by Dara Joy
Jorlan's lips thinned. His dislike of the social season was well known. He had gone to the soiree to appease his grandmother, who had insisted he attend. He was so disgusted with the position he was in that he did not even bother to comment on the She-Count's prodding remark.
An awkward silence filled the room.
The Duchene spoke, alleviating the strange tension.
"Was it a good time, She-Count?"
"Not really. Let us just say that my interest was quickly lost in the evening." She smiled coldly at Jorlan. "Although I had a better time later on. A group of us went over to the Gardens in the Neon Night part of town. Ended up at Number 99. You know the place, don't you, Tamryn? I could swear I've seen you there."
Green knew the place. It was a dank, seedy pit hole that catered to the exotic tastes of damselles for wagering... and other more sordid pursuits. Although Green had been there in the past, she had never availed herself of those dubious pleasures.
She glanced over at Jorlan, who was looking at her with something akin to revulsion. She returned his look with a steady one of her own. Green never explained herself to anyone. The veil could make his own judgments—whatever they were.
"I have been there, yes," she answered truthfully.
Claudine smiled. "Although I've never seen you in the special back rooms. I suppose you don't have the gall for that kind of zip."
Jorlan's eyes widened slightly. Claudine had set out to insult her. Little did she know that she had inadvertently elevated her in the fil-Duchene's eyes.
The Duchene fanned herself vigorously, distressed by the outre topic. The holo fan depicted Klee racing wildly across the plains. "What a dreadful place that is! Surely you will catch all kinds of illnesses there, She-Count. I've heard horrendous stories about the men they keep in house. They say they are nothing more than street urchins, some of them there against their will! One wonders what—" The Duchene stopped when she realized her words were not for mixed company. Jorlan should not be hearing this.
"It is nothing of the kind, Duchene. Besides, the Sparks are thankful for the touch we give them—and well they should be. If it wasn't for us, they'd starve. 'A touch for some touch,' as they say!" Claudine grinned evilly. "Touch" was a slang term that the Slice coyly favored when referring either to coin or a bit of the velvet veil. They thought the play on words terribly clever.
"How fortunate for them that they have you," Green returned coldly. She detested the conditions in the Gardens.
"It's easy for you to talk such," Claudine sneered. "You with the finest pleasurer on Forus! When are you going to tire of River and give him over to the rest of us?"
"She-Count D'anbere, I will remind you that my grandson is in the room," the Duchene sputtered. "You will cease this talk immediately. It is entirely improper!"
Claudine glanced over at Jorlan; he returned her look with a stony expression. It was obvious that the veil hated her, which aroused her further. Claudine loved to deal with hate. She had a special gift with hate. Just the thought of showing Jorlan her talent with the emotion excited her.
She patted her hair and cleared her throat to steady herself. Now was not the time to let her fantasies run wild. She would have him soon enough. She had already made sure of it. "You are right, of course, Duchene. My apologies to you and your grandson."
The Duchene snapped her holofan shut. She wasn't appeased by the apology, although politeness demanded she accept it.
Billings brought in a refreshment tray and placed it on a table near the She-Count. She left the room with a disdainful sniff aimed in the She-Count's direction.
"How are your lands to the west, Tamryn? I heard you had some trouble there these past months." Claudine availed herself of a sweet from the tray.
"I can't imagine how you could have heard such a thing." Especially since you were the cause of it. Green tried to contain her ire over the woman's statement about her pleasurer. No matter what happens, Claudine, I promise you will never touch River. Never. Green knew she would never let the vulnerable pleasurer come to harm from such a woman.
Claudine bit into her treat, making a great show of letting it dissolve on her tongue. "Really? That was not the talk among the Slice. The kloobroth has it that you almost went bankrupt trying to save the place. I would have just let the fool thing go. Why risk everything on some backward plantation?"
"That plantation has been in my family for ages. The workers have been with my family for generations. They depend on me for their livelihood, although I don't expect you to understand that."
Claudine waved her hand. "Silly sentimentality if you ask me."
"I didn't ask you."
Claudine paused in the eating of her treat. "Too bad. I'm sure if you had, you would have avoided months of grief." She popped another piece of the sweet into her mouth.
"I'm sure. But since everything is perfectly fine and running smoothly, the topic is moot, isn't it?"
Claudine bit off the final piece with a snap. Green Tamryn had somehow managed to pull her estates out from the brink of ruin! How the Marquelle had done it was nothing short of a miracle, since Claudine herself had set the strength of the trap. The entire scenario was irritating in the extreme, but there was always next time.
Her purpose in this visit had nothing to do with Marquelle Tamryn, who was undoubtedly here to visit her old friend the Duchene.
"I was wondering if your grandson and I might take a ride together, Duchene. There is a Klee I am interested in purchasing and I thought he might advise me."
Jorlan spoke up for himself before his grandmother could answer. "Surely you do not need the advice of a man to make such a purchase, She-Count."
"It is well known that you have a gift with the beasts. Your input might be very useful."
As an invitation it was rather insulting. But Claudine would never see it that way.
"I am sorry to disappoint you, She-Count, but I have made other plans this day."
Claudine bristled, seeing through the pale apology. "Perhaps some other time then," she said icily. "Perhaps."
"Definitely." Claudine stood, wasting no time in further formalities now that her target was out of range. "I'm afraid I must be on my way, Duchene."
"So soon?" The Duchene could barely keep the glee from her voice.
"Yes, I'm afraid so. I will see you before long, Jorlan." There was a slight threat laced in the promise that seemed to unnerve the Duchene. Green looked at her curiously.
Claudine curtly nodded once at Green, as politeness demanded, before grandly exiting the room.
"By the Slice! That woman is terribly rude!" Anya frowned at the empty doorway.
Green and Jorlan smiled secretly at each other. As if rudeness were the worst of Claudine's offenses.
"I thought I might take a walk in your lovely gardens this morning, Anya; that is, if you don't mind lending me your delightful grandson as guide?"
Anya Reynard glanced over at the "delightful" grandson, who, she assumed, in all probability was about to bolt from the room. She was somewhat surprised to see him nonchalantly examining his toe, apparently in no hurry to leave or in any objection to the Marquelle's request.
The Duchene met Green's eye. She nodded. "I think that would be an excellent idea." Claudine D'anbere's visit had obviously shaken the older woman. A slight tremor shook her blue-veined hand. Green speculated on whether Anya's distress was due to more than just simple dislike for the brash She-Count.
"Come, Jorlan, show me the wonders you have to offer." Her amber eyes twinkled with double meaning as she held out her hand.
His expression was equally subtle as he took her proffered hand and led her out into the bright sunshine.
The gardens at Reynard House were breathtaking.
The Duchene had always had a fondness for flora and had consistently cultivated rare, exotic plants for the garden. There were even a few extremely rare Origin plants whose stemmings had been carefully grafted on to existing plants on Forus. The resultant plants h
ad been gorgeous hybrids—huge roseyal blooms and fragrant lillacia. They had never been able to figure out why Origin plants wouldn't grow directly in Forus soil. It seemed as if they should—but they wouldn't germinate. Only one plant had ever been able to, and that had been something of an accidental discovery.
Green inhaled deeply of the lovely morning scents.
"Mmm. How lovely! You are fortunate to be able to enjoy this beauty, Jorlan. Although my mother would have been furious with me for admitting to this, your grandmother's gardens are the best in Capitol Town."
Green's mother and Anya had often engaged in friendly rivalry as to who had the better garden. Green had nostalgically continued the bi-play.
Jorlan smiled, the edges of his lips curling up in provocative way. "Your secret will be safe with me." He gazed down at her out of the corner of his eye with a gleam. "That is until we return and I just happen to mention to my grandmother... " He left the implication unsaid.
"You wouldn't do such a thing! Not about the gardens!" This had been a long-standing and well-loved feud.
"Mmm-hmm." He nodded to put more emphasis to the unpardonable deed.
Her lips twitched. "You scoundrel! I can't believe you would—"
He laughed, a rich, alluring sound, which showcased gleaming white teeth and curved dimples. He was a charming scoundrel.
She shook her finger at him. "I'll owe you for that one, be sure."
He arched his brow. "I'm counting on it, Marquelle." The hoarse tone was pure seduction.
Despite her age and experience. Green blushed. Jorlan Marquelle was an engaging package. Every indication she had was that the man was more than even she had surmised. And she rarely underestimated anyone.
He was certainly more playful than she ever would have guessed.
And, for some reason, a reason she could not name, there was the sense that under it all he could be very, very dangerous. How could a man be dangerous? She viewed him askance.
"What?" he mouthed.
"I'm wondering about you."
He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. "And just what are you wondering?"
"I'm wondering what is going on behind those aqua eyes of yours."
He blinked slowly. Purposefully. "Perhaps nothing."
"I sincerely doubt that."
"Perhaps I am wondering just what it is you think to 'show' me out here."
"I thought you were showing me."
He stared at her expectantly.
"The gardens?"
"So I am. What do you think?" He spread his arms wide, indicating the landscape, but his inquiry was not about plantings.
So she answered in him in kind. "I think it is a beautiful place, rich in detail, and layered with complexity. Vibrant, with subtle tones, and altogether individual in nature."
"You flatter my family," he responded evenly, giving nothing away.
"The Reynards have always been known for their leadership abilities; surely that trait is evident even here in this... garden."
"Yes, they have often paved the way where others have followed." He watched her carefully.
"And is that what you wish to plant in your garden?" she asked pointedly. What he was implying was so radical, it would surely ostracize him from decent society, especially if he spoke of it to others.
He watched her steadily. "Yes."
She sucked in her breath. "And how do you hope to accomplish such a thing? Surely such seeds would not grow in this soil and might in fact end up poisoning your entire house."
"One never knows what can take root when the proper conditions are met."
"Have a care, Jorlan." She put all pretense aside. "It is one thing to entertain outlandish notions, quite another to attempt to act upon them."
" 'Outlandish'?" His nostrils flared.
"You would disgrace the Duchene for a youthful whim?"
"This is no youthful whim. But you needn't concern yourself, Marquelle. I assure you, I would never hurt my grandmother."
She breathed a little easier at that statement. For a minute, she wasn't sure if he did not have some foolish escapade in mind. "I suppose not; you do realize that you are more apt to cause wagging tongues by our walk last night than by anything else?"
He shrugged. "I do not think I am that interesting a topic to the Slice."
"Then you underestimate your charm."
"Charm?" His lips curled in a sneer of disgust. "Is that what you call it?"
"Among other things." She let her gaze travel the length of him. It was ironic that one so blessed with natural attributes should be so opposed to the appreciation of them by the ladies of the Select Quarter.
Unlike other come-outs, Jorlan did not get flustered or nervous at her blatant regard. Instead he met her perusal with a steady regard of his own that made her slightly uncomfortable. With his looks, she supposed he was used to women trying to chase a "bit o' the velvet."
What was it about this young man that gave him the maturity and the knowing not usually found in men twice his age, if ever?
A disturbing thought occurred to her. Surely he had not... ?
No, she had tasted him herself, experienced firsthand his initial trembling, his slightly hesitant touch. Whatever made Jorlan different was inherent in him and had nothing to do with any outside influence or experience.
They walked by a mesh-pond. Tiny crisscrossed fibers covered the liquid underlayer of the plant, forming a red ripple fading out to pink on the edges. The mesh-pond was in bloom; several tiny pink-and-white buds dotted its surface. It was a charming sight.
As they strolled by, the mesh-pond croaked slightly, begging Jorlan for a tidbit. He leaned over to snap off a cilia twig from a nearby bush, tossing it into the fibers as they passed.
Gurgling happily, the mesh-pond absorbed the treat.
Green smiled to herself. Despite his insolent stance, there was a hidden kindness in his heart. Again, she remembered the incident with Claudine's Klee when he was a boy.
"What are you thinking?" he murmured.
"I was remembering something from a long time ago... "
"About your family?" He smoothed away a strand of auburn hair that had flown into her eye.
"It's not important." She looked up at him. He was shadowed; beautifully shadowed. "Kiss me," she breathed. "Right now."
He paused only a second, then simply reacted. He bent forward, brushing warm, smooth lips over hers. It was an incredibly tender kiss. At once sensual and sweet.
Standing on tiptoe, Green's hand reached up to cup the back of his head. Even though he was bending, he was still towering over her.
Green's hand clasped his shoulder and upper arm, noting the muscular strength concealed by his black sleek-cut layer coat. Her fingers sank recklessly into the depths of the silky black hair. Its texture was finer than any she had ever touched. Softer. More luxurious. The strands slid between her fingers, twining about her hand. Have I ever felt such hair? She marveled at the sensation of it. There was something incredible about touching Jorlan, the feel of him unlike anything—
Again, she felt him tremble.
Jorlan tried to stiffen himself against the sensual assault but could not. Against his will, he felt himself give over to the awareness. Felt his body come alive as the tremors shivered down his length and throughout his body.
Green felt his initial resistance followed by the reaction he could not contain. Somehow, the fact that he had lost a bit of his rigid control in the essence of the moment pleased her.
She was going to love awakening this man. Teaching him of the passion within himself. Watching it rise slowly until it overtook him. And her
A picture of him sprawled across her sheets came into her mind. His golden skin warmed by flamelight, flushed with a slight sheen of moisture, dry and hot to the touch as he waited for her to come to him. For her to ignite him. His eyes were illuminated with his heat. Jorlan jolted suddenly, breaking off the pure kiss to stare into her eyes. Shielded, his expressi
on became inscrutable.
"Wh-what is it?" She tried to control the pace of her breaths, which had sped up with the press of his mouth and her unaccountable thoughts. It was a mystery to her how this untried veil had managed to get to her like this.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Nothing, Marquelle." He pulled back from her abruptly.
She regained her composure with his distance. "Do you not like the taste of me?"
"I like the taste of you just fine."
"Then what is it?"
"As I said, nothing." He snapped a boomerang leaf from the branches of an overhanging Dreamtree, setting it in flight. The small V-shaped leaf spun back and forth through the air, riding the currents as it gently cascaded to the ground.
Had he somehow picked up a glimmer of her impetuous fantasy? She glanced up at him through the fringe of her lashes. It was possible. Who knew what he was capable of? The boy had been a mystery; the man was an enigma. And yet, he had spoken the truth. He could not hide his reaction to her. The slight warm flush of his golden skin, the husky tone of his voice told their own tale.
"How long have you known that you are a Sensitive?"
His shoulders stiffened. He looked back at her. "What do you mean?"
"There is no sense trying to hide it, Jorlan. You might have gotten away with it with another woman, had you chosen someone else to experiment with. I, however, know better. I am too experienced not to. You knew that as well, which makes me wonder why you chose me to explore with."
He looked up at the tallest branches of the Dreamtree where a Ramagi was spinning its matrix. "Yes, I know of your experience. And you're right, I am curious where perhaps I shouldn't be. I have never had such a curiosity with anyone before—" He stopped, unwilling to say more.
Green watched him carefully. What was he weaving? He wanted her. Only her.
It was not simple experimentation. Not with this man. She stored this incident away for later contemplation. "And what of being a Sensitive?"
His brow furrowed. "I do not know what you are saying."
"You... " She hesitated. Perhaps he did not know. Perhaps he had no idea that he was very different from most, men. That he experienced the senses on a completely different level. Being brought up in a proper way in a proper household, he would not have been exposed to the term "Sensitive."