Nightshade (20 page)

The puppy squirmed and Jessa smiled when the animal pushed her wet nose against Darry’s hand and licked her fingers without restraint. Darry let out a breath of startled laughter. She pulled away, though, rubbing her hand.

“I like her,” Jessa said kindly. “She has good taste.”

“Then she’s yours,” Jacob said.

Jessa stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“She’s just a pup, my Lady,” he replied. “She’ll be too small to hunt, and I’m not sure she’ll have the heart. She’s the runt of a large litter. One of the kennel lads has to feed her because the others won’t let her eat. She’s more suited to a lady’s gentle hand.”

Darry had to get away, so she had walked to the edge of the kennel. She felt almost savage as she glanced at Jessa and the puppy.

“Thank you, Jacob.” Jessa’s voice was a tad rough as she returned the pup. “I would like that, at least while I’m here.”

The pup barked and struggled to return to Jessa, her legs kicking and her plump little body twisting about as Jacob laughed. “You see? She loves you already, Lady Jessa.”

Darry saw the happiness on Jessa’s face and the ache within her head returned.
And now you’ve made me ignore my instincts as well…

“Look how tiny she is, Jessa.” Alisha leaned over the pen as Jacob returned the pup to her family. “Perhaps she’ll be a lapdog.”

“My Radha would enjoy a companion, perhaps,” Jessa said.

Darry watched as Jessa leaned over one of the cages and couldn’t stop the erotic fantasy that blossomed in response. She saw herself claiming an open kiss as her spoils no matter the battle, her hands on Jessa’s hips, pulling her close and feeling their bodies together. Letting her hands move lower yet. She wondered how perfectly Jessa’s breasts might fit her hands, and if she would cry out when she—

Several dogs began to bark and one of the cages shook as the hound inside pounded at the gate in a sudden flurry of agitation. The barking spread, and the kennel erupted with a hard swell of noise as nearly every animal rose. Jacob shouted them down but they refused to obey. One of the kennel lads jumped over the nearest gate in order to calm the lead hound, whose fury was inciting the others.

And then they stopped.

As quickly as it had begun the barking died out. The dogs were restless and whimpering but no longer desperate in their passion to be freed.

Darry was nowhere to be seen.

The next afternoon, Jessa walked along the edge of the great hall. They had eaten lunch a few hours before and now the room was filled with music. Alisha and her mother, Lady Bella, sat beside Emmalyn and Cecelia as a troupe of court musicians played. They sought to choose the songs and perhaps a singer for the wedding fête, and with music in the air for no special occasion it was a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.

Darry had been absent at dinner the night before, and it had been one of the longest meals of Jessa’s life. She worried that Darry had been more upset by their visit to the kennels than she had let on. And today, Darry had barely eaten her lunch. Her movements had been almost fragile as she cut her food, very measured and precise. Darry usually had a wonderful appetite.

Jessa stepped inside the solar and searched the room. She found Darry near the wide doors that were thrown open to the gardens beyond.

Darry stared into the garden and her stomach was shaky. Her food was not sitting well and she was anxious beyond anything she had felt in some time. Not only was Jessa’s presence upsetting, but her own frustration and temper troubled her as well. Frustration at the feelings she could only repress and anger that she had left herself so completely unguarded, that she was letting herself be so easily distracted.

She had spent the night reading from a book of poems that she loved well. The words of Eban Parrabas had blurred as her focus wandered, though she followed the letters regardless. She knew them by heart, she knew where they led and what they made her feel. Parrabas had written many works in his lifetime, but his poetry called to her like few scholarly things ever had.

Darry understood her limitations, but the words of his poems told her that such restrictions were a lie. They promised that the world and all its wonders were hers if she would just accept them. But she had to accept them without trying to change either what she encountered or herself.

Such a promise eased her heart and slowed her blood. She had sat on the floor, her back against the end of her bed, and read the words repeatedly, following the curve of the ink and seeing where the scribe had paused his quill.

She had spoken the words aloud until their cadence soothed her needs and her arousal faded. She had read until she no longer thought of Jessa’s lips against her own, or of the fire in Jessa’s eyes as she had offered her jade. She read until the peace of the poet’s thoughts became her own, though in doing so she had barely slept yet again.

Darry had fallen onto her bed near dawn, and even then she had awoken in a violent manner, crying out from her dreams as she held herself, spending her spirit against her own rough hand. She had come with Jessa’s voice in her head and the sheets tangled about her legs, confused and aching and not knowing what would happen next.

You need a good night’s sleep, that’s all. I’ll read again and the words will—

“Darry?”

Darry flinched and turned at the soft voice.

“I’m sorry, forgive me, please,” Jessa said.

“Yes. No, it’s all right.”

“Are you well?” Jessa asked as the music floated like a dream around them. “You didn’t eat much.”

Darry was staring at Jessa’s hair and without thinking she had begun to count her braids. They were less in number than the day before.
Perhaps a bit thinner as well.

“Darry?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re not upset about yesterday, are you? I didn’t mean to force—”

“Jessa,” Darry said, and Jessa fell silent. “They’re playing a Lyonese dance. Is it the Fortran or the Amendeese?”

“The Amendeese. The man twirls beneath the lady’s arm, and the extra movement near the end, the quick-step turning?”

“They’re hard to tell apart.” Darry tried to see Jessa’s lips beneath her veil. “I’m not so good with northern dances.”

As if reading her mind Jessa released one of the clips in her hair, letting her veil flutter to the side. Darry’s pulse intensified.
You shouldn’t have done that, Jess.

Jessa held out her hand. “Let me show you?”

Darry stared at the hand, taking a slow step away.

Jessa followed her, seeming determined to have her way. “You’re not scared are you? Perhaps you’re not as good a dancer as you think.”

Darry smiled at the teasing. It was completely against etiquette to dance with her outside of a formal function, to be backwards and hold her as a man would.

“It’s not proper,” Darry whispered.
I don’t want to touch you, Jess, don’t make me do that.

“Yes, and what of it?” Jessa said. “I think too much of etiquette. And my offer will not last long.” She seemed unsure of herself yet bore an expression of triumph. “If you don’t wish to learn properly, then you should say so.”

Darry took Jessa’s hand, ignoring her instincts.
Just one dance. Just this one thing.

Jessa turned her head to the side as Darry stepped close. Her breath was quick as her left hand was raised in Darry’s right, the heat of the touch at her waist burning through the silk of her sari. “Wait for the lute,” she whispered.

As they stepped in the opening turn, Jessa looked up. Their thighs met for an instant and the muscles of Darry’s left arm pressed against the side of her breast. Darry followed the steps as best she could, incapable of stopping her desire as everything shifted. The words she had spoken in the darkness of the night before were an insufficient defense as they filled her head.

Jessa smiled at the mistaken steps and they came to a stop. “The other way, Darry.”

“I’m nervous.” Darry adjusted her position. “I’ve never danced with a princess before.”

They moved smoothly, turning across the solar to the bodhran’s subtle pulse as the Lowland pipes rose in an ache of sound. “Neither have I,” Jessa said softly.

Darry concentrated.
Just dance, Darry.

Jessa let herself be led and wondered why she had never felt this before, the primal heart of the music. The pipes and the song were alive as she and Darry braided their movements within the beat, so effortless and easy with their bodies together. She was not thinking of the steps but, instead, of the softness of Darry’s hair against the back of her fingers. When Darry stepped away she lifted her arm high and opened her hand. Darry’s touch caressed gently in her palm as she turned beneath Jessa’s outstretched arm. She stepped close after the second spin and they both smiled.

Jessa caught her breath as their bodies became flush with Darry’s right leg between her own as they moved through the last movement of rapid steps and turns. “The quick-step turning?” Darry said.

“Yes.” Jessa’s face flooded with warmth. Darry’s strength sang in Jessa’s blood as it had done the day before.

The steps were swift and they eased to a stop as the music did. Darry was breathing fast. She smelled Jessa’s hair with its earthy, clean smell. It was intoxicating and all of Darry’s desire welled up, more powerful than the day before, perhaps even stronger than ever. She was going to kiss her and had no way of stopping herself. She knew it even as she struggled and knew that it would ruin everything.
I’m sorry, Jess.

“Jessa?”

Darry recognized Emmalyn’s voice, but it seemed very far away and Jessa’s mouth was so close, her lips parted ever so slightly.

Jessa pulled back and Darry let her go, a lance of anger slicing through her chest at being denied. The urge to follow and take what she wanted was violent, and she battled to remain where she was.

“You’re a very good dancer, Darry,” Jessa said in an awkward breath of words. “You’re very…graceful.”

Emmalyn walked beneath the arch. “There you are,” she said. “Alisha would like to…” Her gaze moved from Jessa’s unveiled face to Darry, who turned away from them. “…have your opinion on the Lyonese dances. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Jessa refastened her veil, her hands shaking.

“Darry?” Emmalyn called as Darry made for the garden doors.

“I have duties.”

Jessa turned around at the words but found only Darry’s back.

“She must be late,” Emmalyn said as Darry disappeared.

“Yes,” Jessa said. She needed to sit down. A sensual pulse beat low and heavy between her legs. She closed her eyes as she let out a long, slow breath.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Jessa answered.
Vhaelin essa.

When Jessa made no effort, Emmalyn moved forward. “Come along then, my friend.” She took Jessa’s hand. “Let us have your expertise on the music from your homeland.”

Jessa held on tightly, using the contact as her guide in a shining new world she was only now beginning to see.

*

Darry prowled through her loft in the uppermost floor of the guard barracks, talking to herself as she paced the room for at least the hundredth time, her thoughts like a new sword that had yet to learn mercy.

It was dark and she had missed dinner again. The thought of food made her ill, and the notion of sitting proper and quiet at the table sent a dark flood of frustration through her. She had retched once already and washed her mouth out with a strong red wine. The bottle was half empty beside the hearth where she had sat and tried to slow her blood, hoping that the redolent taste of the grapes would hold her calm and ease the pain within her.

She should have said no to Jessa, no matter how badly she wanted their dance. She should have used more discipline. That she had been so careless yet again ignited an unstoppable rage in her.

When she neared her desk beside the window she let out a growl and clutched the edge of it. She lifted the heavy oak into the air, feeling the strain in the muscles in her back and shoulders. Only the presence of the divan stopped it from crashing to the floor.

“
Fool
!” she said.
“You’re a fucking fool.”

She could smell the yards beyond, the scent of the earth strong and clean, though not enough to banish the dominant odor. The smell of flesh. The smell of a hundred men in the building below her—sleeping, breathing, their blood pumping, their scent pungent and crushing.

Darry stumbled to the side and fell to her knees. “I read here,” she whispered desperately. “I read books and scrolls. Things a human being does. Only man does these things.”

The dull taste of iron coated her tongue and she sat back on her heels. Her nose flooded with blood and she coughed, staining her hand red as her head exploded with pain.

Lips burned supple against her own and she gasped at the memory, her want clawing with renewed life. She stared at the carpet, seeing its pattern within the darkness. She should not have been able to see it without the lamps but she saw everything, every turn and crafted stitch. She tried to follow them, tried to get lost within the pathways and heavy thread.