The Fire Lord's Lover Part 6

Dominic entered his apartments later that evening, after having consumed a bit too much wine and fighting off the advances of Agnes. Demanding wench. She annoyed him most of the time-which was precisely the reason he kept her as his mistress. He never felt in danger of becoming attached to her.

But at this moment he felt that his new wife annoyed him more. What business had she to invite herself along on this journey? It would be dangerous and most arduous for a lady, especially one as tiny and frail as Ca.s.sandra. Had she no sense of self-preservation?

His s.h.i.+n met the edge of a table and he let out a startled curse. He didn't remember a table in the middle of the room. With a call to the magic in his blood, he lit up the apartments with cold white fire and narrowed his eyes.

What had she done?

Instead of the spa.r.s.ely furnished rooms he had demanded, a confusing array of color greeted him. Red velvet chairs littered the floor, along with tables of a.s.sorted shapes and sizes. Colorful tapestries hung from the previously clean walls, with country scenes and fanciful creatures and flowers.

"Flowers," he muttered, weaving his way through the room.

He paused in the sitting room, his senses alert, the same ones that had saved his life amid many a war. He quietly opened the door to the servants' room, which he'd intended to stay empty. Owners often became fond of their servants and he couldn't afford for that to happen. Nor could he allow possible spies around him, reporting to his father and endangering anyone for whom he showed a weakness. So when he heard soft breathing coming from both beds his annoyance rose. He closed the door as softly as he'd opened it and quickly strode to his bedchamber.

The curtains of the bed had been pulled back and Lady Ca.s.sandra lay in the middle of the mattress, arrayed in some gossamer gown that left little to the imagination. And made his groin stir in antic.i.p.ation. He ignored it, strode over to the bed, and put his hands on his hips.

"I forbid you to go with me tomorrow."

She opened her eyes with a start, looking tousled and frightened and entirely delicious, d.a.m.n her. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me-and pray tell me the meaning of all this?" He spread his arms, his magic flaring to new life, lighting up the room to a white-hot glow.

She sat up, rubbing at her eyes. "I'm not sure I understand."

Dominic held back a growl of impatience. "You've ruined our apartments and hired two servants."

She frowned at him and he forced his eyes to stay on her face. Her pert nipples thrust at the fabric of her gown and did their best to gain his attention. But the charms of a woman had never distracted him from his purpose, and so it didn't worry him overly much.

"I didn't hire any servants," she said. "And I couldn't bear the coldness of these apartments. Isn't it enough that I must bear the coldness of the court?"

Her soft brown eyes looked at him accusingly and he knew he was to be blamed for the way the court treated her. He shrugged. "It can't be helped."

Her lovely full mouth curled into a frown. "I don't understand."

Dominic spun, refusing to be sympathetic to her, knowing he couldn't afford to involve himself with any feelings his new wife might display. He shrugged out of his coat and then his waistcoat, amused that instead of looking away, his wife eyed him with eager curiosity. "It's not your place to understand, Lady Ca.s.sandra. You are to do as you are told and breed another champion; that is all." He sat in one of her velvet chairs and kicked off his shoes, unb.u.t.toned his hose from his breeches and rolled them down his legs. "You will disengage the servants tomorrow."

She crawled to the edge of the bed, her gown s.h.i.+fting up over her knees. "I told you, they're not servants."

"Then what, pray tell, are they? Creatures created by the elven lords?"

He could hear the soft sound of her breath as it escaped through her lips. "Like the smoke beings at our wedding breakfast?"

"Not hardly. Those were created by a courtier with but a hint of true power. Now answer my question."

The daft woman completely changed the subject. "Did you enjoy our dance?"

Dominic's mouth twitched. "Which one?"

He enjoyed her blush. "The one at the ball."

"I enjoyed the one in our bed much more."

"As did I." She clapped a hand over her mouth, as if the words had escaped unthinkingly. Dominic tried very hard not to think it charming. Instead he concentrated on finding the b.u.t.tons of his s.h.i.+rt through all the ruffled trim and began to unb.u.t.ton them.

She slid off the bed and stood, the light s.h.i.+ning through her transparent gown. "And yet you ignore me in front of the court and prefer your mistress by your side."

Dominic allowed his white fire magic to fade to shadow. "Of course. You would do well not to mistake duty with pleasure."

She bristled at that. He admired her courage.

"Duty? You consider it just an obligation to lie with me?"

He removed his s.h.i.+rt, not bothering to stifle a yawn. Let that be her answer. He'd drunk too much tonight, and felt tired unto death of his father's games and the jostling of his minions for his attention. He had no patience for any further pretense, especially with this confusing woman. He'd thought he would marry a boring, biddable girl. At least, that had been his impression before he'd bedded her last night. The realization he'd been gravely mistaken worried him.

"About those servants-"

"That's my magic, you know."

Dominic rubbed his bare chest. She had the oddest way of confounding him. "What?"

"I dance, General Raikes. That's my magical gift."

"Oh." He yawned again, reaching for the b.u.t.tons of his breeches. He preferred to sleep in the nude when not on the battlefield. It might take several days to fetch the king from the sovereignty of Dewhame. It wouldn't surprise him if Imperial Lord Breden made the task as difficult as possible. He'd sleep in comfort while he could.

"I know many kinds of dances," she continued, her voice suddenly a bit unsure. "Shall I dance for you?"

Dominic leaned back in the chair with a groan, reminding himself to dismiss the servants on the morrow. "There's no music."

"I need none."

And she began to dance.

For the first time in his life, a woman distracted Dominic. More than distracted. Entranced.

The first sway of her body held him frozen in his seat. The slight flutter of her arm became the most erotic movement he'd ever seen. She had a grace that far surpa.s.sed those of pure elven blood. The sound of his heart pounded in his ears, the rhythm a perfect accompaniment to her dance.

Dominic could not take his eyes off her. She used her long brown hair as a cape, spinning and revealing parts of her body teasingly, then allowing the silky tendrils to cover her once again. Her brown eyes glazed to a dark luminosity, a fascinating mixture of sultry innocence. Her nightgown hid nothing and yet when she lifted the hem above a thigh, the sight of her smooth skin inflamed him even more.

He had thought her pleasing to look at, exquisitely shaped. But as she danced, she became ethereally beautiful.

Her complete innocence in his bed and genuine faith convinced him she'd been raised religiously, and yet somewhere she'd learned an elven love dance. What manner of woman had he married?

Lady Ca.s.sandra ended her dance on her knees in front of him, her head thrown back, b.r.e.a.s.t.s thrust forward. Thighs parted and welcoming.

Dominic didn't hesitate. He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and covered her body with his. He'd never felt such l.u.s.t before, such an overwhelming need to possess a woman. He couldn't even prepare her for entry... but he needn't have worried. She was wet and hot and oh so welcoming. As if performing the dance for him had excited her as well.

When his senses managed to return he found himself flat on his back, staring at the engraving on the ceiling of the box bed, wondering how he would manage to avoid becoming infatuated with the little minx by his side. He quickly closed the curtains around the bed, reached out, and pulled Ca.s.sandra near.

She wiggled against him and then gave a satisfied sigh. "Just duty, sir?"

He smiled at her smug tone and refused to answer, his eyes drifting closed.

"May I keep the slaves?"

That brought him alert more quickly than the sound of gunfire. "What slaves?"

"Why, the ones I hired to help me."

So that's what she'd meant by saying they weren't servants.

He had worked in the kitchens as a slave for long dreary years. If she had purposely sought a way into his frighteningly human heart, she could not have done better than by caring for a slave.

"They will steal you blind," he finally said.

"They shan't."

His eyes drifted closed again. "Let it be your worry, then. Just keep them from my sight." And he realized he'd just given her his agreement. Against all likelihood, Lady Ca.s.sandra had bewitched him. His only recourse was to stay away from her and her new household. G.o.d forbid his father should learn he'd become fond of his wife or took pity on slaves. Not a one of them would be safe from fire.

Dominic awoke before the sun rose and realized with dismay that his wife had already left the apartments. The stubborn hoyden seemed bound and determined to accompany him to fetch the king. Or to stay by his side. He supposed that becoming pregnant with his child and securing her place as mother of a champion was more important to her than her own safety. But producing a champion would be no easy task; most children were born with either too much power and sent to Elfhame, or too little, like the n.o.bles of his father's court. But he supposed he had a better chance than most of producing a child with acceptable magic.

He parted the curtains and got out of bed, surprised to find his uniform laid out neatly atop his trunk and a kettle of tea warming on the hob. A small basket with fresh biscuits inside sat next to the pot, and he ate them quickly before getting dressed. He rarely broke his fast in the morning but he supposed it would be easy to get used to.

d.a.m.n her.

It would not be the last time he cursed her today, for when he entered the courtyard it appeared that half the court had also taken it into their heads to accompany him. The fools had brought carriages and trunks and servants. They had dressed as if they attended a festival, a riot of silks and garish color. Dominic fought back the urge to tell them all to return to their soft beds. Only a few of them had packed lightly and sat atop a horse, so he would lose most on the road anyway.

Unfortunately, one of those who sat a horse happened to be his wife. His eyes narrowed at her sensible riding habit and jaunty hat, the way the rising sun caught the auburn in her brown hair and changed her eyes to golden amber. Had he once truly thought her ordinary? She held the reins with such delicate hands, her slight form straight and graceful in the saddle. His groin stirred as he remembered her love dance, and he realized with a start of alarm that if he'd had a choice, he would rather have spent the day in bed with her than riding out to fetch his prize.

She caught his gaze and held it for a long moment. He felt sure his face revealed nothing-he'd trained it too well over the years-but he couldn't be sure whether his eyes showed a bit of his yearning. For Lady Ca.s.sandra smiled with pleasure while a blush of bright red crept into her cheeks. Then her mount snorted and reared, and her attention centered on the huge beast she'd been given to ride.

Dominic frowned, wondering what half-wit had given her the black stallion, who was known for his volatile temperament. Even the best of riders had difficulty controlling the horse. He checked himself as he opened his mouth to demand another mount for his wife, feeling a pair of eyes upon him like a heavy shroud.

Dominic turned. Mor'ded stood on the steps, his black gaze going from his son to Ca.s.sandra.

Women always gazed at the elven lords with l.u.s.tful admiration and he looked enough like his father to be given the same attention. But Dominic couldn't be sure what his own eyes revealed and if he should show the slightest concern for Ca.s.sandra's safety...

The general turned his back on his wife, indeed upon all the court, and mounted his own horse, signaling his troops forward. Despite the shrill outcry of alarm from a few of the n.o.bles, Dominic and his men pounded through the gates. By necessity they had to slow through the streets of London and many of the court managed to catch up to them. But when they reached the countryside Dominic set a brisk pace for his men, and as he had predicted, most of the fools fell behind.

A sudden flash of black seething muscle galloped past him, Lady Ca.s.sandra clinging to the back of the stallion like a burr. Dominic leaned forward, fully intending to ride after the runaway horse, afraid his new wife would be thrown from the beast and likely break her neck.

A shadow fell over him and he glanced skyward. Ador rode the winds, his father mounted on the dragon's back. So Mor'ded had come to watch the return of the king as well.

He cursed beneath his breath and sat back in the saddle. Mor'ded would wonder if Dominic rode after the girl, wife or no. An elven lord should be concerned only with himself, and humans were but dumb creatures to be used at a whim.

He would kill the half-wit who had given her that horse.

The general continued the brisk pace he had set, perhaps increasing it a bit as he searched far down the road. When he saw the black speck, with a rider still astride, he grunted with relief. Lady Ca.s.sandra waited for them to catch up, patting the neck of the lathered, s.h.i.+vering beast. Somehow she had tamed the black stallion. As his troop pa.s.sed her, she gently flicked the reins and the beast rode smartly along with the rest of the horses, his ears occasionally flicking back at Ca.s.sandra as if eager to comply with her slightest wish. He couldn't help but feel a trickle of admiration for his new wife.

Dominic straightened his spine and slowed the pace. He didn't see a need to tire his horses any more than necessary. It would take them several days to reach Devizes in the Wilts, the town that lay on the border between the sovereignties of Dewhame and Firehame, where the exchange of the king was to be made. For now the general fully intended to take advantage of the peaceful countryside to calm the anger his wife had managed to provoke by almost getting herself killed.

He loved the land. The rolling hills and green meadows and quiet ponds. Although he knew that when the elven lords had chosen and conquered each of their sovereignties they had altered the land with their magic, he could still see the original beauty of England beneath the huge elven flame trees with fire red blooms that dotted the green swards of Firehame. Dewhame, where the elven lord Breden ruled with the magic of sky and water, boasted hidden grottos, natural fountains, and enchanted lakes. The eastern sovereignty, where Mi'cal ruled with his green scepter, sported tracks of barely impenetrable forests with a wealth of plants that defied description.

Dominic hadn't visited the remaining four sovereignties but supposed he would fight battles within them some day. His curiosity about them could wait. He hoped he would still be able to recognize the original countryside of England within them, though.

For now he avoided the pockets of flame that s.h.i.+mmered among hill and vale, taking the road less traveled, bringing their party through silent forests and sleepy meadows. The preautumn leaves almost rivaled that of the elven lord's flame trees with their tints of red and orange color. Dominic allowed the beauty and peace to settle over him, storing it up as usual for when he would need to call on it within the palace walls of Firehame.

By the time he found a good place to stop for the night he felt saddle weary but calm. He chose to camp near a small stream within a circle of flame trees, their fire red blooms lighting up the area within and around the clearing. The glow from the blossoms should discourage any surprise attacks.

He signaled for his men to help the ladies-and more than a few gentlemen-to dismount. Each time they had rested the courtiers had scrambled from the saddle with increasing stiffness. If his men hadn't aided them now, they would be sprawled about the ground in all their silks and satin.

His men pitched their tents, including his, the largest of the lot, and built the fires to prepare the meal. Dominic washed up with the other male courtiers at the far end of camp, allowing the ladies some privacy for their own ablutions. His camp cook must have planned for guests for the stew tasted better than usual. Mor'ded did not join them. Ador could fly far faster than the swiftest horse could gallop, and the elven lord would sleep in his own bed tonight back at Firehame Palace.

Dominic hadn't looked at Lady Ca.s.sandra the entire day, yet he knew exactly where she rode in their column, knew right now her position around the campfire. He supposed she hadn't thought to bring a tent and he would have to invite her into his. His heart soared at the thought and then he stilled. Granted, he enjoyed bedding her. But he'd never felt such antic.i.p.ation for a woman before and feared where it might lead.

"Why, General Raikes, I do believe you lost half the court on purpose."

Dominic didn't know whether to feel relief or dismay at the sound of Lady Agnes's whiny voice. "My intention had been to lose them all."

As usual, Aggie laughed, ignoring his cold demeanor and tone of voice.

Few dared approach him. Two of his lieutenants sat next to him but the rest of their party gave him a wide berth.

Lady Ca.s.sandra seemed content surrounded by the rest of his men, avoiding the company of the courtiers, who either had the tendency to ignore her or treat her with indifferent disdain. Dominic knew he was to blame, for the dunderheads took their cues from him. He tried to ignore a sudden wash of guilt.

Agnes sat in his lap. "Oh la, it appears that I forgot to bring a tent." She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "Would you perhaps have room in yours, my champion?"

Dominic winced. He hated when she called him that. In one smooth movement he picked her up and rose, then set her on her feet. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I have a duty to perform."

Agnes glanced over at Ca.s.sandra and frowned. "It's a sad situation, sir, to so deny your pleasure for duty, but I suppose it can't be helped. I'm sure I will find another tent with a bit of room." She smiled coyly at that, her eyes roaming the officers, and then sighed. "Not a one of them could compare to you. If you should need some... comfort during the night, you have but to ask."

Dominic bowed. "I will endeavor to keep that in mind." And then he headed straight for his wife. Discussion stilled when he approached and by the time he reached her side, complete silence reigned among the previously boisterous group. He said nothing, only held out his hand. She looked up at him, those soft brown eyes wide with surprise, and placed her hand in his.

"We have a duty, madam," he said. "Surely that is why you have so inconvenienced me this day." The courtiers overheard. Several of the women gasped and more than a few men snickered. His soldiers just looked at him with dismay.

Ca.s.sandra's brilliant eyes dulled but she allowed him to lead her to his tent.

"Even though you may feel I am only your duty," she whispered, "must you say it in front of everyone?"

The sadness in her voice managed to bother him and his words came out harsher than he intended. "I have no feelings, Lady Ca.s.sandra. I thought I had made that obvious. You must cease in this ridiculous tendency to be hurt by that fact."

She ducked inside the tent, and he tied the flap closed, shutting out the glow of the fire. He could just make out the outline of her delicate nose, the gleam of her large eyes.

"But you do take pleasure with me," she said, keeping her voice low, knowing those outside could hear everything within their shelter. "What have I done for you to treat me so coldly?"

"I told you not to come. You chose to ignore my wishes. You must accept the consequences of your actions."