Naamah's Kiss

Page 24

I wondered what I'd say to him.
I wished my mother were here.
"Do you seek sanctuary?" It was a woman clad in crimson robes who opened the door. She had a lovely face that was aging beautifully, honey-gold hair fading with grey. Warm, hazel eyes. "In Naamah's name, be welcome here."
Raphael bowed. "My lady priestess—"
"Oh!" Her hands flew up to press her cheeks. She ignored him and gazed at me, her eyes wide. "You've come a long way, haven't you? All the way from the far side of Alba?"
"I have," I agreed.
"You're Phanuel's daughter. He said you might come one day." The priestess laughed with delight. "Oh, please!" She gave me the kiss of greeting with unabashed warmth. "Come in, come in!"
My head spun. "He knows? You expected me?"
"No and yes." She clasped my hands in hers. "Come inside, won't you? We need to speak." She cast a sidelong glance at Raphael, her eyes sparkling. "You, too, my lord de Mereliot."
He bowed.
Inside the Temple of Naamah, we were served honeycakes and hot tea sweetened with milk and honey. Once proper introductions were made, I learned that the priestess' name was Noemie d'Etoile. To my disappointment, I also learned that my father was not present in the City at this time.
"Where is he?" I asked.
"Wandering," she said. "Phanuel's never been one to stay in one place for any length of time. But he'll be back in a month's time or so." She smiled. "Sooner if he hears word of your appearance." She shook a scolding finger at Raphael. "You've been keeping secrets, my lord."
"Ah, but think what a delightful surprise it will make," he said, unperturbed.
"Is there no way to contact him?" I asked.
Noemie shook her head. "Not when he's wandering afield. He goes where whim takes him. Namarre or L'Agnace, usually."
"L'Agnace," I mused. "Anael's province?"
"Indeed." She nodded. "Phanuel's mother was of Naamah's line, a very old and pure one. But by all accounts, his father was a L'Agnacite farm boy." She misread the look on my face. "There's no shame in it, child. No matter what the peers of the realm would have you believe, the blood of Elua and his Companions runs just as true in farmers and herders and cheese-makers as it does the peerage."
"Betimes more so," Raphael agreed.
"It's not that," I murmured. "It's just that I've seen him, too. Anael, the Good Steward."
"Seen him?" His voice sharpened.
"Only in my thoughts," I hastened to add. "Not like—" I cut my words short, not wanting to talk about the Maghuin Dhonn Herself. It was too private. "I saw them first when I was little, before I had names for them. Naamah and Anael. I called her the bright lady. He was the man with the seedling." Noemie was gazing at me with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. I cleared my throat. "You said was."
She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"Was," I repeated. "When you spoke of Phanuel's mother and father, you said was. Do I have no surviving grandparents?"
"Ah." Her face softened. "As to his mother, I fear not. She died of a wasting illness some seven or eight years ago. As to his father….. Phanuel never knew his name. His mother kept no record of it." She touched my arm. "It's not unusual for those of us who serve Naamah to be drawn by whim thusly when the time comes. I haven't felt it myself, but those who have say they feel her hand in it."
"As he was to my mother."
"Yes." Noemie nodded again. "A strange and powerful calling. He always thought a child might result from it."
"Did he say why?" I asked.
"No." She spread her hands. "Only that there must be some purpose in it. That's why we've half expected you all these years."
Raphael eyed me. "Destiny."
"Aye, but what and why?" I said in frustration. "Stone and sea! This is a confounding business."
"Moirin, would you behold your great-great-grandmother?" Noemie asked unexpectedly. "I don't reckon you'll find any answers, but it might please you nonetheless."
It occurred to me that I knew nothing of D'Angeline burial rites. "She's….. here?"
"No and yes." She rose, smiling, and took my hand. "Come."
I let Noemie lead me into the temple proper, Raphael trailing behind us. Beneath a modest dome with an opening at its center, a marble effigy of Naamah stood on a marble plinth. Her head was bowed, hair falling to curtain one side of her face. What was visible of her expression was filled with compassion and tenderness. In her cupped hands, she held a pair of doves nestled side by side.
I gazed at her. "I don't understand."
Noemie's hands descended lightly on my shoulders. "Phanuel's great-grandmother, your great-great-grandmother, posed for the likeness. Her name was Amarante, and she was the first royal companion. This temple was built for her."
Raphael was silent.
I looked longer. Sunlight streamed down from the aperture above. The white marble glowed, nearly translucent where it was carved fine. Naamah's effigy regarded her love-birds with infinite gentleness.
My great-great-grandmother.
Shivers ran over my skin. For the first time since I'd set foot on D'Angeline soil, I understood in my bones that I was one of them. A child of the Maghuin Dhonn, aye—but D'Angeline, too. Somewhere, my father wandered. He was a descendant of an old line. My great-great-grandmother was real, as real as Alais the Wise. She had existed. She had posed for this sculptor. I had a heritage here that stretched into the past.
"Oh," I said softly. "I see."
"Do you?" Noemie d'Etoile whispered in my ear.
Doves fluttered.
"Yes," I said. "I do."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
On our return journey, the carriage remained curtained and stifling. Raphael sat at apparent ease across from me, telling me the tale of how this particular Temple of Naamah came to be situated in the Tsingani quarter.
It was a charming tale.
I didn't care.
The bright lady's gift, Naamah's gift, was coiling around me and through me, heating my blood. I let it roam freely. When the carriage jolted to a temporary halt, I let it pitch me across the space between us, landing me in his lap.
Raphael's eyes gleamed. "Moirin….."
"Shut up," I whispered, sinking my hands into his tawny hair.
I kissed him.
He was a man, and mortal. He kissed me back, his mouth and tongue urgent, his hands hard around my hips, radiating warmth. One hand descended, shoving up my skirts, pushing at my fine new undergarments, moving them out of the way. I fumbled at the buttons on his breeches.
And then…..
Horses' hooves clopped. I clasped my hand around his erect phallus and fitted it to me with a sigh, pushing downward onto him.
So good.
So deep.
"Nice," I sighed, rocking atop him. The carriage seat squeaked.
"This is not what I intended for our first time," Raphael whispered against my mouth.
"I know." I kissed him, then smiled into his eyes. "I couldn't wait."
It should have been tawdry, but it wasn't. My mind was too filled with beauty, with sunlit marble and doves, with the unfolding wonder of discovering who I was. And, too, there was the mystery that had passed between us earlier. When my climax came, it was like slow, rolling waves. I offered up a silent prayer that it would ease the memory of those other waves, cold and killing.
"Elua!" Raphael spent himself inside me with a shudder. He rested his brow against mine. I put one hand on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. "Well." He shifted me off his lap with an effort. His tone was teasing, but his expression was relaxed and languid. "You're a singularly determined young woman."
"Aye," I agreed. "Is that wrong?"
"Not in the least." He smiled, and I wanted to kiss him all over again. "But I'd hope we could make a better job of it."
"Oh?" I raised my brows. "Then show me."
Raphael looked at me for a long moment without replying, his grey eyes darkening like stormclouds. It was a look that made me shiver inside. "I mean to," he said at last in a low voice. "Later. And on my terms, witch-girl."
My cheeks flushed. "All right."
I thought he meant to take me to bed that night.
I was wrong.
Raphael was gone for a few hours that afternoon on an errand. He returned in the early evening and found me in the garden, trying to recall the names of unfamiliar plants.
"Fennel," he said in answer to my unasked question. "It's good for purging the kidneys of toxins. Also for treating catarrh." He touched the feathery fronds. "The blossoms are yellow and the Tiberians believed it could cure jaundice, but I'm afraid that was mere superstition."
"It smells nice," I said.
"One can eat the bulb. Speaking of which, I believe dinner is ready to be served." He gave me his arm. "Shall we?"
At dinner, Raphael presented me with a pair of emerald eardrops.
"For tomorrow," he said. "You shouldn't make your first appearance at Court without a single jewel adorning you."
"They're beautiful," I said sincerely. "Thank you. You didn't have to do this, truly."
He shrugged. "You're going out of your way to humor me."
Something in his manner gave me pause. "Not so very far out of my way. And you've been more than generous."
"Try them on," he said.
The eardrops had delicate little screws on their backs. I screwed them in place, feeling the weight dragging at my earlobes. It was a strange feeling, but not exactly unpleasant. I gave my head an experimental shake. "Do you like them?" . Raphael nodded. "Very nice."
"Very nice." I echoed his bland compliment. "Raphael, have I offended you? Are you angry with me? Is it because of what happened….." I lowered my voice. "Is it because of what happened in the carriage?"
"No." He picked up his knife and fork, then set them down. Picked up his goblet and drank a deep draught of wine. A hovering servant moved to refill it. "Moirin….. Denis de Toluard told me a tale he heard today. Months' old gossip from Alba. It takes a while to filter through to us here, but what he heard made him prick up his ears. He thought I should know about it."
"Oh?" I felt cold.
"It seems the only son of Lord Tiernan of the Dalriada was ensorceled by a young woman of the Maghuin Dhonn," Raphael said in an even tone. "A very singular young woman to hear the tale. He died because of it."
"Oh, gods bedamned!" I shoved my chair away from the table. "The one had naught to do with the other. Cillian mac Tiernan died in a cattle-raid because he was too proud and stubborn to admit he was more scholar than warrior."
"So you did ensorcel him?" he pressed.
"No!" I pushed the heels of my hands against my eyes. That lad was doomed the minute you laid eyes on him. "No."
"Moirin."
I dropped my hands. "What?"
"I'll not be toyed with," Raphael said steadily. "You're accustomed to having your way with men, that much is clear. But this is Terre d'Ange, not Alba. If you think to make me your unwitting conquest, think again."
I sighed. "I don't."
"Then stay out of my head." He rose and tossed his napkin on the table. "I don't take kindly to you rummaging through my memories and turning them to your own purposes. And I don't take kindly to your using Naamah's gift to sway me."
"That's not fair!" I protested.
"Isn't it?"
I stood and faced him. "I'm drawn to you, aye. Is it my fault if you feel the same way? And I didn't ask to see your memories any more than I asked to be run down by your carriage, Raphael de Mereliot. You're the one keeps prattling on about destiny. What am I supposed to think? How am I supposed to feel?"
Raphael folded his arms. "Prattling?"
"Aye, prattling!" I was angry. "About destiny and magic and purpose, and how there are oh, so many things you don't fear in the world, myself included! All the while plotting to use me to make your mistress the Queen jealous." I snatched the eardrops from my ears and threw them at his feet. "Don't you dare accuse me of using you for my own ends!"
The eardrops clinked and rolled on the marble floor. It was the only sound in a dining hall that had gone very, very quiet. The servants stood frozen, looking like they wished they could disappear.
Unaccountably, Raphael smiled. "What is it I find so compelling about a woman with a temper?" he asked no one in particular.
My anger drained away, leaving me weary. "Is that what you see?" I asked him, sinking back into my chair. "My lord, may I remind you that I am young and alone and very far from home. You are the nearest thing to a friend I have in this place. If you trust me so little….." To my shame, my eyes welled with tears and my throat closed.
"Oh, hells." He knelt on one knee before me. I couldn't meet his eyes. "Moirin, I'm sorry. Look at me, won't you?"
I stole a glance at him.
His expression was serious. "Listen. This is all very sudden and unexpected. What you claim are but small and insignificant gifts are passing strange and wondrous to me. And I'll admit, when I heard Denis' story today, I panicked."