Fate's Edge (44 page)

The dinner consisted of five small courses. Francis wasn’t eating much of it. He picked at his food, rolling the tiny tomatoes with his fork, and cast sad glances at Cerise, seated across the table four people down to their left.

Cerise looked lovely. Her gown was dyed in a distinctive sunset pattern, popular in the Weird last year: almost plum red at the off-the-shoulder sleeves and pleated, turned-down collar that left most of her cleavage exposed, the fabric flared into red as it clasped her breasts, brightened to near orange at the waist, then spilled in a glorious cascade of pleated blush, a shade too provocative to be called pink. It was a good choice. The gown was slightly out of season. It took time for the dress styles to filter from the North to the South. A saltlicker’s wife wouldn’t have access to the latest fashions. Red signaled sensuality, and Francis was eating it up.

Next to Cerise, Audrey turned toward him. For a moment, Kaldar forgot where he was.

Francis sighed next to him. The sound snapped Kaldar out of his reverie.

“A beautiful lady,” Kaldar said confidentially.

“She is.” Francis sent a look of sad longing in Cerise’s direction.

“I believe she is married,” Kaldar said.

“To a brute.” Francis glanced at William, seated across from Cerise. “A saltlicker smuggler, which is just another name for a pirate. He made his money robbing other ships, stole a fortune, and married her. Her family is noble but poor. He practically bought her. Can you imagine?”

George cleared his throat carefully. “You don’t say.”

“Trust me, the man is a savage. He treats her like a slave.”

“Perhaps you should be more careful with the display of your affections,” Kaldar suggested. “Saltlickers are known for their temper.”

“He can’t do anything to me.” Francis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m the baron’s guest. She’s chained to that monster. A woman so refined, so delicate, should be shielded from the rigors of the world, so they don’t bruise her. She is completely helpless, you see . . .”

Jack choked on his food and made some coughing noises that sounded suspiciously like feline laughter.

“Did I say something funny?” Francis peered at him.

“Not at all,” Kaldar said. “Please continue.”

“She should be free to make her own choices.”

“And are you determined to liberate her?” Kaldar asked.

“Indeed I am.”

“You have a noble heart,” George said.

Francis preened. “Any man of honor in my place would do the same.”

The naive idiot. Cerise was playing a dangerous game. Francis could do something rash, then William would kill him. “Perhaps you would listen to the advice of an older and jaded man?”

“Of course.”

“In my experience, despite what outer appearances may indicate, married couples are much more alike than people realize. Take care, my friend. Tread softly.”

“I thank you for your counsel.” Francis raised his chin. “But I have nothing to fear.”

Young moron.

The last of the dessert had been finished. The double doors opened, revealing a wide ballroom. Morell was doing this party by the book: they were permitted to mingle, treated to a dinner, and now, predictably, they would be given the opportunity to dance under the watchful eyes of the Texas sharpshooter’s magically augmented rifles.

Kaldar rose. “My young lords, it is time to dance.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Do I have to?”

“I’m afraid so, master.”

Jack sighed and made his way to the ballroom. George followed him.

“Youth is wasted on the young . . .” Kaldar mused, but Francis’s gaze was fixed on Cerise.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, and trotted over to her.

And so he was left to his own devices. Kaldar started toward the ballroom.

He positioned himself near the wall and watched the gathering. Music rolled through the disguised loudspeakers on the walls. The rhythm was brisk and familiar. The dancers were making a hash of it on the floor: some tried to dance according to the Weird’s customs; others were attempting a Broken waltz. George was whisked away almost instantly by a young girl with too much mascara and a prom gown that put her square into Broken territory rather than that of the Weird. As soon as the dance ended, another candidate, this one at least three years older, stepped up to claim his attention.

Morell wanted a court. He wanted a taste of the upper-crust life—blueblood or those who reached their status by merit, he didn’t particularly care. He had a beautiful castle, but the means by which he’d obtained it would get him barred from most polite gatherings across realms. So he made his own court. He invited his neighbors, robbers, added a few attractive young people with ambitions and an eye toward climbing the social ladder, and lured the lords and ladies of the Weird and movers and shakers of the Broken with promises of fine art that couldn’t be bought anywhere else. Now they sized each other up, and Morell watched the culture clash with great amusement.

There was an odd mix of extravagance and ironic self-awareness in the entire affair. For a man who liked to watch other people, the ballroom was paradise. Kaldar couldn’t recall the last time he was so entertained.

Morell watched his guests as well, moving from one group to the next until he finally reached him. Kaldar bowed. The baron inclined his head. A moment later, George was released by his latest dance partner and approached them.

“You don’t dance, Master Brossard?” Morell asked.

“I’m afraid it’s not one of my better skills.”

“Nonsense,” George said. “You’re an excellent dancer, Olivier.”

What the hell is the kid up to?
“Most of the gathering is above my station,” Kaldar said.

“What about that lady in green?” George made a barely perceptible nod toward Audrey. “Didn’t we escort her on our way in? She was looking for her mistress . . .”

“She was barely on her feet. I doubt she is capable of dancing.”

“Oh, come on, Brossard.” Morell grinned at him. “You should dance. In fact, I insist that you enjoy yourself. And the lady in green seems like a perfect candidate. She is a companion to a lady from the South. They are born to dance. I know for a fact that dance classes are a mandatory part of their education.”

Kaldar sighed. It kept him from grinding his teeth. Morell wasn’t testing him. He was testing Audrey. “Very well.”

He circled the floor, stopped before Audrey, and bowed. “A dance, my lady?”

She would never accept. His brain feverishly tried to find some sort of explanation to deflect Morell’s suspicions.

A hand touched his. He glanced up and saw Audrey smiling. “Master Brossard, is it? I would be delighted.”

He straightened and led her to the floor. “You were supposed to shoot me down.”

“You think I can’t dance?”

He stepped into position, waiting for the music to start. “We have to dance a Weird dance with Morell watching, because dancing is supposed to be part of your education.”

“Lucky for you, it was. I took lessons from an Edger who taught me Weird dances. I can tango, too.”

“Lucky for me?”

“You put me into this mess. I would’ve been perfectly happy just sneaking into the castle.”

“And being shot. Try to keep up.”

“I told you, I took lessons. As long as you don’t start doing the cajun stomp, we’ll be fine.”

“Cajun stomp?”

“You heard me, swamper. And keep your hands to yourself.”

He would have to have a talk with Cerise about how much she was telling Audrey about the Mire and him.

The music shot from the speakers, a solo by a melodious male voice followed by an aggressive rhythm and a fast melody, spiced with splashes of exotic sound. Morell, you bastard. It was a hell of a dance.

Kaldar shifted his position, pulling her to him, her back to his chest, his hands on her arms. Other dancers had started, and he was giving her a moment to watch them. “This is the aliya. We go fast, then we go slow, circling each other. Watch the other couples and follow my lead, and we’ll be fine. Ready?”

“Bring it.”

He launched them across the floor. She followed him, obeying the cues of his body, light on her feet and graceful. They parted, they came together, aggressive, passionate, and he realized that she knew the dance and was brilliant at it.

They flew across the floor again, fast, then stopped for another pass.

He paused as she circled him, one hand up, the other bent.

“Marry me,” he said.

“No.”

He spun her, pulling her to him, and they circled each other again. “I’ll buy you a house.”

“Not interested.”

The music sped up, and they glided across the floor. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Dip coming in three, two . . .”

She leaned back, parallel to the floor. He barely had to hold her. Kaldar ran his hand two inches above her body and lifted her into position. The temptation to touch her almost made him lose all sense. “I’ll be a good husband.”

“Lies.”

“I’ll be monogamous.”

“Ha! Maybe I won’t.”

“Being with anyone else would be slumming.”

“For you or me?”

“Both.”

She gripped his shoulder, mimicking the other couples. He pulled her closer by her waist. In his head, they were naked.

“I made fun of you. You decided that you should marry to keep up with your family.”

He spun her about, and they were off again.

“If you have to marry, I’m cute and I have nice boobs, so I would do.”

“Audrey,” he growled.

“No thanks.”

The final notes tore out. Kaldar dropped to his knees before her. “You, me, and cute kids down the road.”

She smiled and said, her lips still stretched in a smile, “Forget it.”

He had to get her alone. He was so aroused, he could barely stand it. If he could only talk to her, he would convince her to say yes.

“Meet me in the north hallway in ten.”

“Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t.”

He got up and bowed. She curtsied.

Around them, people applauded.

“Thank you, Master Brossard.” Audrey gave him a charming smile.

“The pleasure is mine.”

She turned and went toward Cerise, fanning herself.

Morell, George, and Jack were staring at him.

“You lied,” Morell announced when he returned to his spot. “You are an excellent dancer, indeed.”

“The lady is divine. Sadly, she’s still feeling under the weather.”

Across the room, Audrey was gently pressing a handkerchief to her face and pretending to be winded.

“I think she likes you. Don’t let her get away.” Morell moved on. Audrey passed by. Now they were both in the clear.

Nine minutes later, he slipped away, passing the guards, into the north hallway. Nobody paid him any mind. He’d watched people come and go all day. As long as he didn’t leave the northern wing of the castle, he wouldn’t get shot.

Kaldar sank into one of the shadowy alcoves.
Where is she?

A minute passed. Another. Time slowed, barely moving like chilled honey.

Is she not coming? Will I have to go after her?

A familiar, curvy figure slipped into the hallway. He peeled himself from the wall, grasped her hand, and pulled her to him, pinning her between the wall and himself. They stared at each other for a pressurized electric second, the air between them saturated with desire. He’d wanted her for so long, it seemed like eternity.

She was smiling at him, that delicious, hot, irresistible Audrey smile. She wanted him, too.

All thoughts of talking fled from Kaldar’s head. He kissed her smile, tasting her lips, so sweet and pliant. He kissed her because he had to. He couldn’t help it. She tasted of wine and apples and that enchanting indescribable feminine spice that drove all reason from his head.

Her mouth parted, inviting him, and the tip of her tongue licked his. The taste of Audrey exploded in his mouth. Finally.

Kaldar pulled her toward him, his hands sliding over the firm, supple curve of her ass, and drank her in. Audrey gasped into his mouth. He pressed against her and let his tongue explore, teasing, taking, daring her to do something about it. Her left arm slid around his neck, accepting his challenge. Her right hand slipped down, along his chest, lower, to the bulge in his pants, caressing him, her skin soft and warm. Her fingers brushed against him. His body tightened in response, straining, begging for her touch. He couldn’t get any harder. She ran her hand over his shaft and stroked him, propelling him right to the edge, to the desperate place where nothing but Audrey mattered. He wanted her more than anything in his life.

They needed privacy. The dark rectangle of a door loomed on the right. She kissed him again, and he blindly found the door handle. Locked. Magic stung his hand, and suddenly the handle turned. He opened the door, and they slipped inside, intertwined. He locked the door one-handed, afraid to let go of her, and hoisted her onto the desk.

 

FEW people recognized the moment they fell in love. Audrey had no idea when it happened. She knew only that touching Kaldar, being with him, feeling his lips on hers, was the most important thing. Somehow, between their fight and this second, she had fallen in love with him, and when he kissed her, it felt like pure heaven.

She kissed his face, his jaw, his lips, caressing him. All of the good solid reasons she should push him away and stop seemed so stupid and small compared to what she saw in his eyes. There wasn’t even a word for it. Admiration? Affection? Desire? Bliss? Love. That had to be it.

Kaldar brushed the seam on her side, found the clasps, then her breasts were free. He bent his head down and kissed her neck, his hands caressing her body, his roughened thumbs sliding over her nipples, sending tiny shocks of bliss through her. Audrey arched her back. Every stroke of his hands, every touch, every heated press of his lips against her skin, felt overpowering, as if her senses had suddenly sharpened. The air grew hot. Pressure built inside her, squeezing her everywhere.