Heart Legacy Page 3

  Yes, she could see it very well since he wore no shirt. A very triangular sort of upper body with ridges of muscles. She swallowed.

  She slid her eyes lower than his back and chest. His legs looked like all muscle, too. His backside tighter than anyone’s she’d seen. She patted her own. Solid, but nothing like his, and she thought she was the most physical person in the household. Surely she’d been exercising more so she’d be tougher when she left with six stridebeasts.

  He looked like a guard. The Residence and the Family had debated having guards for a long time as she grew up. But none of her cousins had wanted to take the training . . . and the Yews’ archenemies were the Holly warriors, whom everyone in the household despised.

  * * *

  Catching a movement from the corner of his eye, Draeg Betony-Blackthorn whirled. Saw the young woman lingering in the deep black cold-winter shadows under a stand of conifers. The trees blocked the view of D’Yew Residence from the stables. He continued his spin, worked in a kick that had him grunting with effort. Just the notion of having female eyes watching him pushed him into flashier moves.

  So this was FirstFamily GrandLady D’Yew, the threat to the fighting Hollys.

  Like hell. He went with his previous impressions, with his gut. No threat to the Hollys from this one. Had to be wrong.

  But this slim young woman, six years younger than he, decades younger than he in experience, would be the outward spearhead of whoever threatened the Hollys. Any results of her relatives’ actions would be blamed on her. He was damn sure that her folks remained ultraconservative and were associated with the ugly Traditionalist Stance political party sprouting in the last few years. Maybe the fanatical, violent edge of that party. At least the Hollys thought they were behind some “accidents.”

  He glanced at her clothes. Worn and shabby and not a button to be seen. All fastenings seemed to be hidden tabs.

  All his instincts told him this woman was innocent. Not this Yew, but who?

  While he thought, he’d kept on going with his training. He flowed into another fighting exercise, angled more to the side of her as he studied her in glimpses. She continued to move like a self-conscious woman with a hitch of hesitancy. Like she wasn’t sure of herself, or who she might be.

  Since he figured he’d changed mightily several times during his life, he understood that. He continued through the level until she stepped into the sunshine and walked with soft and quiet steps toward him.

  As the stridebeasts in the corral caught her scent, they got noisy and pressed against the fence to greet her.

  The cat, who’d trotted in earlier to sniff at him and the horses, left the patch of sunlit ground to saunter toward the paddock.

  She met Draeg’s eyes, then looked away, her gaze sliding once more over his bare chest, and that clued him in that she was as naive and isolated as he’d believed. Stuck here on the estate with no contact with anyone but her Family—except when she snuck into the city of Druida at night.

  * * *

  Lori nodded to the stableman, ignoring the heat she felt in her cheeks, then went up to the fence and greeted the small stridebeast herd. They looked good, cared for over the last two weeks as well as she would have done. She’d grabbed a precious few minutes in the dawn and after dark to check on them but hadn’t spent as much time as usual with her beasts.

  Yes, he’d tended them well, so she approved of the man. He stood near the opposite end of the stables and had donned a tunic, which was a pity. She could have studied his chest more.

  I am here also. Pet Me! I did well and deserve your attention! Baccat’s haunches tensed, and then he leapt for her shoulder. Lori stood straight and still, muttering a couplet for the invisible shelf that set on her shoulder to take her Fam’s bulk. He thunked down.

  Thank you for coming and telling me about the horses. She scratched the side of his head. She hadn’t seen her Fam since she’d slipped from the Residence before dawn to feed him proper FamCat food.

  One of the stridebeasts hummed at her and she turned her attention to them, feeling Baccat smirk at each of her other beloved animals from his position on her shoulder.

  She took the time to pet each one’s nose and say words of admiration, though the smell of a different scent drifted to her nostrils. The horses were here. Somewhere.

  They are situated around the end of the stables in a temporary pen. Draeg is getting them and Our stridebeasts accustomed to each other’s smell, Baccat said.

  “All right, then,” she murmured.

  When she was done with the stridebeasts in the paddock, she waved a hand and transferred a couple of bales of the feed they particularly liked as a treat from the storage barn.

  The outside stall doors stood open and she glanced in them. They appeared well tended, too.

  I merit a treat, too, Baccat said, once again rubbing against her cheek; she thought he sneered at the stableman. With a snap of her fingers, she translocated a thin sheet of papyrus folded into a tiny envelope with catnip inside.

  MINE! You gave Me the most excellent and efficacious and ecstasy-producing nip! I LOVE YOU! Her Fam snatched the packet with his mouth, then sailed from her shoulder using his Flair and a trickle of her own to land in a dry patch of dirt that looked like his personal wallow.

  She didn’t often give her companion catnip, perhaps twice a month, and while she smiled as he tore into the papyrus that would quickly decay, and he rolled around in the leaves, she kept hidden the fact that she wanted time with the horses without cat comments. Baccat should be happy with the nip for a good septhour.

  Whuffles, horse noises, came to Lori’s ears and she hurried to round the stables, looking eagerly for the animals. Beyond the far edge of the large door, the stableman had erected a smaller pen and outdistanced her to stand straight and proud near the gate.

  He was prime. The horses weren’t. They looked old and tired, and Lori stared. She’d heard that the Sallows prized their animals.

  With a nod to the man, she projected calm, part of her Flair that she’d inherited from her father, a Valerian. Her mind focused on the horses she’d wanted for so long. She strolled to them; one mare was gray with a black mane and tail. She watched Lori with wide eyes but didn’t seem to be afraid. That was good, at least.

  “That’s Smyrna,” Draeg said.

  “Greetyou, Smyrna,” Lori said in quiet tones, reaching out a slow hand to brush her neck. Smyrna arched into Lori’s hand, no doubt still feeling the calm she sent to the beasts.

  For an instant, she thought she saw a faintly visible iridescent arc of a bubble curve over the mare’s head. Lori tried to hold still, but the image vanished within a blink. She thought that the bubble might be a manifestation of her adult Flair since it had begun to occur after her Second Passage, but wasn’t sure what it meant.

  “Here.” The man handed her an apple and Smyrna’s soft lips took the fruit from her with greed.

  The other mare was reddish brown, the color called roan, but didn’t look like the gorgeous beast in her horse book.

  “And this is Ragan,” he said.

  Lori nodded, and though she focused on the horses, she wondered that he didn’t offer his own name. She should have known it—the head of a Noble household should always know her staff—and he was the only one who wasn’t a Yew, but she didn’t recall anyone telling her his name.

  Ragan snickered.

  Yes, the horses remained beautiful animals, but not the kind of beasts she’d imagined. She slid her hand down the roan’s strong neck, and the mare turned her head to sniff and lip her hair and Lori felt the gentleness of her spirit, the greatness of her heart.

  Irritated, she turned back to the gorgeous man and said what she’d thought. “Why do we have these ladies?” she demanded. Her notion of riding across the land at speeds a stridebeast couldn’t match faded. “The Sallows are supposed to be excellent judges of horseflesh.”

  His brows raised in a look questioning her that she herself would ne
ver be allowed to get away with inside the Residence with any member of her Family. He scratched Smyrna’s forehead.

  “The Sallows are wonderful horsemen, and careful of their charges,” he said. “But these are the beasts that could be purchased from the Sallows with the amount of gilt you were willing to pay. Even then I had to guarantee I’d take care of them on my solemn vow of honor.”

  Lori suppressed a sigh; she should have expected something like this. She continued to stroke the mare, then felt the intensity of the man’s eyes on her. “And you are?”

  His brow rose again, and then he swept her a flourishing bow. The kind of bow she’d been told was her due as a FirstFamily GrandLady. If she’d been in a ballroom. “Draeg Hedgenettle,” he said.

  That should have been followed up with something like “at your service,” or “your humble employee,” but wasn’t.

  Nothing humble about the man.

  Three

  As her gaze scanned the area again, the horse pen, the stables, the corral, she saw that he’d already done her excellent service. That it might be because of the horses rather than just because of his job made her think better of him.

  She sighed. “So the Family paid the smallest amount they could to purchase the horses.”

  “You sound as if you didn’t make the decision,” he stated.

  She shrugged. He blocked the gate, so she teleported into the far side of the pen, then walked toward the horses who’d turned. She learned from Ragan’s mind what kind of seed the horse liked, translocated some to her hand, and held it out. The horse stepped quickly to her and slurped them up.

  When she met Draeg’s deep-blue eyes, he emphasized, “I do not give my solemn word of honor lightly.” His lips set in a grim line. “No one does after hearing the tale of the Hollys.”

  That distracted Lori. Her mother and her MotherSire had been enemies of the Hollys, and the whole Family and Residence continued to rant about them. Most often she could automatically turn her mind to other topics for a good five minutes. She thought back but didn’t recall any stories of the Hollys and Broken Vows of Honor, which she should have if it showed that Family in a bad light.

  Hot eagerness spurted through her, then innate wariness cooled that. What if he was in the pay of the Family to test her loyalties? Had they seen through her pretense and figured out that she planned on leaving them and their plans?

  She couldn’t take the chance that Draeg Hedgenettle reported to the maître de maison or the housekeeper or the Residence itself—those who ran the Family.

  A tiny, niggling thought in the back of her mind calculated that his showing up at this particular time, within a couple of eightdays before she left this restrictive place forever, was not a coincidence. If he could tell her of the outside world, that could be too good to be true. So was the virile man himself.

  As she’d considered him, she’d fallen into his intense gaze, couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Wrenching her glance away, she said, “I understand about vows and how they can adversely affect whole Families if broken.” She switched her scrutiny to her horse’s ears and frowned. “It looks as if the horses have ear infections.” Lori scowled at him.

  He opened the gate and strode through. Neither of the horses shied at his presence. Lori got the feeling that they had been found wandering and were relieved to have been discovered and would be cared for. They saw the stridebeasts and how nice they looked and how Lori had given them food and pats.

  Draeg tilted his head as if he sensed the horse’s emotions, too. He left the gate wide open. Neither Smyrna nor Ragan headed toward the gap.

  The stableman came over to study Ragan’s ears. She butted him, then turned her head pointedly back to Lori, who laughed. One of the reasons she loved animals. All of them saw her, just her, and they loved her back, and loved her first. Not the Family name, the Family traditions. They schemed for nothing more than her time and her love and more food and more play.

  “I’ll medicate the horses. The Sallows had just picked them up from the late GraceLady Alexanders’s land.” His expression darkened further and she sensed that he expected her to comment. He added, “No one knew the Alexanderses kept horses until the NobleCouncil reps went to that estate and found them. As expected, the reps declared the Family dead, the line extinguished.”

  Again his eyes bore into her as if she should comment. She went with one of the things her father had recorded on one of his spheres she’d found and hidden. “Celta is a harsh planet. We descendants of the Earth colonists still only have a toehold here.”

  Draeg jerked a nod. “Too true.”

  Yet he didn’t seem satisfied with her response. Too bad.

  “You don’t find it disturbing that a Family has died out?”

  Lori shrugged and saw from his expression that the movement seemed too callous or casual to him, so she didn’t say that she wouldn’t care if her Family died out.

  “It’s sad.” She drew in a breath and met his watchful eyes. “But it’s Celta.” She waved vaguely. “Things happen.” Another tiny pause. “I don’t have any immediate Family—that is, parents or siblings or even Sires or Dams of my parents. Some G’Uncles and G’Aunts and cuzes who are their children and grandchildren.”

  Eyes still matched with hers, Draeg said, “I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound it—odd. Was he working for her Family or not?

  Then he continued, in a dark, rich tone that sank into her skin and tingled her nerves. “Family is the most important thing on Celta.”

  She didn’t know why tears backed up behind her eyes, maybe because he sounded absolutely sincere spouting what he believed to be a truth, and it wasn’t, not to her. She leaned in and rubbed her face on the mare’s neck, breathed in the horse scent, so different from stridebeasts, so innately pleasing to her—because horses had been brought to Celta along with the colonists? Stridebeasts had been here, or their ancestors that the colonists had bred, part of the flora and fauna close to Earthan due to the planet seeding of some ancient race.

  “Don’t you agree, GrandLady Loridana D’Yew?” the man asked softly.

  Another breath of horse smell and she stepped away, began circling the beast who’d welcomed her touch, seeing the rough coat, the occasional sore. Terrible. She cleared her throat and looked at him over Ragan’s back. “I think love is the most important thing. On Celta or off. Period.”

  He just stared at her and gave a crack of laughter, then shook his head. “You’re such a girl.”

  Anger fired in her. Though perhaps it was hurt that he was just like everyone else she knew, dismissive of her. She might be stuck on this estate with no outside influence allowed in, but she was remedying that and would be gone soon, and those who thought Family should rule their lives could let it do so. And she wasn’t a girl!

  Impulsively, she pulled herself onto the back of the horse, narrower and more comfortable than a stridebeast’s without a saddle. She leaned forward to whisper in the ear flicking back toward her. “Let’s run!” She sent a vision of them—an amended one she’d had all her life but this one featuring Ragan—of running. Long strides but not as fast as she’d imagined. Grabbing fistfuls of Ragan’s mane, Lori gave a gentle press of her legs and they took off. More in symbols than in words, she sent telepathically, Let’s show him what we can do, together!

  Learning to speak in animal pictographs hadn’t been easy, but she’d persisted, made her standard Flair follow her wishes.

  The horse neighed in agreement and off they went . . . first at a walk straight through the gate. Lori pointed her to a well-traveled path and Ragan picked up her pace to a jouncing trot, then long strides as they reached the edge of the groomed portion of the stables and the estate and headed into hedgerows.

  She sensed Ragan had missed this, too.

  Lori didn’t push the horse, let her canter at her own speed. Smoother than even Lori’s best stridebeast’s gait! A feeling of freedom, of exultation flowed through her, and she shared her emotion with
the horse.

  They continued down the hard, wide path until they were within sight of the edge of the band of thick forest that separated this part of Noble Country from the rest of Druida City. Smaller, lesser Nobles’ estates sat beyond the Yews’.

  Time to turn Ragan around, let her walk back, though Lori’s eyes felt wild and her grin huge. The first time she’d ridden on horseback had been everything she’d imagined, had craved. The wind had swept her hair back from her face and whisked away the tears of pure joy.

  She and Ragan were only halfway back when Lori’s calendar sphere chimed. She had twenty minutes before she must descend the grand stairway dressed formally for dinner. Teleporting to her waterfall room, putting her clothes in the cleanser, and showering wouldn’t take too long. Dressing and skin care and facial enhancements longer. If she did a Whirlwind Spell to take care of everything, it would be noticed by the Family and she’d be disapproved of for having to use a spell to be presentable instead of managing her time wisely.

  Unclenching her jaw, she checked on the horse’s energy and asked Ragan if she could canter back, reassuring the mare that the path was wide and clear.

  Baccat? she sent to her Fam.

  Lorrrrri, he purred in her mind, drunk on nip.

  It’s dinnertime for me. If we go into Druida later, it will be when Eire twinmoon rises.

  Yesss. This afternoon sun is very nice and warm. Spring weather should be here soon!

  Until later, my Fam, I love you.

  Until later, FamWoman. I love you, he replied.

  She and Ragan made the stables. Lori slid from Ragan with a wince, then inclined her torso in a slight bow to Draeg Hedgenettle, who had put Smyrna in a free stall. “My apologies. My enthusiasm overcame my sense and I have no time to care completely for Ragan.” Though Lori set a hand on the horse’s withers and sent a brisk cleansing energy down Ragan’s hide.

  That one brow of Draeg’s rose in commentary and she just refrained from biting her lip, a habit her Family had broken her of, though she wasn’t accustomed to controlling all her emotions here at the stables.