Regis buried his face in the curve between Danilo’s neck and shoulder. Heart racing, heat throbbing in his blood, he inhaled the musk of arousal and clean masculine sweat.
With an effort, Regis wrenched away, not wanting to have Linnea return and find them so. She was a telepath, surely she could feel the sexual hunger between the two of them. Reaching, he sensed a wall like polished quartz where her mind should be. She had closed off her psychic awareness, even as she had physically closed the door.
They fell on the divan, tugging at each other’s clothing. Regis could no longer tell where his own sensations ended and Danilo’s began: the fire that fueled every touch, demanding again and moreand deeper,the convulsive opening of one heart to the other. Only the flimsiest barrier separated them, like the border between a flame and its reflection.
As their bodies joined, Regis felt an electric pulse blaze up in him like living lightning. It soared through them both, swift and bright and vital. One moment, it seemed to rush from Danilo into himself, past throat and heart and groin. The next, it was Regis who poured himself out and felt Danilo’s ecstatic response as keenly as if it were his own.
Afterward, they lay panting and replete, half on the divan, half on the floor. Danilo chuckled, soft and deep in his chest. Regis, who had been sprawled with his head on Danilo’s chest, stirred.
“Best to get dressed,” he murmured, reaching for his underclothes. “There will be time again, later.”
Danilo regarded him with a slow, provocative smile. “We have all winter to make up for.”
“Count on it.” Regis snatched up Danilo’s pants and tossed them at him. “But first, there’s work to do. Make yourself decent. Or would you rather be in your current state when my wife walks in?”
When Linnea did return, both men were fully dressed. Even the divan cushions had been replaced in their proper order. A discrete touch of laranand a tap on the door signaled Linnea’s request to enter.
She carried the baby on one hip and a towel draped over her shoulder. “Come and meet your namesake, Danilo.”
Danilo took a step closer. Amazement tinged with awe spread across his face, and Regis was struck yet again by how handsome, how expressive he was. How quick to delight as well as to despair.
When Linnea held out Dani, Danilo raised both hands with an expression of consternation. A moment later, she had arranged him on the divan with the baby on his lap. Dani looked up, eyes wide. The two Danilos stared at one another. Regis watched, unsure whether his son was on the brink of glee or wailing. Then the baby’s mouth curved in a blissful smile, and Danilo too was laughing.
Baby Dani gave a little burp. Linnea swept him back into her arms, facing the towel on her shoulder, just in time for him to bring up a small amount of milk.
“Now, enough of that,” Linnea laughed. “The bath water is hot. Off with you!”
A short time later, Regis had bathed and eaten, and was sitting before a comforting fire with a steaming goblet. For the sake of a clear head, he had insisted on jacoinstead of wine. Danilo was still upstairs, soaking, and the bustle of the household had quieted.
“Tell me what happened.” Linnea pulled up a bench to sit beside his knee, almost close enough to touch.
Regis told her as directly as possible, leaving out nothing important, yet not dwelling on personal emotions. She would sense what lay beneath his words. She listened, gray eyes somber, holding him like an anchor through the storm of reliving the rescue and its aftermath.
“It is too bad I was not permitted to monitor Bettany, or that sad part of the affair would have been settled earlier,” she commented.
Regis shook his head. “I doubt Rinaldo would have accepted your findings. He was firmly convinced of the miraculous nature of his wife’s conception. I wronged poor Bettany in my thoughts when I learned the Terranmedical tests had confirmed that Rinaldo was sterile.”
“At least he did not blame her pregnancy on some other man. Regis, you don’t suppose he suspected Danilo?”
“How could he do that and then condemn Danilo for being a lover of men?”
“Your brother is hardly rational, with his faith in supernatural intervention,” she replied. “The real miracle is that Felix Lawton wasn’t killed. If he lives and if he is still in need of a teacher, I must help him.”
As Linnea spoke, she allowed her own feelings to surface. Like all Comyn, she found a violent assault on a child unspeakable. She and Regis had first opened their hearts to each other following the murder of two of his own nedestrochildren.
Regis remembered thinking, A child of Linnea’s would be too precious to risk to fate . . .
Hard on that thought came another, darker stilclass="underline" Would there ever come a time when it was safe to bring Kierestelli back? Dared he risk it? Ever?
He had kept his mind guarded, but Linnea must have sensed his fear. She said, “Since Bettany is not pregnant, and never was, the Domain of Hastur once more passes through you. You already have an Heir in Mikhail. He is well-grown and trained to protect himself. But little Dani—must we expose a helpless babe to those dangers?”
“You suggest that I leave Mikhail as Heir to Hastur in order to protect our son?” Memory, bittersweet, brushed his thoughts. “When I took Mikhail from my sister, I swore that I would not set him aside, not even if I produced an Heir of my own flesh. I will not go back on my word or dishonor my sister’s sacrifice.”
Linnea held herself still, her only concession to relief the slow closing of her eyes.
“We should not tell anyone,” Regis said. “At least, not until Dani is grown enough to understand. Mikhail will do well enough for the present as Kennard-Dyan’s paxman.”
“He’ll learn the wise uses of power much better from that perspective,” Linnea agreed.
“Yes, and although Dani must of necessity be exposed to the politics of the Comyn—or whatever takes our place—I would hope—” Regis stumbled, caught between his own tormented childhood and his dreams for his son, “that he not grow up as I did in the shadow of such crushing responsibility.”
“He will always be your son, Regis. As much as we and Danilo can manage it, he will grow up in a loving family.”
Within his heart, Regis felt the easing of a tension he had not known existed. He could not, as the old saying went, put banshee chicks back into their eggs or change the world into which he had been born. But he could do his best to make sure none of his children ever endured the same.
He, and Linnea . . . and Danilo.
In a short time, Danilo would come down. He and Regis could never return to the life they had lived here together. Would Danilo resent the trust and intimacy that had grown between Regis and Linnea or Linnea’s a role as his wife, in which Danilo had no part?
It came to Regis that each relationship—wife and leronis,paxman and bredhyu—had its own intrinsic honor and value. Loving one person could in no way diminish his devotion to the other.
Linnea rose, smoothing her skirts. “You and Danilo will have much to discuss. What’s left of today will be hectic, to say the least. I will leave you to it. I have my own work, making sure Danilo’s chamber is comfortable and that he has everything he needs.”
As mistress of the household, Linnea had the right to arrange quarters as she chose. Nevertheless, Regis felt a tinge of dread. Would she use this power to place herself between him and Danilo? Then she gave a little teasing laugh and he realized he was seeing the world through the lens of the day’s horror.
“Of course,” she said, “Danilo must have his old chamber next to yours, as is proper for a paxman. I’m quite comfortable where I am.”
“Linnea—”
“Regis, this will not be the first time I have shared a lover with someone else, although never before with another man . . . or one who was as dear to me as you are. In the Towers, we learned how to manage such things. The best practical arrangement to begin with is for each of us to have our own chamber. Later, we’ll work out a schedule and psychic shielding.”