Rogue's Pawn (6 page)

Silly question.

When they finished, I felt as corseted and stiff as the first Queen Elizabeth looked in her portraits, but I did have impressive cleavage. Now I knew where all the ladies got their figures. And why they’d found my own underwear so titillating. My poor little panties comprised about two percent of the fabric I had on now.

“This isn’t for all the time, dear—just formal events, and Lord Rogue wanted you formal tonight.”

Blackbird dropped a sheer robe over my head. It draped over me from neck to wrist to toe. She added several more, all light, all in various shades of beige, until I wore seven robes in a straight column of cloth. Mina offered me a pair of ballet-type flats, beige, of course.

I glimpsed myself in the mirror. I looked like a Carmelite Novice. The braided hair was too severe for my face, emphasizing my square jaw. The cinched waist and impressive cleavage were completely obscured. The off-whites did nothing to complement my pale complexion and dishwater hair.

“I am a symphony in neutral,” I declared.

“Thank you!” Blackbird beamed.

I tried to think of a way to tell her that wasn’t a compliment without hurting her feelings.

“Usually I prefer brighter colors,” I tendered.

“Oh no!” Blackbird looked horrified. Turning me away from the mirror, she took my hands. “No colors, no affiliations tonight. You must be neutral, nonthreatening—I thought you knew that. Didn’t Lord Rogue explain?”

“When?” I scoffed. I jerked my hands out of hers and paced the room. “After he lambasted me for thinking too loud, but before he held the knife to my throat? I have fifty-three million questions and no answers! I notice he’s been markedly absent since I regained my voice, in fact.”

“And who would blame me, really?” Rogue drawled from the doorway.

I whirled around to see him lounging against the doorframe, keen blue gaze sparkling. He was resplendent in black. A velvety outfit that outlined his lean body so that he appeared as sleek as I was puffy. The blade of a knife to my undercooked bratwurst. I contemplated several come-backs, but he waggled a long finger at me.

“Tsk, tsk, temper, darling.”

He shrugged away from the doorway as the two tub-lads reappeared and, heads down, tromped back in, seized the tub and took it away without a word. I was sorry to see it go. Mina and Bhrta hustled after them, padding on silent feet. Darling slipped out, also. Ah, well.

Lady Blackbird swept Rogue a deep curtsey. “Best of the evening to you, sir.”

He kissed her hand and she blushed charmingly. “Thank you for your labors, Lady Blackbird. Once again you have exceeded my expectations.” He glanced at me. “She could hardly be any less attractive.”

“Gosh, thanks.”

“Best of luck tonight, Lady Gwynn.” She patted my cheek and tucked a wisp of hair behind my ear, whispering, “You’ll do just fine, dear—just do whatever Lord Rogue tells you to do.”

Oh yeah, great idea. Rogue snorted. I smiled at Blackbird. Then impulsively kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you for your extraordinary kindness to me.”

She looked startled, round eyes sharp and bright. “I’ll remember this, lady!” She scooted out the door, closing it behind her.

Chapter
Seven

In Which I Make My First Bargain

“I had hoped that your irascible nature was due to the pain and that the healing would have improved your personality,” Rogue said as the door shut.

He stood by the fire, arms crossed over his chest. Leather boots came up just over his knees and thick heels for riding added to his height. As if he needed it. He wore the silver knife at his left hip in a sheath glinting with jewels. A black leather belt threaded through the sheath swung low on his narrow hips. I pretended to be only noticing the knife and not the rest. And, oh yes, I was working on keeping my thoughts deep and quiet.

I folded my arms over my own chest—not easy with this many layers. My breasts were beginning to ache with the confinement. The rest of my body pulsed against the tight cloths.

“I’m not going to this party dressed like this.” I drew my line in the sand. He did the one-eyebrow raise, but didn’t move otherwise.

“Stay here then,” he returned, “and we’ll decide your restitution and future without you.”

He didn’t move to the door though. Just stood there, acute eyes framed by the thorns on his face and that glass-black hair, watching me.

“Why can’t I go but wear something else?”

“Why are you worried about—of all things—what you’re wearing? Titania save me from a woman’s foolish vanity.”

“Look, I don’t know much about this world. Where it is, who you are—and I notice no one is eager to answer these questions—but I am not accustomed to being dressed up and trotted about. Contrary to what everyone here seems to think, I am not a pet. I might be a prisoner, but I don’t have to be a cheerfully obedient one. Why does it matter what I wear?”

“There are things you don’t understand.”

“Well, hallelujah, at last we agree on something,” I snapped. “Clearly there’s some kind of charged socio-political thing going on here—do you really think it’s a bright idea for me to walk into something like that totally blind?”

“No.”

I waited.

The fire crackled.

I returned his stare, refusing to flinch. As far as I was concerned, a monosyllable doesn’t count as a valid conversational response so the ball was still in his court.

“We don’t have enough time,” he finally said.

Ha! Won that round. I pressed my advantage. “How much time do we have? When does this party start?”

“It’s not a party. It’s a reception and banquet. At which you
will
eat,” he added. “And it’s starting right now.”

I glanced out the windows, where the fog remained the exact same shade of grayness. “How do you know it’s time? What time is it, anyway?”

“It’s time for the reception to start.”

“Okay, now that’s just circular reasoning. If I were inviting you to a party—” he opened his mouth, so I held up a hand, “—a reception and banquet, then. I would say, ‘Hey, Rogue, the dinner starts at seven o’clock and it’s six fifty-six right now, so we need to be on our way.’ Now it’s your turn to try it.”

He just looked at me.

“Go ahead,” I prompted. Never let it be said that I can’t be stubborn.

“We don’t measure time like that. Things start when they start. Time, however, can be wasted. Just like this. They’re waiting. We have to go.”

“I want to know at least some basics. We can be five minutes late, or five parsecs or half an inch of melted wax or whatever the hell. I’m calling your bluff—I think you want me there for some reason, so unless you intend to carry me in kicking and screaming, answer a few questions and I’ll go.”

Rogue started to run one hand through his hair, then apparently remembered it was tied back, so laid his hand against the left side of his face, elbow propped on his fist.

Trust me
.

“Why should I? I have no idea what your agenda is. You yourself told me you aren’t my friend—right there I’d say that was a fine reason not to.”

“Not to what?” He cocked his head to the side as if trying to hear a faint sound.

“Trust you.”

“You heard that.”

“I’m working at being quieter—you said I’d hear you if I did.”

He looked uneasy, glancing away from me for the first time, ostensibly observing the fire. It occurred to me that he hadn’t meant me to hear that, which meant what? It was some kind of suggestion, maybe. While he pondered his next move, I lined up my questions, keeping a close eye on him. Rogue really was rather staggeringly gorgeous. His hair was more loosely tied back, caught at the back of his neck in a jeweled band that matched the knife sheath. Something about that lean body made me want to curl up in his arms, let him take care of me…

What had I been thinking about?

I frowned, swirling my thoughts and feelings around, like stirring a pan of milk to bring up the little burned bits. A couple of bits that didn’t seem to be mine floated up—I dissolved them as I popped that amber thought bubble. I was kind of getting the knack of this.

Rogue had walked up to me while I was sorting my thoughts and now stood just before me so I had to tilt my head back to look at him.

Too close. If I leaned in a bit, I could lay my body against him. His eyes burned and I felt an answering heat. My nipples peaked against the restraining cloth. A hot shiver ran through me as his gaze dropped to my lips. My heart thumped.

I reveled in that moment, that breathless anticipation where you wondered, hoped, wished, that this beautiful man would lower his head to kiss you.

His breath fluttered against my lips. Cinnamon and sandalwood swirled through my head.

I held my breath, waiting for that first taste of him, waiting for the passion that pressed against the corseting materials to surge over me. I wanted the feel of it.

Wanted him on me and in me. Wanted what he wanted. Wanted him more than anything.

Whoa, since when?

I stepped back quickly. “Are you fucking with my mind?”

Irritation flashed across his face before it fell back into seductive lines.

I found myself shaking my head. “No, no, no—I may be a babe in the woods here, but I know myself at least. And
you
just wasted the five minutes I asked for.”

Rogue cursed—I didn’t quite catch the meaning, except that it sounded pissed and seemed to have something to do with a cow, which sure as hell had better not be me. Then he started pacing the room, filling the silence with rhythmic boot steps.

Ah, here was the Rogue we knew.

I felt obscurely comforted. My body still seethed and pulsed, but that was all me. As was the bruised disappointment at missing out on the kiss. Probably my only opportunity. I had a habit of blowing the moment. Me and my smart mouth. Still, I felt I’d won a small battle, gained a bit of ground. Go me.

At least I had the sense to know that Rogue didn’t really want me. Rogue would probably take what I offered, just as any man would, really, given the opportunity. But what would I be left with once he’d taken it?

It was a mystery to me, what made a man stick around once he’d gotten laid. Maybe the chance to have more at first. Maybe he signed up for the ring and the vows so he could get it regular.
But don’t tell me it’s love.
Love was just window dressing, to cover up the dirty panes beneath.

At least I was thinking like myself again.

I waited him out while he paced.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re irretrievably stubborn, woman?” he finally got out.

“Just about everyone, thanks.”

Which was true. It was also true that people called you stubborn when you didn’t do what they wanted you to do. I had a pretty good idea that whatever these people wanted me to do wasn’t in my best interests.

“You’re getting loud with your thoughts again,” Rogue said.

“Apologies.” Dammit.

“I find myself comforted by the familiarity of it,” Rogue answered wryly, in an odd echo of my own thoughts. He walked back up to me. “We’re at an impasse, it seems. If I can convince you of the sincerity of my intentions regarding you, will you trust me for the duration of the reception?”

“How will you do that?”

“I’ll let you into my thoughts—let you feel my intentions.”

“No.” I shook my head. “No more mind tricks.”

“No mind tricks—you would control this. All you do is look.”

“That seems like an invasion of your mental privacy?”

“I’m desperate.” His mouth twisted a bit, distorting a black line so it sharpened into a fang.

Desperate could be interesting. I knew he heard my thought from the devastating smile that cracked through the thorns. Now
that
man, with the smile, was the dangerous one. I made certain to keep that observation very much to myself.

“So I look into your head, see that you’re on the level, and then we go to this deal, with me still running blind? I don’t think so. I want five questions answered first.”

“What’s with you and the number five?”

I shrugged. One hand, I don’t know.

“No time,” Rogue answered, and held up an uncannily long hand when I opened my mouth again. “I feel certain you’d ask hard questions that require long answers. I’ll give you three principles—three things you should know to get through the evening.”

“Five ground rules.”

“I can’t think of five.”

“You disappoint me.”

He flashed me the wicked grin. “I wouldn’t have, if you’d let me kiss you.”

Ooh, good one. I floundered for a response. Surely I wasn’t blushing. Rogue walked away and sat on a chair by the fire, clearly smug with the knowledge he’d beaten me that round. Now he was back to business.

“Four ground rules.”

“Why four?”

“Never accept a first offer. Agreed?”

When I nodded, he beckoned me over to stand in front of him. He parted his knees and pulled me between them, hands on my heavily padded waist. “Shhh,” he said when I tried to pull back, stroking me into calm, gentling me as he had when I was chained to the bed. “Contact is helpful, even necessary at this point. It’s not like I can feel anything through this get-up anyhow.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Ground Rule One,” he said, pinning me with his gaze, “you must appear as nonthreatening as possible, like a young girl protected all her life. Virginal, you understand that idea?”

I nodded.

“Be sweet. Be biddable. Be unattractive. Be unsexy. That means they will underestimate you and much rides on that.”

“Okay, that helps.” I smiled sweetly. “I’ll wear the damn outfit.”

Didn’t want him to forget that was my choice whether to leave the room in it.

“Fingertips on my temples,” he instructed.

I laid my hands on his face, my right fingertips over the black swirling lines, the skin equally silken on both sides. His skin seemed unnaturally warm, with a slight buzz to it, as if there were a mild level of static charge. A spark ran through me.

“Look into my eyes.”

As if I wasn’t already hypnotized by the ardent blue of them. There were gold flecks in his irises, and they were ringed with a thin line of desert black. Rogue drew me in a bit more, fingers flexing on my hips. The fire crackled softly.

Now follow my surface thoughts
.
Too loud?
he asked when I winced.

A bit,
I tried quietly.

He chuckled. Yes, ironic. Ha-ha.

This better?

Yes.

Now look around, as if you’re looking just under the surface of water.

Like snorkeling. I pictured the Caribbean and felt his interested response.

Then images not my own began to float by—a dark pool in the woods, the water chill, a bright ocean, waves tumbling, a black-haired, long-legged boy running on the beach, rocky, uneven.

Now deeper.

I dove down. Private here, quiet. A sense of walking through someone’s house at night while they slept. Scenes flickered, as if in a movie. Me, laughing at him, my eyes a green flash. My throat torn open, satisfaction shaded with guilt and grief. Me, lying unconscious on the bed, throat smooth, saved but vulnerable. The need to protect me shimmered around the image, like heat waves.

Did I believe it?

I dove deeper.

Something shadowed. A raven’s wing swept across my vision, shrieking whispers. Hot blood in my mouth, tearing flesh and tears, howls and water. Rogue, drowning in black-and-blue magic, the Dog tearing scarlet chunks out of his chest until Rogue’s howls became blood themselves.

I wrenched myself away.

Abruptly I was in sunlight.

Or rather, back in the firelit room, chill gray fog out the windows. Rogue blinked up at me, eyes turbulent. His fingers dug into my hips, almost all that was holding me upright. It took me a moment to clear the dark howls from my mind.

“What did you see?”

“You don’t know?”

He shook his head. “I kept to my agreement. You were to look on your own. Hopefully you saw that I want only to protect you.”

“But you said you weren’t my friend.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what are you?”

Rogue stood abruptly, which brought him hard up against me. My hands fell away from his face and I tried to step out of the way, but he held me with one iron arm. Stronger than he looked.

The other hand reached up to toy with the short lock that had escaped from my braids at the nape of my neck. He stared at me fiercely from inches away and my heart pounded. Heat simmered from him and I thrilled to it, despite what I’d seen. Or maybe because of it.

Did the Dog also stalk his dreams?

“Do you trust me now?”

He didn’t know all I’d seen in the depth of his heart. Maybe they were things I should not have seen. I wouldn’t want anyone to see my nightmares. Especially now that they were real.

“As near to trust as we’re going to get right now.”

He rewarded me with his brilliant smile. “Excellent!” He released me, then strode over to the table, returning with Blackbird’s tray of nibbles. “Have a quick something to eat then and we’ll get going.”