whose father served on the council, whose brother had fought by his side, met his eyes in her mirror as he parted the curtains.
“Good evening, Taoiseach. We weren’t expecting you back.” Born and raised in the Capital, she had the accent of the east and the city. And the posh manners of both. “Your mother will be pleased to see you.”
She rose and the light from the low fire simmered through the thin white gown, as they both knew she intended.
“I didn’t come to see my mother.”
“Me then.” She smiled, slow, her eyes tawny as a cat’s. “I’m honored. Will you have wine?”
“I will, and thank you.”
She moved like a dancer. Her Elfin blood meant she could move quickly, but she took her time now so he could look his fill.
“And how do things go in the west?” She poured ruby wine into two glass goblets.
“Well enough. The peace holds still.”
“We’re grateful. But I meant with Mairghread’s granddaughter. I’m told you’re training her personally.”
“I am, as Marg is teaching her the craft. She needs it.”
She handed him a glass. “I’m told she has great beauty. The fiery hair of her grandmother, the storm-cloud eyes of her grandsire.”
“She has beauty enough.” He reached out, pulling a lock of hair that waved to Shana’s waist through his fingers. It, like her skin, smelled of the jasmine that bloomed in the night.
“But not the sort that draws my eye.”
A lie, one he hated to admit. He could still see the way she’d looked up at him, the globe of light in her hand, the joy and power alive on her face.
“But you think of her.” Pouting, Shana ran her fingers down the laces of his shirt.
“I have to think of her.” He tipped her face up. “But I’ve come to you.”
“Expecting me to open my arms and my bed to you. I might have been sharing them with another.”
“Happily you’re not.”
She laughed, sipped some wine before setting it aside. “Happily. I’ll always open them to you, Keegan, but a woman wants a bit of wooing first.”
“I’ve flown through the night for you, Shana. If that’s not wooing enough.” Knowing her, appreciating her, he flicked his wrist, and offered her a white rose.
“Ah now, is there a woman who could resist you?” She brushed the flower over her cheek as she looked up at him under her lashes. “I never have found the way, have I?”
She laid a hand on his cheek in turn. “So take off your sword, your boots, and the rest of it, and come into my arms, come into my bed. We’ll leave the west behind.”
He could take off his sword, and did. He could take off his boots and the rest. But he could never leave the west behind.
Because he knew her he accepted she’d never understand the why of it.
So he went into her arms, into her bed, and gave himself over to silken, perfumed skin, to the warm lips, the skilled hands of a woman who knew his needs and his body as he knew hers.
He closed off his mind, just for now, just for now, to everything else. Here were generous breasts to fill his hands, his mouth. Here a woman’s sighs and gasps to stir his blood. Her pulse quickened for him; her hair fell like fragrant curtains around him as she mounted him.
“I’ve missed you, Taoiseach.” Her head fell back with a moan as she took him in. “I’ve missed this.”
Her hips rocked, slow, torturous pleasure. He gripped them as he matched her pace, but lightly so as not to mark that soft white skin.
He watched her face, the stunning beauty of it, saw in her eyes when she went into herself. He let her ride, closed his eyes to center himself on only this, only her, to block out the images that wanted to intrude.
When she came, he rose up to her. He wrapped around her, driving himself to the end.
When she whispered his name, he cursed himself for wanting someone else.
He stayed with her another hour. He brought her wine, listened to her sleepy gossip, and stroked her hair until he felt her drift into sleep.
He rose quietly to dress again, felt some regret for leaving a warm, naked woman in a soft featherbed. And guilt—which sat poorly in him—for thinking of another woman.
“Won’t you stay?” She murmured it as she rose on an elbow. Her hair spilled over her breast as she reached out a hand. “Sleep with me, wake with