She knew what that meant now-and as she stared at it and at him with her expression gone quiet and unreadable, he feared that he had just undone all that had been built between them.
But her hand reached for his-and gently took the feather.
And carefully, as if it, or she, might break, she braided it into her hair, then took a deep breath, her eyes wide and dark, waiting.
They both stepped forward at the same moment; he reached up with both hands and cupped her face between them, as carefully as he would grasp a downy day-old falcon. Her skin was as soft as the washed silk she wore, and very warm beneath his hands, as if she was flushed or feverish. It occurred to him then that she might- no, must-be shy, of him, and of what was to come; with a last, weary exercise of his magic, he dimmed the mage- lights.
The comparison and the contrast was inevitable; this was no Dawnfire.
Elspeth, for all her courage elsewhere, all her eagerness, was trembling and half-frightened with him. It came to him in a rush how far away from her home she was-all the trials she had faced, and now this-it was up to him to take the lead. She was unsure of herself and not certain what he wanted of her, but there was desire there.
So, he would go as gently with her as he would with caring for a frightened wild bird. She was not likely a virgin, but it did not necessarily follow that she was experienced in lovemaking; he could by accident frighten her with a technique she had never experienced. With all sincerity, he hoped there would be ample times in the future to explore.
He kissed her, once, then dropped his hands, catching hers, and led her back to the bower of cushions on the floor. He slowly drew her down beside him, and there they stayed while he caressed her, letting the silk slide over her body beneath his hands. He touched her gently; shoulders, back, breasts, neck-let the silk carry the movement of his hands. She shivered again, but now it was not from half-formed fear, but from anticipation.
Her lips parted in a gentle moan of pleasure, and she lay her head back with a visible expression of delight.
After a moment, she returned his caresses, hesitantly at first, then with more boldness. Her hands wandered as freely as his, and he kept careful control over himself, lest he move too quickly with her.
But it had been a very long time since his last lover... a very long time. Controlling himself was as difficult as any magic he had ever attempted.
Now they drew closer, and her lips met his.
If he had any thoughts until that moment that she might regret having accepted his feather, they were dismissed by the eagerness with which she returned his kiss. He allowed his mind to brush hers for a moment, as his mouth opened for her. He garnered two important things from that brief contact; she was by no means as experienced a lover as he, but she was as perfectly willing to be his pupil in this as in the other subjects he had taught her. She had confidence in his skill abed.
So; take things slowly. The greater her desire, the calmer at first, the more fully she felt their bodies, the better the experience.
He slid his hands under the silk of the robe, and continued his slow, sensual caresses; continued until any thought of fear was a long-forgotten triviality. Then he joined his mind to hers, very lightly, and showed her wordlessly what would pleasure him, as he noted what pleasured her.
She was soft silk in his hands, and warm honey in his mouth; feathercaress and nectar. Her scent was of sandalwood, cinnamon, and herbs.
His was of musk and rich chava. Her skin tasted salty-sweet, and where their bodies touched, liquid fire poured between them.
When their minds were so entwined that there was no telling where one ended and the other began, only then did he join his body into hers.
A pair of hawks spiraling slowly up a thermal, talons entwined, they rose together, and soared into the sun...Elspeth lay in silk and warmth, and thought of absolutely nothing, content to savor the warm glow that bathed every pore. Content to listen to Darkwind breathing beside her. Content, for the moment, to forget everything she was, and simply be.
Darkwind lay quietly beside her, his breathing slow and even. She listened to him, thinking that sleep could not be far off for her, either, but hoping to hold it away a little longer, and savor the moment.
'I trust I achieved your expectations.' She started; he laid a calming hand on her shoulder, and she laughed, breathlessly, willing her heart to calm. 'I thought you were asleep,' she said. 'I mean, you sounded like you were.'
'That would be unforgivably crude,' Darkwind replied, with just a hint of laughter in his voice. 'At least, it would be by our customs.' She thought of the few-to be honest, three-lovers she had taken to her bed, not counting the almost-lover whose tryst Talia had interrupted so long ago. Skif had never been one of them-which might have accounted for the way he had overreacted when they were alone on the road together. They were all friends, she and her lovers, but never more than that, and they had trysted with the understanding that it would remain that way. Heralds, all of them, of course; Talia had been right about that. Only a Herald could be trusted to be completely discreet about making love with the Heir. Two of them had always fallen asleep immediately afterward, and she had slipped out of their rooms to return to her own.
Oh, they were always tired, she thought, in their defense. And no sooner were they rested than they were haring off again, out on circuit. They couldn't help it. And it would have been an awful scandal for me to act openly as their lover.
Neave never fell asleep, but then he never ever fell asleep with anyone else in his bed. He couldn't. Not after what he'd been through. He was healing, but sometimes she wondered if he would ever really be healed.
Perhaps not. And her times with him had been as much comfort for him as lovemaking. Oh, he was skilled; he'd had no choice but to learn skill poor child. How anyone could make a child into an object like that; to use a child, an unconsenting, terrified child-She deliberately turned her thoughts away from the past. 'I think I could learn to like your customs,' she said, keeping her tone light. 'It seems a bit more civilized than to simply roll over and forget one's partner when the moment is gone.'
'Well, but it is no jest, not really,' he replied, with a finger-brush along her cheek. 'Wait a moment-' He gently
