Heather.”

  “Her heart did give out,” Dufleur said. “I can reverse time and stop the disease, but not all the side effects.”

  Saille sighed. “Then there will be no trouble from T’Heather.”

  “I shouldn’t think so.” Dufleur pushed the covers back.

  “Don’t get up. You should rest. Perhaps I should have him look at you—”

  “No. I know the effects of my usage of Flair far better than you, T’Willow. I am D’Thyme.”

  He smiled, opened the door, and the scent of the food that made her mouth water also made Dufleur reconsider.

  Dinner in bed. When had she ever had dinner in bed?

  I will give you everything. I will cherish you. I will pamper you.

  She almost snorted, but her eyes stung, and she liked the sentiment, at least.

  When she’d finished the tray and felt much better, she rememberedher vow to find the late D’Willow’s memoryspheres. She slipped from Saille’s rooms to the suite next door.

  She entered the room and wrinkled her nose at the scent— too much stale perfume. The sitting room was cluttered with furniture, knick-knacks, objects of all sorts. All the walls except for the one that held floor-length windows were covered in bookcases. No wonder even a large and efficient staff failed to find a few memoryspheres, though it was obvious a search had been made. There must be hundreds of hiding places.

  I will look in the bedroom that attaches to FamMan’s sitting room, Fairyfoot said, trotting off. Dufleur smiled faintly, sure the FamCat would be looking for an old connecting FamDoor, or scouting a place to put a new door. She’d wanted these rooms after all.

  Shutting the hall door, Dufleur went to a small clear space in the middle of the room and centered herself and her Flair. She had a HeartMate connection with Saille, not a HeartBond, not yet, but the next time they loved . . . She had a faint connection with all of the Willows through Saille. Including his MotherDam.

  More. Dufleur had laid hands on old D’Willow, knew the cells in her body that had carried the disease. Had manipulated the diseasein those cells, killed it. Yes, she had a link to D’Willow.

  And determination.

  And perhaps just enough emotional distance from the old woman to find what the Willows couldn’t.

  She was stronger in her Flair now and knew more about working with time. She gathered all the molecules of the Time Wind floating in the room to her. She stretched her senses, searching for something hidden, something secret.

  Show me, she prayed. She shoved the Time Wind violently away from her. Go to something hidden, something secret, something not seen for five months, two eightdays. She saw a red flash wash against a fist-sized area of white wall, a small stretch between books. Walking toward the bookcase, she saw the bookend on the left against a row of volumes of History of Celta. It was a bronze hawk in flight, a symbol of the Willows. Then came the small space, nearly out of her reach, and another bookend, this one glass formed as two maidens, one in the horns of a waxing moon, one in a waning moon. The books to the right of that holder were thin volumes of ritual templates by the order of priestesses, the Maidens of Saille.

  Dufleur touched the wall, felt a little shock. A spellshield over a no-time. She grinned and rubbed her fingers. There wasn’t a no-time on Celta she couldn’t open. She didn’t touch the wall, but let her fingertips hover a millimeter from it. With her Flair she sent the Time Wind in the room through the wall to touch the Time Wind in the no-time safe and pulled.

  Pop! Though it was a small sound, the concussion hurt her ears. Fairyfoot yowled from the bedroom. The noise echoed through the Residence.

  Dufleur! Saille’s mental voice was concerned.

  The safe crumbled to dust and three memoryspheres fell into her palm. She sent the image to Saille.

  Rolling the memoryspheres in her palm, Dufleur smiled. I am here to support you. Always.

  Come.

  We are coming, said Fairyfoot. This old woman’s old room needs Famdoors.

  Thirty-five

  Dufleur held the hall door open for Fairyfoot, glanced around the rooms, sighed. She supposed these would be her rooms now. A lot of decorating would need to be done.

  The members of the household were following their usual pattern. The advent of old D’Willow had been a disruption— perhaps as much as a century of disruption—to the general tenor of the Willow Family. She’d been an exception to the Family characteristics, not the rule. And her domination of the Family had been harsh. Harsh enough to act as a warning for generations to come. Another tyrant might not find it so easy to subject the Family.

  Especially if they had Thyme blood. Her belly quivered at the thought. She wanted children with Saille. She was floating on lovely visions, when a voice demanded, “Where is my daughter?”

  Her pretty dreams shattered. Her mother.

  Not a huge problem, like D’Willow, but sometimes
a continual,irritating problem was worse.

  “Welcome, GrandMistrys Thyme,” Saille’s smooth voice said. “You know T’Heather.”

  “My daughter’s not hurt!” Dringal screeched.

  Dufleur’s heart twinged at the anxiety she heard in her mother’s voice. She was being too hard on her mother. She would enjoy being part of a GreatHouse Family. And she certainlywasn’t as dreadful as old D’Willow. The Willows would absorb her and perhaps, like a clam around an irritant, create a pearl. Dufleur chuckled at her own whimsy and moved toward the entryway.

  “Your daughter is fine. Consulting with me on how her MistrysSuite rooms should be decorated. I’m sorry to say that my MotherDam died.”

  Dringal snorted. “Should have died months ago like a decent person would have. All this bother. Though it did clear my husband’s reputation.”

  The women made her welcome over dinner, and to Dufleur’s surprise, her mother decided to stay in the new house, at least until D’Winterberry passed on.

  After dinner, her mother left for her new home, and the rest of the household vanished.

  Saille sighed. “One more duty, and we will be free the rest of the evening to please ourselves.”

  Myx sniffed, turned to Fairyfoot, Mice in the stridebeast stables.

  Fun. Fairyfoot cocked an ear at Dufleur and Saille. Humans need to be alone together.

  “Yessss,” both cats said and nodded at the same time. For now, any competition was set aside—or would be confined to hunting.

  We go. Fairyfoot rubbed against Dufleur, smacked her tail against Saille’s legs. I knew We all would be well.

  “The confidence of cats,” Saille murmured as they watched the Fams bolt through the ResidenceDen Famdoor.

  “What next?”

  Saille grimaced. “Business.” He pulled out one of D’Willow’s memorysphere journals she’d found. He accessed certain portions by saying the names: Tinne Holly, T’Yew, and the rest of the list of mismatches his MotherDam had made.

  Here she’d kept detailed notes, her fury when matches went wrong due to her lack of Flair—but which she blamed on anythingelse but herself.

  “Sickening, isn’t it?”

  Dufleur hugged him tight. “Yes, but it’s over.”

  They listened only as long as it took to understand where Saille and the Family stood, then Dufleur stopped the recitation.

  “I think we’ll have to listen to these in increments.”

  “Yes, but let me take care of the Yew matter, first.” He smiled crookedly. “I’m going to invoke your name and alliances,trust me?”

  “Always.”

  He closed his eyes, let a long breath out. When he raised his lashes his blue eyes were brilliant and full of love. She didn’t think she’d ever get enough of that look.

  “I can, and will, share everything with you, Dufleur.” He took her hand, linked their fingers. “You’re really here.”

  “I will always be here.”

  “Then nothing in my life is too bad to face. We’ll work through this together.”

  “Yes.”

  Saille nodded, then donned his stern face again, a FirstFamilyGreatLord. He tapped the scrybowl on the desk and left a long scry in T’Yew’s message cache. “We found my predecessor’s private records. As you may imagine, we would prefer to keep her ethical slips in the Family. However, I, as head of the Willow household, will not be following the path she took. The Willows are agreed that should it be necessary in the future, the contents of the memoryspheres will be revealed to the proper authorities. Since my HeartMate, D’Thyme, is allied with the Elders, that would be SupremeJudge Ailim Elder. I trust you will cease any plans you have for my threatened ‘ruin.’ A sworn—by Vows of Honor—and sealed papyrus roll has already been forwardedto the SupremeJudge in case of any sort of accident.” Saille paused, let his voice hold threat this time. “We are aware of the various bargains you made with the Burdocks and my MotherDam regarding your wife. We know that when your wife comes of age she can renounce her marriage to you. We will be observing that event with interest. T’Willow and D’Thyme. End.”

  Then he leaned back in his comfortchair, once again closing his eyes, and she slid into his lap, and they stayed there, together,and it was so sweet Dufleur didn’t calculate the minutes.

  After a while, he set her on her feet, patted her bottom, rose himself, and tucked her arm in his as they walked upstairs to his suite. The very domesticity of his gestures made her throat clog.

  He murmured a Word, and soft light illuminated the sitting room where they’d first made love.

  “We are finally alone. And you know what I want?”

  She swayed into his arms, wrapped hers around his neck, rubbed her body against his. Just the feel of his chest against her breasts, his rigid arousal against her abdomen, sent tingles of pleasure through her, readied her body for loving.

  Loving this man for the rest of her life.

  Nothing could be better.

  She set her teeth gently in his earlobe. He jerked, gave a small laughing groan.

  “What do you want?” she whispered.

  “My HeartGift.”

  She blinked, pulled back. “I haven’t given it to you! Oh. Dear.”

  “So get it.”

  Sending her Flair questing, she found the packet she’d brought from T’Winterberry Residence so long ago—this morning—still on the desk in the Entry Hall.

  With a swoop of her hand, she ’ported it up, handed to him, then took a few steps back and forth. Not really pacing.

  Not really nervous.

  He was her HeartMate, after all.

  They’d solved their problems. This time.

  He slowly opened the drawstring of the bag, pulled out a wrapped package.

  Dufleur cleared her throat. “If you dismiss the spellshield, we’ll be overcome by lust.”

  He raised and lowered his eyebrows, grinning. “I know.” The outer cloth covering disappeared.

  “Slippers,” he said. They were scarlet with bright blue embroideredinterlocking hearts. He put them on, sent her a look, and she felt the lust as it bubbled up from his feet.

  Then her clothes were gone with a Word, and so were his. He tossed her onto the bed, and she opened her arms and legs to him, letting hot, flashing passion drench her, spin her away into total sensation.

  She arched, moaning as need spiraled tight. Grabbed at him, welcomed him.

  They moved together, and he was there in her and with her, and she never wanted another millisecond of her life without him.

  He groaned, and it reverberated through her. How he needed her, wanted her. Enjoyed her.

  Orgasm caught her, and him, and her whole body tightened and released, and she sent him the sparkling golden HeartBond.

  He took it and it wrapped around him tight, as tightly as it bound her, bound them together.

  The night was quiet and white and cold.

  Saille slipped from the bed and said a tiny weathershield spell. She’d given that ability to him.

  He grinned and padded across the thick carpet to place the slippers in a display case next to her thimble, now understandingwhat the glass cabinet was for. His MotherDam had kept several sets of matchmaking divining tools—cards, sticks, runes—in there, but she hadn’t been a HeartMate. Her mother, the previous D’Willow, had been, though, and plenty of other heads of households. The glass box had been ladened with love and pride from the emanations of many generations of HeartGifts.

  Then he turned back to the heavily framed bedsponge, where Dufleur opened sleepy eyes and smiled at him.

  The smile that touched every cell inside him.

  He went to the bed, lifted her, took her to the hot waterfall, and made love to her again. When she was leaning weakly against the wall, he grinned and banished the water. “Soft dry,” he ordered, and a gentle wind flowed around them. Taking her hand, he led her to the bedroom and handed her a looserobe he’d had Dandelion Silk make for her from the special fab
ric he’d had imported.

  She studied the gown. “It’s fabulous.”

  It was without any decoration. “I thought you could embroiderit as you pleased. If you pleased.”

  Her smile bloomed once more, and she stroked the sleeve. “It’s a cherished gift already, and will hold a lifetime of stitches.” She shared an image with him of the robe covered with patterns and images celebrating great events and small.

  “Wonderful,” he rasped, dressed quickly in a new, casual evening suit as she stared. “Come.”

  “What?”

  “Something I’ve planned for our first night together as HeartMates.”

  Curiosity ran down their bond, and he took her hand and led her from the room, through the sleeping house to the conservatory.“Fairy lights,” he said, and they winked on, cunningly arranged to spotlight living blossoms. Dufleur sighed.

  She turned to him to stop him, pressed her body against his, and kissed him, sending him all her love, all her joy at the life they would share.

  He disentangled her arms from around his neck and stepped back, flushed streaks on his cheekbones. Clearing his throat, he said, “No loving. Yet.”

  With an elegant, formal gesture, he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and they strolled to the center of the garden where the square of bricks showed empty. Her heart picked up beat, and she smiled, then laughed as she put her left hand on his shoulder and gave her right hand to him.

  “D’Holly’s HeartMate Waltz, please,” he said, and the wonderfulmusic, the notes echoing with Passiflora’s Flair and gatheringFlair from them both, swept around them in music that they’d forever feel.

  He took her in his arms and whirled her into a waltz. As usual, she couldn’t keep from melding against him. Melding her life into his until they were inextricable. She let the music filling the conservatory suffuse her, let all the bonds of restraint vanish.

  Her Flair soared, and they dipped into the Time Wind, so easy to do that now, and they whirled into the Future. They danced in a spring meadow, a country estate. Saille did not falter,but squeezed her hand, a smile curving his lips. They danced in a clearing, the ground prepared for the building of the new Thyme Residence. A new HouseHeart containing the Thyme HeartStones was already hidden deep underground and protected. The stones seemed to hum with the music.