The Dream Thief (19 page)

He took her by the shoulders and
pushed her back against the bed, his mouth never lifting from hers. With his
forearms braced by her head he had her trapped, half of her at least, his chest
to hers, pushing her into the glossy furs. His head tipped; she felt his teeth
against her ear. He took her earlobe into his mouth, his tongue tugging,
releasing. He traced his hands down her sleeves, her wrists, their fingers
entwining, and raised them slowly into the tangle of her hair.

Put your arms above your head.

Lia turned her cheek to the bed,
trying not to pant. “It…hasn’t been ten years yet.”

She felt him pause, smiling into
her neck. His heart beat a fierce tattoo against hers. “You remember that, do
you?”

“Vividly.”

“Hmm.” With slow intention his
teeth pressed into her skin, harder than before, a brief, stinging pain before
he stopped; he let loose one of her hands to slide his arm under her waist.
“Are you sure I said ten?”

“Yes…”

“How rash of me.” He shifted,
using his arm to lift her closer. Even through her stomacher and stays he
burned her, all heat and muscle. “I meant, of course, six.”

“Five,” she corrected him, as he
trailed kisses along the crest of her collarbone, down to the starched lace
ruffle of her bodice.

“Five,” he agreed unevenly,
rubbing his cheek against the rise of her breasts, turning his face so that she
felt his lips, his eyelashes, respiration—sensations that lit through her like
a torch touched to tinder. “Five long, very long years…God, Lia…”

When he found her mouth again
they were both panting. Willfully she kept her eyes open, saw the wolf-hunger
the fire illumed across his face, saw the ceiling, and the shadows, and the
blue-green cast of the lanterns that danced along the blackened oak beams. The
desire inside her was a beast of its own, throbbing just under her skin, poised
to devour her.

“Is this enough for your price?”
Lia asked, turning her head aside once more. “Have I—” She was forced to take a
quick breath. “Have I met it yet?”

His head lifted. He gazed down at
her without speaking.

“Do you require a whore?” she
said deliberately, when he didn’t move at all.

He didn’t get angry; he didn’t
act offended or draw back. Instead, slowly, awfully, the corners of his lips
turned up.

“Perhaps I do. Are you offering
yourself for the position?”

“I wasn’t in jest.”

“Neither was I.” Zane took her
left hand and drew it down his body, pressing her palm over his breeches, the
length of his arousal, holding her there when she tried to yank away. Above his
cold smile, his eyes glittered hard and bright. “A man in my condition doesn’t
find this sort of delay very amusing. But—if it’s what your ladyship wishes…”

He
released her hand. She lay still, watching him. He rolled from her in one lithe
motion, ending up seated back upon the edge of the mattress. His shoulders
lifted; he took a slow breath and did not look at her again. “Let us
negotiate.”

“Negotiate?”
She sat up, wary. None of the dreams had included this.

“Aye. I
assume you know the meaning of the word. You desire something. I desire
something. Perhaps together we may come to an amiable…conclusion.”

He
began to unbutton his waistcoat. She slipped off the bed and walked to the
hearth. It didn’t seem wise to remain there beside him.

Yet
from across the room she still smelled his skin, the wind-clean fragrance of
his hair. Her skirts were still wrinkled from his weight.

“I don’t suppose it would help to
appeal to your sense of duty to my family, to ask that you stay with me out of
respect for your agreement with them.”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

“Or out of honor. As a
gentleman.”

He gave a curt laugh. “An
interesting notion.”

“A gentleman thief.”

“You’ve been reading too many
penny novels, my heart. There is no such creature.”

“Then what is it you want?”

He was quiet for a very long
while, so long her eyes began to smart from staring down into the flames.

“One night,” he said at last,
very soft. “One night with you. That’s all.”

She would have given him every
night. She would have given him the stars, and the milky moon, and all the
diamonds of the earth. Even if it had meant they lived as outcasts; even if it
meant her own doom. Lia closed her eyes.

“Would you do that?” he asked.

Yes,
the dragon in her heart
whispered.
Yes, yes.
Her lips felt bruised, her body felt bruised. There
was an aching inside her, a burning demand for him and what she knew he could
do for her.

One night. It would never be enough.

“Yes,” she said, and when he
didn’t respond she angled slightly to see him from over her shoulder.

His face held an odd look, an
arrested expression, as if he’d just considered something deeply surprising.
Then he scowled.

“I almost think you mean it.”

“I do mean it.” She turned to him
fully. Her fingers worked at the ties to her stomacher.

“Lia.”

She ignored him, loosening the
tight draw of the ribbons, allowing the stiff green bodice to ease open. He
waited until she’d unlaced the final tie, pulling the piece apart and letting
it slip with its short, narrow sleeves down her arms, exposing her corset and
chemise, the fine, translucent silk. Then he stood, crossing to her. “Don’t.”

“All right.” Her arms fell to her
sides. She looked straight up at him, a clear, concentrated look, and felt
something within her gather into storm.

Yes,
whispered the dragon again.

Without even willing it she
Turned, all of her, all at once, into smoke.

It was shocking. The buoyancy of
that day in Edinburgh, the light, floating happiness swept her entire being.
She was nothing; she was a cloud, a mirage, no body or heavy dark thoughts.
There was none of the pain she’d heard accompanied the first time; there was
only the feral, ferocious bliss of giving up her body for air.

She swept up and touched the
ceiling, learned the pattern of the beams of wood, the cold stiffness of the
white plaster and cream ornament. The air was heated and thick and held her
aloft like a cushion. She stretched thin as paper through the lamp-colored
light, then drew into a mass, churning, aware only dimly of the man below her
standing immobile in his shirtsleeves, his face upturned and his hands at his
sides.

Zane.

As soon as she thought his name,
she felt the heaviness return. Again with no direct purpose, with no conscious
resolution, Lia sifted down into shape and form and took breath as a woman
standing before him, her hair long and free, her body completely unclothed.

Her empty gown lay on the floor
between them.

She lifted her hands to him. He
accepted them, his fingers closing over hers.

“That was new,” he said.

She smiled in spite of herself,
joyful. “I know.” She blinked back tears. “I did it. I did.”

“You did.” His voice sounded
different, emotionless; his clasp was very light. “It was—breathtaking.
Congratulations.”

She inhaled deeply, feeling her
body again, feeling her lungs. “Did I startle you?”

“Don’t be absurd. I’m quite used
to seeing half-naked young ladies melt into smoke.” He released her hands.
“Think nothing of it.”

“Then what’s amiss?”

“Snapdragon.” He stooped to
retrieve her gown, staring down at the mess of it, and then shook his head.
“Perhaps you’d care to dress.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” She
did not take the gown. Elation still bubbled through her, the thrill of
success. “Here I am, Zane. Here is your night.”

“Yes…I’m
afraid I’ve changed my mind.”

“You
said I was pretty, before.”

“Did
I?” A new laugh escaped him, mirthless. “How unoriginal. I must be the master
of understatement. I think you’re goddamned radiant, and you know it. Sometimes
I think if I look at you too long I’ll go blind, like a lunatic staring
straight into the sun. No,” he said in a savage undertone, and let the gown fall
back to the floor. “You’re not pretty.”

She walked away from him, to the
bed. She drew down the covers and ran her hands along the sheets.

“Stop it,” he said.

“One night.”

“No.”

“It was
your
proposition.”

“An instant of insanity. No doubt
soon it will pass.”

She climbed into the bed. She
pushed down between the sheets and stretched like a tigress, watching him.

“You’re too young,” he said,
blunt. “We’re too different. If anything, dear God, you’ve just proven that.
You—I tend to lose my balance around you, and that’s a dangerous thing. It
would be a disaster.” He shook his head once more, his mouth hardening. “We
have enough to worry about as it is. I’ll stay with you, Lia. If there’s
trouble ahead, I’ll do my best to protect you. But that’s all. We’ll retrieve
the diamond and hand it over to your mother. And then our business together is
done. You return to your life. I return to mine.”

His gaze dropped. Without looking
at her, he grabbed a handful of furs from the bed, spread them before the hearth.

“You think I’m radiant?” she
whispered.

“Good night, Lady Amalia.”

“Good night, thief.”

She could not see his reaction.
He’d turned his back to her, a darkened figure surrounded by firelight. Lia
settled back into the bed; Zane eased flat upon the floor, an arm beneath his
head. His breathing was rigidly even.

Minutes passed, hours passed,
before he spoke again, barely a sound above the hushed flames.

“One night. I’ll take it later.”

But
perhaps she only dreamed it.

“Lia.”

“Yes, Zane.”

“Who is left to come?”

“Joan. Audrey. They’ll say they
want only to talk, to parley a peace. They’ll bring arsenic for your sherry.
Joan will distract you while Audrey slips it in.”

“That would be your sherry as
well,” he said, thoughtful.

“I am now expendable.”

“Oh, really?” He drew his palms
up her bare arms, cupped his hands behind her neck. He kissed her cheek,
lightly, gently, as
Draumr
warmed into a prickle against her skin. “Come outside with me, my
heart. The moon tonight is fine and high, and I believe I fancy a ride on my
favorite dragon. We’ll meet your sisters in midflight.”

For
the first time ever, she hesitated.

“Amalia,” he said, darkly soft.
“I’ve two pistols primed and the diamond around my neck. No harm will come to
you or our child. I promise you that.”

“Yes, Zane.”

She was not his to take. He knew
that. He’d always known that. He needed no reminders, but it seemed they were
all around him anyway: