Hunter's Season: Elder Races, Book 4 (14 page)

At that she gave a sharp cry, her whole body going taut as a bow, and he felt the ripple of her orgasm deep inside of her as she clenched on him. It sent him over the edge. He slid a hand down to her ass, pressing her down hard as he ejaculated deep inside of her. It satisfied everything primal inside of him.

The world pulsed with their heartbeats, their sweating bodies fused together. She lay across him, her head resting on his chest. Finally he was able to loosenhis grip on her hair. He pushed the strands back from her face and tried to smooth the tangles out.

“I’ve loved you for a very long time,” she said. Her voice was very soft, almost inaudible. He stilled, straining to hear every word. “Of course mostly that was hero worship and not very realistic.”

“I’m no hero,” he said.

She snorted softly. “You’re a hero to everyone, Aubrey. Just not to yourself.” He frowned, but she was continuing. “Then I got to know you better. The real you. The real, cranky, kind, funny you. Gods help me.”

He cupped her face. “Why do you need the gods to help you, darling?”

Her eyes were closed. She whispered, “We’ll be going back to our lives soon enough.”

His frown deepened. “Xanthe,” he said tightly. “I don’t know what this is for you, but this is not just an interlude for me. Yes, our time here at the cottage is outside the boundaries of normality, and yes, we have our jobs and duties waiting for us back in the city, but I am living an authentic life—who I am here is who I am back there too. I said I love you. I didn’t say it because we just had sex. I said it because I love you. You had better tell me if you don’t want to see me when we get back—and even then I’ll try to persuade you otherwise—”

She rose up and kissed him quickly. “No, that’s not what I meant! I—I didn’t want to presume anything just because we—we—you know.” She made a gesture that encompassed them and the bed.

His tightness eased. He smiled at her. “Please presume all the ‘you knows’ that you want. I strongly encourage all kinds of presuming from you.”

That startled her into a grin. As she opened her mouth to say something—

They heard voices approaching the cottage: Niniane’s and Tiago’s.

Panic flashed across Xanthe’s face. She rolled off the bed and peered out the window. “We didn’t shut the cottage door,” she muttered. She flew at her clothes.

While she yanked on her shirt and trousers, Aubrey rolled off the bed. He strolled over to the bedroom door to shut it firmly.

Just outside the cottage, Niniane called, “Hello, Aubrey? Xanthe? Are you here?”

He called out, “We’re here, but we’re not dressed. Give us a minute, and we’ll be right out.”

Silence. Then: “Okay.”

He turned to Xanthe. “Darling, don’t panic,” he whispered. “Take your time.”

“She’s only the Queen,” Xanthe hissed. She dragged her fingers frantically through her hair and braided it. Apparently it wasn’t straight enough to satisfy her, so she yanked it out and did it again. “And she’s my employer. Oh holy gods, Tiago’s out there.”

He started to laugh as he dressed. When he slipped on his shirt, he couldn’t find any buttons, so he left it open. Xanthe was still trying to get her hair into a plait when he opened the door and walked out.

Tiago stood in the doorway, facing the outside, arms crossed and harsh profile expressionless. Niniane stood by the table, unpacking canvas bags of supplies. She did not look expressionless. Her small, piquant face was full of suppressed glee.

“Hello,” Aubrey said. “How are you today?”

“We are quite well,” Niniane said. Her eyes danced. “You are looking so much better, Aubrey.”

“I’m feeling better than I have in a long time,” he told her, as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. He whispered, “Xanthe is in a panic. Tell Tiago to be nice or I will hurt him.”

“Oh, he’ll be nice,” Niniane whispered back. “Or if he can’t manage nice, he’ll be silent if he knows what’s good for him.”

“I know what’s good for me,” Tiago said to the general out of doors.

Xanthe appeared, her back ramrod stiff. Her clothes were as neat as she could make them, and her braid was not quite immaculate, but really quite well done given the circumstances. She murmured, “Your grace, sir.”

She was almost, but not quite, perfectly expressionless. Aubrey couldn’t stand it. He walked over to her and put an arm around her. She just looked at him, her lips white. He was not altogether convinced that she was breathing.

We need to rip this bandage off right now
, he thought. He said aloud, “Xanthe and I have just decided to continue seeing each other when we return to the city. We don’t need your blessing, but we would very much appreciate it.”

“Of course you have it,” Niniane said immediately. She gave Xanthe a warm smile. “I couldn’t be more delighted. I really mean that, Xanthe.”

Aubrey felt the tension in Xanthe’s shoulders ease, although she glanced at Tiago again. He did too. Tiago’s eyebrows had raised, but other than that, for all intents and purposes he appeared to be watching birds.

“How is the investigation going?” Aubrey asked.

Tiago looked over one massive shoulder at Niniane who nodded. The Wyr lord said, “The investigation was over within twenty-four hours of your attack, with all arrests made.”

At first the words didn’t make sense. His arm fell from Xanthe’s shoulders and he ran his fingers through his hair. “Wait a minute,” he said. More like growled. “That would mean everything was over with the first time you came with supplies.”

“That is correct,” said Tiago.

Xanthe strode forward quickly, “Who did it?”

“Naida’s father, Grove Ealdun, was behind it,” Tiago said. “We have the people he hired too.” He met Aubrey’s gaze. “Your secretary, Sebrin, is a little battered around the edges but all right. Sebrin gave himself away when he went digging. Ealdun had captured him but hadn’t yet killed him. When he realized you were responsible for sending Sebrin, he tried to have you killed, in part for revenge. In part, too, because he thought you were going to try to have him prosecuted for the false evidence. The ironic thing is that I don’t think any of us would have bothered with prosecuting for the false evidence, but now of course it’s attempted murder. The whole thing was pretty simple and straightforward, in a Dark Fae kind of way.”

“You said there were complications,” Aubrey snapped. He glared at Niniane, “You ordered me to stay here.”

Niniane bit her thumbnail. She looked worried as she replied, “Neither one of us said there were complications with the investigation, Aubrey. We only said that there were complications.”

“What does that mean?” he roared, fists on his hips.

Tiago gave him a warning look, but he ignored it.

Niniane gave Xanthe an apologetic glance then said to him, “The night you were almost killed, I—saw something, Aubrey. I saw just how much you meant to Xanthe. So when Tiago tore through the investigation in record time, and he threw everybody in prison, well—you were here at the cottage anyway, so we just left you. This last year has been so hard on you both, each for your own reasons. I just wanted you to have a little time of peace and quiet together. I thought—I hoped you might find things to say to each other. I also knew neither one of you would say a word to each other outside of polite niceties in any other environment.”

Xanthe said incredulously, “You were matchmaking?”

“Maybe,” said Niniane. She offered them a smile. “A little. Plus, I know you, Aubrey Riordan.” She shook a finger at him. “If you had been home, you would have started back to work much too early, despite doctor’s orders. So I made you stay here with lots of fresh air, good food and nothing more strenuous than a few games and some good books.”

Aubrey scrubbed his face with both hands. After a moment he started to laugh. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

“Are you mad at me?” Niniane asked. “I can’t tell.”

“I don’t know,” he said. He dropped his hands and looked at Xanthe, who appeared to feel about as uncertain as he did. “I don’t think so. Mostly I’m grateful. As long as you don’t mind,” he said to Xanthe.

She shook her head. “I’m grateful too.”

“See, I told you it would all work out,” Niniane said to Tiago.

“You are, as always, perfectly right,” Tiago told her.

Tiago and Niniane stayed for a supper of grilled steaks, baked potatoes, salad greens and fresh pastries, and red wine. “You can come back home now, if you both want,” Niniane said. She told Aubrey, “But if you do, you still can’t go back to work for at least another sevenday.”

He looked at Xanthe. “If I stay here, do I get to keep my nurse?”

Glee fizzed in Niniane’s face. “Of course you do—that is, if she wants to stay too.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” said Xanthe, her lovely eyes smiling at Aubrey. “I would love to.”

Niniane nodded. “Then that’s settled.”

Xanthe asked her, “How’s Mouse, by the way?”

A shadow passed over Niniane’s face and Aubrey frowned, bracing himself for bad news. “She’s doing really well,” Niniane said. “Her real name is Rachel. Her aunt and uncle have come to collect her, and they left for home yesterday.”

“Why do you look sad?” he asked gently.

Niniane bit her lip as she stared at her plate. “I’m going to miss her.”

Silence fell over the table. Children were, after all, rare enough gifts to the Elder Races. For Niniane and Tiago, the possibility of having children was nonexistent as long as she was Queen.

Aubrey set down his knife and fork as he looked around the table. Not so very long ago, he felt utterly bleak and betrayed, and so alone he would have welcomed death. Now sitting at the small table were the three people who meant the most to him. Blessings come in all ways, he thought, and they are always a surprise.

He raised his wine glass. “To new beginnings,” he said as he looked at Xanthe. Her gaze lit until she looked luminous. “And to peace.”

The others raised their glasses to clink with his.

Tiago said, “At least to peace for now.”

Epilogue

The seven shrines of the gods were scattered all over Adriyel. Inanna’s shrine lay four days’ ride from the city.

Xanthe and Aubrey took the trip several moons later when the leaves started to turn in the autumn. Travel was pleasant in the cool, quiet days, and the nights had not yet grown unpleasantly cold.

They argued the whole way, even as they drew near to their destination.

“I wish you would listen to me when I say that I am content,” Xanthe said.

“You may be content, but I am not,” he said. “I do not see why you won’t marry me.”

“It’s not fitting,” she said stubbornly.

“Xanthe, you are the biggest snob I have ever met.” His face was grim, and he looked quite forbidding.
 
She found it almost unbearably sexy.

She glared at him. “Unfair! You know very well the more traditionally minded nobility would shun you if you married a commoner.” She grimaced. “They are every bit as snobbish as I am, if not more.”

“Fuck them,” he snapped.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, not wanting to laugh. It was always so shocking whenever he cursed. He did it so seldom.

He was continuing. “Seriously. I don’t care if it turns me into a pariah. If anybody is going to judge us on the merits of being married to each other, I don’t want to socialize with them anyway.”

“You have a point,” she admitted with reluctance. She blew out a frustrated breath. “But I don’t know how to be anything except a guard or an assassin.”

He gave her a heated glance. “And now my lover.”

She could hardly look at him and stay upright on her horse. He rode with immaculate, confident grace.

When they had returned to Adriyel, she had resumed her duties as one of Niniane’s attendants and he as Chancellor, but they spent every night together at his house, and when she had her two days off, they went together to the cottage. Nights had become a golden time of enchantment and intimacy. Some days she could barely wait until the sun had set.

She whispered, “And that.”

They rode in silence. Then he told her, “You would make a perfectly ferocious wife.”

She widened her eyes. “I know! I would never be able to stop guarding you. I would be a social calamity.”

“Did you ever stop to think,” he said between his teeth, “that I might actually want and need a perfectly ferocious wife and social calamity. That is why I keep proposing to you.”

She scrubbed at her forehead. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“The only thing I am going to give up are my guards.”

Incredulity sliced at her. She pulled her horse to a stop. “You can’t.”

“I absolutely can.” He pulled his mount to a halt as well. His expression had turned hard and ruthless, and damn him, it made him even sexier than ever. “My guards don’t do anything but follow me around and doze in the hallways when I work. At any rate, that attack on me was an aberration and it happened moons ago. Besides, I’ve got to find a way to blackmail you somehow.”

“What are you talking about?” she shouted.