Lee, Sharon - Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon

It was the sort of calculation that Aelliana might very well do, he thought. More than that, she might have a point. Certainly last evening they had taken no leisurely course to pleasure, but had tumbled helter-skelter into passion, each half-blinded with need. Well they might try this more modest approach, and he would do what he might to make the course less dangerous yet.

He took a breath, preparatory to activating the Rainbow.

“You will please not use any of the skills you have to calm or distance yourself from me,” Aelliana said.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”

“It will dull the signal,” she said reasonably, and raised her hand.

* * *

Daav's cheek was soft beneath her fingers, the flutter of his pleasure as apparent to her as the scowl on his face. Aelliana paused, concentrating on these new perceptions the Healers had given her.

Regarded in calmness, Daav's input was nothing at all like the emotions she felt for herself; she could differentiate quite easily. She ran her fingers lightly down the side of his face, across his lips, noting the growing warmth—his and hers, distinct. It was rather like simultaneously listening to chatter off the wideband and instructions from the Tower. At first, it seemed nothing other than a dreadful mixup of sound, but the ear very quickly learned to sort and make sense of each stream.

“Aelliana . . . ” His lips moved beneath her fingertips; she felt herself warm agreeably, even as she received a flutter of trepidation from him.

“Hush,” she murmured, and reached to stroke those strong eyebrows before placing both hands, gently, on his shoulders.

He was in tumult now: fear, longing, and a tangled skein of emotion she was too inexperienced to name. What a complex creature he was! Complex and utterly fascinating. Her blood was beginning to heat, slow and inescapable, echoing Daav's longing, yet distinct and very different.

It was therefore her own choice that she moved forward, put her knees on the chair at either side of him, and sat astride his lap.

“Kiss me,” she said, raising her face to his.

“Aelliana, I don't—”

She snatched his long tail of dark hair and pulled it, hard.

“Kiss me!”

He shivered and she felt his fear strongly, almost as if it were her own.

Then she felt his resolve, his concurrence, his desire, and his lips, warm and knowing on hers.

* * *

She was pliant against him, her mouth not so cunning as yestereve, but taking her lessons to heart. Daav went carefully, fear at first mixing with desire, slowly dissolving into passion.

Somewhere in the world beyond she and he, there was a sound.

The door had opened.

Daav lifted his head, felt Aelliana sigh and nestle her cheek against his chest.

Er Thom lounged in the doorway, arms crossed, a book tucked under one elbow.

“Pilots,” he said neutrally, inclining his bright head. “I am going home, to my lady and to my dinner. Pray, do not disturb yourselves on my account! I'm certain that Mr. pel'Kana can find me a car.” He straightened and lifted the book. “Brother, I will return tel'Jorinson's Treatise on Trade tomorrow. Pilot Caylon, I took the liberty of having your things brought down from Trealla Fantrol and reinstated in your quarters here. A fair evening to you both.”

And with that he was gone, the door shutting quietly behind him.

“Is your brother . . . angry?” Aelliana murmured.

“My brother,” Daav told her, with a certain wry humor, “is enjoying himself far too much.”

“And you think that is both amusing and irritating.”

He laughed. “So I do. What else do I think?”

He had meant it for a joke, but, Aelliana-like, she took it as it was asked. Or, perhaps her terrible new sense informed her.

“It is not terrible at all,” she said, snatching the thought wholesale out of his head. “Indeed, I quite like it, though I must say, van'chela, that you're not half complicated!”

She sat up, displaying a complete disregard for the fact that her shirt was unsealed, and her hair tumbled every-which-way.

“Shall I become more simple?” he asked.

Aelliana smiled. “I would never ask it of you. As to what you think—I can't pretend to know, though I might guess. It seems that my guesses will gradually come closer to the mark, as I learn you better.” She put her hand flat over his heart, her palm cool against his flesh.

“I hereby scry,” she announced, singsong and unserious, “you are regretful, you are happy, you are desirous, and you are . . . ” She paused, brows pulling together into a sudden frown. “Daav, are you—ill?”

Ill? He looked down into her face, seeing playfulness melting beneath concern.

“Not that I am aware,” he said. “I will own to being tired, now that the alarms of the last few days are behind us. Perhaps it is that which you scry?”

She tipped her head, considering, and finally sighed, shaking her hair back.

“It may be,” she said eventually. “After all, this is new to me.” She smiled and leaned toward him. “Perhaps I need more practice.”

He bent his head, not loath to assist in so worthy a goal.

There was a knock at the door.

Aelliana drooped against him, muttering.

“It will be Mr. pel'Kana,” Daav said, “wanting to know our wishes for Prime, or—” He glanced to the window, noting with surprise that twilight had faded into evening. “Or perhaps he wishes to tell us that a cold meal has been laid for us in the morning room. Either way, we should acknowledge him, and let him seek his bed.”

She sighed, but slid off his lap, and walked to the window, her back to the door, and her hands busy at the fastenings of her shirt. He rose and sealed his own shirt, scooped her jacket up and dropped it into the chair.

The discreet knock was repeated.

“Come,” Daav called, walking forward to stand by the desk.

Mr. pel'Kana came two scant steps into the room and bowed.

“There is a cold meal laid in the morning room, your lordship,” he murmured. “Do you or the pilot require anything else this evening?”

“I believe that I do not,” Daav said composedly. “Aelliana?”

“Thank you, I am quite content,” she said, her voice perhaps a little unsteady.

Daav inclined his head. “We will serve ourselves, Mr. pel'Kana. Please do not wait any longer on our account.”

“Thank you, sir. Pilot. Good evening to you both.”

“Good evening,” Aelliana called. “Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome, Pilot,” the old man said, and left them.

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Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon

Chapter Fourteen

He found it in a desert, so he told me—the only living thing in two days' walk. A skinny stick with a couple leaves near the top, that's all it was then.

I don't remember the name of the world it came from. He might not have told me. Wherever it was, when his Troop finally picked him up, Jela wouldn't leave 'til he'd dug up that damned skinny stick of a tree and planted it real careful in an old ration tin. Carried it in his arms onto transport. And nobody dared to laugh.

—Excerpted from Cantra yos'Phelium's Log Book

This waking was both easier and more difficult. Easier because she had the memory of last evening's pleasures to treasure; more difficult because she knew before ever she opened her eyes that she was alone.

After Mr. pel'Kana's interruption, she and Daav had taken a leisurely meal, sitting together on the window seat and overlooking the nighttime garden. They had not spoken very much—there seemed to be no need. When they were through, she had helped Daav clear what was left and carry it down the back hall to the kitchen, where he made quick work of stowing everything in its proper place.