The Fire Lord's Lover - 1 (27 page)

   Dominic's jaw flexed and Cass quickly spoke. "Thank you, my lord. The, um, braids in your wig are quite becoming."

   "I did this in honor of the general's battle braids, although I think a multitude of them a bit more eyecatching." He preened his powdered hair, speckles of silver and white dotting his coat. "General Raikes, we are about to start a round of lawn bowls. Would you care to join us?"

   Dominic's brows near met his hairline, and he didn't answer for several moments. Blevin tossed Cass a worried look, to which she responded with a weak smile.

   "I would be honored," Dominic finally rasped. "But we haven't finished our tea yet."

   "Oh, quite right, then. I'll leave you to it. But don't disappoint us now, General!"

   Lord and Lady Somers appeared determined to take Blevin's place next to their table as soon as he walked away, but they had been stopped by one of the monkeys, who found the lady's coiffure an interesting place to squat and hunt for bugs.

   "What the hell was that all about?" whispered Dominic, nodding at Blevin's departing back.

   "I have no idea," replied Cassandra. Although she'd expected some of the lords and ladies to treat her with more respect once Dominic showed his true regard for her, she hadn't anticipated this change in attitude toward
him. They always treated the genera
l with respect, of course, but their fear kept them at a distance. "Perhaps they approve of the healing you performed for the citizens."

   "They don't give a damn about anyone without a title." He broke a pastry in half, and fed part to Cass while he chewed the other, washing it down with a dose of tea. "Lawn bowls," he muttered. "I play elven war games. Not… party games."

   "It is a game of skill, and I'm sure you will enjoy yourself. I shall stand on the sidelines and cheer you on—"

   "I daresay," interrupted Lady Somers, who had managed to rid herself of her rider. "What fun to see the magic from other sovereignties. Although I can't say as I care for the monkeys—what say you, Lady Cassandra?"

   Dominic's astounded gaze flew from his wife to this newest interloper. Cass pretended not to notice. "Perhaps you can suggest to the magic user that they be changed to butterflies. Wouldn't that be grand for a garden party?"

   "La, it would be an improvement. Although the lady in question would most likely give them feelers to tickle us with."

   "She has a sense of humor, then?"

   "Quite," interjected Lord Somers.

   "I don't think you've been properly introduced to her yet," said his wife, giving her husband a quelling look. "I shall be happy to take you to meet her."

   "We haven't quite finished our tea, but—"

   "Oh, you might as well," growled Dominic. "I don't see as how we'll finish it one way or another."

   Lady Cassandra rose to her feet, leaned over, and pecked Dominic on the cheek, who suddenly didn't seem as disgruntled after her affectionate gesture. She walked off with Lady Somers, leaving the two men alone, although they didn't stay at the table long. She spied them heading for the jack and bowls.

   "I have always wanted to visit Dreamhame," she told Lady Somers. "I've heard that Imperial Lord Roden can cast illusions so real they can be tasted and smelled."

   "I long to visit Stonehame… Have you seen Viscountess Rothermere's necklace? Oh, my dear, you must. How fortuitous, there she sits."

   And so it went the entire day. Suddenly the ladies of the court found every excuse to speak with Lady Cassandra. To compliment her hair and dress and inquire as to her health. She received more advice on child rearing than she felt obliged to know, but she discovered to her surprise that she enjoyed the companionship of the other ladies. Fie, she felt as if she blossomed among the attention and glanced down at her wedding ring. She had never seen the gold petals quite so open before. Except when her husband made love to her…

   He played lawn bowls exceptionally well, of course. With his elven strength and skill she'd expected him to become bored with the game, but several of the other men had magical powers to assist them and that appeared to provide him with enough of a challenge. Cass stood with several ladies of the court—Sophia firmly entrenched by her side—and admired the way his coat stretched over his shoulders when he tossed his ball. The way his breeches outlined his firm bottom when he bent over.

   She near swooned when he discarded his coat and waistcoat, loosening the ties of his white linen shirt to grant him easier movement.

   Sophia patted her hand in complete accord.

   The sun had long set before Dominic sought her out, drawing her away from the group of ladies, Cass following more reluctantly than she would have ever dreamed.

   He slung his arm about her shoulder as they headed for the palace, the flame licking the walls turning the night golden.

   "You enjoyed the game, didn't you?" she asked.

   He grunted.

   "Oh, come now. I saw your lip twitch more than once."

   When he spoke, she heard the laughter in his voice. "I thought I'd forgotten how to play…"

   Within a trice he'd swept her beneath an archway of golden fire, the walls beneath the old stone warm on her back as he pressed her against it, his arms gently imprisoning her on both sides. Shadows played across the planes of his face; golden fire flickered in his hair. He kissed her then, long and slow, until her knees felt wobbly as jelly.

   He pulled away and she thought she might lose herself in the dark depths of his eyes.

   "First the citizens and now the court. You have made everyone care for me."

   Cass widened her eyes. "On the contrary, you earned the love of the people when you offered to heal them."

   "You made me do it."

   He protested too much for her not to see beyond the indifferent expression on his beautiful face. "And as far as the court goes,
you
made them accept
me
. I had nothing to do with the men urging you to join in the game, but… Lady Verney mentioned something."

   "Yes?"

   "She said that she wished she'd known how Mor'ded made you suffer. That your true character would have been easier to understand."

   "Ah, I see. You made me do that too." He smoothed back the hair from her face, dropped his hand to stroke the skin of her throat, sending tingles of pleasure clear down to Cass's toes. "But I can't say I regret it. I regret nothing from the moment I've met you, Cassandra. Not even falling in love with you."

   Her heart skipped at his words. "So you have figured out what love is?"

   "Indeed. I love you, my dear. Even if it leads to—"

   Cass covered his lips with her fingers. "Do not say it. Let's not think of tomorrow. For today has been the most wonderful, most perfect day of my life."

   "Has it?" He took a step back, spread his arms, yellow fire springing to life in his fingers. "Give me but another hour, my love." He waved his arms in one fluid movement and a wall of yellow fire ringed them in, creating a cocoon of privacy beneath the golden arch of the bridge, cutting off the coolness of the night air and surrounding her with gentle warmth.

   Dominic leaned forward, placing his hands against the brick wall at her back, trapping her within the warmer heat of his arms. Gold light danced in his pale hair, playing along his strong jaw, his high cheekbones. He glowed like an angel yet his voice tempted like the very devil. "You will now tell me that you love me too. Then I will make love to you. Right here. Right now."

   Cass blinked. They stood in a bubble of fire, with brick at her back and gravel beneath her feet. "I don't think this is quite the place—"

   "Ah, but I cannot wait a moment longer." He lowered his mouth to hers with a fierce possessiveness that stole her breath, her very thoughts. Her desire flared and held her trapped more surely than his arms.

   His lips traced a path to her neck, making her lean her head back, her coiffure cushioning her head against the brick. Cass reached up and anchored herself by clasping his arms, taut with muscle as he braced himself over her.

   "Tell me," he growled, his words shivering the skin at her neck.

   "I love you."

   He swept his mouth lower, over the swell of her breasts above her bodice. "Again."

   "I… I…" Somehow she'd lost the ability to speak. She couldn't seem to take a proper breath within the confines of her stays. It made her head spin and her skin tingle with awareness.

   He pulled away from her then, his eyes deeper than night, softer than velvet. His full lips pressed together while his sculpted jaw hardened with intensity. "Tell me, Cass. And I'll make love to you. For I'm never sure if it will be the last time and I can't seem to get my fill of you."

   Her hands curled over his broad shoulders, the velvet fabric of his coat soft against her palms, the silky texture of his pale hair a tickle atop her skin. His hands clasped her waist and he swept her up against him then, his mouth but a movement from her own. She quickly wrapped her arms tightly about his neck, her toes barely touching the gravel at her feet. She didn't know how he might manage it, but she wanted him with a desperation that made her no longer care for anything but the dance of his lovemaking.

   Cassandra gathered enough air into her lungs to give him what he demanded. "I love you, Dominic. I have loved no other as much as I love you."

   His lips curved into a full smile, and he covered her mouth with his, demanding she open with the force of his tongue, tasting the depths of her when she complied. She felt the wall again at her back, but one of his arms cushioned her while the other gathered the lace of her skirts up to her waist. The strength that had once frightened her only made her heart thrill with rapid beats while he uncovered her legs, still holding her aloft.

   "Wrap them around me."

   Thank heavens the bulk of her hoops lay at her sides, for she could do naught but what he asked. Her stockings slid halfway down her calves and she felt the velvet of his coat, the firm solidity of his waist. And then his fingers, ah, they found her inner thighs and stroked her with promise.

   She gasped and he broke the kiss, only to move his mouth downward, across her breasts again. Cass couldn't bear the teasing any longer. She released her hold about him, not surprised that he held her full weight without any assistance from her and with barely any effort due to the low cut of her gown, pulled her breasts out of the top of her bodice.

   Dominic eagerly latched on to a nipple and she gripped his shoulders again, this time not to hold on but to enable her to arch her body upward, offering herself to his mouth with a moan of sheer delight.

   His fingers had found her inner core and his touch quickly silenced her, for it took all her concentration just to continue to breathe.

   Dominic held her against the wall for what could have been an eternity or mere moments, his mouth and fingers dancing over her body with intimate torture, until Cassandra shattered into a thousand pieces, her tremors of pleasure fierce and furious.

   He raised his head and looked up into her face as he slowly withdrew his hand, slick with her wetness. She could only continue to gasp for breath as he reached for the buttons of his breeches.

   The intensity of his gaze transfixed her, until Cass thought she could see to his very soul. But the desperation on his face frightened her. Would they never be together again? Would this be the last time they would dance as one?

   He slowly leaned his lower body to hers, just as slowly eased the hard length of him inside her. Lady Cassandra shivered.

   One arm continued to support her back, while the other grasped her bottom beneath the layers of her lace skirt. He pushed her against him, raising her up and down his tall body. Up and down his hot shaft. Cass wrapped her legs tighter about him, clasped her arms more firmly about his neck, until only Dominic supported her full weight.

   He moved her gently against him at first, but she could feel his struggle for control in the rigidity of his muscles. She kissed his jaw, nipped at his ear, the thought that this might be their last time together filling her with a desperate urgency of her own.

   Dominic responded by increasing the tempo of their dance, until that deep longing for release built to near madness inside her. His fire magic flared to new life, no longer a shimmer of golden curtain around them. Flames twisted and throbbed, climbing over their heads, swirling about Dominic's boots, occasionally bursting in sparks of glittering yellow that fell on his shoulders, on Cassandra's brown hair.

   When Dominic flung back his head and groaned with his own release, a deep pleasure throbbed within her womb, spread throughout her body in the same pattern as the golden fire that surrounded them.

   He held her within his arms for a very long time.

   Then he finally leaned his head down and whispered in her ear, "In case this is the last time I'm able tell you, my lady, I love you."

   Tears burned in her eyes as they separated from each other, Cass adjusting her mangled hoops and smoothing down the lace of her skirts. She could not speak. Her coiffure had surprisingly stayed intact, so that by the time he dispersed their cocoon of fire Cassandra felt sure she looked quite like her normal self.

   Dominic escorted her from beneath the archway of the bridge, and they casually strolled across the palace grounds as if they hadn't just spent the last hour making wild passionate love to each other.

   "And now," said her husband with an arrogant tilt to his head, "you can say it has been the best day of your life."

Sixteen

Mor'ded summoned Lady Cassandra to his private chambers the very next morning.

   Cass had been lazing about, reliving the garden party of the day before, determined to never forget one single golden moment of it… or the precious moments afterward.

   Dominic had risen before dawn, brushing his lips across her cheek before he left to attend to his military duties.

   Now the morning sun slanted across the foot of her bed, and Cass watched the dust motes dance in the light. She felt as if she glowed inside brighter than that sunbeam, brighter than any fire her husband could summon. For he'd told her he loved her. Not that he cared or felt protective, but that he truly loved her.

   She'd never thought to hold such happiness in her heart.

   Gwendolyn opened her bedroom door in such a rush that Cass sat up with a start, swallowing a yelp.

   "Oh, my lady," panted Gwen, her cheeks flushed a bright pink. "There's a fearsome creature in the hall asking to see ye."

   "Faith, Gwen, you startled me." Lady Cassandra fought to keep calm. "And keep your voice down, dear. You don't want to offend our visitor." Cass couldn't imagine what person would inspire such fear in Gwen, but they both performed her toilette in record time, and she walked through her apartments to the main entrance, Gwen right on her heels.

   The girl hadn't exaggerated. When Cassandra opened the door, she did indeed face a
creature, not
a person. Crimson fire shaped a wraithlike being, with emaciated limbs and a face that constantly broke into oozing bubbles of black sludge.

   "You are summoned by the Imperial Lord," said the creature, spewing flaming spittle onto the stone floor. "To his private chambers."

   Cass tried to speak. Nothing articulate would come from her throat. This thing appeared more solid than anything she'd seen the courtiers produce with their meager gifts. Further proof, if she'd needed it, of the enormous power that Mor'ded could call upon.

   Fortunately the creature didn't seem to need a reply. Once he'd delivered his message, he started to burn hotter, seemingly from the inside out. Both Cass and Gwen backed up, held their hands up to their faces to shield them from the wash of heat. Within seconds, the creature shriveled to black, only coarse ash and several black smudges in the flagstone to mark the spot where he'd stood.

   "Mor'ded sends a fire messenger only when he's angry at someone," whispered Gwendolyn. "Oh, my lady, ye cannot go alone! We must fetch the champion."

   Cass slowly closed the door, blocking off the heat that still lingered from the creature. Dominic. Faith, no. He would only die in an attempt to protect her. Despite his belief that Mor'ded wouldn't harm her because of her supposed pregnancy, Cassandra knew the time of reckoning had come. She hadn't really thought otherwise. She just hadn't expected it to be so soon.

   "No, Gwen. Say nothing of this to the general. Indeed, speak of it to no one. And If I don't return… take care of my husband with the same unquestioning loyalty you've shown me."

   The girl studied her with those crystal eyes that gleamed with too much knowledge of the cruelty of the world for one so young. The panic that had shown on her face since she'd announced their messenger suddenly faded. "Before ye go, please come with me." She held out her hand.

   Cass stared at the small fingers in confusion. She needed music, some rhythm to focus on to gather her skills. She doubted if she'd even have a chance to use an elven death dance, with Mor'ded alert and waiting for her, but she would not easily go like a lamb to slaughter.

   "My ladyship," prodded Gwen, taking Cass's hand in her own and leading her to the servants' room.

   "I have to go," whispered Cass.

   "In but a moment, lady." Gwendolyn opened the door, revealing their cozy room with May seated on a chair near a small window. The older girl stood, exchanged an indecipherable look with Gwen, and then went to their wardrobe and opened the bottom drawer.

   Cass snapped out of her stupor. While Gwen enjoyed socializing, Cass had understood that May preferred the solitude of her own company, her fingers always twitching with the desire to weave. So she'd kept the girl supplied with cloth and ribbons, and Lady Cassandra wore the most ornate stomachers and patterned shawls of any of the ton.

   The elven lord would not care that she wore a new shawl, and Cass cared only that a sturdy leather girdle encased her waist. But when May held up her arms, the words of protest died on Cass's lips. For the girl appeared to hold nothing but air, even though she held her fingers clasped together as if she displayed a length of cloth.

   "May?"

   The girl smiled, a proud tilt to the angle of her lips. "'Tis a mantlet."

   "Indeed." Had the girl gone mad? Did she now weave cloaks in her imagination?

   Gwen tugged on Cass's sleeve. "Look closely, my lady."

   Cassandra squinted. "Have you managed to weave air, May? For I see nothing but that within your hands."

   May shook her blonde head. "What use would a cloak of air be? Although I hope ye don't mind that I made this, my lady. Because of yer… habits, I feared ye might need some protection." She gave a pointed glance at the younger girl. "And it seems we were correct."

   Cass reined in her patience. She didn't have time for this. Only the thought that the girls meant well managed to curb her tongue. "What have you done, May?"

The servant flushed. "I have woven yer dreams."

"My dreams?"

   "Oh aye. And sorry I am that I took them from ye without telling."

   "She couldn't have done it without me," added Gwen. "I had to find them for her, don't ye see? And their light is faint, and they float for such a short while that we had the devil of a time catching them."

   May nodded enthusiastically. "They kept trying to float away while I wove them. It took all the skill I had to bind them together."

   Cass could only stare at the two girls with bewilderment while they each took a pinch of air and wrapped it about her shoulders. To her astonishment, she did feel
something, a hint of weight that felt as ligh
t as the touch of a gentle breeze.

   "You wove me a cloak of my dreams?" Enthusiastic nods. "And this is supposed to protect me?"

   "Oh, well, we can't be too sure of that," said Gwen.

   May scowled. "Of course we can. Sometimes our dreams are all that we have to protect us—isn't that right, my lady?"

   "I don't know, May. I've often relied on my faith, but never my dreams." Cass hugged her own shoulders, and a wisp of memory slipped through her mind. A dream she'd once had, of a child with Dominic's pointed ears peeking through curls of her own brown hair. "But it certainly can't hurt, and I thank you for making it for me."

   Two pairs of hazel eyes welled up with tears and Cass frowned.

   "My dears, I'm just going to meet with my fatherin-law, nothing more." She swallowed, trying to believe her own words. Surely Mor'ded wouldn't harm her, not when he thought she carried his new champion, not when he risked alienating the ton. But she saw the burning fire through London too vividly in her mind. He'd harmed thousands of innocents with a temper tantrum because Cecily had escaped his evil hands. Had he discovered she'd helped the girl to freedom? And what would he do to her for such a transgression?

   No, she would not lie to herself. Mor'ded would not send that fire creature to her very door unless he'd found out some of her secrets. She would trust her first instinct. The time had come.

   Cass suppressed a shiver of fear and smiled rather shakily at her two servants. "Remember what I said, Gwendolyn. Take care of the general."

   "Aye, my lady." She placed a hand on her friend's bent head. "And stop crying, May. Have a bit of faith in your weaving."

   Cass spun in a swirl of silk and left the room before her servants could see the look of doubt on her face. A cloak of dreams. What chance did such a weaving stand against the power of an elven lord? Absolutely none. But if she could surprise him with a death dance…

   Her footsteps made a pattern of sound on the floor, through the long hall. She crafted a song from it, one that called to her magic, made it swirl inside of her, strengthening her muscles, bringing speed and grace to her movements.

   She didn't have a prayer of succeeding.

But she prayed anyway.

   She'd seen the door to Mor'ded's private chambers only from a distance, a glow of gold etched with a design that had made her curious, but not enough to venture closer. As she neared she studied the engraving—a map of England, sliced like a pie into seven sovereignties, the lines radiating from a center point somewhere within Oxford. It made her wonder why the elven lords had divided their lands in that particular pattern. Perhaps Sir Robert had some theory about it.

   When she raised her hand to knock, she noticed that her fist shook. Fie, she would never have the opportunity to ask the leader of the Rebellion anything.

   The door flew open and the song that flooded her veins skipped a beat in response. Her eyes met Dominic's from across the room, and for a moment she didn't recognize him. Her husband stood beside his father, reminding her again that he looked like a younger version of Mor'ded. His black eyes glittered as coldly as his father's, the expression on both men's faces near identical. Very calm, very controlled rage.

   And then Dominic's mouth softened and he took a half step toward her.

   Her heart fell. Why was he here? He would only die trying to save her from Mor'ded's wrath… but perhaps the Imperial Lord had summoned them both together for just such a reason. A hard knot formed in her chest. She would not allow that to happen.

   Cass took in the room in one sweeping glance before she curtsied, keeping her head and body lowered until the Imperial Lord gave her permission to rise. For such a large chamber, it held very little furniture, and most of it unrecognizable as such. A few flower petals shaped like chairs, a large bird-shaped piece that might be a bed, a covered desk. Plenty of room for her to maneuver. The clear rock by the balcony doors didn't trouble her, but the plant on the adjacent wall with its enormous pink pods worried her. She remembered all too clearly the suffocating vines of the plant guarding the elven garden.

   "Welcome, Daughter," said Mor'ded, only a slight sneer in his calm, clear voice. "Or should I say welcome to my would-be assassin?"

   Cassandra jerked upright, her heart in her throat, her gaze flying to Dominic's face.

   "Oh, don't think he has the power to help you," snapped Mor'ded. "He has proven to all the court that he is but a weak human." Then he softened his voice to its usual velvet smoothness. "I will decide your fate, my dear."

   Lady Cassandra raised her chin and met the elven lord's eyes squarely, determined not to look at her husband again. She didn't know what Mor'ded had discovered but she would give nothing away. Especially not the existence of the Rebellion and Sir Robert Walpole's role in it. "I'm not sure what you mean, Your Most High. I thought my fate had already been decided—to give birth to your next champion."

   "Don't play the innocent with me, girl. Do you think I don't know what you've been up to?"

   She tried to turn the fear that flooded her limbs into strength for her dance, but it proved too much for her and shook her legs with weakness instead. "I hardly know what you mean…"

   Within a blink Dominic stood next to her, his heavy hand a welcome warmth on her shoulder. But she couldn't allow him to intercede on her behalf. She knew what awaited her when she'd taken up the vow to the Rebellion, and despite her newly found love and the promise of happiness, she would face the consequences alone.

   She stepped away from her husband.

   "You will not play with her as you do with me," said Dominic. "Tell us what you are accusing her of."

   "You reveal her treachery as you stand before me," replied Mor'ded, rolling his scepter between his pale hands. He wore a suit of such a dark emerald green that it appeared black, mirroring the color of the abyss of his eyes. The flared skirt of the coat, the lace at his neck and sleeves, did not give him the appearance of femininity in the least. Indeed, it made the man within the costume seem ferociously male by comparison.

   "She has done nothing," said Dominic, and Cass could only wince at the lie.

   "She has turned my son against me."

   They both stilled at his words. Dominic sucked in a slow breath, but Cass knew her face couldn't maintain his calm. She could not mask her surprise. She'd expected Mor'ded to accuse her of being an assassin, of betraying him by helping Cecily escape. Of anything but accusing her of stealing his son away from him. A son he tortured.

   "You are mad," said Dominic.

   "Yes, well, humans call it madness because they don't understand the superiority of a higher intelligence. But I thought my son was beginning to, that his elven blood would prevail. How… disappointing that I erred in judgment."

   Cassandra suddenly realized this meeting wasn't about her. Either Mor'ded knew nothing about her part in the Rebellion, or he didn't care. The elven lord saw only her husband as a threat and Cass herself as nothing but a tool to trap him.

   Cass stepped back to Dominic's side.

   Dominic shrugged. "I admit I've become protective of the girl. After all, she carries my child."

   Cass knew her husband thought to remind Mor'ded of the reason he could not afford to harm her. But the Imperial Lord looked disappointingly unruffled.

   "But she has not turned me against you," Dominic added.

   "Your wife's existence is but a minor nuisance," he replied. "Indeed, I look forward to
playing with her, a
s you call it. But you, on the other hand, have become more trouble than you're worth." Mor'ded pointed the triangular-shaped head of his scepter at Dominic, punctuating his words with a sharp jab in his son's direction. The odd writing inscribed on the talisman swirled to life, making Cass's head spin for a moment.