Susan Spencer Paul - [Enchanter 01] (36 page)

“Your dream came true?” he asked hopefully, thinking of kissing her.

“Magic came into my life in a most unexpected way,” she replied. “And because of it, my dream came true.”

Niclas thought a moment, then met her knowing smile.

“Yes,” he said, “that’s true, isn’t it? I believe this must be the first time in my entire life that I’ve been truly thankful to be a Seymour.”

She laughed merrily and leaned to kiss him, promising, “I shall do everything possible to keep you, and our children, feeling that way.”

And then, lying close, hands entwined, they did the most wonderful, pleasurable thing that Niclas could think of, at least until his bandages came off, and, wishing each other pleasant dreams, they went to sleep.

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Touch of Passion

Coming soon
from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

H
e would come tonight. Loris knew he would, regardless how she locked her doors or windows. He would find a way in. He always did.

The question she wished she could answer, as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, was which feeling was most prominent in her heart—fear, or anticipation?

Lifting a hand, she touched her lips with her fingertips, remembering the way he had kissed her the night before. No one had ever kissed her like that. Not even Dyfed. Kian . . . Kian had sometimes kissed her in a similar manner, but with a good deal more difficulty, for she’d never received his attentions willingly. At least not initially. Much to her annoyance, she never seemed to be able to keep her senses for very long once he’d set his mouth against hers—due, most likely, to some magic he used. But even those kisses hadn’t been like the ones she’d shared with the strange young man who came to her at night.

She didn’t know his name, wasn’t even precisely certain what he was, whether angel or demon, and yet when
he’d taken her into his arms and kissed her, she’d felt as if they were connected in some unfathomable way. They had become one—it sounded foolish now to think such a thing, but there was no other way to describe it. There had been a feeling of wholeness, of rightness . . . and of intense pleasure.

“God forgive me,” Loris whispered, her hand moving to cover her heated cheek. She was ashamed to think now of her response to him. And a little frightened. She hadn’t been able to stop him, and hadn’t wanted to.

No, she silently chided. That wasn’t being honest. The truth was that she hadn’t wanted to stop him. If he hadn’t left her chamber by his own determination, she surely wouldn’t have made him do so.

“You’ve got to do better tonight, Loris,” she instructed her reflection firmly. “He’s a complete stranger to you, after all. It’s terribly wrong. All of it.”

She believed herself, and vowed to resist him better. But in her heart she knew she wouldn’t.

Moonlight streamed through the open window, giving enough light for Kian to see himself in the full-length mirror. As many times as he’d made the transformation before, he hadn’t yet grown bored of watching the changes that came over his face and coloring and clothes. It was so odd, becoming someone who didn’t exist. But it was necessary.

He had to be near Loris. No, not just near her, for he was close enough each day to feel the hatred for him that the curse had placed in her heart. But she was his
unoliaeth
. His oneness. They had been fated, and could never love another. If the curse kept her from recognizing him
as her true mate while he was Kian, it didn’t seem to stop her from at least liking him in another guise. For more than that, he didn’t hope.

She’d let him kiss her last night, and, better still, had kissed him in return. Kian had thought he might reel from the sheer wonder of it. That was how it would have been between them if the curse had never been placed. Her love was his by right, and if it wasn’t precisely noble of him to take it by deception, then nobility would have to go by the wayside. His need for her smile, her touch, was akin to obsession.

The change took but moments. His lengthy blond hair grew shorter and darkened until it was almost black. The lightness of his blue eyes darkened, until they were the same color as his hair. His finer features grew bolder, his nose lengthened slightly, and his shoulders widened a fraction. He looked a little like one of his dark-haired Seymour cousins. His garments took a few moments longer to complete the transition, taking on a mien similar to the fair folk who dwelled in the woods. It had seemed a good choice when he’d first decided to make these secret visits to Loris. It wasn’t unusual for faeries to sneak into the dwellings of mortals at night, either to take something they desired or to lay blessings or curses upon the family within. Or even to simply cause mischief. Unfortunately, Loris wasn’t yet familiar enough with the magic folk who lived in and around Tylluan to identify the garments. She had no idea what to make of him, save that he was a stranger who couldn’t stop visiting her at night, and who, when he was with her, couldn’t keep his hands off her. Or his lips, either.

He thought of the embrace they’d shared the night
before, and imagined what the coming hours would bring. Expectation made his breathing quicken—and that made him smile. How incredible that he, Kian Seymour, who’d bedded his first female before he’d reached the age of thirteen, should feel so foolishly light-headed at the mere idea of being with a woman. He’d been warned that love was like that, and had scoffed. But Loris made him believe. She’d changed everything for him.

The night was dark and cold as he made his way to the small balcony outside his window. A fitful wind lifted his hair at the ends and fluttered the edges of his tunic. Kian took a deep breath and let the anticipation within him rise.

She was waiting for him. He could feel it.

She had locked the windows and bolted the doors, but Loris knew it wouldn’t do any good. He would come, and apart from running away, all she could do was wait. Minutes passed, and then an hour. She was weary from a day filled with keeping the castle, and longed to lie down upon her soft bed. But she couldn’t bring herself to do so. It would make her feel too . . . vulnerable. Apart from that, it was disturbing to drop into a restless slumber, only to be wakened by a stranger standing over her bed. She knew because he had wakened her in such a manner before.

Weariness at last won out, and she settled into one of the large chairs near the fire. Leaning her head against the cushions, she closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift. Sleep beckoned, but she was too wary to follow.

“When will he come?” she murmured aloud.

“I’m here.”

Loris opened her eyes and saw him standing there, having suddenly and silently appeared, as he was sometimes
given to doing. He was leaning in a relaxed pose against the mantel, gazing down at her.

The stranger was darkly handsome, tall and muscular. His demeanor, as she had discovered during his previous visits, was charming, thoughtful, and well-spoken. He was sometimes somber, often amused, always gentle and considerate.

And yet she knew almost nothing else about him.

“Why do you come here?” she asked, looking fully into his dark eyes. “Why to me?”

He smiled. “You know why,” he said, and pushed from the mantel. “You’re tired, Loris.” Slowly, he moved to kneel before the chair, and took her hands in his own. “You’ve had a difficult day?”

She ignored the question.

“No, I don’t know why you come,” she said, searching his face by the dim light of the fire. “I don’t even know who you are. Or what you are.”

“Is it Kian Seymour who wearies you so?” he asked. “He’s cruel and unkind. I know how greatly you hate him.”

“I don’t hate Kian,” she told him firmly. “He can be difficult and obstinate, but I don’t hate him for it.”

“Then perhaps it’s his brother, Dyfed. His attentions are too demanding.”

“It isn’t any of them,” she said impatiently. “But if it were, at least I would have a name to accuse them by. Why do you come here and . . . and spend time with me, yet not tell me who you are? Do you live at Tylluan? In some secret room in the castle that I’ve not yet found? Are you a Seymour? Are you even human?” She pulled her hands free and set them on either side of his face.
“You feel real enough, but there are spirits who can take on the form of mortals. But if you were not welcome here, if you were an intruder or an enemy, Kian would surely know. Unless you’re as powerful a wizard as he is.”

“I’m not your enemy, Loris,” he said, lifting one hand to stroke the backs of his fingers gently down her cheek. “And I’m not Kian Seymour’s enemy. I mean no harm to anyone at Tylluan. Most especially not to you.”

With a sigh she pushed his hand away and stood, pulling her night robe more tightly about her waist and stepping around the stranger’s kneeling form.

“You should go,” she said. “And never come back.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t rise to his feet. Didn’t even look at her. Loris bit her lip and turned away, toward the fire, and prayed that she wouldn’t start crying.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked in a low voice.

She didn’t answer. Silence stretched out for a long moment, and then she finally heard him. His hands, warm and strong, fell upon her shoulders and gently turned him to face her. Searching her face, he asked once more, “Do you want me to go, Loris?”

“I want to know who you are.”

He lowered his head and softly kissed her lips, a brief and tender caress.

“In your heart, you already know who I am,” he murmured.

Loris shook her head in denial, but he kissed her again, more deeply, and she felt once more the rightness that was between them. She pressed closer to the solid warmth of his body, sliding her arms up about his neck.

When it ended, they were quiet again, holding each other, swaying slightly back and forth. His cheek was
pressed against the top of her head, and she could feel his breath against her hair.

“Won’t you tell me something about yourself?” she whispered. “Just your name will be enough. Please.”

His arms tightened, and he sighed.

“On the day, or night, that you speak my true name, I will forever after be banished from Tylluan. Until that time, you may call me whatever you wish.”

Loris looked up at him.

“Banished?” she said, dismayed. “But why? Who are you?”

He stroked her hair back from her face, and said, “I am one who wants to be near you always. I will never harm nor dishonor you. I want to come to you freely, without fear, without shame, and give you pleasure and respite. I want to be the one you tell your secrets to, your dreams, all of the things that you can tell no one else. I want to hear of your days and be part of your nights, to hold and touch you, to be touched by you in turn. I want to hear your voice and carry the memory of it away with me until I’m with you once more.” He kissed her again, slowly, deeply. “This is who I am, Loris.” His hand cradled her face. “Is it enough?”

“Yes,” she whispered, drawing him back down to her. “It’s enough.”