you marry me.'
She gasped, and jerked away, startled. 'Pedric, I — ' Even in the dim moonlight he could see color suffuse her cheeks. Suddenly she started laughing. Pedric felt as though she'd tossed icy water on him, and his passion vanished. Oh, what a fool he'd been, what a 'That wasn't a ploy for marriage, my love,' she said through her mirth. 'I would have-I was offering myself without any promises!'
Part of Pedric, the rakish, devil-may-care bachelor part, figuratively seized him and shook him with an angry, 'Are you crazy? You could have had her without a commitment!'
The other part of the young Lord Asakinn, the part wanted this lovely woman as a life mate, spoke and said, 'I wasn't expecting to lie with you until the wedding night, but if you insist-'
His sally was cut off abruptly by the unexpected but welcomed pressure of her rose-petal lips pressing against his. She was clearly inexperienced, but equally clearly, Lorinda wished to learn this art of the kiss, and Pedric was an able and willing teacher. His hands went up to cup her face, stroking the soft cheeks as his lips brushed, explored. The kiss deepened, and Pedric was only dimly aware that they had moved to the damp grass and Lorinda lay willingly beneath him.
Sanity returned, definitely not welcomed, but needed. With effort, Pedric broke the kiss and leaned back, catching his breath.
'Oh, curse it,' he swore, 'you've got grass stains all over your gown. Your father will have my hide.'
The humor was back in her voice as she replied, 'What, and lose such a fine son-in-law?' He gripped her hands tightly, all suavity gone, and asked pleadingly, 'You do mean it, then? You will have me? Lorinda, I will love you until the day I die, I swear I will.'
'Pray Love that won't be soon,' she admonished. Her face crinkled into a smile. 'I will have you, Pedric Dunsan, in as many ways as I can think of.'
Her husky voice and hinted promise were almost unbearable. Pedric had to restrain himself from taking her right then, on the cool earth inside the maze. But that wouldn't be right. He wanted to romance Lorinda, pleasure her, not ravish her like a plowhand a milk-girl. He would wait.
Besides, there was something else, and that thought forced desire almost, but not completely, from his thoughts. He looked down at her hands, her small, strong hands, hands that with a few innocent touches had aroused him almost to a frenzy. He lifted them and pressed a long, lingering kiss on her fingers.
'You say yes now, love,' he said softly, stroking her hands. 'But there are things you don't know about me, things that you must know if we are to have any hope of happiness. I'm… I'm not what you think I am.'
'Don't tell me. You're an elf-lord, under an illusion spell, who — '
'Damn it, Lorinda, this is important!' He regretted the harsh tone at once, seeing its force reflected in her almost imperceptible flinch. 'I'm sorry. It's just…' and the words came tumbling out. 'I'm afraid that once you know, you'll despise me.'
'Pedric,' she soothed, reaching to touch his face. 'Love, it can't be that bad. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad.'
'I hope not. You don't know how badly I hope not.' He paused, gathering his thoughts. How to begin. Lorinda, I'm a thief Lorinda, sometimes things that aren't mine find their ways into my pouch. Lorinda, I'm a criminal.
They all sounded dreadful.
He took a deep breath, opened his mouth. He wasn't sure what he would say.
Whatever it would have been, he never got the chance. Pedric saw Lorinda's eyes widen in horror as she stared at something behind him. He saw her lips start to form words, her hand begin to disentangle itself from his deathgrip on her fingers, lifting as if to point. At that moment Pedric knew a crashing, devastating pain at the base of his skull. Lorinda's face, filled with fear, mutated into a red flash. And then, darkness.
He awoke alone, to agony. The night had grown chilly, and the dew had risen. He lay, facedown, on the damp earth. For a long, disoriented moment, Pedric wasn't even sure where he was. He tried to lift his head but the movement threatened to make him lose consciousness again, so he simply surrendered to it while his mind began to clear.
The maze. He was in the maze. Why? With… with…
'Lorinda!' The cry emerged as a barely audible croak. He spasmed, trying to find the wherewithal to rise, but the gesture did now what it had promised to do earlier. Blackness descended again.
When Pedric woke again, he knew where he was, and the shrieking torment in his head had subsided to the point where it was merely excruciating. He tried to rise a third time, slowly, and his abused body permitted him. Pedric staggered, stumbling into the prickly solidness of the maze wall, and leaned against it.
'Lorinda!' he cried, louder this time. There was no answer. 'Ah, gods, please, no,' he murmured, but it was clear what had happened. Someone had set upon them both, had knocked him unconscious and fled with Lorinda. Who? Why?
One thing was clear. He had to find help. He pressed a hand to the back of his head, hoping to ease the pain with pressure. He hissed through his teeth at the initial sharp pain of contact, and knew the sticky wetness that covered his hand was his own blood. There was an enormous lump that had not been part of Pedric's physiognomy hitherto, and he grimly endured the pain until it began to subside.
For a dreadful moment, Pedric was still so disoriented he couldn't remember which way he had come. He glanced about frantically, fighting the panic that rose within him and almost reduced him to tears, helpless tears that wouldn't help to find Lorinda. He fought down the hysteria and concentrated. Yes, this way… and then take a left here …
It felt like hours. Several times he had to stop, fight against the gray cloudiness that threatened to reclaim him. He hated these necessary pauses with a brutal intensity. They kept him from getting out, from finding Lorinda.
At last, he stumbled out and promptly fell without the support of the maze's hedge walls. He hit the ground hard, too dazed with grief and pain even to put his arms out to stop his fall. His breath was knocked out of him and he gasped, his mouth opening and closing as if he were a fish on the deck of a ship. Lorinda, Lorinda… someone help me…
As if in answer to his unvoiced plea, strong hands were suddenly there, helping him sit up. The movement, gentle though it was intended to be, sent waves of pain through him. Dimly Pedric realized that he had probably broken his nose. The only thing that upset him about this was the fact that the blood pouring down his face kept getting in his mouth, making speech difficult.
He gazed up at his rescuer and relief flooded him. It was Deveren, who flashed him a reassuring smile before turning and crying, 'I've found Pedric!' Turning back to his friend, Deveren said in a softer voice, 'Where's Lorinda? What happened? We've been searching for you since Death's hour!'
'My daughter!' came Vandaris's voice, tense with fear and anger. 'What have you done with my-' The big man came into Pedric's view and, seeing the young nobleman's condition, somehow managed to tame his outrage. That's what makes him such a good diplomat, Pedric thought disjointedly. Other footsteps running, other voices shouting. Grayness seeped into Pedric's vision as Damir came up and knelt beside him.
'Lord Asakinn,' said Vandaris, his etiquette not faltering even under this extreme pressure, 'what happened to you? Was my daughter with you?'
Pedric opened his mouth, spat out blood. His lips moved, but nothing came out. He cried out in protest as the gray haze darkened, deepened, and the concerned face of Lorinda's father was replaced by blackness.
Deveren swore. 'We've got to get him to a Healer,' he told his brother.
Damir nodded, his dark eyes on Pedric's slack, ghastly-pale face. 'I've sent for one already. I only wish we knew what had happened.'
Deveren thought that was clear enough, and he said so. 'They were assaulted!' 'I have deduced that, little brother,' replied Damir tartly, frowning with irritation. 'But by whom?'
'Your Lordship,' interrupted Vandaris, 'I grieve for the boy, but at least he is alive and will survive the night.' His beautifully resonant voice caught, but he forced himself to continue. 'I do not know the same to be true of my little girl.'
Deveren glanced back and forth, from the pudgy, ruddy, yet commanding, visage of Braedon's Head Councilman to the thin, ascetic face of his older brother. He hesitated, then said, 'You could find out, Damir.' To Vandaris he said, 'He's got mind magic. He could read Pedric's last thoughts.'
