Thief Of Light Part 9

Bettsa chuckled and poled out into the current, working with the outgoing tide.

Prue's plump little t.i.ts had pressed so hard against the fine fabric of her tunic, he could close his eyes now and recall the precise shape of her nipples. He might have another two weeks available for the seduction, but he had no intention of waiting. Her tongue had been like velvet twining and flirting with his, her whole lush body pressed ardently against him.

A little more patience and he'd have her. Without the Voice.

He no longer doubted the Dark Lady was personally responsible for designing Prue McGuire, because everything about the woman appealed to him more and more. The h.e.l.l of it was that he liked liked her-admired her intelligence and determination, enjoyed her acerbic humor. Life with Prue would never be boring. her-admired her intelligence and determination, enjoyed her acerbic humor. Life with Prue would never be boring.

She'd stood before him, swathed in jade silk, her eyes shining with challenge and deeper down, a yearning that tore at his heart. She worked so hard, practical Prue, always responsible, always respectable. But he'd seen her laugh 'til the tears ran down her cheeks, felt her heat, her pa.s.sion, her longing.

If things had been different, if he hadn't . . . done what he'd done. Prue might very well have been born for him-so fragile, so strong, so right. The G.o.ddess was clever, he had to give Her that. But it could never be. All he had was a few short weeks.

If only she'd trust him. The breath caught in his throat. G.o.ds, the games they could play!

He'd always been a self-a.s.sured lover, confident of his ability to please. If he tended to be a trifle dominating, well, he knew exactly how far to go. The trouble was, once he started with Prue McGuire, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop until he'd taken complete control.

Prue might be shocked by some of his darker desires at first, but she wouldn't flinch or squeal, she'd look him straight in the eye and defy him, say she felt nothing, pretend she wasn't trembling with the need to fly free while his mastery kept her safe. He didn't doubt he could persuade her-eventually.

In the process, he'd warm his cold, empty soul, like a man crouched before a blazing fire. It might be a fleeting sensation, but G.o.ds, it was going to be good, very, very good.

What could he give in return?

Pleasure. Oh yes, he'd pleasure her until she begged him for the release only he could provide. In the heat and the pleading, she'd find surcease too. Maybe even peace.

Temptation whispered to him, hot and sly. You can have everything You can have everything , it said. , it said. Her body, her mind, her soul-all yours if you use the Voice. The more she desires you, the more susceptible she becomes. Her body, her mind, her soul-all yours if you use the Voice. The more she desires you, the more susceptible she becomes.

He'd be able to watch those fine lines beside her eyes smooth out as she lay asleep on his shoulder, but he'd never know for sure . . .

She'd only trusted a man once. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d coward.

Compel her with the Voice and he'd be an even lower form of life. Sc.u.m.

As if the thought had conjured it, the wind shifted, filling the air with a stench so vile he coughed.

"What's that G.o.ds-awful stink?" he croaked.

The skiffwoman's shoulders bunched as she hauled on the pole. "What stink?"

Cursing, rubbing his sensitive nose, Erik peered at the grand palazzos slipping by, their lights shining across the water. The air was full of the smell of slime and rot and slow dissolution, corruption on a vast scale. Bile filled his throat, burning and sour. "G.o.ds, woman, what's wrong with you? Can't you smell it? Like a swamp stuffed with corpses."

He saw the whites of Bettsa's eyes in the moonslight as she shot him a startled glance. She raised her head and sniffed loudly. "Nothin'," she muttered. "Ain't nothin' 'cept the turn of the tide."

"Florien?"

Slowly, the boy shook his head. "Nah." A pause. "Mebbe a little."

The wind changed, giving Erik some respite. "Where are we?"

"The Leaf of n.o.bility." The woman spat over the side.

"Erik?" Florien stretched out a hand, then dropped it. "Ye sick?"

Gritting his teeth, Erik settled back in his seat. The stench had dissipated, drifting away on the sea breeze. "I'll do." But the apprehension in the boy's thin face was so clear, he forced a smile and ruffled Florien's hair. "I hate marsh smells," he said. Which was the absolute truth.

They reminded him of death.Prue padded down to the cavernous kitchen, wrapped in her shabby old robe. "You still here, sweetie?"

"Mm," said a voice from deep inside the huge pantry. "Put a kettle on, will you?"

A moment later, Katrin emerged with a plate of small cakes. Smiling, she bent to drop a kiss on her mother's cheek. "Love you, Mam."

"You too." Prue gazed up at her calm, capable daughter, and her heart turned over with love and pride. "Long day?" she asked.

Katrin busied herself with a tisane pot and cups. She shot Prue a cautious glance from under her lashes. "Not really. I came in at noon, which was just as well, because Cook needed the help." Her gaze became speculative. "I fixed a special lunch, in fact. For two."

"Oh." Prue grabbed a washcloth and swiped it over an already spotless bench. "Erik Th.o.r.ensen stayed on. We were discussing his accounts." She sat down at the st.u.r.dy wooden table.

Katrin joined her, pouring the tisane with a steady hand. "He's the singer?"

Prue nodded. "Rose arranged a deal. He gives music lessons and in return I sort out the Opera's accounts."

"Tansy thinks he's wonderful. Is he?"

"He's certainly an excellent teacher. And his voice is incredible. I've never heard anything like it. But he has no head for business."

Katrin chuckled, reaching for a cake. "Not your type then."

Before Prue could gather her wits, Katrin raised a hand, forestalling the reply. "On second thoughts," she said, wrinkling her nose, "don't tell me anything, I don't want to know."

"Fine with me, sweetheart." Prue smiled, uneasily conscious of her glowing cheeks. "You never have before." She changed the subject. "Tell me, did Arkady get the lease on the shop?"

Katrin's face lit up, her blue gray eyes shining. "Oh yes! Mam, it's in such a good place. And there are rooms upstairs, a bit shabby, but we don't care."

Prue wrapped her fingers around the warmth of the cup and listened to her daughter's enthusiastic chatter. Memories paraded by-a chubby baby with a gorgeous gurgling laugh, a quiet little girl with fair curls waving around a serious face, the tip of a pink tongue slipping out when she concentrated. All those years when she'd been everything to her child-father as well as mother, disciplinarian and teacher, comfort and refuge. Source of hugs and kisses.

Her baby. She resisted the impulse to shake her head in wonderment, hardly able to credit the pa.s.sage of time. The presence of this tall, graceful young woman, now poised on the verge of a separate life, was a precious, bittersweet gift. Thank the Sister, Arkady was perfect for her darling-steady and solid, but with an underlying sweetness of spirit she couldn't help but like.

Half an hour later, she went up to bed, smiling. Her heart might ache a little, but she felt restored to the Prue she knew.

11.

G.o.dsdammit, he hadn't come to see her! She'd wasted the entire morning grimly ignoring the vocal glory drifting up from the courtyard of the Sweet Manda. Of course, if she hadn't flung the window wide in the first place, no effort would have been necessary, but well, it was a warm day.

With a huff of irritation, Prue regarded the figures marching in the neat columns down the page before her. She had to admit to a certain degree of surprise-the Unearthly Opera wasn't in the dire financial straits she'd feared. Far from it, in fact.

She tilted her head, listening. Ah, Erik must be leaving. She heard his velvet baritone raised in farewell, his quick step on the path leading to the water stairs.

Good. The hollow feeling in her midsection was hunger, nothing more. She'd have a bite to eat and finish preparing her tutorial on trading in commodities. Excellent. Truly.

Rising, she crossed the room to fetch her notes from the shelf, but when she looked down, it was jade silk she was holding, her fingertips stroking to and fro. Prue froze, the embroidered seelies blurring. She sniffed the tears back, blinking hard.

Oh, what the h.e.l.l. Her head held high, she marched into the bedchamber, slinging the shawl across her shoulders as she went.

For a long time, she stared at the figure in the mirror. With trembling fingers, she opened the first three b.u.t.tons on her tunic and folded it open. Then she pulled a pin from her hair, followed by another and another. Breathing hard, she raked her hands through her braids until her hair curled in wild profusion around her flushed face and tumbled down across the vivid silk.

"Well, well, look at you," said an amused voice from the door.

Prue whirled to face Rose.

Her friend sauntered forward, graceful skirts swishing with every step. "You look gorgeous, sweetie." With a grin, she fingered the edge of the shawl. "Wear it tonight and leave your hair loose. I'll send Tansy up to brush it for you."

Prue narrowed her eyes. "I'm not going out tonight."

"Yes, you are." Rose sank onto the bed and lounged back against the pillows like a copper-skinned houri. "Erik Th.o.r.ensen wants to return our hospitality. We're going to the Royal Theater and then having supper with him."

"For the Sister's sake, it was lunch on a tray!" Prue shrugged out of the shawl. "You go if he's that worried about it."

"Not without you."

Prue set her jaw. "Don't force my hand, Rose. I won't be blackmailed."

Rose's sculpted lips thinned. "Are we partners in The Garden or not?" she demanded.

"Of course."

Rose sat up. "This is business," she said. "Erik wants to extend the contract, and that's something we have to discuss with him together." She leaned forward to catch Prue's hand in both of hers. "I'm sorry if you don't like him, love, but we can't afford to be throwing away the opportunity. Anyway, you have to be there if we're going to beat him down to something we can afford. I'm too soft."

Prue scanned her friend's perfect features. Soft Soft wasn't the word she'd have chosen to apply to Rosarina. wasn't the word she'd have chosen to apply to Rosarina. Devious Devious was more like it. Behind that lovely face was a mind so subtle and complex, it would frighten the life out of The Garden's clients-if only they were aware of it. Fortunately, they had no idea. Everything Rose said sounded reasonable, but then it always did. was more like it. Behind that lovely face was a mind so subtle and complex, it would frighten the life out of The Garden's clients-if only they were aware of it. Fortunately, they had no idea. Everything Rose said sounded reasonable, but then it always did.

Hesitating, she was lost.

"That's settled then," said Rose. "Was it Erik who gave you this?" When she lifted the silken fabric to rub it against her cheek, Prue's fingers curled into fists.

"Yes," she said curtly. "But I can't accept it. I'm going to give it back."

"Really?" Another rub and a low purr of pleasure. "I'll take it off your hands."

"No!" Prue reefed the shawl out of her friend's grasp. She took a calming breath. "No, I'll return it myself."

A dark brow arched. "Excellent. Bring it with you this evening." Rose dropped a kiss on Prue's cheek as she pa.s.sed. "I'll send Tansy with lunch. She can help you pick a gown."

Prue opened her mouth to protest, but save for a drift of Rose's distinctive perfume, the chamber was empty.The tall, carved doors of the Royal Theater stood open to the night as the audience dispersed, their faces transfigured by pleasure and excitement. Another magnificent success. The Unearthly Opera had done a different piece tonight, romantic, even humorous in places, but once again, the soaring splendor of Erik's voice had reduced Prue to tears, though she'd fought it with everything in her. He made her cry, he made her laugh. He made her want want.

G.o.dsdammit, she was a level-headed, adult woman. She knew knew what he was-and she'd never been so fascinated by a man in her life. what he was-and she'd never been so fascinated by a man in her life.

When a salt-laden breeze whispered around the foyer, Prue shivered. She stepped behind the shelter of an ornately carved pillar, rubbing her arms.

"For the Sister's sake, Prue, you're freezing. You brought the d.a.m.n thing with you. Put it on!" Rose pulled the wadded-up shawl out of Prue's hands and flung it around her shoulders.

"Ladies," came a velvet purr, and there he was, bowing with a flourish. "Sorry to keep you waiting. You look beautiful, both of you." Erik's gaze moved from the silk fringe Prue was twisting in her fingers up to her face, and his eyes danced. But all he said was, "Shall we go?"

Rose took the arm he offered. "You were wonderful tonight, Erik," she said. "Superb."

Prue could have sworn he preened. At the snort she didn't bother to suppress, Erik lifted a brow. "Did you enjoy yourself, Prue?"

"Of course," she agreed calmly. Credit where it was due. "You were even better than I remembered."

His grin of pleasure was so unstudied, so spontaneous, she was ensnared before she knew it. A tremor of excitement coiled up from the base of her spine. Unconsciously, she leaned a little closer, absorbing his body heat. Erik slipped his arm around her shoulders and snugged her into his side. "Warm enough?"

Before Prue could speak, Rose exclaimed, "Oh look, there's n.o.blelady Izanami!" She waved at a tiny woman dressed with the sever est elegance. "I have to talk to her about deportment cla.s.ses for her daughters. My dears"-she patted Erik's arm-"you go on without me. I'll catch up."

A quick smile, a swirl of skirts and the Dark Rose was halfway across the foyer, n.o.blelady Izanami turning to greet her with a smile, her hands held out in welcome.

"I've got a skiff waiting," said Erik, guiding Prue in the direction of the water stairs. "Come on."

"But-"

He shot her a glance brimful of wicked mischief. "Scared?"

Prue gave a huff of laughter. "That's the oldest trick in the book."

Erik lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles, his lips soft and warm. "I'm afraid I've sunk to desperate measures, Mistress Prue." One eye closed in an unrepentant wink. "But I'll take my punishment like a man."

Prue shook her head. "Now you're being silly." But something warm and foolish melted all through her from the inside out. "G.o.dsdammit," she said. "I give up. Take me to dinner and be done with it." She threw a dark glance at Rose's unresponsive back. You' ll keep, my dear You' ll keep, my dear.

He'd hired one of the fancier skiffs, with a leather seat and an awning to protect against the weather and provide some privacy. He also appeared to be on the best of terms with the skiffwoman. Prue sighed. Was there a woman alive immune to that easy charm?

"You're still cold, sweetheart. Come here." Disregarding her protests, Erik tucked Prue under his arm, opening his coat and wrapping it around her. His big body seemed to envelop and overwhelm hers with heat and hardness, the uncompromising density of male muscle and bone.

"Not a word until we get there, all right?" His breath stirred the hair at her temple.

Prue shrugged within the circle of his arm. "Fine." Idly, she watched the long ripples slip by, burnished by the lights streaming from the buildings on the banks. Erik sighed and rubbed his cheek against her hair. He drew her fractionally closer, his powerful thigh sealed all along hers.

Sister, it was so good to relax into this comfortable silence, no demands, no arguments, no games. Prue's lashes fluttered down. She didn't need to be anyone she wasn't. He'd seen the worst of her, after all. With the rhythmic splash of the skiffwoman's pole, random thoughts floated in and out of her head, until finally, one stranger than the others snagged her attention.

He was coddling her, courting her as if she were precious. Like a lover. Even more astonishing, she was permitting it.

How long had it been since she'd been cared for this way? Prue frowned, but she couldn't really bring any occasion to mind since she'd left her home and her parents, so long ago. She swallowed, her pulse accelerating. No wonder his touch was like a drug, soothing and stimulating all at once.

Blankly, she stared at the fine palazzos on the banks of the ca.n.a.l. How amazing. She thought she'd armored herself against him, but Erik the Golden had slipped past her defenses.

Slowly, Prue pushed away from the heat of his body, her heart thudding. Remembering the dark, hot spice of his mouth, the unyielding press of his muscled torso against hers, none of that served any useful purpose. She'd had her moment of self-indulgence. Another taste and it would be too late. Erik Th.o.r.ensen bore all the hall-marks of a powerful addiction. And when he was gone, she'd be desperate with longing for what she couldn't have.

He brushed his fingertips over the dimple in her cheek. "Prue?"