Touch of Passion (13 page)

Aye, he'd heard something. He'd heard Loris. She was calling him. Him, not Liw, though perhaps she believed otherwise. This beckoning came from her heart. She was summoning her
unoliaeth
, and Kian could do naught but respond.

“I must return to the castle,” he said.

“To the—” Horas stopped himself and gave a curt, obedient nod. “Aye, m'lord.”

“Go to each lookout and if any of the men have seen or heard anything, have Dyfed contact me at once. I'll be able to hear him even from the distance of the lake, and will meet you there as quickly as I can, one way or another.”

Kian turned Seren about, spurring him in the direction of the castle, and made his way as rapidly as the fog would allow. Anticipation and desire made him a little reckless, and pleasure, too, for Loris had clearly missed him as much as he had missed her.

He was usually in his chamber when he transformed into his other self, but he hadn't the luxury of time for that just now. Standing in the castle shadows far below her balcony, Kian became the man Loris thought she wanted.

The change completed, Kian reached out to press both hands firmly against the castle wall. The stone was cold, wet, and hard against his palms, but after a moment's pressure the solid material softened. He dug his fingers into the wall as if it were made of damp clay and began to climb.

Her balcony doors were open, despite the cold, damp air, giving testament to her surety that he would come.

“Loris.”

She was waiting by the fire and rose when he spoke. The smile she gave him, which he so seldom saw as Kian, sent his heart tumbling wildly.

“
Liw!
”

And then she was in his arms, soft and warm, enveloping all his senses, holding him as tightly as she possibly could. Kian buried his face in her silky hair and shut his eyes. This was what he longed for every moment of each day. Loris. With him. Her heart open to him, as it would have been if not for the curse.

“I'm sorry I've been absent so many nights,” he murmured. “It was impossible for me to come.”

“It's all right,” she said, pulling away just enough to look up at him. “Terrible things have been happening at Tylluan. It's dangerous for you—for anyone—to be out in the dark. But I had to see you.”

“I've missed you,” he said. “So terribly. If you hadn't called me to you, I would have lost my senses altogether.”

Lowering his head, he kissed her, gently at first, then, as she responded in kind, with deeper passion. His hands slid over the thin fabric of her dressing gown, finding the curves and valleys that his fingers knew so intimately. He had always taken the greatest of care with Loris, challenging though it had been, to never cross irredeemable boundaries, but that didn't mean he hadn't tested the limits as much as he possibly could.

She wasn't like any other woman he'd held in his arms. There was nothing fainting or frail about Loris; she was tall and splendidly formed—she'd slapped him so many times when he was himself that he knew very well how strong she was—yet she was entirely feminine just the same. Her waist was firm and slender, her hips delightfully curved, and her breasts soft and full beneath his palms. Her golden hair, tied in a thick braid that fell almost the length of her back, slid against the backs of his hands in a silky caress.

To touch her like this, to be close to her, made him want to weep with both joy and longing. Joy for the small measure that he had with her, but longing for so much more.

There was an urgency in her kiss tonight, in the way her hands clasped him, a fear and tenseness that emanated from her to him. With slow care, he brought the kiss to an
end and held her close, waiting until their breathing had calmed and Loris had relaxed more fully against him before speaking.

“What's happened?”

“I pray that you'll be able to tell me,” she said. “Something terrible has been happening at Tylluan, and the baron has been unable to discover anything about it. But surely you know what it is, Liw.” She lifted her head to gaze up at him. “You or one of your people. Don't you?”

He shook his head with regret. “I know what you speak of, my love. Of the death and destruction that have been occurring. But I know nothing more. If Kian Seymour, being one of the great
dewins
, hasn't yet divined what's at hand, it's unlikely that any lesser folk would know.”

“Can you help him in some way, then?” She stepped back, out of his embrace, and searched his face intently. “Not just to discover the source of the troubles, but a remedy, as well?”

“Why should I do such a thing?” he asked curiously. “Why do you want to help him?”

Loris's expression grew troubled. “Because he needs someone . . . even though he'd never admit it or even ask, because he's so terribly proud, you see . . . but despite that he needs someone to stand with him once Dyfed and I have gone.”

Kian strove to look as surprised as he possibly could by this statement. “Gone? You're leaving Tylluan?”

She nodded. “The baron is sending us away to London. We'll be leaving in a few days.”

“Because of what's happening here? He's afraid for you?”

Even in the dim fire glow he could see the blush that suffused her cheeks.

“Yes,” she replied. “In part because of that. I don't wish to go, and he knows that full well, but Kian can be foolish about such things. And stubborn.”

“And will he let you return once the troubles have ended?”

“He will,” she said, and with a sigh turned to move back toward the fire. “And I intend to return very soon, whether
the danger is banished or not. I hate the thought of London, and have no desire to be there even for a few days.”

“Loris,” Kian said softly, moving to stand beside her. “You know that I have almost always been sympathetic to you in your feelings about Lord Tylluan, but in this matter I believe he may be right.”

She looked at him with wide-eyed surprise. “Liw! You want me to go away, too? I would have thought that you . . .”

He gathered her into his arms and silenced her with a kiss.

“Of course I don't want you to leave,” he murmured afterward. “I love you. The very thought of being parted from you is terrible to me. But this evil that has come to Tylluan may well be far more dangerous than anyone knows. Only consider again, Loris, what it means for a wizard of Kian Seymour's standing to be unable to readily deal with what's been taking place. For all we know the threat might reach the castle doors before it can be stopped.”

“Nonsense,” she said, pushing away once more, this time a little angrily. “Kian wouldn't let such a thing happen.”

“He might not be able to help it.”

“Don't say that!” she said with sudden and surprising anger. “You don't know him as I do! Kian would the before letting Tylluan fall to such destruction.”

Well, that was interesting
, he thought, watching as she began to pace agitatedly before the fire, the knuckles of her right hand pressed against her lips. Loris was offended on Kian's behalf. It was a strange, but perfectly welcome, occurrence.

“I believe you.” He stepped forward quickly to grasp her hand before she could twirl about and pace away again. “But until Lord Tylluan has banished the evil here, I want you to be safe. And if London is the surety of that, then I want you to go.”

She looked down and said nothing, and Kian had the dreadful intimation that she was about to start weeping. He knew that Loris couldn't bear to cry in front of others.

“My love,” he said, gently tugging her back into his arms. “My sweet love. I know that you dislike London—”

“
Hate
,” she corrected him, and he heard the despair in her voice. “I hate it as passionately as I love Tylluan.” She struggled with herself for a moment, then said more steadily, “I'm sorry, Liw. That was childish. I shouldn't say such stupid things. Especially tonight, when I may not see you again for such a long time.”

Sighing, Kian bent and swung her up into his arms. “You're weary,” he said, carrying her to the bed. “And not particularly happy at the moment. Nothing you say is foolish or childish, but understandable.”

He set her down, laying her head upon a mound of soft pillows, and followed suit, stretching out beside her. She rolled into him as he set his arm about her, falling into the comfortable position they'd spent hours in during the past years. Her cheek rested upon his shoulder, and his hand slid to her waist.

“You have terrible memories of your life in London,” he said. “Perhaps this will be the chance for you to make new memories. Better memories.”

“Perhaps.” She drew in a shuddering breath and he felt her relaxing. “It would be good to visit with Niclas and Julia again, and Lord Graymar, as well. And I might meet my mother's father while I'm there. My grandfather.”

“Ah,” he said. “Does this thought not give you pleasure?”

She nodded against his chest. “I should like to know who my people are. I've often wondered about them and why my parents cut off all communication with them. But it's very strange, Liw. I always used to think that having the chance to meet my relatives would be the most wonderful thing in the world, yet now it frightens me a little.”

“How so?”

“What if my grandfather asks me to live with him? What if he insists that I can't return to Tylluan? Kian has promised that no one will be able to stop me from coming back, but it would be difficult to naysay a blood relation. Oh, God.” She pressed her face against his chest and fisted the cloth of his tunic in one hand. “I don't want to leave Tylluan. I have a
terrible fear that I'll never see you again, or this blessed place.”

“Of course you'll come home,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “And have I not told you that I will only stop coming to you if you either banish me forever or discover my true name? I cannot live apart from you for long and know any happiness.”

Lifting her head, she blinked up at him. “How strange it is to hear you say that,” she murmured.

“Why?”

Her brows knit together slightly. “It's so very like what Kian has sometimes said to me.”

God help him, Kian thought with a stab of panic. He was truly more weary than he'd imagined to have made such a misstep.

“Then he is a very wise man,” he said, and rose up, pushing Loris down so that she lay upon her back. He needed to distract her. Quickly. “You're so beautiful, Loris,” he said, leaning over her and smoothing a few stray strands of hair from her forehead. “So dear to me. I love you.”

He kissed her, not giving her a chance to speak, already knowing that she'd not say the words back to him. She never had, not once in all the years that he'd come to her as Liw. He liked to believe it was because she couldn't, that Loris knew, in her heart, that it was Kian her love belonged to. And so he gave her pleasure, instead, which she readily took from him, and made both of them forget anything either of them had said.

His lips parted over her own, lightly tasting her sweet depths. When the tip of her soft tongue touched the line of his mouth he opened to her and responded in kind. She moaned when his fingertips found her breast, and slid her hands across his back. His body hardened painfully with need, as it always did, but he made certain that neither of their caresses grew too bold or too intimate.

It was the worst manner of torment, being with her like this, unable to satisfy the desire they both felt. But it was
necessary. The first time they were joined as one he wanted to be Kian, not Liw, and hear her speaking his real name upon her lips. But more than that, he feared what the Guardians would do if he abused the gift they had given him in allowing these few hours with Loris, able to touch without her knowing pain. If he took her maidenhead as Liw, it would make a mockery of the
unoliaeth
.

The embrace came to an end as it always did, slowly, with both difficulty and regret. Their breathing was heightened and their hands clinging, reluctant to let go.

“I must leave soon,” he said shakily, rolling to lie on his back. “I don't wish to, believe me. But there's something I must tend to before the sun rises.”

“You'll not come again before I leave, will you?” She slid a hand across his chest, resting it upon the bare skin at the edge of his tunic.

“Not unless you call me,” he said, reaching his own hand up to clasp her fingers. He closed his eyes and strove to slow his breathing. “But you mustn't call me, Loris. Not if you want me to try and help Lord Tylluan.”

“Will you help him, Liw? You and your people, as well?”

His people, he thought. She meant the faerie folk who lived in and about Tylluan.

“No,” he answered truthfully, staring at the firelight as it flickered on the canopy above. “They're too fearful.”

“Faeries are never fearful,” she said. “You're not.”

“They can be, if something particularly evil is near. The
tylwyth teg
may be bold when an opportune moment arises, but they're not foolhardy.”

Her fingers curled tightly around his. “I can't go to London, then,” she whispered. “I can't leave him so alone.”

She'd never before been so worried about him. The thought both intrigued and pleased Kian deeply. She did know, in some distant part of her heart, what he was to her.

“He'll not be alone, I promise you,” he said, turning his head to smile into her worried eyes. “He'll have a good deal less to worry over once you've gone. And he'll be able to
solve the trouble that much more quickly. But now you must sleep, Loris, for you're weary and need rest.”

It always seemed a tad ironic to Kian that he had the power to cause Loris to fall into slumber. How many men, he wondered, were able to claim that they habitually put their lovers to sleep? It was necessary for him to use such powers, however, for it would be impossible for him to leave her otherwise. And Loris seemed never to realize that he'd done it. Apparently, when she woke the next morning, her memories of the night before were sufficiently blurred to keep her from remembering precisely how they'd taken their leave of each other.