Celta: Heart Choice Part 23

His HeartMate sent him a cool glance. "Very well, all is ready for the babe to enter the world. We only wait for the father."

A few moments later, the sound of thundering hooves echoed, the ground vibrated, an instant before a man bent low over the neck of a horse burst into the grove clearing. The rider stopped the horse near Mitch.e.l.la, flung himself off the animal, and strode to the little group.

The fountain stopped bubbling. The remaining Flair floating in the grove dimmed, flickered out.

"Ailim, beloved!"

"Don't hold her yet, Ruis. One last push, Ailim!"

Ailim and Mitch.e.l.la pushed.

The babe slid into Lark's waiting hands-screaming.

"This isn't right!" Lark muttered, placing the baby on Ailim's stomach, waving hands over the child and chanting a spell. Futilely.

T'Vine stepped forward with a wet cloth and washed the baby, making her scream louder. He cradled her head in his hands. "As the formal Oracle attending this birth, I state that this baby is a Null like her father. Able to negate Flair and Flair technology." He caressed the little one's head. "May she have a long and happy life."

"I wondered," murmured Ailim. "My cuz told me I should hear the babe, connect with it if it had Flair." She seemed supremely unconcerned that her girl child was lacking in what most people would consider a sense as important as any of the others. Mitch.e.l.la gritted her teeth against a wash of envy. She wouldn't care if her baby was a Null, either, not if she could hold it in her arms, parent it, not even if she had to fight the entire world for it.

Not to be.

With Flair, Lark drew out the afterbirth and sent it into the land. "A blessing for the estate."

"Yes," whispered Straif. He didn't move his awed stare from the infant.

"She's beautiful," Ruis said, then frowned, stroking his daughter with one hand and holding his mate's fingers with the other. "We won't let anyone sneer at her."

"Of course not." Ailim smiled at him with love and tears in her eyes. "No one will ever believe Nulls are not essential to Celta ever again. Not after you." She kissed his fingers. "And the Ship is prepared to teach her to be another captain." She smiled. "The Ship is avid to raise a child within it again."

"When can I take them home?" Captain Elder demanded.

Lark set her hands on the child, shook her head, then physically examined her. "I have to use old ways without Flair on her. Frustrating. But I know she's healthy."

"Ship will examine her, too. It made a special cradle."

Switching her attention to Ailim, Lark said, "She is Healed with the remnants of the birthing spell."

"I'm not taking any chances," Captain Elder said. "I've ordered an automatic speeder to follow me. It should be here in a moment."

"The gates are still open," Straif said. "Many of my guests have been leaving-no doubt to spread the news."

Shouts erupted, then a steady humming sounded, and a sleek silver vehicle appeared.

The men stared at it. Even Mitch.e.l.la noticed that the speeder was much smaller and prettier than any glider.

"How does it work?" asked Holm.

"Antigravity," said Captain Elder.

As the men gathered around the vehicle, Ruis lifted his wife and child inside to the thick sponge enveloping the floor, then entered himself. He bowed to them. "Thank you all for your gracious generosity. Merry meet."

"Very merrily met." Straif smiled. "And merry part."

"And merry meet again. Door down," Ruis said and the capsule closed. The others stepped back and the thing flew away.

"Interesting conveyance," Straif said. "I have an appointment with the Ship tomorrow morning and will be sure to ask the captain about that transport."

Water poured into the fountain of the Dark G.o.ddess as Flair spells resumed. Mitch.e.l.la sensed all they had done was still in place.

T'Vine stared after the vehicle a while, small face knit in concentration.

"So, Vinni," said Holm, "Can you read the fates of the Nulls?"

"Now father and daughter are gone, I can extrapolate paths in their lives as well as anyone else's." He looked back, and his eyes glittered with a shard of darkness. "You don't always take me seriously, Lords and Ladies, but I could tell you which of this little group will live the longest. That is nearly immutable, stamped on the visage for me to see, it's-"

"No!" Lark had finished tidying the area where the birth had taken place. "Sometimes you misread us, Vinni. None of us here underestimate you."

Mitch.e.l.la laughed nervously. "I certainly don't."

Vinni stared at her, and she shifted her feet, then he smiled-a pure, boy's smile. "I don't know everything." A dimple flashed. "I don't know who will win in my scuffle with the Clover boys later today."

Time had escaped Mitch.e.l.la. "It's after midnight?"

"Indeed it is," Straif said. He c.o.c.ked his head. "The Ritual was wearing on most of my guests, and those up at the Residence have left."

"Sounds like we should go, too." Holm stretched, yawned, and curved his arm around Lark. "A very good evening. Lark got to talk to her father and her MotherSire and MotherDam, and Trif Clover. We blessed and ama.s.sed Flair for the T'Blackthorn Residence for years to come. We partic.i.p.ated in a birth-and my father addressed a civil greeting to me. A memorable night."

"Blessings abound," Straif said. "I'm glad that there is a break in T'Holly's att.i.tude against you."

Holm flicked some dirt off his sleeve. "I spoke to him first, of course. They don't look good, T'Holly and D'Holly."

"Living under broken vows of honor is not easy," Lark said. "T'Heather and other Healers are doing their best to re-mediate the health aspects."

"Anyone with sense would use bad health as a reason to heal the breach with me and my HeartMate, but not the fighter T'Holly. He thinks he'd be seen as weak, cowardly. His d.a.m.ned pride. He's the captain of the FirstFamilies Council, he has nothing to prove to anyone."

"Wrong," Mitch.e.l.la said, and realized she'd said it aloud when they all looked at her, so she chose her words carefully, "From what I understand, T'Holly has to admit he was wrong in disowning you, and that is something he doesn't often do."

Holm snorted. "Never. He has never admitted he was wrong."

"So that's an aspect of himself he has to confront and accept and modify if the situation is to change and be mended. It's not easy facing that something basic in yourself is deficient." How well she knew that.

"You put it very well, GentleLady Clover," Vinni bowed to her. "Sometimes we must understand that past dreams must be put aside in order to live a full life."

"Well, the boy's not talking about me," Holm said. "I've given up my past and live for present and future."

Mitch.e.l.la didn't dare look at Straif.

Holm kissed his HeartMate, Lark. "We have a long trip back to Gael City, so let's say farewell and go to our soft bedsponge at T'Ash's."

Ignoring Vinni, Straif embraced Holm and Lark and wished them well. Mitch.e.l.la said her good-byes, too, and the couple teleported away.

Face stubborn in the starlight, Vinni stared with compressed lips at Straif, and Mitch.e.l.la suddenly understood that the young prophet wanted Straif to give up his quest.

For a moment hope sputtered through her. But even if he gave up his first pa.s.sion, Straif would never turn to her. She didn't know what he would do if he couldn't find a cure, probably decide to have children anyway. The FirstFamilies were much different from the Clovers.

Straif would never take her as more than a temporary lover. Never. The word Holm used regarding T'Holly. It still sounded hopeless.

"Time for me to go, too," Vinni said. "Farewell, GentleLady, you have found your way."

Had she? Dared she let Straif blind her to her path, even for a short time? But she felt his heat beside her, the emotions flowing between them, kindling desire within her to know him better. Physically.

Time for another decision.

As she stared at Vinni, he nodded to Straif. "I will remind you that the price for my services is an invitation to all your parties." Then he disappeared with a pop.

Strain left Straif's muscles. He turned in a circle, and Mitch.e.l.la felt him sending his senses into the night, searching for threats. The quiet pulse of night wafted to him, to her. No one other than those living at the Residence was within the estate walls. A slight breeze brought the scent of spring blossoms with it.

Straif turned to her. "Can you feel it? The new energy of the estate." And with his words, she could, some of the effervescence that she'd felt before tingled through her soles from the ground and spread through her, sparkling along her nerves, reviving her spirits.

Thickening the bond she had with Straif, calling her to him.

This man was special. Not because of his t.i.tle or his name or his Flair, but because of what he'd survived, what he'd striven for. And like redecorating a FirstFamily Residence, the opportunity to love a man like this would come to her only once. Did she dare not grasp the pleasure? If she didn't take this chance, how often in the future would bitter regret gnaw at her? And how long had it been since she allowed herself to connect with a man more than superficially? Years. She wanted to drink deep of such powerful pleasure.

Whatever he saw in her eyes made his own go dark, potent. He bent down and brushed her lips with his, and Mitch.e.l.la's insides clenched. Her body wanted his. Fire whispered through her veins, burst over their connection to hit him. He groaned, pulled her close. His mouth ravaged her own, opened her lips. His tongue swept in to learn every cranny of her mouth as his arms caged her so his hard body could learn every curve of hers-and tempt her with ravishing pleasure.

Nineteen.

"Will you let me touch you, lovely Mitch.e.l.la?" Straif asked.

The desire throbbing between them made thinking hard, but Mitch.e.l.la knew what she wanted-the feel of his calloused palms against her face. She took his hands and curved them over her cheeks, closing her eyes at the delicious texture.

When he exhaled, his breath tickled her temple, which stirred something so deep inside her that she craved fulfillment.

"Will you let me kiss you, beautiful Mitch.e.l.la?"

She didn't know if she heard his words in her ear or in her mind, but her lips pulsated with the need to have them covered. Her head dropped back on her neck, and she said, "Yes," and left her mouth open for him to claim it.

He did. Lips firm, then nibbling, each press, each touch of the edge of his teeth increased the ache within her. Her lips needed his touch, as did her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her core.

She didn't know if she trembled or he shuddered. Probably both. They swayed like trees in a high wind, but the air was still, only pulsating with heady pa.s.sion. The rushing of the fountain matched the blood in her ears.

He lifted his head, and Mitch.e.l.la stared up at his face, skin taut over muscle and bone. n.o.ble features.

"I can't offer you everything you want," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "Everything you deserve."

It hurt, a jolt of flaming lightning, and his body jerked as he felt it, too, so linked were they. His eyes went darker, more needy than she'd ever seen.

"I can only offer you all I have at this moment," he ground out.

"Yes," she said, and with her decision, all her doubts faded like mist in the hot sun. They might return, but now she'd seize the moment, seize the awful pleasure he could give her, seize him. She held on to him tight and threw her head back at the wondrous, sparkling desire and laughed up to the bright stars.

He held her so close she could feel the long cords of his muscles, the sinews of his tendons. The iron of his arousal nestling in the softness of her belly.

She laughed again and discovered it was he who shook.

"Here, now. In the soft moss of the grove. Under the eyes of the Dark G.o.ddess," he said.

Her heart tripped, and she shook her head at the sweet madness engulfing them. "Yes!"

With a Word, he had them naked. Then her back sank into the cool, springy moss, and each tiny sprig rippled against her skin, and fire bloomed inside her. He watched her, s.e.x jutting. And his body was everything she'd ever wanted, long, lean, hard.

She arched against the ground, repeating the sensation of the caressing moss, reveling in it. Holding up her arms to encourage him. Or perhaps it was to embrace the moment, or the sky, or the universe. Her nipples peaked with antic.i.p.ation and fine droplets from the fountain.

Standing, his body angled to hers. His hands fisted at his sides, and she knew he wanted to take her hard and fast, but her softness, her femininity, the pure delight he took in observing her lush body against the rich black of the moss made him pause.

His nostrils flared. Images more than thought sped into her mind. Woman. G.o.ddess.

She opened her thighs.

Mine.

He came down on her, and their spiraling pa.s.sion merged, and he was between her legs, and his heart pounded against hers, and his hands, those tough, fabulous hands, sped over her, and his need was deep and dangerous and drew her into a firestorm of blinding craving, and he was inside her and plunging, and she was riding the whirlwind of glittering ecstasy and feeling all of him against her and inside her and merged with her, and they were screaming and shattering into a million stars flung across the sky.

Sensation returned first, the weight and heat of him atop her, the warm moss beneath her. He panted raggedly, chest caressing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, causing her body to clench in o.r.g.a.s.m one more time. He groaned.

I can't let you go, he said mentally.

But he would, she knew. As soon as cool thought and generations of tradition and duty replaced the need of his emotions, the greed of l.u.s.t, he'd let her leave. After the job was done.

She wouldn't let it matter. She'd survived a devastating emotional blow before, could do so again. Right now she would take everything to keep in her memory forever. And she'd stop antic.i.p.ating the worst. She'd live in the moment, celebrate this love.

She stroked his back, fingers gliding through the sheen of sweat, and was suddenly aware of his scent. The scent of sage, of the moss of the land, of the water of the fountain, of man.

"I had forgotten how wonderful s.e.x with a soft, pa.s.sionate woman was."

He had never known. Because he had never known her, or her love for him. She chuckled at his obtuseness.

He rolled until they lay on their sides, concerned about his weight on hers. He was all solid muscle. His breathing hadn't steadied, and wicked glee tripped through her.

The energy from the land, from the Residence, from the night of the new twinmoons-energy of birthing and growing and becoming-was back. She bounced to her feet, grinned down at him, and tossed her head, feeling the loose flow of her hair.

His stare had fastened on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and his eyes glazed. His manhood twitched. He groaned.