Blood of the Fold

"Show the lady in — " His glare returned to Berdine. "—and then shut the door behind yourself on your way to bed." He left no doubt in his tone that it was a command, and he would brook no violation.

Showing no emotion, Berdine went to the door and held her arm out in invitation. When the duchess stepped into the warm glow of the firelight, Richard rose to his feet. Berdine cast him a blank glance and then shut the door, but he hardly noticed.

"Please, Duchess Lumholtz, come in."

"Thank you for seeing me, Lord Rahl."

He stood mute a moment, gazing at her soft brown eyes, her curvaceous red lips, and her thick mane of black hair, ringlets of it framing her flawless, glowing face. Richard knew that in the Midlands the length of a woman's hair denoted her social standing. This woman's long, luxurious hair bespoke a standing of high order. The only hair he had seen that was longer was a queen's, and above that, the Mother Confessor's.

Dizzy, he drew breath, and suddenly remembered his manners. "Here, let me get you a chair."

He didn't remember the duchess looking like this, possessing such pure, captivating elegance, but then, he hadn't been standing this close. He remembered her as ostentatious, with unnecessary glitter and paint, and a dress not at all simple and delicate, like the one she wore now, of simple, supple, rose-colored silk flowing easily over the contours of her form, complementing her voluptuous shape, cinched just below her breasts.

Richard groaned when he remembered their last encounter. "Duchess, I'm sorry I said such cruel things to you in the council chambers. Can you ever forgive me? I should have listened; you were only trying to warn me about General Brogan."

At the mention of the name, he thought he saw a flash of fright in her eyes, but it was gone so quickly he wasn't sure. "It is I, Lord Rahl, who should beg forgiveness. It was unpardonable of me to interrupt you before the assembled representatives."

Richard shook his head. "You were only trying to warn me about that man, and as it turns out, you were right. I wish I had listened to you."

"It was wrong of me to express my opinion in the manner I did." A demure smile graced her features. “Only the most gallant of men would try to make it seem otherwise."

Richard blushed at her calling him gallant. His heart was thumping so hard he feared she would be able to see the veins in his neck throb. For some reason, he imagined his lips brushing back the loose wisp of downy hair hanging free in front of her exquisite ear. Pulling his gaze from her face was almost painful.

A small voice of warning was sounding in the back of his mind, but it was being drowned out in the roar of a river's flood of warm sensations. In one hand, he snatched the twin to his tufted chair and spun it around in front of the table, holding it out for her.

"You are most kind, ' the duchess stammered. “Forgive me, please, if my voice is less than steady. It's been a trying few days." As she moved in front of the chair, her eyes tilled up to meet his again. "And I'm just a little nervous. I've never been in the presence of such a great man as yourself, Lord Rahl."

Richard blinked, unable to leave her gaze when he thought he had tried. "I'm just a woods guide a long way from home."

She laughed, a soft silky sound that turned the room into a cozy, pleasant place.

"You are the Seeker. You are the Master of D'Hara." Her expression slipped from amusement to reverence. "You may one day rule the world."

Richard reacted with a wincing shrug. "I don't want to rule anything, it's just that.." He thought he must sound a fool. "Won't you sit down, please, my lady?"

Her smile returned, radiant, warm, and of such tender charm that he found himself frozen in its glow. He could feel the sweet warmth of her breath on his face.

Her gaze lingered. "Forgive me for being so forward, Lord Rahl, but you must know your eyes drive women mad with longing. I'd venture you broke the heart of every woman in the council chambers. The queen of Galea is an extremely fortunate woman."

Richard's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"The queen of Galea. Your bride to be. I envy her."

He turned away from her as she sat lightly at the edge of her chair. Richard pulled a deep breath, trying to clear his swimming head, and went around the table to sink into his own chair.

"Duchess, I was so sorry to hear of your husband's death."

She averted her eyes. "Thank you, Lord Rahl, but don't be troubled for me; I have little grief for the man. Don't misunderstand me, I didn't wish him harm, but…"

Richard's blood heated. "Did he hurt you?"

When she glanced away with a self-conscious shrug, Richard had to forcibly resist the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her. "The duke had a vile temper." Her graceful fingers stroked the sleek fur at the edge of her ermine robe. "But it wasn't as bad as it must sound. I rarely had to face him; he was away most of the time, in one bed or another."