Heartmate (3 page)

A short hum buzzed loud in the silence. She touched the doorknob behind her. It turned under her fingers.

The light in the shop was suddenly too bright. She closed her eyelids, shutting away the gleaming brilliance of the jewels and shining metals, none of which were as dazzling as his light blue eyes.

A soft, whispery noise made her open her lashes. T'Ash pushed the velvet stand down to the short leg of the counter, across from the caff set, then he retreated to the middle of the glass case opposite the door and her. He stepped back until he was against the far wall and put his hands behind him. No doubt it was supposed to be a reassuring gesture, but the black shirt outlined his impressive biceps and chest.

“Look at the necklace. Try it on.”

She glanced at it, finding its charm even more heady than before—just the sight of a glimmering sapphire pulled at her. And the golden amber flaw in the heart tantalized. She jerked her gaze away only to meet his considering expression. Irritation welled up in her. She compressed her lips.

“Try the necklace on,” he urged quietly.

“I. Can't. Afford. The necklace.” Not in money and not in peace of mind.

Now
he
blinked. His heavy, dark brows arched slightly, and he smiled. “Yes, you can. Easily.” The lilt of his words caressed her.

Danith stared at him with suspicion.

He set his hands on his lean hips. “I am T'Ash. I, no other, set the price on my work. And the necklace”—his lips curved again as he nodded to it—“is one of my earlier efforts. You will find that it doesn't have the quality of the other pieces you've given a home.”

Her eyes narrowed further. She was about to reply when the bells hanging on the door behind her jangled. She moved from the doorway, her steps instinctively going to the comfort of the tea—but also toward the necklace.

Four laughing women entered, and Danith instantly felt scruffy, unsophisticated, and exactly what she was. Common. They were all nobles: one GreatLady, then two GrandLadies and a lesser GraceLady. They wore long gowns with colorful embroidered patterns in shining metallic thread, or long ankle-length tunics cut up the sides to the hip to show billowing silkeen trous of contrasting colors. Their hair was arranged in intricate designs.

Danith glanced down at her plain blue knee-length tunic over her narrow-legged trous. She placed a hand on her hair, which had escaped its simple tie, and sighed. Definitely common.

“T'Ash!” the GreatLady exclaimed, holding her hands out over the counter in greeting. “It's so rare we see you. Not since the FirstFamilies Council last.”

FirstFamilies Councils and GreatHouses had nothing to do with Danith. She had never envied nobles or aspired to their status. The titles carried too much formality and responsibility. Still, it wasn't often she could see them up close. She reached for her tea mug, studiously avoiding the necklace. Yet, in directing her gaze from the jewelry, her glance focused again on the man. She watched T'Ash from under her lashes as she sipped her delicious but now tepid drink.

“D'Birch.” T'Ash grazed one of the GreatLady's hands with fingertips, then reverted to brooding. He'd never make a salesman.

“You have such Flair, such lovely things,” D'Birch gushed.

The other women agreed and spread throughout the shop, gravitating to the cases where the most expensive jewelry was.

“Excuse me, I'm quite parched.” One of the GrandLadies smiled at Danith and reached for the cocoa carafe. Danith looked at the embroidery on the Lady's sleeve—a spindle, signifying her name.

“GrandLady D'Spindle,” Danith acknowledged the older woman.

D'Spindle poured a mug of cocoa and offered the carafe.

Danith smiled and shook her head. “No, thank you anyway.” She stepped back until she bumped against the glass case. When she turned, the sight of the necklace dazed her. Something huge wrenched inside her. Her mug clattered to the counter as she pressed a hand to her breastbone.

“Are you all right?” D'Spindle left her cup and hurried over.

Danith gasped. Her gaze locked on the necklace. Wave after wave of hot sensation captured her pulse. Heat rose to her cheeks. “The necklace,” she panted.

“The necklace?” D'Spindle patted Danith on the shoulder and looked around distractedly.

Without thought Danith reached for the incredible piece of jewelry but managed to fist her hand before actually touching it. “The necklace.”

“Hmmm?” D'Spindle peered beyond Danith's fist. “Yes, there does seem to be something there, but it's of no matter, my dear. What can I do to help you?”

“A cold drink.” Heat and more uncoiled from her very core. Desire stirred, a deep sexual yearning she'd never experienced. And she knew exactly the man responsible. She dragged her gaze from the necklace and shot a look of pure fury at him.

T'Ash nodded and smiled smugly. “The necklace.”

Anger boiled in Danith. A seduction spell. He'd put a filthy seduction spell on the jewels and no doubt considered a common woman like her fair game to test it on, to see if she would come trembling with lust to his bed. She felt cheapened and oddly betrayed.

The commotion drew the others to Danith's end of the room.

“Yes,” D'Birch said, “it is a necklace. I think.” She peered at the radiant thing. “Though I must say the spellshield on this piece is faulty. I can barely see it.” She sniffed. “There is a nice bit of roseamber, about thirty thou?”

Taking a cold tumbler from D'Spindle, Danith gulped ice water with a tang of mint. She'd known she could never afford the necklace. Now she knew the price would have been too costly in more ways than one. Nausea rose at the idea of playing the sextoy for some jaded noble.

“It can't be only thirty thou gilt.” The little, beak-nosed GraceLady squinted at the necklace. “It has a rare flaw of golden, looks like a fish. Sixty minimum. Just for that stone.”

Danith finished her water and clinked the tumbler next to her mug on the glass counter. Everyone's words sounded crazy. No one acted rationally. She had to get out. She smiled at D'Spindle. “Thank you, but I need some fresh air.”

Danith strode to the door but jumped aside as a man hustled in. Slightly younger than T'Ash, exquisite embroidery graced his cuffs—from it she identified the man as Holm, the Heir of the Hollys, another GreatHouse. My, she was mixing with exalted company this eve. The whole night's events made her mind spin.

“T'Ash, I need you. My brother's life's at stake! A weapon and a calming spell—” Holm demanded.

Danith caught the door before it swung shut and slipped out. Through the glass panel she saw T'Ash vault over his counter and head for her.

“Stop!” he shouted.

She ignored him, and before he could take a step farther, Holm Holly grabbed fistfuls of T'Ash's shirt. “You owe me from the time I helped you find and bring your Family's killers to justice—your vengeance stalk. I'm claiming my boon.”

Danith couldn't resist one final glance into the shop. An aura of power surrounded the bright stones of the necklace, placed at an angle where she couldn't really see it. How disappointing. Though she shouldn't want another glance at it, she did.

She also felt compelled to look at T'Ash. He inclined his head to her, and his fiery blue gaze seemed to issue a promise. A promise cloaked in danger.

She broke eye contact. He was too disturbing, too big, and too powerful—both in Flair and in rank. She looked at her timer again and sighed.

The evening was slipping away and she still had a namegift and four Discovery Day tokens to buy. The namegift was for Claif, her current gallant. Not an intimate present, but one of serious intent—she was almost in love with Claif, he was exuberant and masculine and uncomplicated. She
did
love his large, cheerful, and welcoming family. Something special for Claif, perhaps a generation alemug with a touch of magic. . . . Planning her future, a comfortable middle-class future, she turned and walked away.

 
 
T'Ash watched his HeartMate stroll up the street.
Frustration burned inside him. He'd followed her with his gaze every instant she'd been in the shop, and now she was gone. He had never known how to treat a woman, and had obviously been too impatient, pushed her too hard.

She hadn't touched the HeartGift, let alone him. She hadn't accepted the necklace willingly and without knowing it was a HeartGift, which was necessary by law for him to claim her. She wasn't going home with him tonight, something he had expected and anticipated.

He glared at Holm Holly, who'd ignored T'Ash's obvious outrage and continued to make demands. T'Ash didn't want to risk ruining the shop by fighting with Holly.

T'Ash craned to see out the window, up the street. Before he could move, she'd hopped onto a public carrier that trundled along the twisting street of luxurious shops.

“I'm speaking to you,” Holm said.

T'Ash dragged his attention back. He owed Holm a debt of blood and honor, and Holm was claiming it. Now, at the least convenient time. Naturally.

T'Ash set his teeth. Small problems. Minor things he could and would handle. They would not be allowed to wrinkle the smooth fabric of his days or ignite the wildness that lived in his center.

Removing his shirt from Holm's grip, he went behind the counter, putting distance between them and forcing his anger into the grounding mat beneath his feet. “I hear you, Holm.”

“Listen!” Holm raked a hand through his silver-blond hair. It fell back smoothly, not a hair out of place. “I need a weapon for my brother, something longer than a dagger and shorter than a sword—a main gauche, and with a very powerful but subtle calming spell.”

T'Ash's mouth twisted. Holm wanted impossibilities. “When?”

“As soon as possible.” He fisted the elegant fingers T'Ash envied, pounding hard enough on the case to shiver the glass.

“You know how long it takes to forge a quality spellblade,” T'Ash said.

Holm met his stare with a dark gray one. He put both palms on the counter and leaned forward. “We followed your vengeance trail day and night until it was . . . done.”

T'Ash jerked his head in a nod.

“It looks as if my brother's Passage will coincide with Discovery Day. Passages for a Holly always involve deathduels. Remember my own when I found myself in Downwind and you saved me? I want a spell to help Tinne keep his head, dampen his emotions and impulses. I want the best magic for him. Only you can make an object strong enough to handle such a potent spell and splendid enough that he would wear it all the time with his blaser gun.”

A small warmth suffused T'Ash at the words praising his skill, but it wasn't enough to quell his simmering frustration.

“I need the blade and I need it in just a few days.”

“That will take most of my time, strength, energy, and Flair.” T'Ash smiled grimly. He wanted to pursue his HeartMate, not forge a main gauche.

Holm's expression hardened. “With Passage, the blood-lust will come. Imbue the weapon with calm, disciplined emotions. I can trust you for that, too.” His restless fingers drummed on the glass.

“You have called in your debt of blood and honor.”

“My brother, Tinne, is very impetuous.”

“Like all the Hollys.”

A humorless smile flashed across Holm's face. “My brother is even more rash than I was.”

“Than you are.”

Holm lifted a brow. “
Was.
However, Tinne, being the second son, believes he has more to prove to the world than I. He seeks duels to demonstrate his honor and manhood. And since I was drawn Downwind during my Passage, no doubt he, too—”

“A bellicose, arrogant Holly with something to prove. I shudder.”

Holm snorted. “I wouldn't want him to meet you in a Downwind alley.”

T'Ash's face froze. He'd spent too many years, had too many experiences in the slum for it to be an amusing matter, even now.

Holm's eyes widened, but he slid over the moment with the ease of a gregarious talker. “I have some ideas. I want the main gauche to be a gift, but don't want Tinne to realize that it's more than it seems. I have an ancient heirloom.” He drew out a black hilt and half a blade.

A shaft of pure pain speared T'Ash, but he kept his face impassive. His Family, his Residence, all his line's treasures and possessions, all his own small belongings, had been destroyed in the huge voracious fire—except the ring he'd worn and the book he'd carried.

He remembered weapons owned and used by his forebears, books to fill two libraries, furniture and paintings commissioned and carved for his Family over generations. All gone.

Holm tapped an elegant finger on the fancy engraved scrollwork on the knife's hilt. “Tinne has always been particularly fond of this dagger, because of the pattern.”

From under lowered brows, T'Ash studied the piece. The weapon dated from two centuries before. Beauty combined with function and melded with sculpted grace to make the dagger a work of art.

He glanced around the shop, noticing that D'Birch and the other noble ladies had departed, probably to spread gossip about Holly business. Someone had tidied up the counter and caff table. T'Ash put the dagger down and left Holm to serve some waiting customers who were either enjoying the conversation between Holm and himself or were too awed by the GreatLords to interrupt.

Even with the hustle and bustle of the shop, no one gave the necklace more than a passing glance. Nor did Holm. But a HeartGift was only easily visible to himself and his HeartMate if he was not concentrating on it.