Heart Choice (43 page)

He lifted his face. “We will?”

Mitchella took his hand and squeezed his fingers. “Yes. I don't know why I didn't adopt you before. I guess I thought you wouldn't want to give up your own name, or put yourself completely under my authority.”

Antenn scowled and rubbed his nose. “Nothing special about the Moss name or bloodlines. I don't know if there are any more of us . . . my two uncles went south to the continent of Brittany a long time ago.” He sniffed, then blew his nose again. “I don't care if I'm a Moss. I'd rather be a Clover.”

“You'd have plenty of family, then. Interfering family.”

“I might like that. And as for your authority over me. Huh. Better you than the entire legal system, than SupremeJudge Ailim Elder. The Clovers said they had to do some fast talking to her.” He slowed his pace. “You've always been kind—”

“Even before I loved you.” She smacked a kiss on his cheek.

He smiled, and it nearly broke her heart, it was so pleased and hopeful. Tears stung behind her eyes. “You are my son.” She hugged him tight, released him.

“Right.” The word was an admiring echo of Straif. Antenn looked up to T'Blackthorn's Residence. “It's very beautiful. But it's empty. Very sad, too.”

She swallowed hard. “Yes.” There would be no children from Straif and her. He wanted children of his blood desperately, as desperately as she once longed to carry a child inside herself. But the boy standing before her proved as nothing else that blood didn't matter. She cleared her throat. “Antenn?”

“Yes?” He glanced up at her—goodness, he'd grown and she hadn't noticed. Soon he'd pass his apprenticeship tests and become a journeyman.

“I'm happy with the two of us as a family. But do you think we might consider a younger brother or sister for you?”

His face clouded, and she knew she'd spoken too soon.

“Maybe. Just us, for now, though, right?”

She set a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, my son.”

He flushed. “Let's go back to T'Blackthorn's Residence. I think we should look for a place of our own, too.”

Straif came out and stood on the front steps, face impassive.

Antenn nodded to him, said under his breath, “I like him. He's a good man, but you are hurting each other too much.”

“The project and the affair will be over soon.” Again she sucked in a deep breath. “Finding our own rooms is a good idea. Why don't we look in MidClass Lodge where Trif lives?”

“Trif! Oh, sure.” He grinned. “Trif is fun to be with.”

So she took the hand of the boy who would be in her future, walked up the steps, and lightly kissed the man who would soon be in her past.

 
Dinner that evening was the most pleasant they'd spent
together. Straif said nothing about his news from
Nuada's Sword,
so Mitchella pushed it to the back of her mind and refrained from mentioning that she and Antenn would be looking for lodgings.

She
had
announced with great pride that Antenn and she would be filing formal adoption papers, and Straif seemed genuinely pleased. He called for a small bottle of champagne and toasted them. Even Antenn got a sip of the sparkling wine in celebration.

After dinner, Antenn dragged off to his suite and Mitchella checked on him a little later. Relief tore at her heart. She blinked back tears as he fell asleep before her eyes. Straif put a hand on her shoulder, then stepped even closer, until his body brushed hers. Her eyes dried, and she became exquisitely aware of him. “Antenn is excellent in the wild. I thought you should know.”

She turned and buried her face in the crook of his neck, laughed. “As if I ever want him out of the safety of Druida ever again.”

Straif patted her, and though his body was reacting to hers, the bond between them pulsed only with slightly sexual feelings. He seemed distracted.

“I see what you mean by an ocean phase.”

Emotions under control, Mitchella stepped away, slipping her fingers down to link with his. Straif's gaze was on the rolling surf of Maroon Beach. He cocked his head. “Live audio?”

“Yes.”

“The wall is an illusion, though.”

“I've set the spell to make the waves correspond with the height and force of the audio.”

“Excellent.” He strolled into the sitting room, again looking at the beach, then his attention focused on her. She felt it in the sparks shooting through their bond. “But then you do everything most excellently.” He took her hand and cupped it behind her, shaping her fingers around his sex. Shuddered. “Lord and Lady, I've missed you. More than I could ever say.” He nibbled below her ear.

The waves had entered her blood, become pulsing desire.

“Straif, your cuz, Tinne Holly, has arrived by glider,” the Residence said.

Straif exhaled a soft groan by her ear.

“Exactly what I didn't want to do tonight. Talk duels.” He took a pace back. “Where shall we have this discussion?” he whispered.

She turned to face him, shooed her hands so that he'd leave the suite, let Antenn sleep. Outside in the corridor, she said, “I'm invited?”

He grasped both of her hands, lifted one, then the other to his lips. “I want you with me all night.”

Mitchella cleared her voice to address the Residence. “Please guide Tinne Holly to the Large Sitting Room.”

Straif pressed her against the wall and took her mouth. Using lips and tongue, he kissed her until she shuddered, until he trembled, until the Residence announced in a loud voice that Tinne was waiting for them. Mitchella got the impression that Straif, too, felt that these were the last days of their loving. The open house was next week. When they broke the kiss, she trailed her fingers over his cheek before preceding him down the stairs and into the Large Sitting Room.

The Large Sitting Room was the closest thing to a mainspace that Mitchella could fashion in such an elegant Residence. With a glance she made sure the room looked welcoming. Satisfaction unfurled in her. The room was versatile enough to handle rambunctious children as well as an intimate gathering of FirstFamily Lords and Ladies.

And Tinne Holly was the most ornamental thing in the chamber. Tall, with white-blond hair and gray eyes, he was every bit as handsome as his brother, Holm. Now the Holly-Heir, he appeared more serious than he'd been a year ago. He was just a year or two older than Trif, but he'd matured. But then, the broken vow affected everyone in T'Holly Household.

Tinne's marriage wristbands glowed golden, that had probably settled him, too. With a twinge, Mitchella thought that Trif might be considering marriage. As was usual with more than ordinary Flair, she'd connected with her HeartMate during her last Passage.

When Tinne saw Mitchella, he bowed with all the Holly grace and charm, then greeted his cuz, Straif, with a raised eyebrow and the words, “I heard you took my name in vain today when the delegates of the Councils visited here. Always a cause for
strife,
Straif.”

Straif winced. “My cuz, here, spares no pitiful attempt to use my name in a pun at every opportunity. All my life.”

Mitchella smiled, they weren't too different from her brothers. She nodded to Tinne, then sat on a twoseat.

Straif went to the discreet liquor cabinet at the side of the room and took out warmed brithe brandy for Tinne and chilled wine for her and himself from the small no-time storage.

“It seems to be a Holly quality, making strategic entrances after trips in the wilds,” Straif said. “You had a dramatic one yourself. I was there.” He sat down next to Mitchella and played with her fingers as he sipped his wine.

Tinne smiled crookedly. “You would turn my words against me.” He sipped the brandy. “Good vintage.” Pointedly scanning the room, he said, “A lovely, well-cared for room, as is everything I saw inside the Residence. The grounds still need work, but I'd say you're well on the way to proving you're a fine GrandLord. Despite your little trip, and the matter of a duel. I did hear right, I'm to second you in a duel?”

Straif winced again. “I forgot to send you a note, didn't I?”

Sitting down in a wingchair, Tinne crossed his ankles. “There are expected procedures for such matters of honor. One of them is notifying the men who are going to organize the duel.”

“Cave of the Dark Goddess.” Straif ran a hand through his hair. “I've been too long gone from Druida.”

“I think everyone would agree with that,” Tinne said. He uncrossed his feet and stretched his legs. “Have you thought who else would be your second? It is customary to have two.”

“No.”

“My sire offered but I think the Captain of the Council would be a bit too intimidating for Stachys Betony.” Tinne's face hardened. “Besides, T'Holly doesn't deserve any fun.”

“Fun!” Mitchella choked on her wine and stared at the men. Suddenly she realized that she was in the company of two FirstFamily Noblemen. She might think of them acting like her brothers, might pretend to understand them, might be able to decorate a room in which they'd be comfortable, but their mind-sets
were
far too different for her to comprehend—their traditions, their status, their Flair.

Tinne sighed. “Just the reason why one doesn't discuss the details of duels before Ladies who are not warrior trained.” He looked at Straif with reproof.

“Sorry.” Straif partially hid his smile behind his glass. He was enjoying the discussion.

Maybe the reason she didn't understand them wasn't because they were from ancient and noble FirstFamily lines. Maybe it was because they were men. But she'd always had a good handle on men. Then again, no Clover had ever fought a duel.

“How about T'Ash as your other second?” Tinne asked.

Straif grunt. “I don't think so.”

“Who, then? It's not as if you have a number of close friends here in Druida.” When he spoke next, it was quietly. “Most of those who attended your Ritual wanted alliances and favors. You don't have many close friends at all.”

“I'm working on that.” Straif finished his wine. “Let's keep it in the Family. The T'Holly Family. Why not G'Uncle Tab?”

“Why not?” Tinne grinned. “He'd be honored. I don't think he's participated in a formal duel in forty years. He'll love this.” Throwing back his head, he laughed, and Mitchella saw traces of the careless youth he'd once been. “Lady and Lord, with G'Uncle Tab in charge, this duel will be so proper it will be the talk of Druida for decades. Tab will show
everyone
how a duello of honor is handled. My sire will be so envious that he is not invited.”

“You should get over this bitterness, Tinne,” Straif said.

“And you should get over your obsession for finding a cure for your line. Don't give advice if you don't want to hear some.”

Mitchella decided a friendly comment was called for. “How's your wife?” she asked Tinne.

He smiled and relaxed back into his chair. “Genista is very well. We are doing fine, even with the tension in the Residence.” He drank the last of his brandy, stood, gave a half-bow to Mitchella, and clapped Straif on the shoulder. “I'll let Tab contact you about everything if you don't have specific ideas about time and place?”

“No.” Straif stood, and Mitchella rose.

“The duel will only be for first blood, I presume. Your honor will be satisfied at that?”

Straif snorted. “Yes.”

Tinne nodded. “I heard you called him a distant relative. That will give the man pause.”

“It's the truth.”

“Then Stachys will really be thinking hard about his place in life. Excellent strategy.”

Smiling, Tinne blew a kiss from his fingertips at Mitchella. “And praises to you for flushing the man out so we can deal with him as he deserves.”

“Spilling his blood?” Mitchella said faintly.

“Straif will just nick him, you'll see.” Tinne smiled.

“
I'm
invited?” She didn't think she wanted to go.

“Of course, always nice to have one's woman around when one is going to show his fighting prowess,” Tinne said.

Mitchella rolled her eyes.
Men
.

Tinne grinned. “G'Uncle Tab will contact you tomorrow. Be guided by him. Blessings on you both.” Whistling, he left the Residence.

Twenty-eight

Straif teleported to Landing Park, then strolled through
the spring-scented trees and fragrant high grass before going to the Ship's eastern entrance.

A ramp extended, the iris-door swiveled open, and Straif braced himself. As soon as he passed through this airlock, he'd start losing Flair. The atmosphere of the Ship was set to olden Earth standards, and it functioned on a different system than the psi-technology the Celtans had developed.