Heartmate (13 page)

His heart contracted. “Your smile is beautiful.”

She blinked and her cheeks got redder. “GreatLord T'Ash?”

“Just T'Ash.” The faint glow of his protection spell still surrounded her but did not hide her loveliness. He hadn't seen her in two days. It seemed like years. He
needed
to see her. His heartbeat quickened, as did his loins.

“Did you send this?” She frowned and waved a big blue bloom. It looked frowzy and ragged.

“Ah—”

She made a disgusted sound. “That florist of yours is inept.”

Something was wrong. T'Ash reverted to Downwind words. “Rose?” he asked. “Pansies? Bouquet?”

Her frown faded and her eyes softened. Her eyes were beautiful, large and greeny-brown.

“Well, yes, those came through fine. Quite lovely. But this
thing.
” She scowled again and brandished the massive flower that engulfed her small hand.

How could he have forgotten his first impression of delicacy and discrimination? And why hadn't he taken that into consideration when ordering the flowers? Stupid. No, weariness and inexperience. He would do better with gems.

T'Ash copied her frown. “A single rose, then a posy, then a bouquet.
Then
a small arrangement in an elegant vessel,” he said virtuously. “You didn't receive a small arrangement in an elegant vessel?”

She stared at him. “What are you talking about?” She huffed a breath and shook her head. “It doesn't matter. No, I didn't get a little arrangement. I got some great hulking thing in an awful basket that broke my antique scrystand. Honestly, you would think a florist would know better than to teleport an arrangement of that sort to an obvious scrystand. . . .”

She stopped. Now she breathed deeply. It lifted her breasts and T'Ash looked at them. Round, full, and ripe, they were perfect. He ached to touch them.

She crossed her arms.

T'Ash scrambled for something to say. This wasn't going as planned. He needed a better script. “I don't work with wood in general, but—”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Not your concern. I have friends in the furniture business—”

He could imagine. But he didn't want her going to anyone else for anything she needed. He would provide her with everything she would ever want or require. She would soon belong to him. They would be a HeartMate couple, complete in themselves with no necessity for others. They would refound his GreatHouse. “Bring it to me.”

“No! No.” Now she flashed him the same insincere smile she'd given him at the shop before trying to leave, the only sort of smile she had ever graced him with. The small curve of lips didn't improve upon repetition. And he hated it more.

He considered. Better for him to see where she lived. “I'll come get it.”

He'd like to see her home. Somehow he was certain it was a home. Perhaps he'd get an idea of how she would furnish his Residence. The thought warmed him.

Her brows lowered. “Not at all necessary.”

“What sort of wood is the—the scrystand? If it's ash—”

“I'm not sure. It doesn't matter. Thank you for the flowers—” She sounded like she was going to cut the scryspell.

Desperate measures. “Forget the flowers.” He lowered his eyelids and tried for the sensual look that Tinne Holly had demonstrated. “I have a necklace. . . .” he said huskily. It was the truth. He had many necklaces, and any or all were hers. He was just missing a HeartGift, temporarily.

Her cheeks reddened again and fury flashed in her eyes. “No necklace.”

For a moment he was distracted by her lovely appearance. “Perhaps some earrings. You're wearing some of mine.” Delicate fashionings of the twinmoons and a couple of dangling stars.

“No. The sort of man that puts a filthy seduction spell on something is low. Low. Lower than a Downwind scruff—” The stars in her earrings whirled as she pulled them from her lobes. She tossed them in the scrybowl.

Call disconnected.

T'Ash stood, stunned. “Lower than a Downwind scruff.” Did she just insult him? His HeartMate? He rubbed his chest. It hurt inside.

A soft tapping came on the glass of his shop door. Winterberry stood outside.

T'Ash opened up the shop for the guard and some customers.

Once again T'Ash canceled the shieldspell between the display cases and the public area, invited the man in, and replaced the barrier. T'Ash gestured Winterberry to the far corner.

Winterberry's eyes scanned the shop, and the quiet use of his Flair raised the hair on T'Ash's nape. He got the impression that the guard could describe each change in the store, which pieces had been sold and which were newly displayed.

“Our thieving Null has disappeared. Word went out on the streets that he made a major mistake and has an item that is extremely valuable, but also cursed by the extremely menacing T'Ash,” Winterberry said.

“I thought you disapproved of my reputation.”

The Guard shrugged. “We use whatever works. Deduction, Flair, intimidation . . . You have customers. Serve them and I will report the results of my visit to the Null's abode.”

T'Ash donned a bland countenance as he transacted several sales. The least expensive Discovery Day charms were gone, but the gold, platinum, glisten, and redgold still sold briskly.

While new customers browsed, T'Ash returned to Winterberry.

“Yes?” asked T'Ash.

Winterberry smiled and it was a male smile, a fighter's smile that T'Ash understood. “Your name makes powerful waves. I easily obtained permission to enter the Null's premises. The whole place reeked of an
absence
of Flair, a complete emptiness. Simple observation showed that our man left in a hurry. There were several old Earth machines that he abandoned. The man has a hobby of fixing them.”

“The HeartGift wasn't there?”

“No.”

T'Ash shifted a little. He didn't want to talk about this. He wanted action. “Currently the HeartGift is a low priority for me. I have more important irons in the fire than finding this Null and meting out punishment. For now. You can put that message out on the streets, too.”

“We
will
catch the man. I notice you have not offered a reward for the return of the HeartGift.”

“Reward a man for stealing from me? Ludicrous.”

“It could turn hands against our Null.”

T'Ash snorted. “Perhaps you don't know Downwind as well as you believe. If the word is that the necklace is cursed, no one's going to touch it.”

Winterberry inclined his head. “As you say. I do, however, know the man quite well. I'd not be surprised if he approached you.”

T'Ash stared. “Me?”

“One thing you can count on with this thief—he doesn't lack guts.”

T'Ash bared his teeth in a wolfish smile. “If he comes to me, I'll deal with him.”

“Try to keep your sword clean and your blaser charge full,” Winterberry warned. “Blessed be,” he said in formal farewell.

T'Ash nodded shortly, then turned to the quiet line of people waiting to purchase his wares. Winterberry left.

After closing the store, T'Ash stopped in his home workroom before going to labor on the main gauche at the forge. He glowered at the courtship book.

He'd figured out the error in his strategy. He had followed the stupid book and sent flowers instead of going with his strengths and gifting her with gems. He had also tried some of the “personal contact” instead of simply letting his gifts speak for him.

He opened his vault and retrieved some exquisite pieces of jewelry that he only showed by appointment. He spread about thirty items on a long velvet display table in his workroom. Looking at them, he decided that was too many. When he had narrowed the selection down to twenty-five, he placed them in a velvet-lined case to take with him to the forge. He could teleport them to her collection box every time he had a break.

At the forge he carefully arranged the pieces on a large, scarred worktable. He alternated chains with bracelets, earrings with pins and necklaces. He decided the book was correct in scaling the gifts from the simple to the magnificent. How he wished he could offer his HeartGift once more! But it was stolen and he hadn't yet made the new one. He lined the presents up in the proper order.

What toys for?
Zanth jumped onto the table.

“Watch the jewelry! They are gifts for my woman.” T'Ash pulled aside the next item before it got swiped by Zanth's twitching tail. He glared at his Fam. “These are my best pieces. Treat them as you do your collar, because they are as valuable.”

Zanth put a paw in the first gift, a glass bowl of polished stones, some semiprecious, and cabochons of true gems.

Pretty.
He tumbled them about, then, treading carefully around the rest of the items, he retreated a foot or two and crouched down, nose to table, to evaluate his artistic endeavor. T'Ash was sure Danith wouldn't be looking at the bowl from the same perspective, but didn't say so.

He visualized three stones that he often carried and teleported them from his Residence to include them in the dish. It would be interesting to discover if she'd sense those stones held a different vibration, an intimate resonance of T'Ash himself. He rubbed his hands in satisfaction. He had no doubt. They were HeartMates, and she would innately prefer the stones that echoed of him. Her Flair was subtle but powerful.

He slipped the stones in the dish, and Zanth glared at him for disturbing the mixture. Then sneezed. Then once more arranged them into some unique catlike pattern only he understood.

The next present was a charm bracelet, with a delicately detailed tiny rendition of the generation colony ship that had actually discovered Celta,
Lugh's Spear.
The silver charm was suspended from an intricately woven chain of silver, redgold, and glisten. T'Ash touched the small starship with his finger and found his jaw clenched.

Another memory resurfaced. A charm bracelet was a tradition in his Family. Though the Ashes had wealth and jewels as much as any other GreatHouse, T'Ash's father, Nuin, had often given his mother a charm to celebrate an anniversary or other special occasion.

T'Ash stroked the small charm. He would follow the Ash Family traditions that he remembered, that were written in the history book he'd saved from the fire.

And just as every GreatHouse had traditions, so did every GreatHouse have responsibilities to the FirstFamilies' rituals. Acceding to his duty, he had become integral to the ceremonies. And soon Danith, as his HeartMate, would become equally valued and essential.

Done. Beau-ti-ful. Right.
Finishing his task, Zanth sauntered down the long table, stepping cautiously, inspecting the rest of the gifts, his whiskers twitching.
Nice. Good idea.

“Are you completely finished? Can I teleport the bowl of stones to her collection box now?”

Zanth inclined his head, ignoring the sarcasm.

T'Ash visualized a single pink mallow blossom, Danith's symbol on her collection box that he'd previously memorized. With a swish of displaced air the bowl vanished. Far away the tuneful little melody of Danith's collection box resounded to T'Ash's mind.

He skinned off his clothes and donned a fresh loincloth. Then he examined the forge; everything was ready for his labor.

He looked at the main gauche, awaiting his touch. It now consisted of four hundred layers of nickel and steel, to make the blade strong and flexible. He wanted to finish the redgold engraving, grind it one last time, polish it, and add a final spell with his hammer and his Flair.

The long work he'd put in had made him tired and slow. His magic would be sufficient. He had strength and discipline left enough for that. It was his arms and hands that might betray him.

Not see FamWoman,
Zanth grumbled.
Sat on win-dow-sill. She not notice Me.

The woman would have to be blind to overlook a cat of Zanth's bulk. T'Ash smiled wryly as he understood that the entire Ash household was annoyed from the same cause—being ignored by a particular woman. Not a pleasant feeling, and one T'Ash had never expected to experience. He'd always thought winning his HeartMate would be quick and simple.

He sighed, turned on the quench trough, and heated up the fire. “We're nothing but Downwind scruffs, Zanth.”

Speak for self,
Zanth retorted, lashing his crooked tail. He lifted his pink nose, but the gesture was spoiled by an incipient sinus snuffle.

T'Ash eyed him. “I am. And I'm speaking for you, too. We both have our share of scars and rough experience.
You
still hunt Downwind sewer rats.”

That was a cat for you.

T'Ash took the long dagger and put it in the fire, watching as it turned red hot, mesmerized by the color, then shook his head. He had to concentrate.

“She saw me fine. In the scrybowl.” When the temperature was right, he took the weapon to the forge and a specialized hammer to work the metal.

“She had plenty to say.” He rapped delicately on the edges, murmuring words of restraint and discipline with each blow. When he could free his mind from the task, he ran over his abrupt conversation with Danith again. Just as he picked up his hammer, the meaning of her final words burst upon him. “The sort of man that puts a filthy seduction spell on something is low.”

He stared at the blade, then grabbed it to channel the renewed energy his anger fueled. She thought he'd put a seduction spell on the HeartGift! A disgusting act. An illegal act. An act he would never have considered.