Heart Fortune (Celta) Read online

  His hand skimmed from her breast lower, stopped as he reached the end of the yoke opening.

  Any other man would have ripped the gown from her. Not Jace. He took his hand from inside her gown, shifted.

  And in that few seconds of reprieve from his tormenting touch, she understood what she needed to do . . . simple and instinctive. Give. Give herself to him, give him all the tenderness, all the loving, all the respect she felt for him. Hold nothing back.

  So when he touched her damp folds between her thighs, stroked and drove her mad with need for him, she surrendered.

  He was repeating something, but her mind had hazed so much, the yearning spiraling so high within her that she couldn’t understand him. Her hands clenched over his shoulders, distantly she heard her own whimpers. He was so much larger that she couldn’t move, especially not in desperate need.

  But she could tilt her hips, rotate them, tease him. Set her hands on his shoulders, dig her fingernails into his skin.

  Which had him groaning, swearing, and lunging into her.

  The rhythm, the connection between them perfected. Almost, almost, she could see the golden HeartBond. But he would have to accept, and he’d be shocked with it, and . . . thought was gone, desire ruled, the rising to ecstasy, the feel of her lover’s body against hers, the thin cloth caught between them, maddening and exquisite all at once.

  His groan and emptying that pushed her into fabulous pleasure.

  Her arms fell from him, limp, and he collapsed on her, and the bedsponge on the cot cradled them both.

  When she could lift a shaky hand, she funneled her fingers through his hair, bit her tongue to keep the comment about how much longer it was, how the sun had burnished it until she could see deep auburn notes. A pity for their children, that, to have both parents with red in their hair. Someday.

  She was ready to claim him, to give him her HeartGift and let the law force him to wed her. And that was simply wrong. Coercing him would lose him.

  Though his heart, his emotions, might want more than sex, want the loving and affection and respect she’d given him tonight, she didn’t think he’d acknowledge that even to himself. If she let her eyes close she could see the thick and brilliant bond between them.

  He rolled and they settled on their sides, facing each other. With thought trickling in, she hoped she looked all right.

  Jace touched her cheek. “Glyssa.”

  She snuggled closer. “Mmm.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Sighing, she said, “Nice.” Wasn’t foolish enough to comment further. She believed he’d regret any vulnerability on his part in the morning.

  His voice roughened and he curved his hand over her bottom, kneaded. Her eyes opened to see him grinning again.

  “I really like this nightgown.”

  She shrugged. He didn’t know her well enough to realize she liked big, sloppy, flannel gowns, nothing at all like what she wore.

  He raised her leg and placed it on his hip, rubbed his sex against her. He was reviving fast, and she felt her own smile. Again she stopped a comment behind her lips—it had been a long time since she’d had sex. Do not get into that conversation.

  With a hand stroking him hard and another wiggle, they were joined again, and it was wonderful, him inside her, where she’d wanted him since the night he’d left after their fling.

  They stared into each other’s eyes. Hers had to be wide.

  She could see no trace of color in his irises, and wanted light as part of their loving. Not now. Not yet. Maybe soon. That might become a mantra.

  “Glyssa,” he said, and it echoed in her ears and whispered in her mind and sizzled in her blood.

  One stroke.

  She moaned, saw a bead of sweat appear on his temple, slide slowly down his face, out of reach of her tongue. She leaned up and nibbled along his jaw. His turn to moan, to plunge again and again, then stop, driving her to move under him more.

  He kept her still by anchoring her to the bed with the weight and angle of his hips. “No,” he said. Bent and brushed a kiss on her lips. His every movement sent waves of pleasure through her so she craved him.

  “No,” he panted. “So good. Need to make it last.”

  She tried to relax, to savor him inside her. He was here and hers for now, for this exquisite moment. Savor. Bind him to her with the physicality of sex, as she’d been bound to him for years. No other would do—not for her. She’d prove to him that no other would do for him, either.

  His face, so dear already. The clean lines of his bone structure, a rectangular face, beautiful to her. A face that matched his long, lean body.

  He grunted, moved again and again, slow, measured thrusts that had her gasping, arching, sharing each iota of pleasure, the fullness of him within her stimulating her desire, stoking her passion, enthralling her mind until only the drive to release mattered.

  The scent of him, bay rum like his name, spicy and masculine, mixed with perspiration, mixed with the heady perfume she’d worn. All so real.

  Soon. Soon.

  Her body throbbed with pleasure, burst asunder. She cried out at her climax, heard his low moan and he collapsed on top of her, fitting right. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she claimed him this way.

  “Glyssa.” Once more, his saying her name caused rippling thrills—this time the tenderness in his tone went straight to her heart. He mumbled unintelligibly then his body loosened as he fell asleep.

  Yes, he was heavy, and the cot wasn’t wide . . . she could have formed a pretty dreamscape for them, but she’d wanted the hint of reality. Having him close was all she’d desired for a long, long time. That he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep with her had tears of joy creeping from under her own lashes.

  With Flair, she moved them slightly until they curled together, as always after sex—making love? She thought so, this time, at least on her part. Even in dreamtime they stayed together, resting, touching, petting.

  She fought sleep as long as she could, knowing that once she fell deep into that state, she’d move away from him, leave him. She could hold on to him until then.

  And, sometimes, when she fell asleep first, she sensed he held on to her until he succumbed. That was the best feeling, and gave her hope.

  But not tonight. The emptiness waiting in her luxurious tent claimed her.

  * * *

  Come quick, come quick! Bad people saying bad things about FamMan. They got him!

  “Huh?” Glyssa batted away Lepid’s scratchy claws on her shoulder.

  He screeched in her ear, had her jolting up.

  Hopping around her, he shouted mentally. BIG BAD THING HAPPENED. THEY THINK FAMMAN DID IT.

  Glyssa shook her head, but excited and noisy voices came from outside her pavilion. She grabbed underwear and slipped into it, frowning that she smelled like her own dream sex, and yanked the first folded clothing from the top of the stack inside her trunk. A licorice red ankle-long tunic with several pockets, including long, square, sleeve pockets. Not really appropriate for running through a camp, but good enough.

  Running to the commotion made her more out of breath than she liked. She needed more exercise. Besides dream sex. Besides regular sex, even.

  Near the hole to the ship, two rumpled and angry men held Jace, who appeared livid—pale under his tanned skin.

  “I did not do this,” Jace stated.

  The Elecampanes showed up. “We were told we had a break in security and a theft?” Del asked.

  “That’s right. Someone took us out,” said one of the big guys holding Jace.

  “Took you out?” Del frowned.

  An angry shrug. “Drugged us or something. We don’t sleep on the job!”

  “Yeah, we don’t. But we did,” said the other man.

  “You checked the hole and the contents when you woke up?”

  “Yeah. One of the smaller boxes is gone,” said the man. “We found evidence that this guy—this Jace Bayrum—was there.�
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  Nine

  He dropped stuff at the bottom of the girder.” One meaty hand offered a hawkcel’s feather, a small specialized-looking knife, some leather scraps, and a partially tooled leather pouch.

  Glyssa’s breath caught. She had a finely tooled and engraved wallet that Jace had made with his creative Flair.

  “I didn’t drug or hurt either of these two. I didn’t steal any box. I didn’t do it. I’m innocent,” Jace snapped as he straightened tall. “I left the pouch and scraps in the workshop tent. Someone is deliberately implicating me.”

  “These are serious charges,” Del said.

  Her husband nodded. “That they are. Andic Sanicle, you went down with Jace yesterday to survey that first room with a viz recorder. Will you do so again, now?”

  Andic cocked a brow at Jace, more in doubt at his protestation of innocence than backing him up, Glyssa thought. Without a word Andic took out another recording sphere from his pocket, clambered down the angle of the girder into the ship, stayed only a couple of minutes, and returned. He handed the new sphere to Del Elecampane, shaking his head. “Someone’s been down there, all right. Smears of footprints. And at least one smaller box is missing.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Jace insisted.

  Glyssa stared at him and when he met her eyes, she raised her brows. He shook his head. Even under these circumstances he didn’t want to acknowledge their relationship. She opened her mouth to say he’d been with her—and he had, in dreams, connecting even in sleep now and then throughout the night, but he scowled. She backed off. For now. She would have to say something, despite Jace, but not in public.

  I can solve this mystery, Shunuk, Del D’Elecampane’s FoxFam said, projecting telepathy loudly enough that those with pretty good Flair could hear him. I know all here. I will use my superior nose to identify the culprit. He pointed that nose at Lepid and lifted the skin of his upper muzzle to show teeth in a sneer.

  Lepid yipped beside her, sitting but wiggling his butt. MY NOSE IS BETTER THAN YOURS. From the gasps of people around her, more could hear Lepid than Shunuk. Glyssa had been told that with each younger generation of Fams, their telepathy and Flair got better. Just as humans.

  Del D’Elecampane’s fox sneered at Lepid. Can’t be.

  Lepid growled, his expression angry. I could not smell the intruders. You won’t be able to, either.

  We will see. The older fox trotted the short distance to the hole, sniffed lustily, yipped and hopped away so fast he turned top over tail in a somersault.

  “What is it?” Del demanded.

  Sitting paws over nose, Shunuk broadcast loudly. Someone or someones put nasty, hurt-nose-smell around the hole! Can’t smell! Bad!

  “Huh.” Del walked over to where her Fam had sniffed, crouched down and sifted some of the soft dirt into her hands, frowning. “Looks like some kind of chili pepper to me.”

  “That would frustrate Fam noses,” said the female Healer.

  Del stood, hands on hips. “I don’t want to stop our project.” Her face hardened as she scanned the camp, eyes flinty. “Nor do I want to call in an expert such as the tracker Straif T’Blackthorn or one of his sons.”

  A few people gasped. Glyssa wondered if the perpetrator was one of them. The initial shock was dissipating, Glyssa’s temper went on a slow simmer. Her HeartMate had been falsely accused!

  “I—” she started.

  Zem screeched. People shifted, Jace struggled in the grip of his captors. Glyssa looked around, saw the fluttering BirdFam on the ground where he’d fallen from Jace’s shoulder.

  “Watch out!” she ordered, moving over and picking him up, going close enough to Jace that she could smell the scent of him. Still unsmiling, jaw flexing, he nodded to her as she set Zem back on his shoulder.

  Another teetery balance and flapping wings and the hawkcel settled, turned his colorful head to stare at the Elecampanes. I was with my FamMan all night. Zem snicked his beak. He was restless.

  A flush tinged Jace’s cheeks.

  Del looked down at her fox, Shunuk. “Fams have been known to lie.”

  I do not lie. Zem extended his wings and cawed.

  “Nor do—” Glyssa started, caught Jace’s furious gaze. She frowned back at him, compressing her lips.

  Raz Cherry Elecampane picked up his own FamCat, set her on his shoulder and petted her. “I am willing to reserve my opinion at this moment since I recall seeing the craft items on one of the workshop tent’s tables.”

  “Not the knife,” Del said. “He doesn’t leave his tools there. Nobody smart does.”

  “Are we sure it’s his knife?” Raz stroked his FamCat.

  “I keep my tools in my tent.” An ironic smile twitched on and off Jace’s face. His shoulders had stiffened and he avoided looking at Glyssa. “But I have a simple security spell on the tent, like most of us.”

  The Elecampanes linked hands, and when they spoke, it was in unison and pumping enough Flair into the atmosphere around them that brilliant auras surrounded them. “We will not tolerate theft during this excavation. When we find the culprit who removed the box, we will file charges and ship him back to Druida City to stand trial.”

  Del D’Elecampane stated, “I’ve already sent a mental notice to Straif T’Blackthorn alerting the FirstFamilies of this theft.” Her lips curled, then she added, “Those nobles will ensure all of Druida City knows that any ‘found’ colonist antiques must be scrutinized and the origin proven beyond any doubt.”

  Her stare swept the tense crew, fixed on Jace. “I repeat, whoever stole from us—from all of us, since we all have a stake in this venture—will certainly pay. Let Jace loose. GentleSir Bayrum, please bring your tool kit to our pavilion.” The Elecampane couple turned and strode away, Shunuk FoxFam trotted beside them, sneezing and whining.

  Glyssa knew she shouldn’t approach Jace, but couldn’t help herself, especially since the rest of the staff scattered, no one coming near him.

  She kept pace with his angry stride, reached out to touch his arm, let her hand drop when he snarled at her. “Keep out of my business, Glyssa. Let me handle this. I can take care of myself.”

  She stopped, gulped. Anger for him transformed into anger at him and she flushed with heat, fisted her hands. He yet ignored her.

  Too bad.

  She turned on her heel and caught up with the Elecampanes. The owners were also being given a wide berth by everyone else. Lepid followed her, though at a greater distance, watching the waving tail of the older fox.

  “This is not going to help morale,” Raz Cherry T’Elecampane said.

  “We should have anticipated this more than we did,” Del D’Elecampane said.

  “We have plans,” Raz soothed. “We found an entrance to the ship sooner than we’d expected. Time to implement higher security.”

  Glyssa heard Del’s teeth grind. “At considerable cost.”

  “We are on budget. But perhaps it is time to offer shares to our crew.”

  Del grunted. “Get them more invested in the project.” Her nostrils widened. “Turn everyone into a spy on everyone else. I hate that.”

  “We’ll figure something out. Maybe it’s time to present another tension-releasing concert or play.”

  Del laughed shortly, elbowed her mate in the ribs.

  “That’s your first response to bad morale.” Her mouth thinned. “But I want justice.”

  A good opening, Glyssa picked up speed, joined the two, just as Del stopped to sweep an arm across the opening of the owners’ pavilion. “I want justice, too. And I can vouch for Jace’s whereabouts last night.”

  Snorting a laugh and shaking her head, Del said, “That’s fast work. Come on in and tell us.”

  Lepid sent Glyssa mentally, I am going to the stables to talk to my stridebeast friend, Alaba.

  She’d have liked him with her, but Del’s FoxFam, Shunuk, sat just inside the tent, glaring at Lepid, and Glyssa didn’t think it an appropriate time to talk about clashing Fams. Have
a good time.

  I will! Alaba is going with the cook for mushrooms and other foods in the forest. Maybe I will go, too. He ran off.

  Ah, food was involved, Lepid’s interest explained.

  I think the cook is dishing out breakfast now. Maybe you can wait at the breakfast tent for me. Glyssa almost felt Lepid skid to a stop.

  I will go there after seeing my friend.

  Fine.

  The Elecampanes settled onto a twoseat. “You can confirm Bayrum’s whereabouts last night?” Del prompted.

  “It’s not exactly what you think,” she said.

  Raz raised a brow.

  Glyssa flushed again, knowing the blood in her face clashed with her hair. She straightened her shoulders. She would never be as expressive with her body as the actor, hardly anyone would be. She wouldn’t let that undermine her self-confidence.

  Clearing her throat, she said, cheeks flaming again, “We, ah, experienced sex dreams.” A big breath. “Legally, I can tell you in confidence that we’re HeartMates.”

  Now she received sincere surprise from them both.

  “That’s why you’re here!” Del’s brows lowered.

  “Sexy dreams, eh?” Raz Cherry Elecampane patted his lady’s knee and winked at Glyssa. “We know about sexy dreams.”

  But Glyssa hadn’t known that Del Elecampane could blush so. “Ah,” Glyssa said, directing her gaze to Del. “I’m also here for the exact reasons I told you yesterday. I have contracted with the Hawthorns to do a paper—a story—on Captain Hoku, and I will submit that story as my field paper, as part of my work for my FirstLevel Librarianship.

  “Hmm,” said Raz, inclining his head. “We continue to accept you and your duties and activities as we agreed yesterday, then.” Another raised brow and smug look. “No wonder Zem called Jace restless.”

  The Elecampanes laughed.

  “Yes,” Glyssa said.

  After a short pause, Del said, “So, about this dream sex.” She didn’t look at her husband or Glyssa. “In our experience—” she stopped, cleared her own throat. “You said you could vouch for him all night.”