Dreams Made Flesh (The Black Jewels #5)(55)
Author: Anne Bishop

"What?" Marian’s cup clattered in the saucer, slopping tea.

"You’re taking care of all of his physical needs, so he’s not making any effort to find a wife."

"Wife?"

"Do you think this is easy for me?" Luthvian snapped. "Mother Night, woman, he comes fromthe SaDiablo family. They aren’t going to accept anything less than an accomplished witch from an aristo family for Lucivar’s wife."

"But… They like me."

"Of course they like you! You cook his meals, clean his home, give him regular sex that makes him easier to deal with. Why shouldn’t they like you? But like is a far cry from accepting you beyond your role as housekeeper and bedmate.They know you’re only a temporary pleasure for him. So why shouldn’t they be friendly? But that’s all you are, Marian. That’s all you can be. You don’t have the education, the accomplishments, or the family connections that would make you an acceptable mate for a man who can trace his bloodlines to the High Lord and An-dulvar Yaslana."

Luthvian raked a hand through her hair and looked at Marian sadly.

"Even if he asks you to marry him, you’ll always be the outsider, never quite be one of them. You don’t really comprehend the power that family wields. When they start discussing spells and magic that is so far beyond you they might as well be dancing on the moon, what are you going to offer? A new recipe for nutcakes? When they’re entertaining Queens and their courts, are you going to sit in the corner with your knitting? Don’t you want a home that’s really your own? Children who won’t be measured by their father’s potential and be found wanting? And what about Lucivar? Are you going to use sex to chain him to a woman who is less than he deserves?"

Tears thickened in Marian’s throat. "I’m not chaining him with anything."

"Then let him go. Find a man who doesn’t have obligations that you can never help him meet. Mother Night, Marian, I’m begging you. Let my son go." Looking defeated, Luthvian fastened her cloak and pushed away from the table. "If you truly love him, do this for him."

"I can’t think," Marian choked back the tears. "I need to think."

"Then think," Luthvian said softly. "But if you wait too long, binding Lucivar to you will bring nothing but heartache."

Marian couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. When she heard Luthvian leave, she pushed the cups aside, pillowed her head in her arms, and wept.

TWENTY THREE

Standing on the mountain where he could look down at his home, Lucivar brushed a finger across the two marriage rings in the jeweler’s box. Something was wrong with Marian, had been wrong since yesterday. But she wouldn’t talk to him, was shutting him out. Even in bed last night, her response had been discouraging enough that he’d given up after a few kisses.

A mood? The Darkness knew, females had them. But he felt her yearning toward him at the same time she tried to pull back. What did that mean?

Maybe that clash with Roxie had shaken her up more than he’d thought. Or maybe, after such a public display of her commitment to him, she was wondering about the strength of his commitment to her.

Only one way to find out.

Lucivar closed the ring box and vanished it. Then he spread his wings and glided down to the eyrie. As he went through the kitchen, he snatched a nutcake cooling on the metal racks, took a large bite, then paused and looked around. Were they having a party tonight that he’d forgotten about? She seemed to be cooking enough to feed ten people to the stuffing point.

He winced. A husband should remember if that many people were coming to dinner. Then he cheered up. Maybe she’d planned to invite some of the women from Riada to a female gathering…a couple of

hours to eat and chat about… whatever it was women talked about when they booted men out of the room. Since he was usually gone for at least part of the day, she wouldn’t necessarily have mentioned it.

He winced again. He hoped she hadn’t mentioned it. Even if it had nothing to do with him, he should have remembered.

Maybe that’s why she was moody. Nerves, most likely, about hosting her first gathering…which would make it clear to anyone who wasn’t a fool that Marian was acknowledging her place as his Lady.

And what better way to celebrate a marriage announcement than with a party?

Grinning, he stuffed the last of the nutcake into his mouth and went out to the garden.

The lift in his own mood suffered a blow when he saw her gently touch the petals of one of the spring flowers. She looked so sad, so lost.

"Marian?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice. "Oh. I didn’t think you’d be home."

"I want to talk to you about something."

He watched her pale as he walked toward her. Something was wrong here, something that pricked at him in warning, but he couldn’t sense the source.

"What?" Her voice came out a tortured whisper.

He looked away for a moment. He’d thought this would be easy, just a formal step to acknowledge what was already between them.

"I’m in love with you," he said, watching her eyes, trying to read what he saw in them. "I want to make a life with you, have children with you if you want them, see the seasons turn with you. I want to marry you, want you to be my wife as well as my friend and lover. I want to be your husband."

She shook her head and took a step back.

He felt the sharp edge of rejection slice his heart. "Won’t youat least consider it? We’ve done well together these past months and…"

"I can’t." Marian turned away, her shoulders hunched as if he’d delivered a hard, unexpected blow.

"Why?"

"Because I’m not what you need," she said, her voice filled with pain. "I’m just a Purple Dusk hearth witch with little formal education, no accomplishments that count for anything…"

"Wait just a damn minute."

"…and I’d just be an embarrassment to a man who is the High Lord’s son."

He took a step back, his head reeling. "You won’t marry me because Saetan is my father? Hell’s fire, woman. He adores you."

She shook her head fiercely. "I’m not going to diminish the SaDiablo line. I care about you, Lucivar. I care so much. I’ll be your lover as long as you want me, but I won’t marry you."

He took another step back. Then he laughed bitterly. "I’m good enough to bed but not good enough to marry? I don’t think so, witch-ling. Fine. You don’t want to marry me, that’s your choice. You want to stay and keep working as my housekeeper, that’s fine, too. But you’ll move your things back to your own room before I return. I’m no one’s toy, and without love, I’m no one’s bedwarmer."