Fyne Sisters - The Star Witch Part 12

Isadora, like her sister Sophie, was another matter entirely.

"Will he join me?"

"He is a man of his word, my lord, as I have told you. If he promised to ally with you in exchange

for..."

"For you in his bed," Sebestyen finished when she faltered.

"Yes," she said softly. "If he promised, he will comply. It is not in his nature to deceive."

"He has yet to sign the accord." Until that was done, he could not be a.s.sured of anything.

"He will, my lord," Isadora a.s.sured him.

Sebestyen took a step closer to Isadora. "Are the warriors of the Circle as talented as I have heard them

to be? Will they strike fear into the hearts of my enemies?"

Her eyes darkened, and with this expression on her face... yes, he was reminded that she was a witch and not to be entirely trusted. "If they all fight like Lucan, then they will win this war for you."

"Spoken like a woman who's fallen in love," he teased.

"I am not in love," she responded hotly. "Love is for foolish girls who know no better."

Sebestyen smiled at the woman. In spite of the fact that she was mostly naked and barely covered by the

bodice she held before her pale torso, she was fierce. She would make a mighty enemy, if she chose.

"I want a commitment from him. I want the men he promised me. Soon."

"I can't push Lucan, my lord."

"Of course you can."

For once, he could read her expression; she wanted him gone, the sooner the better. "I don't have that

kind of power over him. We do not discuss politics or matters of war, and it is too soon for me to broach the subject. Such a change would only make him suspicious of me. It would be best if we wait until he mentions the alliance you desire."

"You underestimate yourself. Every man has a weakness, and you are Captain Hern's."

"I am no man's weakness, my lord. I am just a woman."

He took another step toward Isadora, unafraid of her witchcraft. Bors had told him she was dangerous,

that she had killed, that she was powerful. But Sebestyen had seen none of that strength for himself. In fact, the witch Bors had delivered was often downright meek. Perhaps she was not a witch at all. Perhaps her sisters had all the power in the family, and Isadora had been gifted with nothing but a fearsome glare she called upon on occasion.

"Just yesterday I once again offered Captain Hern any woman in this palace, sure he would be tired of you by now and would welcome companionship of a different sort. Someone younger, prettier, more adventurous. Again he told me he is interested only in you. That is power of a mighty sort, Isadora. Use it wisely."

"THAT IS AN unusual gown," Lucan said as he studied Isadora. From head to toe, she was astoundingly beautiful. Her dark hair was loose, there was a flush to her cheeks and a wry smile twisting her lips.

The lavender gown she wore was more revealing than anything he had seen her wear thus far. It draped over her flesh like a cloud, barely covering, barely touching. The sleeves were slit to show naked, strong arms, and the floating neckline plunged well past the valley of her firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Isadora was not a busty woman, but oh, that swell was tempting and feminine. She was such a contrast of angles and curves, he could study her all night in what could only be called awe.

It was clear there would be no binding undergarment to deal with tonight.

"Unusual? That's all you have to say?" She placed a wooden wedge firmly in the crevice of the hidden door she had used to enter his room, so that no one else would be able to make use of it, and then she walked toward him, displaying that odd combination of strength and grace that he had never seen in any other woman's walk. "I chose this ridiculous frock in order to elicit a response from you, and all you can say is it's unusual."

"I apologize. Apparently that ridiculous frock has robbed me of my ability to speak."

"That's nearer to what I had in mind."

"I did not know you possessed such blatant feminine wiles."

Her smile dimmed a little. "Neither did I."

They had been lovers a week, now. Lucan had never been with any one woman for such a length of time. Women were provided for him, and he had enjoyed some more than others. But there had never been one who called to him the way Isadora did. There had never been one who felt so much like his own. He would have expected to be bored with her by now, but he was not.

She was no longer with him simply because she wore the Star of Bacwyr.

They kissed for a while, and as they kissed he gradually removed the lavender dress from Isadora's body. There was no rush, not tonight. He was content to bare a shoulder, and then an arm. One breast, and then the other. Each segment of her body received proper attention as it was bared.

Isadora possessed such wonderfully feminine muscles throughout her body, it was clear that she had not led a life of leisure, as her cousin the empress had. Lucan was accustomed to soft, fleshy women chosen for their abundance of curves and their traditional beauty, women who had been trained to please as he had been trained to fight. He had never considered that the women provided for the warriors of the Circle were very much the same as the emperor's concubines, but he could see now that it was true.

Some of those women he had chosen himself, while others had been chosen for him. None had been fierce and witty and headstrong like Isadora. None had ever touched him as she did, at the very pit of his soul.

He had never known a woman quite like her, and he wondered, as the lavender dress dropped to the floor at last, what she would think of living in Tryfyn. With him.

It was a jarring thought. When he became Prince of Swords, he would be expected to choose the daughter of a clan chieftan as his bride, or perhaps even a relation of the King who would come to them soon after the Star was returned to its rightful place. His bride, the mother of his sons, would be chosen for him, just as the women who warmed his bed had been chosen.

But that did not mean he had to set Isadora aside. He could have both. A bride picked and presented by the wizards; a mistress he selected himself. Would Isadora consent to be mistress to a married man? From what he knew of her it was highly unlikely that she would embrace such a station in life. But then again, she continued to surprise him. He could hope...

Naked at last, she began to undress him. She removed his leather vest first, which was easy enough to discard, then the knives he wore at his waist. Had he ever allowed a woman to touch those weapons before? No, he was quite sure he had not. Isadora discarded the knives with proper caution and even respect, and then she unfastened his trousers, easily working the ties and b.u.t.tons that restrained him.

She had such capable and talented fingers, and if they trembled at all it was not with shyness or trepidation. Pa.s.sion alone made Isadora quiver.

They fell onto the bed, arms and legs entwining, mouths mating, hearts beating fast and hard. Lucan rolled Isadora onto her back and spread her legs, and then he teased her with what was to come. She wore nothing but the ring, which infused her with an ever growing magic as if it shared their very pa.s.sion.

Did Isadora sense the strength within her that grew with every encounter? Did she realize that what they shared each night went beyond physical pleasure? She had not been trained to recognize and harness power, as he had, but surely she felt the force they generated.

"Now do you like me?" he asked, his voice gruff.

Isadora's dark eyes met his. "Perhaps a wee bit," she responded. She did not seem at all happy about the confession.

He watched those eyes closely as he filled her. Whatever uncertainties she had about him vanished quickly, and they were left only with the desire that had brought them together.

Maybe he would not be able to keep her, but for this moment in time Isadora was his, completely.

UNTIL SHE'D WALKED into Lucan's room on that cold night days ago and offered herself to him, Isadora had not realized how much she'd missed the physical closeness that came with an intimate relationship. Lying in bed caught in Lucan's arms-awake or asleep, it didn't seem to matter-she felt different. Whole again. No longer alone.

Heaven help her, she did like him. Very much, in fact. If only they had met in another time and place, maybe things would be different.

Foolish thought. The curse remained and would always keep her from that different. If she had not been ordered to his bed, she never would have allowed herself to get close enough to fall in...

Like. Not love. She caught herself just in time, as the words teased her tongue. It was a truly foolish woman who confused the needs of the body with the workings of the heart. She was old enough and wise enough to know better.

"You're going to fight with the emperor against the rebels, aren't you?" she asked as she and Lucan held

one another long after the lovemaking was done. Two candles burned, one bowl of oil flickered, so that the room was lit with faint, dancing flames. The light made everything look unreal.

"I said that I would."

Her heart leaped. Liane and Mahri and countless other innocents would be hurt, maybe even killed, if the

rebels overtook the palace. And yet Kane was one of those rebels, and she knew his intentions were honorable. She also knew that he and his kind did not have a chance against the Circle warriors, men who had been trained from childhood to do battle.

"For me," she whispered. "You promised yourself and your men to Sebestyen for me."One large, comforting hand raked up and down her back. "Sebestyen's cause is just," he reasoned. "As the only legitimate son of the late Emperor Nechtyn, he is the rightful ruler of this country and has been for nigh onto twenty years."

"So, you would have agreed to take his side in the matter in any case?"

"Not necessarily. I might have walked away without taking any side at all."

She raised up and looked down at Lucan. In candlelight, he looked younger than his thirty-six years,

more vulnerable than she knew him to be. It was the curl of his hair and the dimple in his cheek, she

imagined, that made him appear helpless. He was not. He was far from helpless.

"You still have not signed the accord," she said gently. She had heard the emperor complaining about that fact, more than once.

"Not yet."

Isadora licked her lips and leaned down so that her nose was close to Lucan's. No one was listening, she knew that, and yet she felt it was necessary to speak as privately as possible. "Don't," she whispered.

"Don't fight for him. Walk away, while you still can. Run, as fast as you can, from this terrible place. Go back to Tryfyn and keep your Circle warriors there."

"You side with the rebels who wish to overthrow Sebestyen?" He sounded surprised but intrigued.

"No," she answered in a soft voice. "I just want it to stop. The battles and the waiting and the intrigue. I

want it to go away." She wanted her life to be simple again.

"War isn't over until someone wins."

"That's... stupid."

"Stupid?"

Isadora sputtered. "Yes, stupid."

Lucan did not seem insulted, which was a good thing. After all, war was his livelihood; killing was his gift.

"I have given my word," he said again. "Emperor Sebestyen kept his part of the bargain in sending you to

me, so I must do the same."

She pinned his arms to the mattress-not that he couldn't escape her hold if he wished to do so. "Do you really think that I would be here if I had not decided for myself to be your lover?"

He sighed. "No."

"Then Sebestyen has given you nothing. The only bargain that exists is between you and I."

In a move so strong and quick and easy that it took her breath away, Lucan freed himself from her flimsy hold and reversed their positions so that he hovered over her. His weight pressed her into the mattress; his body heat warmed her. She was helpless here, unable to move in anything more than a subtle way.

And yet she liked being here. Lucan had always given her power in this a.s.sociation. He had never used his physical strength against her.

She had never used magic against him, and she could do just that, now that her powers had returned. A softly spoken spell, an influence he would not be able to deny, and he would do as she asked. But Lucan did not know she was a witch, and if she had her way, he would never know. She would not risk exposing her magic in that way, or any other. For once in her life, she wished not to be a witch. She was just a woman, and for now Lucan Hern was her man. Any influence she had over him had to be genuine. Real. There could be no magic in it.

"Emperor Sebestyen is a bad man, Lucan," she whispered. "You don't want to ally yourself with him."