Rowena's Key

by A. J. Nuest

  Her lashes fluttered closed and she shuddered as anticipation lifted the hair on her arms. Her nipples peaked against her lacy bra in response to all the delicious acts she envisioned. She’d start with his perfectly plump, totally edible lips. Smother them with kisses and then kiss them some more. She’d glide her palms over the broad angles of his shoulders, exploring every dip and curve along his collarbones, down his arms to squeeze those rock-hard biceps. And when she flicked her tongue against his and he moaned into her mouth, she’d climb onto his lap, clamp his tapered hips between her thighs. Their bodies would fit against each other, a perfect match. She’d sneak a hand between them, down inside his leather pants, and stroke him from base to tip, faster and harder until his control snapped and he tossed her onto the bed.

  She blinked and drew her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down to stifle a groan. Her shoulders sagged as the walls of her empty apartment cleared through her dreamy haze. What was she doing? She and Caedmon didn’t have a future together. For God’s sake, they lived in two different worlds.

  A glance down and she unlaced her fingers, lifted the key from between her breasts and studied the golden treasure in her palm. This mysterious object had brought them together. The thing she didn’t understand, was why. To believe him, to take Caedmon at face value as a prince of the Austiere Kingdom, ultimately doomed him to failure. She couldn’t give him the key even if she wanted to, even if she tried. How could she when he inhabited another plane of existence?

  She shook her head and pushed off from the door. Or maybe she’d misread him entirely and he wasn’t after the key at all. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’d misunderstood his intent. A prime example was the Gleaning. During the past two days, if anyone had done the collecting it was her, gradually gathering the details of his life, learning everything she could about him bit by bit. Perhaps she’d misinterpreted his meaning where that ritual was concerned, as well.

  Either way, they only had this final night together. She didn’t want to waste it by second-guessing his motives or worrying about what might happen before they parted ways. Her breath caught and she braced for the inevitable sadness which followed. It figured. She’d finally met a man she could see herself loving, only to be separated from him by insurmountable odds.

  A quick stop in the kitchen to refresh her wine and toss together a small garden salad, and she retraced her steps down the hall to her bathroom. Shedding her work clothes was like ridding a persona she no longer recognized. Thanks to Caedmon’s tender assurances, she’d finally rediscovered her long-lost femininity. For the first time in years, she allowed the small hope she was beautiful and desirable. Someone worthy of love. And, at the same time, she’d strangely grown more comfortable with him than she’d ever been with anyone else.

  Good God. How was a girl supposed to say goodbye to that?

  She unhooked her frilliest cotton nightgown from the back of the door. A shiver pebbled her skin when the airy material grazed her bottom and the tops of her thighs as it tumbled to the floor. While her selection probably wasn’t the most appropriate, the white ribbons tied under the stiff ruffled collar and little cap sleeves were the closest things she owned to dressing in Caedmon’s time period. Besides, she wanted to look her best for him, show her appreciation in the one way she could…which meant her reflection above the sink still needed some work.

  Her hair glowed, hanging sleek and soft past her shoulders by the time she’d finished brushing. A few handfuls of water to wash the day’s grit from her face, and she applied some light make-up—mascara to accent her eyes, a dusting of blush to highlight her cheeks and the sweep of some lip gloss to make her lips sparkle and shine.

  After cinching the tie of her silk bathrobe, she reclaimed her wine and salad, flicked off the bathroom light with the tip of her elbow and padded the remainder of the hall to her bedroom.

  One glance inside the mirror, and she smiled. The angle inside Caedmon’s room had changed again but, this time, the view was from opposite his desk, as if he’d balanced the frame on the arms of a chair. A white linen tablecloth covered his desktop, a silver goblet and an uncorked bottle of wine stationed near his plated meal. The savory aromas of roasted chicken and baked summer squash blended with the gentle undercurrent of melted candle wax, the flickering flames throughout his room adding a layer of romance to the atmosphere.

  Apparently Caedmon had the same idea they have dinner together.

  He strode into view and, based on the black leather pants encasing his long legs, the velvet, royal-blue doublet tied across his broad chest and the way his damp hair had been slicked back from his brow, his appearance tonight was as important to him, as hers was to her.

  “I hope you don’t disprove.” He opened a flat hand toward the table. “I thought to share our evening repast. My one regret is that we are not allowed the pleasure of doing so in the same room.”

  Her heart leapt and her fingers involuntarily tightened around her wineglass. This was a date. Their first and, unfortunately, forever their last.

  She glanced away and blinked several times to clear the shiny blur of her tears. When she’d cried about her mother last night, he’d become extremely upset. She didn’t want a repeat performance after he’d expended the effort to make their night special. His attention to detail touched her in ways words could never explain. No one had gone to such trouble for her in years. “It’s lovely, Caedmon. Thank you, yes. I’d love to.”

  Her nightstand made the perfect table. Her bed the ideal chair, so she removed the mirror from the back of the armoire door and, for the second time in two days, carried it across her room and propped it against the safety of her pillows.

  Caedmon waited until she was fully settled before filling his goblet with red wine and lifting his cup. “My first sip is in tribute to you, my lady.” His clever smile was accompanied by a sparkle in his eyes. “As you are well aware, I am not accomplished in verse. I shall therefore spare your ears my inept ramblings.” He paused and his brows drew together as if he were gathering his thoughts. “However, allow me to state that I have not, to this day, encountered a woman who displays even a shadow of your beauty, nor one who has been blessed with the strength and convictions of your heart. You’ve bestowed a great honor in gifting me the title of Rescinder. One I cannot repay, suffice that I pledge to be your devoted servant, now and forevermore.”

  Her heart sank and she closed her eyes.

  God, how she loved that word, loved hearing it from him. Forevermore…

  If only she could wave a magic wand and make “forevermore” possible, and yet, with his words, he’d confessed the circumstances surrounding their separation no longer mattered. At least, not to him. Regardless if they were together or apart, Caedmon would follow through on his promise and stay loyal to her even after the veil had shattered.

  The scrape of his chair legs drew her attention back to the mirror. She focused on his hands, those long, blunt-tipped fingers clasping the silverware, the hint of rough calluses on his palms. Her cheeks heated and all thoughts of food vanished as an altogether different kind of appetite sharpened her desires. One well-placed hint of pressure from those able hands and she would be soaring toward ecstasy.

  She clenched her jaw as a delicious shiver tightened her thighs. Shit, she was in trouble. The man was so endearing he could pluck the strings of her heart with a few carefully chosen words. So sexy he made a simple meal a study in eroticism. Moving forward, no one would live up those expectations. How could they when they didn’t have eyes that could peer into her soul, Caedmon’s tender charm or deserving heart?

  “I’m wondering.” He lifted a morsel of chicken on his fork. His full lips closed around the food and her tongue nearly lolled down her chin. Oh, the things he could do to her with that mouth. “Your Ah-lee seems a trusted ally. Are you and he…?”

  Silence hung in the air as Caedmon stared into the mirror. His brows rose.

  “What?” She shook her hea
d, his unfinished question finally breaking through her wayward dreams. For God’s sake, if she didn’t focus, the man was liable to think she was off her noodle. “Oh, no. No, no, Ollie and I are just friends.” She smiled in reassurance. “Good friends, the best of friends, but only friends.”

  Caedmon expelled a breath and nodded, swiping his napkin across his mouth. What, had he been worried? “And the other men in your realm? Are they all so…?” He twirled his fork forward as if searching for the right word.

  “Colorful?”

  “Exactly.” He pointed the utensil at her.

  “No.” She chuckled, and yet his questions seemed strange for a man who spent most days surrounded by a bunch of pantaloon-wearing nancy boys. “Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged and picked at the food on his plate, suddenly preoccupied with rearranging his meal. A glance at her and he cleared his throat. “Forgive my meddling. I was merely trying to determine the status of your eligibility.”

  Her shoulders fell and she sat back from the mirror.

  Regardless of the distance or obstacles, despite the complications or this sheet of glass which separated them like some damnable brick wall, he wanted to know if she was available? But why? To answer truthfully would only heighten an already unbearable situation. “Can you tell me why you wish to know?”

  His fork clattered to his plate and he shoved the food away. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one fighting a mislaid appetite. He raked a hand through his hair before snapping his chin up, locking his tormented gaze onto hers. “A man can dream, can he not? He can wish for something he has not the worth or right to obtain?”

  Just like that, her entire world shifted on its axis, and she was tossed head over heels into love. Tears flooded her eyes once again but, this time she didn’t blink them away. She would let him dream. She would answer honestly and let them both dream. Just for tonight. While they still had a few hours together. “There was someone. He had trouble keeping his…promises. It didn’t work out.”

  Caedmon squinted, studying her from the corner of his eye. “I find it hard to believe any man would not journey to the stars and beyond to remain in your good graces. Unless, of course, he was a dim-witted buffoon.”

  She smiled. “He was the latter, among other things.” And now, it was his turn, though instinct told her she already had her answer. After what her ex had put her through, she could smell the double-timing gene a mile away. Caedmon simply didn’t carry those qualities in his DNA. Still, she sipped her wine for a dose of courage before reclining against her pillows. “Since you brought it up, what about you? What’s your status of eligibility?”

  He lifted his goblet and sat back from the table, that devilish grin of his hinting at the corners of his lips. “As a young man, I enlisted in the guard. Through prone to lewdness, they also share an unrivaled status among the kingdom. One that ensures them no small shortage of enthusiastic maidens. I will not lie and state I have not used this reputation to my advantage but, as of yet, I have pledged neither my heart nor my life to another.”

  On one hand, his story seemed completely appropriate, exactly how she’d imagined his sexual experiences had been. On the other, hearing this wonderful man had never shared his heart with a woman was like discovering his life read like a Shakespearian tragedy. “So you’ve never been in love?”

  “No, my lady. I had not the occasion or time.”

  But, how much time did it take?

  She nodded and lowered her attention to her wine. According to Ollie, a person could fall in love in one day. According to her, love happened in less than three. Yet the world contained all kinds of hearts. Maybe Caedmon’s was so pure, so wild and untamed, falling in love took much longer for him.

  He cared for her. She believed that with as much conviction as she believed he inhabited another world. But love? That was a different animal altogether and, for Caedmon, they’d simply not been given enough time.

  She set her wineglass on the nightstand and scooted down lower on her pillows, meeting his bottomless brown eyes in the mirror. “You were wrong about something, you know.”

  He sprang forward in his chair so fast, for a moment, she worried his forehead might connect with the frame. “Reveal the error of my ways, and I shall immediately rectify my offense.”

  A low laugh caressed the back of her throat. “You are not an inept rambler. In fact, I love your bedtime stories.”

  “Ah.” He nodded, a grin spreading slow and lazy across his face. “Then what shall please my lady this night? The legend of Helios’ daughters? The mythical waters inside the Cave of Tears?”

  “Neither.” None of those tales would compare to her request. She wanted—she needed—to learn everything about him. Even if hers was the only love between them. Even if their future had no hope. She didn’t want to ever forget.

  She slid her hands beneath her cheek, ready to lose herself in the steady cadence of his voice. “I want you to pick up where you left off last night, right before you entered the guard. Start there and don’t leave anything out. Tell me the story of you.”

  Chapter Eight

  He woke to her breath on his skin, her sigh like the gentle caress of an evening breeze.

  Caedmon had made himself a vow to remain awake. Too precious were the fleeting hours. Yet, as the pitch of night had bled into the sky, Selene’s bright face floating amid her starry shroud, he had moved the veil to his sleeping pallet, buttressing the frame against his pillows. Soon after, his lady had quieted, within the faint glow of breaking dawn she succumbed to sleep and, in return, he must have dozed.

  He glanced down and froze even as his pulse thundered like hoof beats against the turf. Atop his chest, his lady’s soft hand lay curled like a fragile, white lily.

  Such a feat could mean only one thing, but surely his reasoning was flawed.

  He turned his head, following the slender trail of her wrist, along the delicate bones of her arm, up the span of her ivory skin. A ring of white light pulsed around her elbow where her arm broke through the mirror but, on the opposite side of the glass, she slept, one hand cupping the tender swell of her cheek. Her dark eyelashes fluttered within the wisp of a dream, the little blue veins decorating the porcelain sweep of her eyelids reminiscent of butterfly wings.

  In all his seasons on earth, he’d not known such a love, and had been unprepared for the breadth of its power. Nor, in the years since his mother’s death had he faced such a fear.

  Caedmon carefully covered her hand within the shelter of his, the discourse of their previous evening unfurling like an slippery endless ribbon in his mind.

  He’d grown into his colt’s years an angry adolescent, caught between two races. Revered by the commonwealth for his tragic rise to royal status, he became a symbol of hope. Shunned by the nobility for his impurities, he’d matured destined to tread a fine line between both classes.

  His familial shortcomings had always been outside his control, but to her this exclusion…his imperfection…seemed to truly not matter. She accepted him as whole, regardless of his parentage, and this lenience was a marvel beyond his ken.

  Within the walls of his kingdom, bloodlines meant everything. Wealth, rank and power were all sought with a persistence bordering on madness. Falsehoods were contrived, schemes devised, fathers murdered and daughters used as bargaining tools all to secure a place within the realm. The commonality of such a practice sickened him and, in seeking refuge, he had turned to the very thing his mother had despised—bloodlust.

  When first he petitioned entrance into the Royal Guard, Master Denmar had scoffed at Caedmon’s persistence, assuming the boy’s interest was no more than a father indulging the pursuits of his pampered son. Even so, regardless of his personal opinions, the Master had no choice in heeding the king’s command.

  Buffered from courtly politics within the ranks of the guard, Caedmon had found a place where his efforts were judged and rewarded according to his successes, where his rise in stature was aff
orded his own control. No matter what Master Denmar asked of him, he never once wavered in his campaign, even when the other, younger recruits were treated with more deference. Over time, Master Denmar recognized the strength of Caedmon’s character and ceded in his efforts to ruin Caedmon’s determination.

  However, by then, too much damage had transpired. Caedmon had hardened into a ruthless warrior, releasing his anger where it served him best.

  He’d lost count of the numerous battles, the endless stream of lives destroyed by his hand. In the name of his king, he’d slaughtered many and, to date, none among the guard could best him on the field.

  He gently lifted the sorceress’ hand from his chest and brought it to his lips. Pressing a soft kiss to her fingertips, he closed his eyes. The smooth shell of her nails glided like silk against his mouth. If only he could taste her daily. Lose himself in the sweet torment of her skin.

  All his secrets and more he had told her, talking long into the night. The quiet solitude he found sleeping under a canopy of stars, the brutal winters and long-suffering days without sustenance. And, in speaking thus, another miracle occurred.

  She’d never once faulted his certitude nor placed judgment on his soul.

  He had hoped a glimpse inside his sinister past would grant her some perspective, a small reprieve but, if anything, she only grew more resolute in his defense, dismissing his resolve as a choice he’d made toward survival.

  Caedmon gently tipped her hand and brought the faint curve of her wrist to his nose. Deeply inhaling, he bathed in her floral perfume. Her scent invaded his soul, and his cock hardened in response. He fought the urge to pull her into his world and kiss her until reason and sensibility abandoned them. Until the deep ache in his veins had been sated.