Part 2 (1/2)

”Yes.”

He watched the rise and fall of her bosom with appreciation. ”Drina recommends you,” he said.

Drina hummed in her throat. The cat stood at an open shutter, admiring her reflection in the window.

T'Blackthorn looked over his shoulder at his Familiar and smiled with sincere amus.e.m.e.nt that made Mitch.e.l.la catch her breath. ”Drina says she is a Cat with excellent taste.”

Mitch.e.l.la managed a smile. ”She certainly thinks so.”

His thumb rubbed the indentation on the card, triggering the projection of a model room holo about one and a half by two meters. The pink marble walls contained darker streaks for visual interest, and all the furniture was a glossy deep burgundwood. The bedsponge lay on a stand, with diaphanous curtains layered around it and attached to the ceiling. The curtains swirled with the slightest hints of sparkling rainbow-pastel glitter, as if a fairy galaxy had been caught in their folds.

As he gazed at the room model, the sensual tension spinning between them quieted to something deeper and more serious.

T'Blackthorn touched the image, and it disappeared. He curled his fingers over the business card, his face taut and his eyes yearning. ”I've spent years in the wilds. I've missed the furbelows of very female women, of Ladies, and forgotten how-soft-your s.e.x can be.”

”You've stayed with the Hollys.” She'd heard that much.

He raised an eyebrow. ”My uncle and cuzes, and other relatives, a Household mostly of men. My aunt, D'Holly, is a very dynamic woman.”

”And feminine.” Mitch.e.l.la had met D'Holly once.

”T'Holly Residence is decorated with weapons in patterns on the walls-circles and diamonds of knives, spears, swords. All within easy reach. There are paintings of battle, tapestries of hunts,” he gestured with the hand holding her pink card, ”male stuff.” He moved his shoulders impatiently. ”I'll take it,” he murmured.

”Take what?”

”The room. I want one just like it in my Residence. You have the job.”

Glee blossomed inside her. She could barely keep from dancing around the room. This would make her reputation!

He smiled, and she knew she shouldn't be near this man. She should run as fast and as far as she could away from him. But an opportunity to design the interior of one of the only twenty-five FirstFamily Residences would never come again. And T'Blackthorn's! It had been a showplace once, one of the most beautiful houses in Druida. She could make it so, again.

She looked into his dark blue eyes.

”I want it.” He flicked his thumbnail on the card and the model room spun once again into life. ”I'll take it. No expense spared.”

Mitch.e.l.la had always dreamed of hearing those words. Now they tempted her beyond all bounds.

He collapsed the holo and tucked the card in a hidden s.h.i.+rtslit pocket. Then he put an arm on the buffet and leaned forward. ”You have more?”

Mitch.e.l.la backed up. ”More?”

”More cards-room models.”

She pulled out her cards and offered him the one of mock-furrabeast leather grain. He activated it. A meter-sized image of a masculinely furnished den materialized. T'Blackthorn tilted his head. ”Nice. A little conservative for my taste.” He shot her a look. ”You'll remember that.”

”That's my business. Of course.”

He nodded.

”We'll meet tomorrow at Midmorning bell, then. I want to start work on the pink room immediately, in the MistrysSuite.”

Mitch.e.l.la stiffened her backbone. ”Absolutely not.”

T'Blackthorn raised his eyebrows.

She lifted her chin before answering. ”Your wife must decorate the suite.”

He scowled. ”I'm not married.” He rubbed the stubble on his jaw. ”I think I have a HeartMate. I touched her during my last Pa.s.sage when I learned to control my Flair.”

Mitch.e.l.la should have been relieved. Of course he'd have a HeartMate, someone he'd bond with body, heart, mind, and soul. Most FirstFamily n.o.bles were that lucky. It came of having great psi powers and breeding for Flair. Bonded HeartMate couples led to more stable Families and increasingly Flaired children.

Instead she flinched inwardly. He had a HeartMate. It would be complete folly to have an affair with him.

As if he'd read her mind, he said, ”I'm not ready to find or bond with my HeartMate. Everything must be perfect before I do that. T'Blackthorn Residence must be restored and sparkling. Other-problems-must be solved.”

So he'd be happy to have an interim affair with a commoner before he sought his HeartMate. Typical man. Typical n.o.ble. The thought bolstered Mitch.e.l.la's resistance to the electricity between them.

”I'll be glad to make T'Blackthorn Residence as perfect as possible, GrandLord,” she said coolly, professionally.

Drina jumped up on the buffet and swiped a paw at one of the pink cards Mitch.e.l.la still held. The cat impaled it on her claw. She tapped the indentation and the pink model room appeared. Staring at T'Blackthorn, she mewed.

His lips quirked in amus.e.m.e.nt, and he slid a sidelong gaze to Mitch.e.l.la. ”She wants the pink room.” Narrowing his eyes, he studied Drina, then glanced back to the model bedroom. Now a small Drina image sat regally on the bed.

T'Blackthorn shook his head. ”She said the room would complement Her, make Her look beautiful. She's right.”

They were both right, Mitch.e.l.la realized. The cat looked perfect in the room.

He gazed at Drina, and when he spoke, his tones were quelling. ”Your room is the small dressing room between the MasterSuite and MistrysSuite,” he informed the cat. ”I'm sure GentleLady Clover can decorate it to your undeniably good taste.”

Drina pressed the holo control on the business card again and again, until the pink room, magnified and distorted, overwhelmed the real room they stood in.

”Very well,” T'Blackthorn sighed. ”I'll indulge you this once. The Heir'sSuite has a playroom that shares a wall with the GrandLord's MasterSuite. I'll convert that room into your bedroom and have a connecting door cut.”

Mitch.e.l.la barely kept herself from goggling at T'Blackthorn's casual wave of a hand as he outlined the reconstruction.

Drina flexed her paw, and the model room vanished as the card spun to the carpet. It was just a business card again. With a claw-hole in it.

He looked at Mitch.e.l.la, his gaze lingering on the tumble of her hair, her face, her lips. ”I think we will do very well together.”

”That's my job.”

He offered a hand. Reluctantly, Mitch.e.l.la gave him her own. Instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his mouth. The soft pressure of his warm lips went directly to her center. She pulled away, pasting on another professional smile.