Autumn Lord (38 page)

delectable line of his lips. The contrast fascinated her.

"Because you said that they are important. Power comes from knowing what is important to others."

"I thought power came from having the biggest sword." She inched her hand up his thigh.

"Computers. Swords. Each can be used as a tool of power in the right place and time. Is that not true,

my lady fair?"

"Remind me to introduce you to Bill Gates."

"I shall make a note of it. Get your hand off my sword, woman, I'm not ready to be distracted just

yet."

"It's a nice, big, sword," she crooned.

He laughed, and moved her fingers away from his groin. "And will get larger soon, I assure you. Now,

explain to me once again about credit cards."

"You're just trying to get me used to the idea of going home, aren't you?"

"And you are trying to seduce me into letting you stay."

There was a sulking pout on Diane's lips. Simon leaned down and kissed it away. "It is a long

journey," he told her. "One should be prepared for what is at the end of it."

"Grasshopper," she muttered. When he narrowed his eyes questioningly, she said, "You've been

talking like the old monk on
Kung-Fu
a lot lately.
Not
a popular show in my neighborhood," she added.

Which, of course, explained nothing.

Simon had constantly asked her questions for the last six days. Every time she told him she wasn't

going back to the twentieth century, he came up with some other query about it. Though she knew her

explanations frustrated more than enlightened him, he showed no inclination to give up. Despite knowing

that these talks were in preparation for the trip she had no intention of taking, she enjoyed the

conversations. At first, they'd helped her ignore how bad she felt, then they relieved the boredom as she

recovered her strength.

She felt much better now. So much better that just sharing the bed with him wasn't enough any more.

She wanted him.

"No more talk," she said as she draped her arms around his neck. "Kiss me."

He touched the tip of her nose. "Wanton woman," he said. And did.

Their tongues twined, and her nipples grew hard as he touched her breast. He turned her onto her

back. She ran her bare foot up his hard-muscled calf.

Metal rings scraped loudly against the overhead pole as the bedcurtain was pushed aside. Daylight

and cold air rushed in. Diane gasped in alarm. Simon sprang up, a dagger snatched from under a pillow

grasped in his hand.

"Hold!" Jacques shouted as he jumped out of his naked friend's way. "You're a bit skittish this

morning, aren't you?" he added as Simon grabbed hold of a bedpost to halt his aggressive leap from the

bed.

Simon glared up at him. "You could have been gutted!"

Jacques folded his hands over his stomach. "Nonsense. I trust your reflexes." He quickly glanced over

the naked, flushed pair. The very air between them crackled with desire. "I can certainly see why you

might be a bit annoyed at the interruption."

Simon pulled on a robe from the end of the bed. His eyes glittered angrily at Jacques, like a hawk

who'd been deprived of its prey. He did lean over and put the blade back in its hiding place, for which

the wizard was relieved.

"Ever the master of understatement," Simon said as he stood.

Diane sat up, and pulled the covers up around her chin with a disgruntled air. "Your timing's terrible,

Jacques."

"Let's hope not, my dear. For all our sakes," he answered, then ignored her puzzled look and turned

his attention to Simon. Jacques took a folded square of vellum from his sleeve. "You said you wanted to

see this the moment it arrived."

Simon looked at the message in Jacques's hand, but hesitated to take it. He was almost frozen by a

combination of dread and excitement. Everything depended on the words written on that paper. He

glanced at Diane. She looked back, dark eyes full of curiosity. He wanted to ask her for encouragement,

but she had no notion of what he planned. He had no intention of telling her, either, though he knew his

habit of command without question was a deep, sore spot with her. Some things he was too old to

change.

But not others. He took a deep breath, and accepted the message from Jacques. He broke the

familiar seal, and forced his features to assume a mask of calm as he read. He managed to hide his

reaction, though it was hard to contain the growing excitement as details fell more into place with every

word.

"What?" Diane asked when he handed the paper back to Jacques. "What's going on?" she wanted to

know as Jacques read. She slipped out of bed and put on her chemise. She put her hand on his arm.

"Simon?"

"Is everything prepared?" Simon asked the wizard.

Jacques tucked the vellum back into his sleeve. "As ready as I can manage. When do we leave for the

Dragonstone?"

Simon moved back a step, stretched and rolled his shoulders. He was not looking forward to donning

his chain mail. "Within the hour."

"May the gods, new and old, be with us, my friend," Jacques said, and hurried from the room.

"You're coming with us," Simon told Diane before she could ask any more questions. "Dress warmly."

She put her hands on her hips. "What is this all about? Where are we going?"

Home, or to hell,
he thought.

He took her into his arms. She tried to push him away. "Are you going to explain—"

"No."

"But—"

"Come to me, Diane."

She resisted his embrace, but didn't deny him the kiss he needed. He stroked her body beneath its thin

linen covering until his fingers found the hard tips of her sweet little breasts once more. Soon, as desire

built between them, her arms came around him. He knew he should not take the time for this, but he

carried her to the bed anyway. This might well be the last chance they had to make love. Her fingers

found the knot on his belt. He pushed her chemise up around her thighs. Moments later they were locked

in reckless, relentless, driving passion.

Diane felt like she'd been riding a hurricane when they were done, or ridden by one, and didn't mind it

at all. What was disconcerting was that Simon wanted her to get up and dressed, while all she wanted

was to lie around and enjoy the languid afterglow from making love. He had immediately gotten up

afterward, pulled the curtain closed behind him, and called Yves and his squire. Despite annoyed

curiosity, she'd stubbornly stayed put while she listened to the familiar sounds of his being dressed for

battle.

She didn't like this. Not one little bit.

"Diane," he said impatiently as he drew the bedcurtain all the way open. He was dressed in a dark

surcoat over his mail. His long hair was pulled back and fastened at the nape of his neck. This made his

features look starkly dangerous. "They're gone. You have to get up now."

The bed was warm, his scent lingered on the sheets and on her skin. She didn't want to think or to

move. She especially didn't want to go off somewhere mysterious with him and Jacques. Somewhere

outside the castle. She remembered the wizard mentioning something about the Dragonstone.

"What's Dragonstone?"

"A place near here."

"What kind of place? Why are we going there."

"We don't have time for me to explain."

"You just want me for a sex toy," she complained as she rolled onto her side. She propped her head

up on her elbow, but before she could say anything else, he dumped a pile of clothing onto her head.

"Yes," he said. "And a traveling companion. Come along."

"But not a confidant."

Simon paused as he strapped on his swordbelt. "I'll tell you when we get there," he promised.

She got up. "I need a bath."

"No time."

She drummed her fingers on the mattress, then decided that she might as well get dressed. "So," she

said when she'd put on three layers of woolen dresses and fastened a veil over her quickly braided hair,

"who are we meeting at this Dragonstone?"

She put on her cape as he crossed the room. With one fierce tug he pulled her silk scarf down from

over the mantle. Her stomach knotted with dread as he strode purposefully back to her, the silver

embroidered material held out before him. His expression was solemn, as though he were performing a

holy rite.

He carefully wrapped her in his dragon banner, fastened it over her cloak with a silver pin. She waited,

frozen in place while he performed this symbolic gesture. Whatever it meant, it terrified her, almost as

much as his next words.

"My son," he answered, and swept her out the door before she could draw breath to ask another,

astonished, question.

"Why?"

It was a question he had often heard from Diane before. Now it filled the silence as the sound of the

wind and the horses' hooves on the frozen earth could not. The word hung in the air between them,

colder and more penetrating than the frosty air. They were not alone on the road up the hillside. There

was Jacques, of course, on his fine white mare. Joscelin also, and Yves, and a few others he trusted—p

eople who put their trust in him absolutely. These were the witnesses, and the ones he absolutely would

not leave behind, the ones he had bargained for in his letter to his son. Their safety was almost as

important to him as Diane's. He was sure they must be wondering what was happening, while his beloved

Diane was the only one with the courage enough to ask him why. Which was why he placed her beside

him on the last road they would take together in this life.

"You always go against the order of things with that word, my love." He smiled across the distance

between them. "Never stop."

Diane was terrified. She was furious. "You're going to meet him, aren't you? Right now?"

"Yes."

"You're going to fight a duel?"

He nodded. "I've issued a challenge of sorts, yes."

This was ridiculous! It was awful. It was her worst nightmare. He was going to fight his son, and make

her watch. She couldn't bear it. "I thought you were going to wait for spring!"

"I've changed my mind."

"You never change your mind about anything!"

"I've learned to," he answered. "You helped me." He reached over and snatched the reins from her

hand before she could turn the horse. "You can't run from this," he told her. "None of us can."

"How can you do this?" The words came out as a piteous cry. "To me? To yourself?''

"I'm doing this for you," he answered her, voice soft but intense. "For us. And for once in my life, I am

doing something for me."

Diane was frantic. She hadn't resigned herself to losing him, not in the spring, certainly not now. She

knew it meant something for her to be with him, that it was important to him, but the symbolism was

going to turn into sweat and blood and pain in a few minutes. Somebody was going to end up dead.

Simon wasn't going to kill his own child, not even for her. She didn't want him to. And, once again, she

was powerless in this alien land.

"I'm not going to watch you commit suicide."

His expression grew implacable. "Turn your head if you must when the time comes," he told her, "but

you will be there."

"If that's all I can do, then I will."

"Fine."

They entered a clearing at the summit of the hill before Diane could think of anything else to say. It was

a dark, sunless day, full of ominous shadows. A howling wind whipped the clouds overhead and the

stripped branches of the trees that surrounded the bare circle of ground. A great, flat-topped boulder

stood on one side of the clearing. On the other side, under a lone oak, another group of people waited.

Diane recognized Vivienne standing beside a white horse. With her was a young man who looked like a

dark version of Simon.

"Denis?" she asked, unnecessarily.

Simon nodded, and led his people over to the boulder. He could feel Diane trembling as he helped

her down from her mount, as much with anger as fear, he knew. He didn't blame her. He touched her

cheek. She flinched away when he would have kissed her.

"Trust me," he whispered.

"Don't get dead," was her fiercely whispered answer.

Jacques came up beside them. The old man gave one critical glance toward Vivienne, snorted with

disgust, then announced, "I'm ready when you are, Simon."

Simon put Diane's hand in the wizard's. "Take care of her." Then he turned his attention to his son. He

squared his shoulders, threw off his cloak, put his hand on the pommel of his sword, and strode toward

the center of the clearing. He watched with outward calm while Denis shot a swift, nervous glance at

Vivienne, then came forward to meet him.

Simon would not let himself think about how much he had missed the boy. He would not let himself be