Heart Journey (22 page)

“Took a new lover,” he said smugly, basking in the applause, bowing left, right.

As soon as he entered his dressing room after his last—record—bow, he was informed that a guardsman wanted to see him as soon as he changed and that the secondary lounge was reserved for him and Del, and his family.

T’Spindle and Winterberry, the guardsman assigned to the FirstFamilies, were there. The guard made it plain that all the incidents of vandalism were connected to Raz and the Cherrys and now the investigation was very official. T’Cherry—and Raz—were asked to leave any investigation in the hands of experts.

His Family went home to the securely shielded Residence and Raz wrapped an arm around Del’s waist, looked down into her eyes. “Will you spend the night with me?”

Her quiet breath out was less than a sigh. “I would love to.” She smiled and he had to kiss her, a tender kiss, one that only had the seed of passion. “I’d love to see your apartment.”

He smiled. She wouldn’t care about how he’d decorated, whether it was a good setting for him. She’d be interested in what he had there—the things he kept around him that showed her who he was. Fine with him.

“What of your house?”

She shrugged. “It will be fine.”

She was obviously not attached to her home, and Raz wondered how that might feel. He’d taken care with his living space, so it would be comfortable, as well as where he could entertain—friends . . . his agent . . . he wouldn’t be ashamed to invite T’Spindle there. Raz took his settings seriously. He got the impression that Del took her settings seriously when she was measuring them . . . or it was an exterior instead of an interior.

He wanted to show her his apartment and share himself with her more than he expected. More than he’d wanted to share with other lovers in a long time. “I need my keys from my dressing room.”

This time she took his hand and linked fingers, and he knew that was progress. As they walked down the dim hallways shrouded with shadows, she said, “Guardsman Winterberry didn’t question you as closely as I thought he would. Did you get the idea that he wasn’t telling everything he knew?”

Raz’s mind was jerked from romance and the image of Del on his cream-colored sheets back to mystery and the enigmatic guard. “Yes,” he said. He wasn’t sure whether his Family had picked up on that. “But I don’t tell everything I know to T’Spindle, either. Do you tell everything you should to the FirstFamilies?”

“I only know Straif, and though I told him a lot . . . it was before he took up the title. Since then . . .” She hunched a shoulder.

“I think it’s a rule: Never Tell Everything You Know To A FirstFamily Lord or Lady. Which is probably why they are so curious and controlling. As for Winterberry, he’s an interesting character study. Such the epitome of a guard.”

“He struck me that way, too,” Del said. “He is a man who
is
his work.”

“Like you are a cartographer,” Raz said softly.

“And you are an actor.”

“It’s not just a job for us.”

“No.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth, brushed her fingers with a kiss. They descended the stairs to the backstage area in silence.

Del glanced at him. “You don’t seem too concerned about being a target of thieves.”

He shook his head, squeezed her hand. “That’s one way to break a romantic moment.”

She blinked up at him. “I didn’t know we were having a romantic moment.”

“Here.” He picked her up and carried her down the hallway, feeling utterly masculine.

Laughing, she put her arms around his neck. “Nice.” A small sigh escaped her. “Nice.” Her eyelids fluttered shut. “Can relax, not handle everything. Sometimes that gets tiresome.”

He kissed her brow. With amusement lacing his voice, he said, “Dear heart, you
will
be handling something later on tonight . . . otherwise, I’ll take charge.”

Del lifted her lashes just enough to see Raz’s strong jaw, his handsome features. Another sigh got trapped in her chest. She wouldn’t think about the future, would think only about the now. The matter with Helendula was handled. Caretaking for the Elecampane HouseHeart was handled, her commitment to T’Ash for new landscape globes was being met, no problem there . . . Ah, she had misspoken about the number of FirstFamily lords and ladies she knew. She knew T’Ash, but he hadn’t struck her as a FirstFamily lord. Like Straif when she’d met him, T’Ash had a tough, commoner-type manner.

Raz was the elegant noble, even when he was completely himself. He’d been raised in privileged circumstances, like she, but he hadn’t rubbed those manners off; instead, he’d polished them. A contrast between them.

She had nearly sunk into a doze by the time he murmured a Word and the spellshielded door of his dressing room opened. He lowered her to a couch that smelled of new furrabeast leather. She sat up, opened her eyes to see his tender smile. “Sleepyhead,” he said.

Raising her brows, she said, “I didn’t get too much sleep last night . . . too aroused.”

Fire lit behind his eyes. The bones of his face seemed to sharpen and his lips curved in desire. He stepped toward her, eyeing the couch. “I haven’t broken this in . . .”

“Good. We won’t. Get your things.” She stood and wandered around his dressing room. It was larger than she’d thought, plenty of space to pace—a screen in the corner if he wanted to change when others were with him, though nudity didn’t concern most Celtans. The only time it bothered her was when she was outdoors where there might be predators.

She looked around while he tidied up the dressing table that held tools of his trade and gathered a few things into a satchel. The leading lady, Lily Fescue, had kicked up a fuss with Del staying backstage before the show, so she’d spent a few minutes in the green room, reading the guest and performers book and studying the holograms of the founders. The
new
holograms done by T’Apple. Since she and Doolee would be sitting for that artist, she’d paid attention to his technique and approved. The holos had matched the old-fashioned atmosphere of the room . . . It had the feeling of being classic for the theater.

Here in Raz’s dressing room, there were bare shelves and a square of pale-colored wall where something had hung. The place was emptier than she’d imagined and she was reminded once again of the burglaries.

Raz gripped the handle of the bag and joined her. He glanced at the wall. “That had a tapestry of the world.”

“Really? You put it up?”

“Yes.” His smile flashed, showing his even, white teeth. “Cherry Transport has always valued maps.”

“Nice,” she repeated and took his fingers again; she liked being physically linked to him. “What era of the world did the tapestry show?”

“Second century of colonization.” His smile was self-deprecating. “Those tapestries were all the rage a decade ago, easily and, ah, inexpensively obtained. Good value for a small budget.” He opened the door, closed, and spellshielded it behind them.

“Mmm. I think I might have one or two myself. You want a replacement?”

“Sure. But you don’t need to give me gifts.”

His words struck them at the same time and they stopped, looked at each other. His face showed more color than usual. “I didn’t mean that the way . . . I’m not a gigolo. I don’t take money from women.”

His explanation hurt more than his first careless words. “I think you’re having a problem with my age.”

“No, I’m not. No, I don’t.” He closed his eyes, opened them, smiled a deliberately charming smile that was reflected in his eyes. Turning fully to her, he took her other hand, kept his gaze on hers. “I am deeply attracted to you, Helena D’Elecampane. I value you as a friend. I would treasure any gift you would give me.” He nibbled at her knuckles and she felt heat rising between them. His voice thickened. “As I hope you would treasure any gift I give you.”

“Yes.” She wanted to believe him . . . could feel he was sincere through their bond. But this was an issue she couldn’t let slide. Not with her HeartMate. If he’d been a regular lover she could have ignored it or walked away. They had to thrash this out, and now.

T
he theater was full of patches of light, shades of dark deepening into
black shadows. Dim. Odd, unfamiliar noises came to her ears. His world, not hers.

“I’m sorry, Raz, but—”

His grip tightened on her hands. “No. I won’t let you go because of one stupidity I said aloud.” His expression was stark in the silver light. “I am an
actor
.”

“We agreed that you took your profession seriously, Raz,” Del said mildly. “You are an excellent actor.”

His muscles eased and he shifted his stance slightly, but he didn’t loosen his grasp on her hands. He wanted her, and that was good. “Women have tried to buy me.”

“I’m sure they have, but I wouldn’t. I want your respect, Raz. I am not a woman who would buy a man.”

“No, you aren’t.” He grimaced. “I know you aren’t.”

“But still you insulted me.”

His jaw flexed. “A foolish moment. A defense. I apologize. Don’t go away, Del.”

She let the silence hang and seethe for a moment, learning the trick from him, and was that good or bad? How much would being with him change her? A question for another time. She let out a sigh. “I won’t go away.” She could have made light and cynical, said he was too good a lover, but that would hurt them both. Looking deep into his eyes, letting the link between them widen so she felt his self-anger, let him feel her hurt—he flinched, brought her hands to frame his face, leaned down, and kissed her on the mouth. It was a kiss of promise.

She didn’t sink against him, kept herself separate. But she let her lips soften under his, let his tongue into her mouth, tasted him and let him taste her. Then she stepped back. “I won’t go away.” Not soon. She was beginning to think she was in trouble, her options in life narrowing. Another consideration for another time. She stroked those wonderful cheekbones. Didn’t say she was falling in love with him. How easy it was to forgive him . . . because their link gave her what he was feeling.

She’d had flashes of the past from him when he’d been young and struggling and poor and a woman had wanted to buy him. A beautiful, accomplished woman and he’d been tempted . . . until he’d seen her selfishness . . . and that he’d be another accessory.

Del wound her arms around him, sent her desire for him, the caring for him that welled inside her to him through their link, kissed him. She broke it when they began to pant, and stepped back completely from his embrace, angled her head to meet his eyes, and smiled. “I’m not going away soon. But I think we need to know each other more.”

His answering smile was wicked. “I agree. We should go to my apartment and work on that.”

“Out of bed, too.”

“Of course.” He took her hand again and swung it as they walked toward the stage door. They signed out with the guard and stepped into the summer’s night. They’d driven to the theater in his glider, which had been parked a couple of blocks away, but now waited, gleaming red, under the new security light.

Del did a rapid calculation as she let Raz open the door and hand her into the vehicle with the courtliness he did so well. When they’d accelerated, she said, “I anticipate giving you two more gifts.”

“Cherry, on auto,” Raz said and turned to Del with an anticipatory gleam in his eyes. “Two gifts.”

Del nodded. “A world tapestry to replace the one you lost.”

“Yes. And?”

“A surprise,” she said.

“A surprise,” he breathed, his voice infused with delight. Again he took her hand, kissed it. “My favorite.” Then he winked. “But I will remind you that earlier we agreed I would be in charge of our entertainment for the rest of this evening . . . to let you relax and enjoy . . .” he added virtuously. “You are only expected to handle one easy thing.”

Del shook her head. “Raz, you’re too good.”

“I know.”

“But you are deluded if you think you are easy.”

 

 

H
is apartment was as handsome as he. There was a nice-sized main
space that she felt he used for entertaining with light brown walls and one red wall where the windows were. All was streamlined and tidy, with less stuff than she’d imagined. A battered model of
Lugh’s Spear
sat solitary on one shelf. His HeartGift wasn’t here; he kept it in his dressing room at the theater.

Through an open door she saw that the bedroom was equally large and a shade darker than the mainspace, almost like a cozy cave. There was a puffy quilt and more pillows on the big bed than she had.

Then Raz distracted her as he ordered some music on and led her into a dance. She wondered why until he brought her close to his aroused body and she realized he wanted to romance and seduce her. She was in a mood to be romanced and seduced.

She let all thought siphon from her mind and reveled in physicality. Their bodies moved together and she liked the pressure of hers against his. She became aware of the underlying fragrance of his space . . . a hint of cherries, cocoa, all those sweets that didn’t last long in her pack on the trail. His hands guided her in a turn and she knew he was a much better dancer than she, but it didn’t matter.