Лорел Гамильтон - A Kiss Of Shadows

"I can get dressed," I said.

"That would be good," he said, "but I am still going to tell her what happened."

"What does she do—take a sperm count? We didn't have sex. Why tell her?"

"She is the Queen of Air and Darkness; she will know. If we do not confess it, and then she finds out, the punishment will be a thousand times worse."

"Punishment? It was an accident."

"I know, and that may save us."

"You are not seriously saying that she will invoke the same penalty for this as if we had made deliberate love?"

"Death by torture," he said. "I hope not, but she is within her rights to call for it."

I shook my head. "No, she would not lose you after a thousand years for an accident."

"I hope not, Princess, I truly hope not." He started around the corner toward the bathroom.

"Doyle," I called.

He came back around the corner. "Yes, Princess?"

"If she tells you that we're going to be executed for this, there is one bright spot."

He put his head to one side in a birdlike movement, "And that would be?"

"We can have sex, real sex, flesh into flesh. If we're going to be executed for something, we might as well be guilty of it."

Emotions chased across his face—again I couldn't read them—then finally a smile. "I never thought I could face my queen with this news and have a divided mind on what I want her to say. You are a tempting thing, Meredith, a thing that a man might trade his life for."

"I don't want your life, Doyle, just your body."

That sent him laughing into the bathroom, which was better than crying. I had the nightshirt back on and was tucked under the covers by the time he came back out. He was solemn-faced, but said, "We are not going to be punished. Though she has made some hint that she would like to see you heal with this newfound power."

"I don't do her little public sex shows," I said.

"I know that, and so does she, but she is curious about it."

"Let her be curious. So we aren't going to be executed, either of us?"

"No," he said.

"Why don't you look happier?" I asked.

"I didn't bring a change of clothes."

It took me a second to realize what he meant. I dug him out a pair of men's silk boxers. They were a little snug through the hips, because he and Roane were not really the same size, but they would fit.

He took the boxers and went back into the bathroom. I thought he'd be quick and come back out to sleep, but I heard the shower turn on. I finally tossed down some pillows on top of the sleeping bags and turned over to try and sleep. I wasn't sure I would be able to sleep, but Doyle stayed in the bathroom a long time. The last thing I heard before sleep rolled over me was the sound of the blow dryer. I never heard him come out of the bathroom. I simply woke up the next day and he was standing over me with hot tea in one hand and our plane tickets in the other. I didn't know if Doyle had used the sleeping bags, or if he slept at all.

DOYLE GRACIOUSLY LET ME TAKE THE WINDOW SEAT. HE SAT VERY straight in his chair, hands in a death grip on the arms, seat belt buckled. He closed his eyes when the plane took off. Normally, I like watching the ground get farther away, but today watching Doyle turn grey around the edges was much more fun.

"How can you possibly be afraid of flying?" I asked.

He kept his eyes closed, but answered me. "I am not afraid of flying. I am afraid of flying in airplanes." His voice sounded very reasonable, as if it all made perfect sense.

"So you could ride a flying steed and not be afraid?"

He nodded, finally opening his eyes as the plane leveled off. "I have ridden the beasts of the air many times."

"So why do planes bother you?"

He looked at me as if I should have known the answer. "It is the metal, Princess Meredith. I am not comfortable surrounded by so much man-made metal. It acts as a barrier between me and the earth, and I am a creature of the earth."

"As you said, Doyle, there are benefits to not being pure sidhe. I don't have a problem with metal."

He looked at me, turning just his head. "You can do major arcana within such a metal tomb?"

I nodded. "I've never found any magic that I can't perform just as well inside a metal tomb, as I can outside of one."

"That could be very useful, Princess."

The flight attendant, a tall leggy blonde wearing nearly perfect makeup, paused by Doyle's seat, bending over enough to make sure he got a look at her cleavage, if he wanted it. She'd made sure he had a chance at a view every time she came by his seat. She'd come by three times in the last twenty minutes to ask if he wanted anything, anything at all. He declined. I asked for a red wine.

She'd brought my wine this time. Because it was first class it was actually served in a long-stemmed glass. The better to spill it all over yourself when the plane hit turbulence, which it did.

The plane bucked and swerved so badly that I gave the wine back to the flight attendant, and she gave me a handful of napkins for my hand.

Doyle closed his eyes again and kept repeating to all her questions, "No, thank you, I'm fine." She didn't actually offer to throw off her clothes and have sex on the floor of the plane, but the invitation was clear. If Doyle heard the invitation he managed to ignore it beautifully. I don't know if he actually didn't realize she was hitting on him, or if he was just accustomed to human women acting like fools. She finally got the hint and wandered off. She had to grip the backs of the seats as she moved down the plane, or she'd have fallen.

It was bad turbulence. Doyle looked greyish. I think it was his version of turning green. "Are you all right?"

He squeezed his eyes more tightly shut. "I will be fine once we are safely on the ground."

"Is there anything I can do to help the time pass quicker?"

He opened his eyes just a slit. "I think the stewardess made that offer already."

"Stewardess is a sexist term," I said. "It's flight attendant. So you did pick up on her hints."

"I don't think squeezing my thigh and brushing my shoulder with her breasts count as hints—more invitations."

"You ignored her beautifully."

"I have had much practice." The plane rocked violently enough that even I wasn't happy. Doyle squeezed his eyes shut again. "Do you really want to help this flight pass more quickly?"

"I owe you at least that much after you flashed your official Guard badge and we both got on the plane with our weapons. I know legally we're both allowed to carry in the U. S., but it doesn't usually go that smooth or that quick."

"It helped that the police escorted us to the gates, Princess." He'd been very carefully calling me Princess, or Princess Meredith, since I woke up this morning. We were no longer on a first-name basis.

"The cops seemed eager to get me on the plane."

"They feared you might get assassinated on their… turf. They did not want the responsibility for your safety."

"So that's how you got me on the plane armed."

He nodded, eyes still closed. "I told them that with only one bodyguard, it would be safer if you, yourself, were armed. Everyone agreed."

Sholto had dropped off the LadySmith 9 mm. I actually had an inner pants holster for it that fit nicely for a front cross-draw. I usually wore it at my back covered by a jacket, but the police had given me carte blanche to carry weapons, so I didn't have to worry about hiding it.

I had a ten-inch knife in a side sheath, the tip of which was tied around my leg with a leather thong for a fast draw, like an Old West gunfighter. The leather thong also made the sheath fit the movement of my leg better. Without a sheath tied off, you ended up having to move it every time you shifted position, or it tended to poke into your body or get caught on things.