Four
Cass could do neither. Nor could she afford to hate him, as much as she would like to. It would not serve the Rebellion's cause.
"Turn around," he ordered. She obeyed and braced herself, expecting him to rip the laces from the fabric. But his fingers barely touched her skin, his hands gentle as he unlaced the ties and eased the stays off her. Then he made a noise in his throat, and Cass looked over her shoulder.
Fie, how she wished he weren't so beautiful. The firelight gleamed in his silver hair, danced along the muscled planes of his naked chest. His eyes appeared enormous in the half-light, dark and mysterious and capable of stealing her soul. Her fear of him didn't stop her from wanting to run her hands down that smooth, pale skin just to feel the texture of it.
His lip quirked at her inspection and her eyes flew to his mouth, remembering his kiss, wondering if he would kiss her again. Hoping and dreading it all at the same time.
"Turn around," he ordered again, then reached out, seized the cloth at the shoulders of her chemise, and ripped it off over her head.
Lady Cassandra gasped and tried to cover herself with her hands.
"Don't," he said, then spread his arms, and Cass felt the force of his magic. The fire flared to new life, lighting up the room, making her blink. She hadn't realized the strength of his magic and it made her fear him all the more.
She kept her arms by her sides by sheer force of will, feeling a flush crawl up her body to her face. He studied her the same way she had him; but she had only a touch of the elven blood, couldn't compare herself to his beauty, and feared he found her lacking.
Her goal had been to please her new husband, to gain his trust if not his affection. Cass lifted her chin. She needed to stop acting like some innocent schoolgirl and try to please him but didn't have the faintest idea how to go about doing that. Why hadn't Thomas taught her how to manage this?
"Lie down," he said as he moved to the other side of the bed, released the tie from around the canopy curtain. The black cloth fell, casting her into shadow, making it easier to lie flat on her back, her body exposed to his gaze. He untied the curtain at the foot of the bed but held it for a moment, his black gaze fastened on her rigid body. "Spread your legs."
Lord of mercy. Please help me. He would have a view of… She couldn't do it. The thought of her most private area exposed to his emotionless gaze set her trembling even harder. Did he purposely seek to embarrass her? Or did his mistress treat him to the sight this evening and he expected only the same from her?
"I… I can't."
His mouth twisted. "Don't you want to please your husband?"
"No. I mean, yes. I mean—"
He laughed, allowed the curtain to fall, cutting him off from view. "You are the innocent I was promised," he said from behind the barrier of the drapery, his voice low and muffled. "Well done, Father."
When he appeared again next to her, she suppressed a yelp and chided herself. Her fear would only make this worse. She closed her eyes and froze. She would just hold still and endure. That's what the other girls in school had advised each other. There would be some pain, but if one held still and silent, the man would finish all the more quickly.
And right now, all Cassandra could hope for was a quick end to her husband's attentions.
The fire subsided to a normal glow and he sat next to her, dropped the one remaining curtain, shutting them inside the box bed, effectively cutting them off from the rest of the room, the rest of the world. Plunging them into complete darkness.
Nothing could save Cassandra now.
She widened her eyes, unable to see a thing, hoping he couldn't either regardless of his superior elven sight. It made her relax a bit, feel a little less exposed. She heard him move, felt the warmth of his fingers touch her arm.
Cass jumped then froze again.
She waited for him to give her another order. Waited for him to violate her with that cold harshness he always used with her.
But his hand trailed up to her neck, gently stroking, smoothing back her tousled hair. His touch sent little shivers racing through her body and she gritted her teeth against the shock of it. He stilled, and she could hear only her little pants, the smooth rhythm of his breathing. She sensed a change in him, felt him relax, as if he released some barrier and it eased him.
Then he curled one arm beneath her shoulders and his other beneath her bottom and gathered her up against the smooth warmth of his chest. He held her there for the longest time, until her trembling eased and her muscles went lax. Until she slowly became aware of the hardening length of him beneath her backside.
He smelled like some exotic spice and she breathed in the delicious scent. She could feel the beat of his heart, and it comforted her that although he looked like an angel, he felt very much like an ordinary man.
Her husband kissed her hair and it made her tremble, but not with fear this time. With something else, a wanting she couldn't quite define. His lips trailed kisses down to her brow and the heat of them, the tender soft feel of his mouth, made her bold. Cass leaned back her head and met his lips with her own.
It happened again. Just like when he had kissed her in the abbey. She became aware of nothing but the feel of his mouth on hers, the texture of his tongue as he slipped inside her own welcoming warmth. The fire that spread from her breasts to her most private place. Time stopped and she didn't know how long he held her, tasting her, showing her the pleasure he could bring her.
He shifted and she barely noticed, too intent on the feelings his kiss evoked. She moaned, the sound loud in the silence of their cocoon, and lifted her arms, curling them around his broad shoulders. She could feel the strength of his muscles beneath the silk of his skin, could tell he held that strength in check. For her.
The realization emboldened her. Since the first time she had seen him, she'd longed to touch that silver-white hair. Her hands crept up to his neck and she buried her fingers in the silky softness of it. Fine as the strand of a spider's web, but so thick it created a heavy fall that reached the lower part of his back. Cass stroked it, resisting the urge to purr with utter delight.
She didn't know when his hand had covered her breast. When the warmth of his palm finally penetrated her senses, she didn't start or tremble with fear. She moaned and pressed against his touch. His mouth slipped away from hers, traveled down her throat. He shifted her and pressed kisses along her collarbone, and then lower until she felt his mouth replace his hand, circling her nipple in some slow dance.
Her fingers clenched in his hair when he drew her nipple into his mouth. She had never imagined such a thing. Couldn't have anticipated the jolt that went through her. As he drew on her bud again and again, her body responded with an answering ache of need. Cass squirmed with the want of it, not understanding what was happening to her but hoping he knew how to soothe it.
He continued to hold her with one arm, arching her back, turning his attention to her other breast. It happened all over again and Cass moaned.
Then he touched her thigh, spread his fingers wide, and smoothed his large hand down over her knee, then to her calf. Her attention strayed from his mouth for a moment. No one had ever touched her so intimately before and yet it seemed as natural as if he had always owned the right to her body.
And then he stroked her other leg with the same rhythmic movements, came back to her thigh, and hesitated a moment. Cass unclenched her fingers from his hair, felt the tie that had held his battle braids away from his face come loose and fall forward. When he lifted his head the braids fell across her sensitized breasts, the strands of fine hair at the ends of them tickling her skin.
His mouth again found hers. She eagerly opened for him, welcoming the raspy feel of his tongue, the salty-sweet taste of him. This time Cass pressed herself against him, tightening her hold around his neck, wanting him closer and yet feeling he still wasn't close enough.
She felt his hand cover the triangle of hair between her legs. She would have flushed with embarrassment if she hadn't been so involved in learning how to kiss him properly. He stroked her mouth with his tongue in the same gentle movements that he stroked her downy hair with his fingers. He did it long enough that when his finger dipped lower Cass had become so used to his touch that she barely flushed at the intrusion. He slid his finger deep inside of her and the sensations that caused made her break the kiss with a gasp.
She wanted to push his hand away, wanted him to stroke her more deeply.
Cass froze in confusion.
But the general had no doubts about what she wanted. His fingers continued to stroke and fondle while he buried his face in her neck, licking and sucking at the sensitive skin there. Making her entire body come alive with some need that soon had Cass bucking against his hand, clutching desperately at his muscular shoulders.
She had never imagined the act of making children would be like this. Cass couldn't quite grasp what had happened to her. He made her body feel things it had never felt before, and heaven help her, she loved it.
His fingers grew so slick with her wetness that when he sought the nub hidden within her downy hair, it brought wonderful new sensations coursing through her. A sudden tightening replaced the deeper longing that had risen in her womb. What new magic did he perform on her now?
Tiny tremors shook her as she squirmed beneath his touch. Something lay just within her reach, something that built within her, and Cass couldn't imagine what it might be. But shouldn't she be doing the same to him? Shouldn't she be discovering his body as well? She couldn't learn to please him too if she didn't try.
Her hands drifted down his shoulders, across his chest. Smooth, hot skin. Rigid muscles beneath. Her fingertips grazed his nipples, and she wondered if he would experience the same pleasure that she had. She gently pushed at his chest until he lifted his head and she could bring her own mouth to his neck. In the darkness she missed and found her lips on the curve of skin that defined the middle of his chest. He tasted salty and clean. Like spring water and ocean spray all at the same time.
Cass found the peak of his nipple and sucked at it the same way he'd done hers.
Dominic groaned. A deep sound that she felt rumble in his chest, on her lips.
And then he pulled away from her.
For a moment her heart stopped. Had she displeased him then? She feared to ask. Just listened to the harshness of his breathing as he seemed to struggle for control. Then he laughed, a low chuckle that made the hair on her body rise. "You learn quickly, don't you?" he whispered.
She opened her mouth to respond, but in one graceful movement his entire body covered the length of hers, and she sucked in a breath at the heat of him. The sheer strength and size of his body atop hers. But he didn't crush her. He kept his full weight suspended just above her, while touching every inch of her body with the heat of his skin.
Cassandra sighed.
"Spread your legs," he whispered in her ear. But this time it wasn't a command. It sounded almost like… a plea. A prayer.
Her heart gave a funny little twist and she moved her legs, felt him settle between them. Felt something round and hard and soft and exhilarating prod at the wetness he'd created between her thighs. Felt the resistance within her as he pushed forward. Felt it break as she forgot to be frightened and bucked up to meet him, a small exhalation of pain escaping through her lips.
And then the pain faded and the general taught her a new dance. A dance she never could have conceived of, that held beauty and grace and a desperate longing to somehow make two people become one. A dance so intimate that she thought she felt his very soul.
Cass threw back her head and gloried in the sensations he made her feel. No, she could never have imagined anything like this. The feel, the smell, the strength of him…
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her fingers in his hair again. One moment she thought him a devil and then the next, an angel, and she truly couldn't decide what sort of man she had married.
He took long smooth strokes inside of her, making that deep ache in her womb grow again, this time even more fiercely. Cass clenched her teeth against the need to cry out, to demand that he dance faster, harder. She needed… needed…
He abruptly halted the dance and pulled his upper body away from hers, tearing her arms away from him, and she knew him to be a devil.
His hand sought the nub just above where their bodies joined, stroking it with a gentle finger while he took up the rhythm of the dance again, and she knew him to be an angel.
Because now the fierce longing in her womb joined with another feeling, one that made her shiver, made her squirm beneath him, and she could no longer hold back her cries. And then. And then the world split asunder and a wave of glorious pleasure ripped through her, like a swelling tide that continued to rise and fall, rocking her on a tempest of radiant delight.
"Oh," she cried, startled and amazed.
The demon laughed. He pulled his hand away and lowered his chest atop hers again, kissing her forehead, her cheek, her lips. Then he lunged inside of her so swiftly, so deeply, that she thought it would hurt. But somehow he knew, knew it was exactly what she needed, knew she could encompass the full length of him.
Indeed, Cassandra fought for more.
She clutched at his shoulders, lifted her hips up to meet his. Her fingers roughly tangled in his hair, and she wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into his bottom, forcing him ever deeper inside of her. She didn't beg, she demanded.
And her husband complied with a growl of feral pleasure.
The world split asunder for Cass again, but this time it was a deeper pleasure. As she rode it, she felt Dominic's body stiffen, heard his intake of breath, and then he shook as well, his harsh pants mingling with her own sighs. His release made her buck against him again, take him deeper, as if she sought to take his seed completely into her womb.
Cassandra came to herself with a start. Despite what her body urged, she couldn't afford to become pregnant. How could she have forgotten so easily the reason she'd married this man?
She lay beneath him for a time, fighting for calm, until she finally nudged him to roll off her and he allowed it, landing heavily on the hard bed. Cass fought at the bed curtain until she found the opening, then slipped outside and into the cooler air of the room. She took a few deep breaths, fighting for her sense of self again. How had he managed to make her lose it?
She looked down at her naked body in the firelight and grimaced. Thomas should have warned her about this. Should have prepared some defense against it. But how could he have known this cold elven bastard could light such a fire within her? She had never suspected her new husband would be such a gentle lover. Thomas surely wouldn't have.
Cassandra waited, listening to the even breathing behind the curtained bed. Thank heavens, it sounded as if the general had drifted off to sleep. She wasn't sure she could withstand his attentions again. Her heart thrummed at the thought and she chided her body to behave itself. Went to her chest and put on her nightgown, then removed her bag of herbs and favorite teapot. She inspected the room as she hung the pot over the fire. She should have brought more of her belongings with her, by the looks of things. After she acquired some servants she would go shopping.
She stoked the fire and her wedding ring glinted, the rose open to a full blossom. While she waited for her tea to steep she stared at the black curtain, wondering what type of man she had truly married. In public he treated her coldly, yet the moment he'd closed the curtains behind them he had touched her so gently. Had prepared her so skillfully for his lovemaking. She'd barely felt any pain and her shyness had fled with his ministrations.
There appeared to be more to General Dominic Raikes than he allowed others to see. Could she possibly gain enough of his trust to allow her to use him?
Cassandra's head spun in useless conjecture while she sipped her tea, then tucked the herbs back into her trunk and finally returned to the bed. She slowly parted the curtains, the glow of the fire revealing the nude body of her sleeping husband. Her breath caught.
She'd felt every inch of him and yet hadn't seen him at all. That thick silvery hair of his—which had felt like spun silk in her hands—parted slightly over the tips of his ears and spread out around him like a sparkling halo. He lay on his back, one arm thrown above his head, his face softer in sleep, the angles less harsh. His pale skin appeared to glow in the darkness, highlighting the muscles of his chest, the ridges in his abdomen. The long sinews in his thighs. She averted her gaze from the part of him that had brought her so much pleasure, and blushed. She hadn't the boldness for that. Not after one night.
Suddenly his lids flew open, that black gaze of his seeming to swallow her whole, seeming to know her every thought. The fire reflected in the crystalline brilliance of his eyes and Cassandra shuddered. He was so very beautiful.
"You're cold," he said, his voice deep and low.
She nodded and crawled into the shelter, lay down next to him as rigidly as her favorite parasol. Then she heard the bedcovers move and felt the heat of him against her back. He pulled her against him, his mouth nuzzling her hair, his arms enfolding her in a gentle cage of firm muscle. He sighed and slowly resumed the deep, even breathing of sleep.
Cassandra lay awake for a long time, listening to that oddly comforting sound.
* * *
She awoke the next morning alone. Parted the curtains around the bed and squinted at the brilliant sunlight. It looked as if she'd slept half the day away, an unusual occurrence for her. She slipped from the bed, donned a robe, and padded through the rooms. No sign of her new husband, not even the slightest trace of a dropped glove or a dirty teacup. Faith, he did manage to take care of himself without need of a servant.
She returned to the bedchamber and stared at the black velvet curtains. Had she dreamed it then? That night of lovemaking with a passionate yet gentle lover? If only he had been here this morning, she wouldn't be so confused. He would touch her with familiar intimacy and then she would know it had been real. Perhaps they could even… perhaps she could go find him and then…
Did she so long for him to make love to her again? Had she no shame?
Her breasts tingled and she crossed her arms over her chest. Apparently not. But she reassured herself it had nothing to do with the general or his extraordinary beauty. He had just introduced her to a new delight and her body craved more. Quite simple, really.
A knock sounded at the door and she nearly ran to open it. But only Gwen stood outside in the hallway and Cass struggled to suppress her frown of disappointment.
Gwen performed her awkward curtsy. "Morning, my lady. I got to thinking ye might need help with yer buttons. 'Cause how can ye come fetch me if ye can't get dressed proper?"
"You were right to come," replied Cassandra, stepping aside to let the waif in. The child followed her to her trunks and watched with wide eyes as Cass pulled forth one gown after another, finally choosing an ivory sacque dress of heavily embroidered linen. Burgundy, pink, and lavender roses climbed up the loose skirt and pleated back, creating a garden of summer color. Cassandra loved it. Her father had exquisite taste in clothing, but she'd chosen it for its lack of buttons and ease of movement.
Gwen found it difficult enough to lace Cass's stays, which remained looser than she usually wore them, and she could see the tip of the girl's tongue as she concentrated on lacing her stomacher to it. But in a surprisingly short time Cass was clothed and searching the trunks for shoes.
"My dear papa," she said, tossing another set of high-heeled shoes over her shoulder, "provided a most fashionable wardrobe. But I refuse to wear"—and she tossed out another pair stitched with fleur-de-lis— "heels that I can barely walk in." Cassandra sat back, brushing her hair off her forehead with the back of her hand. "Somewhere among these trunks are my sensible shoes."
Gwen's crystal eyes sparkled with an ethereal light, a hint of gold within the hazel, and then she pointed to the third trunk on the left. "They's in there, my lady."
Cassandra's eyebrows rose but she opened the trunk the child indicated, and down near the bottom sat her collection of low heels and slippers. "Your finding magic is most impressive, Gwendolyn."
The girl beamed.
"Now, then." Cass slid into her shoes. "I must find a vanity for my cosmetics, as I suppose I'll have to get used to using them now that I'm at court." She shoved her hair up off her forehead again. "And a hairdresser."
Gwen practically leaped to her toes. "My friend May does weaving near as fine as ye can get."
"I'm not sure—"
"Oh, she does all the horses' tails for the grand processions. And," Gwen lowered her voice to a mere whisper, "I've seen her weave the sunlight, my lady. Truly I have."
Cassandra smiled. "Magic appears to run strongly in the kitchens."
"La, it does. The looks too." And Gwen preened her silvery hair.
"Well then, let's go find your May and see if her talented fingers can be trained to a lady's coiffure." Cass ran a quick brush through her hair, twisted it into a simple bun, and then followed an eager Gwen from her rooms.
Thank heavens she had the girl for a guide, for she couldn't yet make sense of the sprawling layout of Firehame Palace. It seemed to be designed purposely to confuse, and magical artifacts and items lay around every corner. Stationary walls appeared to breathe and shift, mirrors reflected imaginary scenes with her face floating inside them, carpets flowed like water, and ceilings trembled, threatening to come down upon her head. Gwen cautioned her not to touch this or that, and Cass could only wonder if the griffin statue would have come alive and pecked off her fingers if she had stroked that mighty beak. Or would it be capable of doing something much worse? The elven lord protected his palace in subtle ways and had an odd sense of humor, so Cass obeyed the young slave girl's advice.
Her unusual companion drew only a few startled looks from the nobles they passed, but Cass still breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the basement kitchens. She must get Gwen suitably attired before any gossip spread.
Cook stood nearly as tall as the general, a robust woman with red cheeks and matching hair. She wielded her spoon like a sword, but it seemed most of her helpers had acquired a certain skill at dodging it. Roasts stewed and pastries baked, and the delicious aromas made Cass think that Cook had a bit of elven magic herself.
"So," she said, eyeing Cass with a frown, "yer the champion's new bride."
Cassandra froze, feeling as if the other woman sought to strip her bare and expose her soul.
"Ye just might do."
"Indeed?" snapped Cass, refusing to let a servant weigh her worth.
"No offense, my lady. It's just glad I am that the champion has someone to take care of him now."
Cass's annoyance evaporated in the hopes of finding out more about her new husband. "I've never met a man less in need of being taken care of, Cook. Why would you say such a thing?"
Cook leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper, strands of red hair flopping over her forehead. "Have ye not heard that appearances can be deceiving? Haven't ye wondered what made the man so cold?"
"It's the elven blood."
"Aye, so do many think. But consider his father, lady, and why he might need to act the way he does. Ask the general about Jack… Nay, he wouldn't speak of his best friend. Ask him about Mongrel, my lady. He might talk of him."
Cass's head spun. General Raikes had a friend? The elven did not make friends, possessed with such cold hearts. And Thomas had told her that her husband had no friends. Jack must be a part of the general's childhood, yet what had happened to alter him so in his adulthood that he now spurned all friendships? And who might this Mongrel be?
"A dog," said Lady Cassandra. "General Raikes has a pet?"
"Oh aye, he once had—" Cook spun and whacked a small lad with her spoon. "'Ere, now, none of that. I told ye to keep yer fingers outta the pudding." She cast her gaze about the kitchen suspiciously. "The champion once had many things, my lady. And perhaps ye will be the one to give them back to him. But, please, don't breathe a word of what I said to none other than himself."
The big woman straightened and raised her voice. "I'm sorry, m'lady, but what with the champion's marriage guests, I don't have the time to sit and chat. Been cookin' near round the clock, I have."
Cook had looked at the brick walls as if they had ears. Cass took the hint. "We've come only to find May."
Cook's red brows climbed up her broad forehead. "Has she done somethin' wrong? That girl's forever neglecting her duties and—"
The kitchen door flew open and an older girl with Gwen's coloring flew into the room. "Cook, look what I made fer ye!" And she held out a shawl that glittered in the morning sunshine flooding through the open door. Cass had never seen anything like the pale gray material before. May draped it over Cook's shoulders. "See there, it will not fall off while yer stirring the dough."
Cook eyed the thing suspiciously. "What's it made of this time?"
May's hazel eyes sparkled. "Spider's webs. Ah, they're tricky to weave, mind, but I managed to figure out how. Ye see—"
"Ugh," said Cook, removing the scarf from her shoulders with the handle of her spoon. "Ye were supposed to be fetchin' parsley fer the stew."
May's lovely face fell. "Oh dear, I forgot. I'll go back to the garden right now."
"Never ye mind," huffed Cook. "Ye'll probably come back with a fine green hat fer me to wear. Besides, this here lady wishes to speak with ye." She turned back to her oven while May's eyes widened as she looked at Cassandra.
But before Cass could speak, Gwen darted over to May's side and yanked on the older girl's ragged dress. "I told the lady that ye could fix her hair right fine and she wants to bring us upstairs to wait on her."
May's eyes widened even farther. "But the servants—"
"The lady says she don't see no servants in her rooms to bother with."
"Gwen," admonished Cassandra, "allow me to get a word in. I find myself in need of assistance, Miss May, and if Cook doesn't mind, I would like you both to come and live in my new apartments."
May gasped, wavered on her feet for a moment, then settled a wistful gaze on Cass's hair. "Oh my, ye have a lot, don't ye?" And her fingers began to twitch.
Cook glanced up at the three of them and harrumphed. "Both of those girls are nothin' but a bother to me. If ye want them, I have no objection."
Gwen ran to Cook and gave her a quick hug, then darted back to May's side, yanking at her hand. "Let's get our things afore either one of them changes their mind."
Cass followed them to the back of the kitchen, into a small storage room that held two cots made of woven grass. She waited while they gathered their meager belongings, trying not to breathe too deeply of the musty smell of rotting potatoes. "Are you sisters?" she wondered aloud.
Gwen shrugged. "No, m'lady."
"You look so similar."
"'Tis the elven blood. We both got too much of it in our looks." She sighed. "But not enough in our magic to be sent to Elfhame, eh, May? I wonder what it's like there, with trees that weep honeyed fruit and skies that rain wine and—"
"Are ye sure we should be doing this, Gwen? What of the champion?"
"Ah, May, ye know he doesn't give a fig 'bout anyone."
"But he notices everything. And the steward knows he goes to the kitchens, so he makes sure we're tidy and have proper beds and Cook has clean kitchens…"
Cassandra kept her mouth closed and let the girls continue to talk, although her mind spun with questions. Dominic had grown up in the kitchens, neglected by all accounts. Did he visit to make sure the other slaves weren't treated as badly as he had been? Or did he just come here from habit? Rumor had it he cared for nothing but the games, and yet his lovemaking had been so gentle. Was she trying to credit him with some human feeling because of that? What manner of man had she truly married?
"Ye worry too much, May."
"But when he finds us in his rooms… Ye know he doesn't like servants about."
"But I do," interjected Cass. "And I've quite made up my mind. Now, if you've got your things, we shall call a coach."
Gwen clapped her hands. "I've never ridden in a carriage before. Where are we going, my lady?"
Both of their hazel eyes widened when Cass replied.
"Shopping."
* * *
When Cassandra joined the court at dinner later that evening, she felt exhausted but entirely pleased with herself. Gwen and May looked lovely in their new gowns—although Gwen had stubbornly fought the need of stays. But they both vowed they would happily get used to their uncomfortable new shoes, and admired the shiny buckles at every opportunity. New feather mattresses and linens for their beds had sent both girls into complete rapture, and Cass had made all the rooms much more comfortable with the addition of mahogany tables and plush velvet chairs and soft tapestries to adorn the walls.
With a sigh of satisfaction, Lady Cassandra entered the dining hall, smoothing the folds of her satin dress and knowing she looked her best. May did indeed have magical fingers, arranging Cass's hair into curls and weaves without benefit of an iron or a single hairpin. Her lace cap had long lappets that trailed down past her shoulders and matched the trim on her skirts and sleeves. She missed the comfort of her wool gowns but decided the look on her husband's face when he saw her would be worth the trouble.
She'd been entirely wrong.
When the general looked up at her standing in the doorway, he looked right through her. Cass's own heart did a leap at the sight of him in a white satin coat trimmed with silver, his pale hair brushed in a smooth fall about his broad shoulders. His handsome face looked hard and implacable, but she remembered the gentle softness of his lips on hers and started toward him as if pulled on a string.
She wanted to be near him. She yearned for just the touch of his hand upon her skin.
He stood. She sucked in a breath as he headed in her direction. And then let it loose with a gasp as he strode by her and picked up the hand of the Lady Agnes, leading the woman over to his chair to sit beside him.
Cass heard the titters of the other nobles at the blatant rebuff. It took all of her courage to settle into the same chair she had the previous day. Across from her husband and mistress. Next to the smiling Lord Mor'ded.
Had she truly given some human attributes to her husband's character? If he'd shown some gentleness in his lovemaking it had been only a ruse… or her own imagination. He had awakened her body to pleasure and she'd overreacted, thinking some feeling must lie behind the act. She felt like a fool for thinking he'd allow her to rush into his arms this evening. That he'd been as enchanted with her as she had been with him. She'd even thought he had some generous motive to his visits to the kitchens.
His blood ran as cold as his father's. She'd best get over her attraction to his angelic beauty and remember that he was the devil in disguise.
"You've barely touched your plate," said Lord Mor'ded, leaning close to her. "You'll need your strength, dear girl."
Cass fought the urge to move away from him. Two devils sat at the table, and she'd best not forget it. With a nod, she lifted a spoonful of pudding to her mouth, trying not to choke as the greasy mass slid down her throat.
"That's better." He sat back, those black glittering eyes studying the guests, his mouth twisted into a mocking smile. "Lords and ladies," he began, barely raising his voice. Yet they all turned to him as one, even those at the end of the long table. "On the morrow your champion will fetch the king and his ministers. A toast to General Raikes!"
They rose, a clatter of screeching chair legs and clinking glasses. Apparently Cass didn't stand fast enough, for the gentleman at her side scowled and hissed at her, "Get up, you fool."
Lady Cassandra bristled at his tone. How dare he speak to her that way? And yet, what better treatment could she expect when her husband set the example for the court? She rose and pretended to sip her wine until the full implication of the elven lord's words hit her; then she drained the glass.
Not that she cared a whit about the king's coming to Firehame. But his prime minister, Sir Robert Walpole, would be with him. Even to speak to the leader of the Rebellion would bring her a great amount of comfort, which she most assuredly needed right now. And it might be possible to have a private moment alone with him on the road, something she might not manage within the walls of the palace.
Cassandra suppressed a smile. She could turn her obvious fascination with her new husband to her advantage. She looked over at Dominic, who had studiously avoided her gaze, and allowed the newly awakened lust of her body to show in her brown eyes. "But surely you won't leave my bed so soon?"
A startled silence followed, and then Mor'ded chuckled and the entire assemblage broke into mocking laughter.
"Egads, you broke her into her traces good, eh, Raikes?" said the man who'd made the wicked smoke creatures, leering at Lady Agnes. "Now you've got two of them panting after you."
"Three," the woman to his left said, laughing and coyly smacking Lord Blevin with her closed fan.
Dominic sat stone-faced, not a blink of his thick lashes to acknowledge their words. Cassandra spoke again before the conversation could degenerate any further, transferring her gaze to Lord Mor'ded. "May I be allowed to go with him? Surely the more we… well, the quicker you will have your new champion."
The elven lord appeared to be proud of his son's prowess, whether on the battlefield or in the bedroom, because his eyes showed no suspicion as he shrugged. "Go with him if you wish. I care not."
"But that's preposterous," said the Lady Agnes, her voice at odds with her beauty, a nasally squeak to her words. "There's danger on the road. Bandits, wild magic. And I vow I will not sleep upon the hard ground."
Cass smiled at her sweetly. "Then you need not come."
Dominic turned to his father. "She will be a nuisance."
Cassandra knew he referred to her and not Lady Agnes.
Mor'ded rolled his black scepter between his palms. "So will the king. Surely you can protect them both?" His eyes searched his son's face, as if looking for something.
"Of course. But I value the king more than I do her. Do not blame me if your breeding mare is harmed."
Mor'ded smiled with satisfaction, as if some unspoken question had been answered, and threw back his head with a laugh. Cass couldn't figure out what had passed between the two, but she felt the silent battle of wills as if it were a solid wall. How would she ever discover the secrets between them?
But she had gotten her way and counted that a small victory.