Hers to Choose (11 page)

“The
Senzienza
discriminated between Verdantian-born and off-worlders and consumed those beings not of our planet.

Sophi drew back. “Wait. What are you saying?”

“I am saying, Sophi,
She
deconstructed their mass into energy and absorbed them. Verdantia, the spirit of our Planet.”

“Impossible. People don’t just
turn into light and drift into space.”

“And yet it seems
they did just that. Verdantia manifested herself through the bodies of High Lord deTano and Queen Constante during their performance of the ritual of the
Great Rite
.” Eric shrugged. “At least that is the current theory. It changes from week to week. During the sacrament of the
Great Rite
, the
Senzienza
spoke to High Lord DeTano. Commanded him to ‘find the other’.” He chuckled then continued. “The
L’anziano
went berserk searching the historical records for a clue as to what
She
meant.”

“How do you know all this?”

Eric shot her a wicked grin. “I guard the Queen Constante’s personal chambers. I know everything that goes on in that palace.”

Sophie swayed
in rhythm with her mount. She knew the rest of the story. “My brother was the ‘other’, wasn’t he?” She watched Eric’s face, amused by the lifted eyebrow and wry smile he turned her way.

“Clever woman. It was not so obvious at the time. The
planet herself summoned another
Tetriarch
, a ‘rule of three’. When Queen Constante,
Primo
DeTano and
Segundo
DeLorion make love, massive amounts of energy empower
all
the
diamantorre
in
all
the sigil towers that still stand.”

“And there are thousands of miles between those towers,” Sophi marveled.
“Those three love each other dearly. I saw that clearly in the brief time I lived in the palace.”

Eric grunted.
“It was not always so. The
Tetriarch
had a tumultuous beginning. Now, yes, they love each other deeply. It gives me hope that such a thing can still exist.”

Sophi’s eyes flashed to Eric
, then away. “Your father and mother were not a love match?”

His scornful laughter
answered her question.

Sophi winced.
“I’m sorry. My mother and father adored each other. I never thought Mother would remarry after Father died. The
L’anziano
hounded her into a joining with Marquis Hugo Contradina.
It was a mistake. He abused her. Doral stopped that when he came home.”
At great cost to himself.

A wistful smile pulled the corners of her mouth. “I know people fear
Doral and I suppose it is justified, but he is a wonderful brother to me and I love him very much.”

“What happened to Hugo Contradina?”
Eric asked.

“He is
now dead.” Sophi hoped her clipped tone would forestall any further questions about Hugo Contradina’s death. Let Eric assume what everyone else did—that the Haarb killed him. She would protect Doral’s secret to her grave.

They walked side-by-side in silence for a while. She knew Eric studied her.

His voice pulled her from her thoughts. “I take it my reminding you of your brother is not a bad thing.”

“No.” She shook her head. Meeting his gaze, she repeated, “No. Not a bad thing at all.”

Sophi thought this portion of her journey idyllic
, especially in contrast to their grueling flight across the wastelands. She suspected Eric kept the first day’s march short and their pace easy to allow her to recover from their desert ordeal and she was grateful. He called a halt in mid-afternoon, leading the group into the courtyard of a charming inn.

“Thank you, Commander. Today was a most pleasant ride.
I am barely wearied.”

Eric grinned. “Then I accomplished my goal,
Flight Leader
. I wanted to reach this inn with you rested and relaxed.”

Sophi caught the wicked gleam in his eyes and sat her horse, nonplussed.
He intends to have sex with me tonight.
She must have written her thoughts on her face for he laughed aloud.

“My plans are for a sumptuous dinner, a luxurious bath and an early night, that is all, sweet Sophi.”
He laughed at her confusion.

He swung down from his horse and held out a helping hand. Her emotions scattered like a
covey of birds flushed by a circling hawk. She laid her arms around his neck as he gently gripped her waist and slid her slowly down. Her immense cavalry horse was a huge departure from the wiry desert pony now recovering in a stall at Silver Grove. Eric held her face-to-face for a long moment. She could feel his warm breath. Then he set her on her feet and leaned toward her.
He is going to kiss me!
Her lips parted in anticipation.

His mouth brushed her cheek and stopped by her ear. “
But my door will be unlocked,” he murmured.

He drew the reins over her horse’s neck and with a mischievous wink walked off toward the stables, both horses in tow.

She stood in the middle of the inn’s courtyard for several long moments in total bemusement. A thought meandered up from her subconscious.
I want him.
She gave a small shake and entered the inn.

The interior
of the inn charmed her as much as the exterior. Her eyes roamed the spacious public room, with a large hearth at one end and tables scattered about laid for eating or a convivial game of cards. One wall held books, floor to ceiling, with two chairs drawn up in a corner in an intimate grouping. Efforts to make the atmosphere gracious and welcoming had met with success.

A head of graying hair popped up from behind the bar. “Mistress, how may I be of service?”

Sophi returned the smile of the inn’s proprietor. “Two rooms, please, and stabling for six horses. We have four guards with us. May the guards shelter in your stables also?”

The round jowls of the portly innkeeper swayed as he nodded, his eyes fixed on her face
with a look of witless enthrallment.

Oh, bother.
“Sir?” she prompted.

At her question, he came to himself
with a shake. “Yes, miss. I can offer three rooms for the price of two, so your guards needn’t doss down in straw. Will you desire dinner? We have a nice joint of roast hartbuck and fresh vegetables, some Emporian cheese, the best they make.”

“That would be very nice, thank you.”
Sophi smiled.

“If you will just make yourself comfortable,
miss.” The innkeeper gestured to the grouping of chairs by the bookcase. “We’ll get your chambers aired and the linens refreshed.” With a nod, he slipped to the back as he hailed, “Mrs. Turner! Mother! We have guests.”

Slipping off her quiver and propping her bow against the wall, she relaxed into the welcome softness of the upholstered chair and ran her eyes over the selection of books within reach. Movement caught her eye. An older woman’s head popped around the corner, peeked at her, then disappeared. In a thrice it happened again. She heard the low, whispered tones of Mr. Turner and, presumably, his wife.

“Mr. Turner, it’s
her,
I tell you. Get our best chamber ready and I’ll call down to the village for Jillie. A lady like her ain’t used to doing for herself.”

“Mother, your eyes
fail you. No woman of that class walks in here in filthy robes, just as common as you please, much less
Tetriarch
DeLorion’s
sister
.”

“You
’re wrong you ignorant, addle-pated stump. It’s
her
, I tell you!”

“And I tell you, you’ve slipped a cog, you old bat.”

A smile tickled Sophi’s lips. She rose and crossed the room and then looked around the corner at the old couple. They stood face-to-face like fighting Bantam cocks. Sophi cleared her throat loudly.

Mrs. Turner did not
appear to hear her. “I seen her mother. There’s no mistaking a DeLorion. That blond hair, them aqua eyes—” Mr. Turner gave his wife a hard nudge.

“
Ohh! Ahh, m’Lady!” Mistress Turner dipped a comically awkward curtsey.

Mr. Turner creaked into a semblance of a bow. “We was just discussing if there
be enough of Mother’s apple tardy—or should we go to the village for fresh fruit, miss? Ahh, ma’am. M’Lady,” he stuttered.

She could not help her mouth-stretching grin. “Either will be lovely. Thank you.”

“And would Lady
DeLorion
like a bath before supping?” Mistress Turner slyly elbowed Mr. Turner and bobbed into another odd curtsey.

“That would truly be heaven, thank you, Mistress. And please call me Sophi.”

Mistress Turner elbowed Mr. Turner so forcefully he grunted. Sophi had done many hard things in the last few weeks. Not laughing aloud wasn’t the most difficult but it did require significant self-discipline. She found she simply didn’t have the heart to refuse their courtesies, though she would rather do without “Jillie” from the village.

Rubbing his abused
flank, Mr. Turner speared a glance at Mrs. Turner. “Yes, m’Lady. We’ll fire up the boiler so’s you can have a nice hot soak. I’ll get right on it, then.”

S
ophi turned back into the room to see Eric straightening from his slouch against the doorframe.
Just how long have you been standing there?

Road dust coated his heavy leathers. The dark shadow of his beard outlined his cheeks and jaw. He
desperately needed a shave.
All I really see is how handsome you are.

“I bespoke two rooms and dinner for us,” Sophi said. “The innkeeper offered us a third for the guards.”

“Thank you.
” Eric prowled slowly across the room to join her. His warm green eyes spoke to her about sensual, lingering touches. She slouched back into the comfortable chair, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart as it attempted an escape from her chest.

His
gaze captured hers as he sprawled his large frame into the chair opposite. The intimate grouping allowed his long legs to bracket her. His well-worn leathers drew tight against his groin, in a provocative display of masculine assets. A sparkling shiver surged through her, incited by the hot gleam in his eyes. Swallowing became difficult. She pressed her hands into her lap to stifle their nervous twisting.

“Tell me of your desert horses, Sophi. The two we rode on our flight to Silver Grove impressed me immensely.”

His low baritone rolled through her senses like distant thunder and carried the promise of a carnal storm of cyclonic proportions. Gooseflesh pimpled her skin. The hard bud of her nipples pressed against the rough weave of her robes.

His head lolled back against the chair. The half-lidded gaze he fixed on her spoke of
human passion—not appreciation of mere horseflesh. His eyes whispered erotic mysteries while his lips formed commonplace conversation. She concentrated hard on speech.

“
Primus
G’hed breeds them for endurance and speed. They require only a fraction of what your ‘heavy’ horses need in the way of water and forage,” she said. Sophi tried to slow her breathing. The knowing smile that lingered on his mouth stripped away any pretense she made at ignoring his silent seduction. He knew the effect he was having on her. His expression silently challenged her to flee—a sure method to make her stay.

“I was
glad they saved that lovely mare from the
Fell
wolf. Brave animal. I had not thought her up to my weight, but she carried me admirably,” he said.

His eyes stripped her nude and feasted.

Goddess!

“Many make that mistak
e, confusing size with strength,” she whispered.

Heat suffused her feminine places.
A melting languor flooded her limbs. Only stubbornness held Sophi upright in her chair. Her breathing deepened.

Eric shifted and adjusted himself subtly. Her eyes flicked to his lap then up again.
Oh.
She swallowed in a throat suddenly gone dry.
That is impressive.

He rose slowly and leaned toward her.

She stopped breathing momentarily, her eyes caught in the erotic promise of his gaze.

His eyes never left her face as he gently unwound a strand of her hair caught on
her robe’s fastener. The back of his hand glanced once, then twice across her erect nipple. She gasped at the electric pleasure spearing between her legs. His eyes flared with satisfaction at her unmistakable reaction. As he straightened and pulled away, his fingers caught her nipple in a gentle, “here-then-gone” caress. She couldn’t stop her slight jerk at the jolt of sparkling sensation that exploded through her, giving birth to a strange sense of need.