Heart Search

by Robin D. Owens

  Laev winced, so much for keeping the investigation quiet.

  “Winterberry is a good man, and can be damned closemouthed. I’ll also hire someone to keep watch over your lady when you’re not with her until I’ve returned.”

  “A bodyguard?”

  “Not exactly, an observer, who would call the guards if there were problems.” After a beat, Primross said, “A bodyguard might irritate your lady, but she might not notice an observer.”

  “All right.”

  “Would you recognize the printing if I brought you samples?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Later. I’ll be back in Druida in four days.”

  “Later.”

  Occasionally Laev thought of the note, but another matter preoccupied his mind. He hadn’t anticipated anything so much in a long time as the dinner at Camellia’s. His favorite meal, but sure to have different spices. The very thought made his mouth water.

  He was aware that the Family was watching him closely. They’d have sensed whenever he’d brought Camellia to the estate. But though he was sure they were all raging with curiosity, including the Residence, no one spoke to him about her. Finally they were allowing him to conduct his wooing of Camellia in his own fashion, without meddling.

  He’d flexed his GreatLord muscle again. One more time and he thought that everyone might accept that he was in charge. He wondered how his FatherSire had demonstrated to the Residence and the Family that he’d become the GreatLord, but would never know. He and his FatherSire had never spoken of when Huathe Hawthorn had been a young man. Had his FatherSire forgotten that time? Had Laev been too interested in his own concerns to have asked? As he’d often done in the last few months, he wished he’d had more time with his FatherSire. Laev had never quite made it to equal adult status with the older man. Another casualty of his mistake in choosing Nivea.

  The thought of his late wife didn’t hurt. Not even a sting, since he was so involved with Camellia. It was as if Nivea was in his far past.

  His courtship was more important than any recollection of the remnants of his marriage. And he was wooing Camellia. He knew his emotions were growing too rapidly, he was tempted to move too fast with her.

  Brazos and Mica had been more discreet, too. Or perhaps it was their belief that now Laev and Camellia were together, nothing could go wrong.

  Laev felt unexpectedly exuberant himself. By the time EveningBell rolled around on the day of the dinner, he was seething with impatience and his stomach was rumbling. He took the bouquet of summer flowers he’d set in a special holder from the glider. No one else in this area had a glider, so it was conspicuous on the street, but he didn’t care.

  The flowers were for Camellia’s dining room table. He’d noticed that she was fond of roses, and the brighter, the better.

  As he strode up her front sidewalk, the smells coming from her house were more delicious than he’d imagined. Before he knocked, she opened the door and greeted him with a kiss. He liked that she did that in semipublic. The cats squealed and stropped his ankles. Naturally they were where the food was.

  Sire Black Pierre is jealous, Brazos said. He says not, but he is. Brazos opened his mouth in a cat laugh.

  Chef in T’Hawthorn is old. Like Black Pierre, Mica said. He does not do new foods. MY FamWoman does new foods all the time.

  Camellia laughed and took Laev’s flowers and turned back to the kitchen. Laev’s mouth watered and it wasn’t just from the food. He hadn’t gotten her to wear only her apron . . . yet. Maybe tonight.

  “Every chef has their own recipes they like.” She slid a glance toward Laev. “And usually become complacent or not, depending upon whom they serve.”

  He nodded. “Ours knows that as Black Pierre’s FamMan, I wouldn’t cross him, unless he makes an egregious mistake.”

  Brazos sniffed, but his stomach made noises, too, so his dignity was impaired.

  Mica trotted into the kitchen. We will have some clucker bits and nice broth from stew made for humans.

  “And a few greens for your health,” Camellia said austerely as she arranged the flowers in a large crystal vase.

  When she stepped back to admire the bouquet, Laev couldn’t wait and pulled her into his arms, against his body, so he felt her and smelled the fragrance of the cooking herbs that lingered on her skin and in her hair.

  “It’s been too long since yesterday morning.”

  She blushed and he liked that, then she pushed him away with a stern look. “We’ll eat first.”

  “Somehow I don’t think that stew that’s been simmering all day and strawberries that have been marinating will lose too much flavor if we postpone dinner.”

  “Then you don’t know much.” She smiled, waved a spoon—was it made of wood? something so antique and odd?—at him. “I just put some leafy vegetables into the stew and the dish should be served just after they wilt.”

  “Um-hmm. If you insist.” They had all night.

  “I do. Go take your place at the table.”

  It was tucked into another corner of her mainspace, close to the kitchen, and round. So there was no head of the table and no foot. Laev sensed that she was satisfied with that. He quashed the small notions drifting into his mind about investing in her business. That would be the last way she’d ever trust a man. With his brain, he understood, but his emotions wanted to be close to her in every way that mattered. And business mattered greatly to both of them.

  When could he broach the matter? Impatience was prodding him.

  He’d no sooner put a prettily patterned softleaf on his lap when his attention was drawn to the fine shape of her bottom as she ladled stew into bowls for the Fams.

  She was wonderful. The thought surfaced that Nivea would never have expended so much effort to please him. Probably not so much to please anyone. And she’d taken any such effort to please her as her due.

  Nivea had never been interested in having a Fam, taking care of another being.

  He could pity her now. The person she’d been.

  Camellia turned to him, chin tilted, that look in her eyes that she had when she was checking their bond. What had she felt?

  A smile curved her lips and her gaze softened. “I’m experimenting with a new salad glaze on the greens.” Her smile widened. “I’ve been with you often enough to understand which greens you prefer.” She took a bowl from the no-time. It was deep red showing sprigs of his favorite leafy vegetables. When she placed it before him, he saw seeds and a bit of egg, and knew that the salad was just for him. She put down another bowl and sat across the table from him. Her salad wasn’t the same as his.

  Personal salads. Why didn’t he have such a thing at home? Because the cook was old and set in his ways? He was still eating the same nutritionally balanced diet he’d had as a child.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  She nodded. “We thank the Lady and Lord for blessing us with this good food.”

  “We thank the Lady and Lord for blessing us with this good food,” Laev echoed. Then he added, “We thank the Lady and Lord for blessing us with excellent company.”

  The FamCats slurped loudly.

  He and Camellia laughed and ate their salads.

  “So,” he asked, “is this salad nutritionally balanced?”

  She chuckled in her throat. “No, but the meal is.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes. And I made the strawberries especially for you. Another new recipe.”

  He couldn’t stop the words. “Could you keep one recipe private, just for me, and not used in the tearooms?” Then he felt stupid.

  “Of course. Which one, the salad glaze, the stew, or the wined strawberries?”

  “All are different?”

  “I experiment with herbs, spices, and foods a lot.” Her brows dipped as she chewed. “I think this glaze would be better heated.”

  The idea would never have occurred to him. She was a wonder. And he wanted exclusivity. He was sure she had no other lover, but that
wasn’t enough. She wasn’t the kind of woman who would have more than one lover at a time.

  Cooking and business were important to her, and cooking had just become important to him. Which made him recall that he hadn’t shown her his sculpture studio.

  Nor had he given her a gift that showed he cared for her, like she was doing now. That lack struck him with the force of a blow.

  She looked up. “What?”

  He’d stilled. He didn’t want to explain whatever she’d felt through their bond, so he cast his mind back to her question.

  “What’s different about the Beltane clucker stew?”

  Her eyes gleamed. “It’s not the usual clucker and grain. I used a spring chicken and some Earthan sorrel from my herb garden on Nuada’s Sword.” Her expression changed to uncertainty. “I think you will like it.”

  “I’m sure I will. I’ve never had anything I didn’t like from you,” he said. She’d been feeding him well whenever he’d come over.

  She stood, then, with a bright smile. “Well, shall we try it?”

  “You didn’t taste as you cooked?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you know it’s good.” Before he could rise to take his salad bowl to the cleanser, she whisked it away from him, put it in the cleanser herself.

  Brazos sauntered over to Laev’s chair and burped. You will like the clucker stew.

  Of course he will, Mica said. Her left ear rotated. I am going to nap on My big pillow in the mainspace.

  Laev petted Brazos as the cat wanted, scratched him under the chin before he turned, waved his tail, and walked to the opposite corner. That is OUR pillow.

  Mine, Mica said telepathically, but it was soft and sleepy.

  Brazos grunted, hopped on the pillow, and curled up next to the calico cat.

  A bowl was placed in front of Laev and steam teased his nose. He glanced up at Camellia. She didn’t look anxious, but there was a slight tremble in her fingers that the hot-gloves didn’t quite mask as she brought her own bowl to the table.

  She was a professional. She must have confidence in her work. He’d seen that when he’d visited her teahouses.

  Which meant he, and his opinion, was important to her, and not just because he was a FirstFamily GreatLord. She didn’t think of his status anymore, especially when it was simply the two of them and the Fams together.

  “This has smelled great since I got into the house,” he said. He noted she was watching him from lowered lashes as he dipped a spoon into the bowl, tasted. Lemony flavor sank into his tongue, he swallowed and tasted herbs he couldn’t name. He had to have another bite, and another. The clucker was delicious. He didn’t realize that he’d ignored Camellia until half his stew was gone. When he glanced up, he saw her smiling at him, and she gestured to a piece of toasted bread with a thin crust of melted cheese on the top. “Wonderful,” he said, wanted to praise it more. “Fabulous.” That still wasn’t enough. “Best—” Words failed him. He shrugged, smiled lopsidedly. “Best.”

  And she gave him that smile he hoped she saved only for him. The one of pleasure, with a hint of anticipation of other delights than food.

  They finished their stew in silent harmony. When Camellia stood, he did, too, and took his bowl, handed it to her as she walked into the narrow kitchen. He shook his head. “I would have thought you’d have liked a larger kitchen.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “If I need to, I can use the tearoom kitchens at any time. Having a large kitchen in the house wasn’t as important as other things. I like the neighborhood a lot.”

  He nodded, though he didn’t really know what she was talking about. Noble Country, which held the huge estates of the FirstFamilies, wasn’t exactly a neighborhood, and that was all he knew.

  “I love it here.”

  Tension slipped along his nerves. She loved it here in this small and cozy house. How would she take to a great Residence?

  “You like cocoa, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She moved aside and took the front off what looked like a solid wall in the corner, revealing a no-time. Laev stared, checked the standard two no-time cabinets. “You have three no-times in this kitchen?”

  “That’s right. I didn’t use this one much until lately.” She shrugged. “No one thinks to look for a third no-time.”

  Something in her voice told him not to press further.

  She flashed him a smile. “And if I do want to cook a lot in the tearoom kitchens for myself and my friends, I need the storage space here.”

  He leaned against a cabinet, essentially blocking the exit, raised his eyebrows. “And you’ve been cooking more lately.”

  “Yes. I have a new Fam,” she said.

  He laughed.

  She drew out a tray of cocoa-covered strawberries and his mouth began to water.

  “You didn’t say you’d like the strawberry wine–infused strawberries dipped in cocoa, but I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

  He couldn’t stop from moving in, grabbing a small one, and popping it into his mouth. It was not quite room temperature, not quite cool. The cocoa shell crunched and broke and the sweet fruit soaked with wine spurted nicely in his mouth. “Mmmphrr.” He nodded vigorously.

  Laughing more—and had she ever laughed so much in his company before?—she shook her head at him, pulled out a bowl of brown-flecked white mousse and a tube with a bulb on the end to fill the hollow berries. He gulped down his treat, moved closer. She smelled better than dessert. “I think that might be almost too much.”

  “The white mousse? You said you wanted it.” She was still smiling as she filled the tube with mousse.

  “Almost too much, but I’m up to the challenge,” he said. “What are those brown bits?”

  “Very fine nuts. You like nuts, too.”

  “Yes.”

  “Just wait.”

  “I think I’ve become an impatient man. And not only for dessert.” And not only for just sex.

  But lust dominated now, and he slid in behind her. There was barely enough room for both of them, and that was delicious, too. He nibbled at her neck and she sighed.

  “Just make three for me. Put the rest back in the no-time for later,” he said. His body had roused and decided on a different after-dinner activity than dessert.

  “Sounds good to me.” She took two for herself, put them all on a white plate, then led him to bed.

  Twenty-six

  I am ready for the trip to Rushes Vale! Mica yowled in Camellia’s ear, shattering her sleep with the telepathic shout. Camellia jerked awake, sat straight up.

  We are ready, too! Brazos exclaimed.

  That was when Camellia realized that she was alone in the bed except for Mica. Laev was already up, and if her ears weren’t betraying her, he was in the kitchen. Probably raiding the strawberries for breakfast.

  Camellia had overslept, no doubt due to the several bouts of sex she and Laev had had during the night. She needed to scramble to get ready.

  There was a slurp and a nude Laev stood in the doorway, tilting his head and dropping a cocoa-covered and white mousse–dipped strawberry in his mouth. He mumbled something.

  “What?” Camellia asked blearily. The bed linens were tossed and tangled, half on the floor. Even the tapestry covering the wall safe and the gouges around it was hanging crookedly. Hadn’t they rolled off the bedsponge onto the floor and . . . Oh, yeah. They had. She flushed and yanked the coverlet up over her bare torso.

  Laev sighed. His tongue came out to sweep a dab of white mousse from the corner of his mouth. “You should dress warmly. It will be cold in Rushes Vale.”

  “Um,” she said.

  “We’ll leave in half a septhour,” he said. His smile was dangerous. “We have time for a waterfall before then.” He marched over, whipped the cover from her, lifted her in his arms, and strode to the tiled room and the steamy waterfall and steamier sex.

  A dazed Camellia thought that someday their lust for each other sho
uld ease to a slow simmer, but right now it only took one glance to heat to a rolling boil.

  The cats ate heartily of furrabeast bites and greens, but that didn’t stop Mica from scolding Camellia.

  You are not ready. You didn’t plan what to wear.

  “No, I cooked all day.”

  “And I am thankful for that.” Laev grinned.

  You did not put out what you should wear last night on the clothes chair, Mica continued.

  Camellia remembered having sex on the chair, too, after a late-night snack. “Just as well, my clothes would have ended up on the floor, too,” she said blankly.

  Laev snorted, coughed. “You’re not as sharp as usual this morning.”

  She pointed at him. “You are a detriment.”

  And he was. He insisted on milk and more wine strawberries for breakfast, and he’d “helped” clean up the kitchen. That only took several minutes longer than if she’d done it herself. He did do a good job of attaching the false front to the extra no-time. Until she’d started cooking for him and Mica, she hadn’t used it. Now it occurred to her that if her uncle didn’t deliberately do a scan for it, he might not remember it. Unlike the safe, she’d rarely kept anything in the no-time. Food, at least, could be hidden there. Her uncle would always scan a house for jewels and find any hidden caches.

  A few days ago a guard had dropped by to set an alarm on her house. She didn’t bother to tell the woman that would be useless. Her uncle always scanned for alarms, and never triggered them. Though the guardswoman was earnest in explaining the spell would notify both Camellia and the guard station, Camellia just smiled and discounted the assurance. The alarm might take Takvar a while to get around, but when he’d finally broken into the house, he’d be furious enough to destroy the place.

  Two calendarspheres appeared, chiming that it was time to leave. Fam telepathic voices added to the confusion. Finally Camellia just grabbed the first tunic trous suit she found—a soft gray wool that would be warm in the cool weather of the northern hills—and dressed. She added a paisley scarf in primary colors.

  Laev handed her a heavy cloak, hustled her to the teleportation pad, and the next thing she knew, all four of them were in a luxury airship ready to fly to the valley.