Heart Thief

by Robin D. Owens

  “No?” He grinned.

  “Tell me your plan,” he muttered, and turned her to massage her tense shoulders.

  “I thought you’d come after midnight, we’d go to Menzie’s rooms, I’d dismiss the housespells on her door, and you’d take care of those she’s added herself. Then we’d go inside and take the amulet.”

  “Do you have any idea where she keeps it? What if she sleeps with it on?”

  “She’s been drinking a medicinal potion every night—due to the bane of the amulet. I have a new beverage from a Healer that includes a sleeping draft.”

  “A drink rather than a sleep spell, which I’d nullify. All right, I’ll be in your rooms tonight after midnight.”

  Her muscles were now warm and loose, while his were hot and tight. He slipped his hands from her back around to cup her breasts. “Let’s talk about now.”

  “Let’s don’t talk.” She leaned back against him and looked up. “You are so very special.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up. “Quite unique, in fact.”

  Her palms reached to stroke his face. “Don’t mock yourself. It’s a testament to your spirit that you’ve survived so well.”

  “I’m outcast and banished.” He turned her and took her mouth.

  Ailim sighed as her nipples hardened under his hands. Her lips moved under his, nibbling at his own, her tongue flicked across his mouth, then inside as if she yearned to taste him.

  Hot blood pooled in his groin. The position was awkward, so he set her aside, got to his feet. “Stay there,” he said between ragged breaths. Flipping open a bench-top, he pulled out cushions and woven throws. He eyed the narrow window seats and dropped the makeshift bedding onto the floor.

  Ailim laughed. She’d risen and stood backlit by an arch. Her amusement died on her parted lips and her hands froze on the tabs of her gown as she saw his yearning passion.

  He couldn’t take his gaze from her, the lady in elegant dress, blonde hair loose, blue eyes gentle, cheeks rosy with incipient desire. She stunned him. Who she was, how kindly she treated him. Intelligence shone in her gaze, but so did respect. “I need you,” he said. He strode to her. When he curved his hands around her shoulders, she stiffened. He liked that her spine had straightened and lifted her breasts.

  “Let me,” he said thickly. He ran his thumbs under the tabs across her shoulders and separated them, then pulled the top of her dress down, smoothed it over her curving hips and let it fall in ripples at her feet. The sight of her body in a thin shift over a white undergarment that covered her from the top of her breasts to the crease of her thighs strained his control.

  He swept the shift from her with one swipe. The color of her nipples were hidden from view but little nubs showed. He wrenched his stare to her face. Now her eyes were serious, questioning—wary? He shook his head in denial. Lifting his hand, he skipped fingertips across her cheek. “Do you fear me?”

  Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, make them a deeper rose. Slick, dark, moist. He groaned.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t fear you. All these feelings are so intense—all the sensations. I don’t know what to think—-”

  He smiled wryly. “You think too much. Now’s the time to feel. Please yourself and me, concentrate on your senses.”

  “Yes.”

  Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders, but he caught them and put them back down to her sides. “I need to see you. See all of your loveliness. Appreciate you.” He had no words for what he wanted—to cherish this moment and embed it in his memory for all time, how she looked, how she awaited his touch, how she trusted.

  He framed her face, brushed the lightest of kisses on her mouth, trailed his fingers down her face, across her collarbone, and rested his hands on her flesh above the undergarment. She trembled, swayed a little to him and his body tightened. A pulse pounded in his ears until he thought his restraint would shred with the next instant. But he held on. There would never be another moment like this, and the sting of anticipation was too good to be eased quickly.

  He molded his hands over her breasts and she gasped. Her garment was satiny and soft under his palms. He pressed where her nipples were, circled them, rubbed.

  Then his hands slid down her sides until he felt the roundness of her hips under his fingers.

  A little cry escaped her and she fell against him. He caught her up, took a step to the heaped tumble of blankets and cushions and set her down into the nest. Now her underwear was a barrier, an ugly thing that kept her body from his gaze. He reached down to the tab low on her stomach and whisked it open, pulled the flap back to see the dark blond curls of her mound and her plumped, darkened flesh beneath. A rasping groan came from his throat. Perfection. Paradise.

  His knees weakened and he knelt beside her, then slid his hands under the garment around her bottom and she shuddered. He peeled the cloth from her and tossed it aside.

  Her eyes were closed, her breasts rose and fell quickly, their centers tight. She shifted, opening her legs slightly, and his breath caught hard in his throat.

  He flung his clothes off, set his hand on her skin, marveling at the whiteness of it, then slowly, exquisitely parted the petals of her flesh to learn her readiness.

  Moistness dampened his fingers and the rich scent of her desire exploded his last thoughts. He grabbed her hips. Set his sex at the gateway of hers. This last waiting, the heat and slick-ness of her against the head of his shaft made him dizzy, but this, too, was too luscious to rush.

  “Look at me.”

  She opened her eyes and they looked dazed. She licked her lips again, and her mouth turned the same color as her womanhood.

  “You’re beautiful,” she sighed. “So beautiful. Big and comely. I can smell you, and me, and us. And the last remnants of summer gardens and beginning of fall breezes. I can hear my heart pound and your breath, and birds—”

  “Me!” he said gutturally. “Me, only me. Only know ME!” He plunged into her and her hips arched, her hands flew to his shoulders and clamped.

  He couldn’t last more than a few strokes. Her inner tremors signaled she was on the brink. “Scream for me.” He surged in and back, delirium twisting inside him to the peak of pleasure. He yelled. Mixed with his shout was her scream. “Ruis!”

  Shattering climax tore him into a thousand pieces. He pulsed long and hard within her, his body folding on hers. They were damp with the sweat of deep pleasure and release.

  Some moments later he stood and stretched. Her widened eyes followed his movements so he flexed a little longer.

  He grinned. Gathering their clothes, he bundled them and held out his hand to Ailim. “There are hot springs a few meters away. Let’s go soak . . . and play. You don’t play often enough, SupremeJudge.”

  A genuine smile slowly bloomed on her face, delighting him and winding around his heart. He was getting in too deep, nearing the point where he could fall in love with her. He wasn’t sure where that point might be in his loveless life, but knew it loomed. He shrugged inwardly. His time with Ailim was worth any pain. He was accustomed to pain: mental, physical, emotional.

  Her fingers curled around his hand and he pulled her up.

  “Weren’t we just playing?” she purred.

  “No. We were communicating, dancing, loving . . .”

  She looked around the gazebo, then out the open sides. “It is so lovely here, and so like the last summer days.”

  “The miracle of FirstGrove.” There wouldn’t be any other garden or grove in Druida that still held the scents of summer—except the Ship’s greensward. “Don’t you have a conservatory at your Residence?” he asked idly as he led her down the steps and to a nearby hot spring.

  She stiffened. “We have not been able to care for it.”

  “Pity.” He gestured to wide, shallow steps leading into the deep green pool. He let go of her hand and threw their clothes on a large flat-topped boulder landscaping the spring.

  She turned to him, brows lowered.
“Will your Nullness have any effect on the pool?”

  Smiling, he shook his head. “It’s for bathing with natural heat and no spells. Our ancestors were practical, using hot springs as a basis for a HealingGrove—the First HealingGrove would be logical to them.”

  “Of course,” she said, observing the bushes with fading blossoms and trees just beginning to turn color. She dived in.

  Ruis plunged in next to her, and shot a spray of water over her lovely breasts. “Tag, you’re it!” he called. He’d never played the game, but had watched children.

  Surprise and glee swept over Ailim’s face. She laughed, then sucked in a breath and submerged. Ruis was too busy admiring her grace and the flash of her bottom to realize he stood still. Small hands grabbed his ankles, jerked, and he fell heavily into the pool, swallowing water. Her delectable distraction and his lack of experience cost him. He sputtered to his feet and shook his head. Droplets flew.

  Ailim laughed, her eyes sparkled. “You’re it now!” She disappeared, her pale legs scissoring away.

  They played with abandon. Ailim’s ease in the water balanced his greater reach and strength. Finally, through a devious bit of strategy, Ruis captured and caged her in his arms.

  She flung back her head and laughed. His pulse stuttered. He’d seen her laugh more in this last half-septhour than in the eightdays he’d known her. She was loveliest when she laughed up at him, her eyes darkening to deep blue without any hint of the normal, judge-like, gray.

  “Oh, Ruis, you are so good for me!”

  He kissed her, broke it off before pure lust stole his wits. “Yes, I am. You need to play, to relax, to learn to live from moment to moment.”

  Shade appeared. “Finished my Ritual. It was good,” he said flatly, standing well back from the spring, his wounded hand tucked under his opposite armpit.

  “Know you, you’re a judge,” he accused Ailim.

  Her face fell into responsible lines, her eyes dimmed. “That’s right. Ailim D’SilverFir.”

  “Why you with him?” Shade jerked his head at Ruis. “He banished outcast! You should tell on him. That he’s in Druida. Good rep for you, catching him.”

  “I will never betray him.” Her gaze locked on the ex-triad member.

  Ruis didn’t feel he should interfere. The boy trusted him, perhaps. It was obvious that Ruis trusted Ailim with his life. Could the teen understand that sometimes trusting others was a necessity of a decent life?

  “You don’t betray him ’cause you like to fligger him.”

  Ailim didn’t flinch. Ruis’s respect for her grew.

  “That’s part of it,” she said. “But more. I’m an empath. He’s a Null. When I’m around him, I don’t have to build mindshields. It’s a great relief. I enjoy his company. Something I don’t think even you do.”

  Shade scowled, looked away. “Maybe not.” He dropped his hands, revealing the bloodred line at his wrist. The small, unconscious gesture spoke of an equally small amount of trust in Ailim. “You SupremeJudge. You helped my brother, Antenn.”

  Ailim’s head came up. “Antenn Moss is your brother?”

  Shade gazed into the distance. “He run with triad.” Pain edged his voice. When he looked back, his eyes burned. He pointed at Ailim. “If you hurt Antenn.” His finger swerved to Ruis. “If you hurt Ruis, I hurt you. BAD.”

  Ailim inclined her head as she’d acknowledge one of her own rank. “I understand and accept. I will not harm him.”

  Ruis decided it was time he spoke. “I trust her.”

  The boy narrowed his eyes, jerked a nod, and loped off.

  Ailim drifted to the far end of the pool, her gaze on the steps leading to the ground.

  Ruis frowned. Shade had reminded her of her responsibilities. The laughing, uninhibited lady who’d played with him in the pool had vanished.

  She stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned large, sad eyes on him, eyes that held the same yearning he felt, but contained even more hopelessness for their doomed affair. One side of her mouth lifted in a wry smile. “I have to get home.”

  “Is it a home?”

  She averted her face. “No. But it is all I have. And visiting with the Family from the distant manors has been good.”

  He yearned to kiss her tears away, but sensed she didn’t want to reveal her vulnerability—her love and duty for a Family who didn’t return those feelings. So he came up behind her, drew her close and wrapped his arms around her. She felt cool against him, her skin chilling in the autumn breeze. His body heat would keep her warm for a short while, but for her own sake, as always, he would have to let her go. Once she was away from him she could use a weathershield spell to protect her from the harshness of the day outside the grove.

  He bent and kissed her head, skimmed his lips against her temple, so she felt his mouth on her skin. “Wait for me tonight, I’ll come to you.”

  Her shoulders lifted and slumped. “I’m sorry we have to deal with the wretched amulet.”

  “If I could, I’d make all your dreams come true.”

  She stiffened and stepped away. “That’s not possible.” She hurried up the stairs, dried quickly, and donned her clothing. With quick, efficient hands, she braided her hair.

  “There is something I’d like you to check for me,” he said. The episode with Calami and Bucus had nagged him until he’d researched the Loyalty Oath and asked Ship to request information from all the Residences and the PublicLibrary. Ship had not yet established an interface with the Guildhall Records.

  When she faced him, her gaze had lost the touch of despair and she looked curious. She folded her hands in her opposite sleeves. “Yes?”

  “I’d like you to research the events around my father’s death and Bucus becoming T’Elder.”

  Her eyes widened. “You believe there was something illegal in the transfer of power?”

  The possibilities made his teeth clench. “I don’t know.”

  “Did you have an oracle at your birth to forecast your future?”

  “I don’t know.” He strained to recall any mention of that Celtan tradition in relation to himself. “I think so. But I don’t know the prognosis, I don’t know whether they knew right away I was a Null.”

  Ailim held out her hand. He lifted his own and put wet fingers in hers.

  A reverberating gong echoed through the grove. Ailim jerked. “What’s that?”

  Ruis smiled humorlessly. “Shade’s wound the clock in the old stillroom.” Ruis glanced at Ailim. “I’m sure he’s a wanted criminal.”

  Her tongue touched her lips. “You’re doing good, trying to steer him into a better way of life.”

  “I’m hopeful, but the death of his triad mates . . .”

  Ailim whitened. “Terrible. I’d imagine it would be almost as bad as losing a HeartMate.”

  Ruis couldn’t bear to think of HeartMates. “Losing you would be terrible.”

  Strain shrouded her features. “I can’t afford you.”

  “I know,” but hearing the words stabbed like a knife. She didn’t let go of his hand. “I accept that,” he said. “We’ll live in the moment. Enjoy every second.” He kissed her fingers.

  She withdrew her hand. “I must be going. I’ll set the GrandHouse Library to check the Guildhall records regarding the accession of your uncle to the T’Elder title. I won’t look into the dossier of one ex-triad member called Nightshade.”

  Ruis pulled himself from the pool and stood next to her, glad of the cold breeze. “Thank you.” He caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight. Merry meet.”

  She smiled and dipped her head. “And merry part.”

  He inclined his own head. “And merry meet again. Until later.” He blew her a kiss.

  Her cheeks tinted rose and he won a true smile from her before she spun and ran down the path to the exit gate.

  As soon as Ailim returned, the Residence informed her that Bucus T’Elder visited with Donax Reed. Her mouth flattened and she cursed inwardl
y. She should have been here when T’Elder arrived, to keep an eye on him.

  “Yip!” Primrose bounced down the stairs at the end of the GreatHall and ran through the room, braking a few feet away to slide the rest of the distance to Ailim. She laughed and scooped up the pup to hold her close. Ailim went into her ResidenceDen.

  Primrose tugged a rag knot from her basket beside Ailim’s desk, and worried it with pointy little teeth. Man came. New smells. She stuck out her tongue and wrinkled her face. Nasty.

  “Residence,” she said.

  “Here,” it replied in her ancestor’s calm voice.

  “Lock, guard, and alarm all the doors to the HouseHeart and my suite.”

  “Done,” said the Residence.

  “Augment all illusions that camouflage the hidden doors to the secret passageways.”

  “T’Elder is aware of the large passage bisecting the Residence.”

  Ailim drummed her fingers on her desk. That particular passage was common knowledge.

  The Residence said, “GrandMistrys Menzie SilverFir Cohosh admitted T’Elder and led him to Donax Reed’s tower through the inner hallway.”

  Ailim sighed. “Don’t spell the halls and doors Menzie is aware of. She doesn’t know more than most Family members, does she?”

  “She is unaware of the doors FirstSon Ruis Elder uses.” That jolted Ailim. When she didn’t reply, the Residence continued. “I was assured before he came that he is acceptable to you. His Nullness is discomfiting, but tolerable. Do you confirm his access? I can alert you or the guardsmen when I first feel his presence upon the edges of the estate.”

  “Ruis Elder is welcome here.”

  “As you say, D’SilverFir.”

  “Mention his visits, past or future, to no one.”

  “Your order is acknowledged.”

  “Residence, can you replay the conversation between Donax and T’Elder in the chamber assigned to Donax?”

  “Not possible. The Captain of the Council invoked a hush spell. Words did not reverberate to my walls or floors or ceilings.”

  “Are any images available of the two men in the last septhour?”

  “No. They entered a cone of light, then bespelled darkness outside the cone.”