Hastur Lord (41 page)

Regis and Linnea were among the earliest to arrive, followed by Dan Lawton and his wife. Rinaldo, infused with a celebratory spirit, had ordered Valdir to remove his guards from Regis. To Danilo’s surprise, Valdir had complied. Perhaps he no longer considered Regis the primary obstacle to his plans.

Warmly, Regis wished his brother every happiness. Linnea did not curtsy but inclined her head in a Keeper’s greeting. She was heavily pregnant, but she carried herself with grace.

Regis paused before making way for the next guest to greet the groom. Unlike the Crystal Chamber, this room had no telepathic dampers. Regis had kept his thoughts shielded, but as his eyes met Danilo’s, he lowered his barriers. Linnea stood watch, by her posture and her
laran
-enhanced vigilance ensuring a moment of intimacy.

Then Regis was turning away, Rinaldo had already begun his formal greeting to the Terran Legate, and the fleeting rapport disappeared.

While Dan Lawton offered appropriate congratulations, his wife beamed at Rinaldo. Danilo needed no psychic abilities to detect the bond between the two. Was it the sort of flirtation a couple, each married to someone else, might enjoy? No, the connection was far stronger and eerily disturbing. Danilo sensed no trace of sexual attraction, but passion lay at its roots.

The crowd quieted as Bettany entered, accompanied by Crystal Di Asturien and Javanne’s adolescent daughter, Ariel. Bettany looked very young and small in a confection of cream-colored lace over satin just a shade darker. Her fair hair had been curled and lacquered so that not a strand moved beneath her diamond-studded veil. Tiny silver bells hung by ribbons from her tiara.

As she halted beside Rinaldo, Bettany’s gaze met Danilo’s. A glassy light filled her eyes. For a moment, she seemed not to know him, or anyone. Her thin fingers plucked at the lace of her gown. Then she sniffed, lifted her chin, and turned away, as if Danilo were beneath her notice.

The ceremony itself was longer and more complex than Danilo had ever witnessed. As Lord Hastur, the Head of his Domain, Rinaldo must be wed by the ancient Comyn tradition of
di catenas
. He insisted on a religious rite as well.

Rinaldo had asked Regis to officiate for the first portion. The honor should have gone to Ruyven Di Asturien, but no one thought any the worse of Regis for it. For Regis, it was no privilege but a humiliation, a public reminder of his lesser status.

Regis carried out his part with quiet dignity. Linnea stood a short distance away in the front row of onlookers. Danilo sensed her mental presence sustaining Regis. When Danilo opened his mind, it felt as if a door had cracked ajar and sunlight streamed into a darkened room.

The chamber dimmed in Danilo’s sight; he felt a surge of—was it welcome? acceptance?—from Linnea.

Then Regis was clasping the
catenas
bracelets on the wrists of his brother and the new bride. Danilo’s vision sharpened. One of the fabulously expensive Arcarran rubies set in the bracelets sparkled. It reminded him, uncomfortably, of freshly spilt blood.

The participants rearranged themselves for the religious ceremony. Tiphani Lawton stood directly behind Bettany. Had he not known Rinaldo’s adherence to
cristoforo
morality, Danilo might have suspected him of marrying both women at the same time.

The
cristoforo
priest, a slight man with a straight line for a mouth, intoned the nuptial benediction. Tiphani closed her eyes and swayed dramatically in time with his words. Rinaldo bowed his head as if receiving absolution. Bettany looked blank, her face the color and immobility of a wax doll.

Watching her, Danilo was suddenly overtaken by the certainty that this wedding was a serious mistake, one they would all come to regret. The girl was not bored, as it first appeared. She was trembling. Overwrought, confused. Near tears. Perhaps even aware of the spectacle of Tiphani Lawton behind her.

How could her family have done this to her?
Danilo thought angrily. Anyone else would have known the marriage was a sham, her husband incapable of giving her children. Rinaldo was marrying her not for love but out of religious duty and as a way of slacking his long- repressed desires without guilt.

Well, Danilo thought, it was no business of his whom Rinaldo married or why. He did not know whether he pitied more the bridegroom with the glowing, beatific smile or the frightened child who was now his wife.

Or, he added to himself, Tiphani Lawton. The woman had retreated to a corner and was holding forth to a rapt audience. Danilo could not catch her words, only her animated features.

Danilo was more interested in the sight of Linnea and Regis standing close together. Something in his stance, the angle of his shoulder, was tender and protective. She held herself well, despite the awkwardness of her pregnancy, accepting his attention and yet in no way lessened by it. Regis could have done far worse.

The witnesses drifted toward the ballroom, where the reception and dancing would take place. As much with his mind as with his ears, Danilo overheard Regis murmuring to Linnea, “I fear what may come of this, although I do not know why.”

A surge of agreement from Linnea: “What are we to do? As the old proverb says,
‘The world will go as it will and not as you or I would have it.’ ”

“Perhaps.” Regis did not sound convinced.

Regis, Danilo thought with a private smile, had never waited passively for the world to do as it willed.

Following the knot of guests, Dan Lawton maneuvered to walk beside Danilo. “Can you get a word to Regis? Every message I’ve sent has been refused.”

Danilo kept his gaze ahead, his expression guarded, and said nothing..

“At least he looks well enough. I feared—” Dan broke off as they came into the ballroom itself. The guests parted to allow Rinaldo and his new bride to enter. “If you can, let Regis know the genetic tests confirmed Rinaldo as a Hastur, so we’ve had to accept his credentials. I won’t be able to ignore him if he starts pressing for Federation membership.”

In the ballroom, the musicians had tuned up and were waiting for the newly married couple to begin the night’s dancing. Rinaldo had given strict instructions as to which dances and songs were acceptable. There would be no wild mountain
secain
nor any modern, licentious off-world gyrations and especially no Sword Dance. Danilo remembered how Dyan Ardais, in a brilliantly barbaric costume from the Ages of Chaos, had brought a fierce masculine grace and barely sublimated sexuality to the ancient steps. No, this evening would be one of sedate formal dances, preferably ones in which men and women danced only with one another and touched no more than their fingertips.

Rinaldo had clearly been taking lessons, for he squired his new wife through the measures of the opening dance, a
promenada,
without hesitation. Bettany, now the center of attention, smiled up at her husband with the first expression of happiness Danilo had yet seen in her.

The dance concluded to restrained applause. Rinaldo was so pleased with himself that he bade Danilo to dance with any lady he liked. There were not many women with whom Danilo was on cordial terms. Javanne seemed pleased, if startled, when he asked her, and it was not improper because they had been introduced so long ago. Javanne made a restful partner, for she made no attempt at conversation. Danilo enjoyed dancing and wished it were permissible for him to dance with her more than once, but he could not pay special attention to another man’s wife.

Bettany had been partnered by Valdir, who escorted her back to her new husband. Rinaldo was talking with the
cristoforo
priest with such absorption that he gave his wife only a cursory nod. Danilo felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. How could Rinaldo fail to see that she craved attention as a drowning man craved air? Moved, Danilo bowed to each of them in turn, including the priest, and then asked if he might request the next dance.

Bettany’s fingers felt cold as they rested lightly on Danilo’s. The musicians played the opening measures of the next dance, a
passolento
in two lines. Danilo handed Bettany into the position of honor among the other ladies and took his place opposite her. The two lines bowed to one another, moving through the stylized courtly display. Bettany brightened as the two of them swept down the center with all eyes upon her. There was an artless enjoyment in the way she skipped through the close-steps. Her eyes sparkled, and her lips parted. The melody was very old and familiar, and she hummed along like any young woman at her first fancy ball. In that moment of simple pleasure, Danilo saw the girl she had been before the Ghost Wind and might yet be again, given care and understanding, gentle guidance, and, most of all, affection.
Could
Rinaldo love her?

The
passolento
closed with another formal salute. Danilo offered Bettany his arm. “It’s good to see you happy,
damisela—
p ardon me,
Domna
.”

“Happy? Am I happy?” She hesitated, and he slowed his step to give them more time before he must return her to Rinaldo. “I do so love dancing and pretty dresses, but these are things of the moment. At night, in the dark, I am alone with my thoughts. I suppose that will be different now—the being alone. Perhaps
he
will talk to me.”

Danilo’s heart ached for her poignant hope. “Bettany—
Domna
—if you ever need someone to listen to you, to give you counsel—”

She looked up at him, eyes full of questions. “
You
would be such a friend to me?”

“I doubt your husband would permit it. I meant you might seek out
Domna
Linnea. As your sister-in-law and a Comynara in her own right, such a friendship would be perfectly suitable. You will find her kind and sympathetic. She has been trained as a healer of the mind—”

He saw from Bettany’s reaction that he had gone too far. Her face, which had softened like a flower in the sun, closed. “I do not need anyone to be
kind
to me. And there is nothing wrong with my mind! I require you to take me to my husband with no more unseemly delay!”

Afterward, Danilo waited out several dances and then, seeing Linnea sitting with a group of ladies, he approached her. Linnea flashed him an expression of relief when he asked her to dance, for what he heard of the conversation concerned this season’s fashion in crocheted- lace ruffles.

“I have a message for you,” he said as the musicians played the opening bars. “From Darilyn n’ha Miriam.”

“Who—oh, the Free Amazon. I remember her. How did you—” Linnea broke off as the pattern of the dance drew them apart, for they were the first couple, casting off.

“I hired her to escort
Damisela—
a h,
Domna
Bettany—from Serrais.”

Linnea joined his hands as they circled one another.

“You could not have done better. How does Darilyn fare?”

“She is well and sends her thoughts of you. And her thanks—” they drew back as the second couple moved into the center of the set to circle, “—for your kindness to her.”

“Kindness—” Linnea broke off, frustrated.
Danilo, we cannot talk about anything of importance this way!

With a conspiratorial wink, Linnea passed one hand over her forehead and grasped her rounded belly with the other. She let out a very realistic groan. Danilo, needing no further cue, assisted her to the chairs along one wall, choosing a corner where a pair of old dowagers were snoozing. He waved away offers of help, saying the lady was but a trifle overtired.

Linnea said in a hushed voice, “Regis was so worried—Rinaldo did not tell him that he’d sent you off to Serrais—”

“I didn’t think—I’ve been such a fool!”

“You? No! Regis thought Rinaldo had reneged on his bargain.”

“Bargain?”

“You didn’t know?” Linnea’s expression turned troubled. “Valdir threatened to have you tortured or killed! Rinaldo managed to get you out of his clutches, but only if—if—”

“Regis set me aside. Got married like a proper Comyn lord.” Although he knew it was unfair, Danilo could not keep himself from adding, “So what Danvan Hastur and half the Comyn Council could not force Regis to do, Rinaldo has now done.”

Listen to me!
Linnea shifted to direct mental speech, where no lies or dissembling were possible.
When I sent Regis away last spring , I was hurt and angry. And jealous—o f
you
. I almost threw away something so precious, I would have regretted it for the rest of my life. Don’t make my mistake! What the two of you share, I can never be part of . . . and I swear to you, I will never try to come between you.

Danilo had been bending over Linnea, their heads close together. Now he lowered himself into the chair beside her. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his hands. He did not care who saw him. He had hoped for a word with Regis, a sign, a thought. He had not expected such a revelation, certainly not from Linnea. It was too much, all of it, the whole colossal misunderstanding, the savagery of Valdir’s ambition, and Rinaldo—who knew what his aims really were or what he might do to achieve them?

“Danilo . . .”

He had never heard that note of alarm in Linnea’s voice before. He lifted his head, stared at her. She hunched over, both arms wrapped around her belly. A high color had risen to her cheeks and even now faded into paleness. He sensed the ripple of energy arise deep within her body, stealing her breath, gripping her muscles.

“I really must lie down, and you had best send for a midwife and let Regis know.” It was unthinkable for a telepath to not attend the mother of his children in labor.

She paused, gulping air. “Our little Danilo has chosen a most inopportune time to make his appearance.”

Discreetly, Danilo arranged for women to help Linnea to her chamber, for the midwife to be summoned, for excuses to be made to Rinaldo and Bettany. Valdir deserved none.