Rital of Proof (28 page)

She was curtained by that jet hair. She was curtained by him.

Jorlan made sure she could not look away from him as he penetrated her, sure and fast. All the way. Until he could go no farther.

Until his hipbones tunneled into the rounded edges of hers.

Green cried out sharply at the angle of penetration, at the complete fullness. Her uninhibited cry scared a flock of blanocks into flight.

But the sound he wrung out of her had nothing at all to do with fright.

It spoke of sheer elation.

The awareness of him on top and inside made her reckless. He pulsed within, flexing sharply against her inner walls. He covered her mouth with his own, drowning out her pleasure moans only to fill her with his own low purrs of ecstasy.

Green's hands cupped his buttocks, kneading the firm globes, bringing him deeper, closer, tighter to her.

Jorlan groaned raggedly and thrust sharply into the wet channel, over and over. Grinding his hips, his mouth never leaving hers, he stroked stronger and harder.

It wasn't as if his control left him. Green realized, but rather that he had joined his will to his desire.
A Sensitive's desire.

One of his palms slid like flame over her hip, grasping her thigh. He expertly moved her leg up and over to the side in a skillful maneuver that many a pleasurer would never learn. The position allowed him the deepest access. Like everything about Jorlan, he intuitively knew it. He thrust into her, hands cupping her face as he kissed her wildly. Devouring.

"Jorlan, Jorlan... " Green could not catch her breath against this sensual onslaught. He didn't want her to.

"Let me hear you, Green," he rasped unevenly. "Tell me what I am doing to you! Do I drive you wild as you have done to me? Do you think about me when we are apart, when we are together, when I lie sleeping next to you? Do you
ache
in the night when you want me but are forced to wait because it has been declared
seemly
that you must do so?"

It was obvious that he did not realize what he was saying or what he was disclosing to her. Caught up in his passion, Jorlan was simply reacting to the sensuality flaring between them. But she realized.

He ached for her.

All the time.

He wanted her. And he was trying hard to control it.

Was this the side of him that was the Sensitive, or was it more than mere desire... ?

He caught her lip between his teeth and tugged on it. "Do the tremors go through your entire body because you can forever taste the texture of my skin... ?" He groaned and twitched inside. A sheen of sweat glistened over his body.

"Jorlan," she whispered, "I do want to feel you..."

"Green... " His eyes hazed over. "And... and... do you long to hold me because you can remember my scent and love it when it covers you the entire night... ?"

"Ohhh, my name-bearer, I had no idea that-—" She cried out, arching her back as he thrust solidly in her.

"Then feel me," he cried, hoarsely. "I am not simply someone who bears your name. I am more. I want
more."

Her hands sunk into his hair, she cupped his head, her kisses covering his forehead, his nose, his eyes, "I
never
wanted you to think that you were but a part of the Tamryn holdings! Please tell me you do not feel this way!"

 "I feel," his voice was breathless. "I feel... "

He blinked. All motion stopped. His eyes seemed to sharpen. He looked down at her horrified. His mouth parted slightly. Jorlan had not intended to open himself in this way. His Sensitive's heart had stripped his reason, revealing some of his core—the core he forever shielded from everyone.

Green knew that the only way to stop him from shutting her out again was to lighten his mood. "It's all right, my blaze-dragon. There was no one here but us and the blanocks. The blanocks have since left. I am sure they are not too happy with you for making me scream like a screech wing." Screech wings fed on blanocks.

Against his will, Jorlan's lips curved.

"See if you can do it again," she suggested teasingly in his ear. "I think I see a few still hovering about. Besides, you haven't quite finished what you started." She nipped the lobe.

The corner of his lips twitched, although he seemed somewhat chagrined. "No, I haven't, have I?" He moved slightly in her.

"Mmm, wonderful." She smiled at him.

"Yes, it is." He slid full into her and halted. Green looked at him quizzically, wondering if he would be all right. If they would be all right. "I meant what I said. Green."

She took a deep breath. "I know."

He glanced away, then back at her.

Chapter Twelve

They arrived at Tamryn Lane later than Green had intended.

The river, which flowed past the back of the property, deposited them on the bank. Per instructions, Avatar

Jiad left their clothes for them. They were both pleasantly tired.

Jorlan gazed up the sloping land to the big house. Several large-pane mirastone panels glowed in the dark. Flamelights lined the path.

Green took Jorlan's hand as they walked the path in companionable silence. The warm strength of his clasp 1 lent a certain unaccustomed comfort to her.

"What do you grow here?" he asked her.

"Hukka crop. If it was light out, you would see it all around us and in the fields to the rear." She gestured to the land beyond the estate house.

"Do you think they got into a bad crop. Green? Like what happened to your parents?"

"No." She shook her head. "That was something quite different. We know more about hukka now—how not to consume it after it flowers. My people here live and breathe the crop; they know what strains to plant and when to harvest. It has to be something else. But I appreciate your help, Jorlan."

He smiled softly, inclining his head. Green was so different from other She-Lords. Perhaps that was one reason why he had always been drawn to her. Even as a child, he had recognized it. It was the way she related to him. Not simply as a male—as a
person.

"Ah, there's Sweeney waiting at the door for us!" Green's words interrupted his reflection.

The majordoma let them in. Green noticed that Sweeney was not her usual robust self. Her complexion was peaked, her eyes dull. Normally energetic, her movements were listless.

"We've been waiting for you, Marquelle. I can't tell you how happy we are to see you here. I know you'll get to the bottom of this. Just as I told the tenants who wanted to clear out—wait 'til the Marquelle gets here, she'll fix us right up! We're all counting on you, my Lordene."

"Thank you, Sweeney." Green's shoulders dipped imperceptibly. The reaction went unnoticed.

Except by Jorlan.

Gone was her lighthearted spirit of just moments ago, replaced by the heavy responsibility of her title. It was the first time he realized how much rested on her, how many people she was responsible for, how they looked to her for leadership...

He wished he could help relieve some of this burden. His experiences in the Duchene's house must count for something, and he had his own way of solving things. Perhaps he could aid her with just the two of them knowing, just as he had done with the weavermouth.

Only he would be wielding a weapon much different from the meteor-blade.

And yet, so very similar.

"Come into the keeping room, then." Sweeney tried to liven her step, but it was plain she was out of sorts. "You both must be hungry. I'll have cook fix a nice tray for you and bring it in to you myself. Avatar and Miara are awaiting you in there."

"Thank you, Sweeney."

"And may I say congratulations on your fastening? We are all very pleased to have you here as well, Mar-queller."

"Thank you, Sweeney." Jorlan smiled in a charming way at the woman, causing her to become quite flustered. She dipped an odd bow and shakily left the room.

"Another conquest," Green muttered under her breath.

Jorlan chuckled. "You must be so proud to have such a fine name-bearer. Are you not, Marquelle Tamryn?"

He folded his arms over his chest and gave her a very bland look.

The torque was pushing the line. Green clicked her tongue. "And so demurely modest about it, too."

"But of course." He grinned a slow, wicked smile.

Rolling her eyes. Green took his wrist and dragged him behind her into the keeping room.

Jorlan got brief glimpses of the house. Airy rooms, a much lighter style of furniture than Tamryn House, with plenty of paddle fans on the ceilings. This was a much warmer, humid climate than the one he was used The air was thick, and yet he liked it. The rich scent of nightbloomers tinged the air even inside the house.
Exotic sounds and textures
...

"It took you long enough!" Avatar groused good-naturedly as she sipped a hameeri liquor by the fire.

Miara rose. "Marquelle. Marqueller," the protector-guard greeted them.

Green joined them by the fire, taking a seat with Jorlan on the settee. "What is the status here, Miara?"

"A little over half the household is sick."

It was worse than she had thought. Green bit her lip, sending a worried glance Jorlan's way. She was concerned about the risk of illness for her name-bearer. "I never should have exposed you to this."

"I will be fine." He gently squeezed her hand to reassure her. "And I am here to make sure you will be, as well."

Green squeezed his hand back in a silent show of gratitude for his support. "What is causing the sickness, Miara? Any ideas?"

"Just speculations, Lordene. They have checked the crops to be sure it is nothing there. The hukka is fine. The crop manager wonders if it is not some kind of microbe that keeps being passed again and again amongst the household. No sooner does someone start to feel better when it comes back again. It has weakened the entire staff and most of the tenants. Several of the tenants have already left, despite Sweeney's valiant efforts. Reports coming back are that the illness does not leave with them. Once away from

Jorlan arched his brow. That told him much.
The illness was tied to, or was of the land.
He might just be able to help Green more than he had anticipated.

Green sighed at Miara's assessment. "The harvest will soon be upon us; we cannot afford to lose our people. There will be no one to bring in the crop. There has to be an answer for this. What did the local methodologist say?"

Avatar swirled her drink around in the goblet. "Apparently, she is nowhere to be found. Curious, isn't it?" She caught Green's eye.

Green knew what she was implying. Rural OneNation areas such as Hadley Tip had an assigned methodologist to the region. Often they were of a sub-par standard and received their posts either as political favors or through connections.

Still, even a poor methodologist was better than none. And they had to take an oath, promising that they would never abandon their posts. Areas could not be left without replacements; rural people relied heavily upon their expertise in critical situations. The penalty for abandonment was steep.

It was too unusual an occurrence to overlook. Sweeney entered the room with a tray laden with food. Jorlan immediately went over to help the older woman with the heavy burden.

Which flustered her anew.

"Our Jorlan has entranced another one," Avatar spoke low to Green as she discreetly handed her a code-sealed pocket envoy. "This arrived for you via the main house line. It looks serious."

Green glanced down at the small disc and its branded imprint seal. It had been burnt immediately into the small pocket envoy disc, which indicated its confidential status. The Septibunal had sent the dispatch. Only her personal viewer would be able to decipher its coded language. Such messages were rare. While not of an emergency nature, their contents were most often of the direst kind. She did not have a good feeling about this.

Green acknowledged Avatar's concern and slipped the disc onto her waist chain. She would read it later, when she was alone.

Jorlan placed Sweeney's tray on the low table between their chairs, retaking his seat on the settee beside Green.

Sweeney wiped her damp brow with a cloth. "I beg your pardon, Marquelle, this illness has left me drained."

"I can see it has. Please take a seat, Sweeney."

"But, Marquelle! It isn't proper for a—"

Green waved her to the seat, ending her objections, then reached over the arm of the settee for the carafe of water. "Would you like some, Jorlan?"

"Not right now, thank you."

Green poured her drink. "Well, since we are to get no help from the methodologists, we must become our own investigators. I think we should start by re-creating the Progression of the disease. Who had it first, where did it initially spread to... " She brought the goblet to her lips.