Her eyes met his, light-filled gray. She took in his words, nodded. “Yes. For my part.”

Linnea’s fingers twisted the fabric of her skirts. She noticed and folded them neatly in her lap. “Regis . . . I need your help.”

Her voice was been so low, so resonant with emotion, that he could hardly believe what she had said. He thought how difficult it must be for her to ask aloud. To ask him.

“Tell me,” he said.

“I feel so foolish after the way I rejected you. I—”

“Just tell me. Whatever it is.”

She lifted her chin. Something inside her grew very still. “I have heard rumors from sources I trust of a plan to force a marriage between myself and your brother.”

“How is that possible without your consent?”

Linnea’s expression turned wry. “Once such things were not uncommon. The Comyn Council approved all such unions and imposed not a few. My wishes mean nothing, and the one protection I might have is no longer available to me.” She meant being a Keeper, for as an ordinary matrix worker, she would be subject to Council decree. Not so long ago, another Keeper, Callina Aillard, had been forced into an unwelcome alliance with Beltran of Aldaran.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Regis stammered, trying to think. “Oh. Rinaldo was released from his vows.”

“He may not have any use for a wife, but in order to solidify his position, he needs an heir. If he marries me, he can claim your unborn son as the next Hastur Lord and thus insure the succession.” She paused to let the words sink in.

Regis was so appalled, he could not speak. He felt like a fish thrown up on a wharf, gasping for the air it could not breathe. Could Rinaldo have hatched such a plot? Condoned it? He did not know, but he had no doubts about Valdir’s willingness.

He sat motionless while thoughts tumbled through his mind . . . Rinaldo remarking on Linnea’s presence at the Crystal Chamber ceremony, “a very pretty woman.”And then, “Some provision must be made for her, one way or another, for it is not seemly for a mother to be unmarried.”

Rinaldo had sought her out this very evening . . .

Rinaldo was interested in women, his desires long denied by his vow of chastity. While he might be able to function sexually—and his comments had suggested to Regis that he could—that did not necessarily mean he was fertile. Linnea’s pregnancy removed that difficulty.

Linnea’s eyes shifted. In her glance, in the fragile dignity of her posture, Regis saw how she clung to her pride for both their sakes. She could not beg, she could not even ask if he still wanted her.

The only sure way to place her beyond Rinaldo’s reach was for Regis to marry her himself. But he could not— wouldnot—do so without her full understanding.

He had botched his last attempt. Now, when honesty and plain speaking was essential, would the right words fail him?

“Once I asked you to marry me,” he began, praying he would not commit another colossal blunder, “and that offer still holds. I can think of no other—I have never met any other woman with whom I want to spend my life, no woman capable of understanding—”

No, too dangerous to bring up Danilo so soon. But it must be done.

“But . . .?” she prompted, fear and hope warring in her voice.

“There is no but.No hesitation on my part. Only a desire to make sure you understand allthe circumstances.”

Linnea said nothing. The crackling of the fire seemed very loud, or perhaps it was the hammering of his pulse.

“You know that Valdir Ridenow took Danilo hostage ‘to ensure my cooperation’.”

She nodded. “Along with Mikhail and your brother.”

“Who have both since been freed, Mikhail on my abdication. Rinaldo—well, I’m not sure how much of a prisoner he ever was. Valdir thinks to rule him and through him, push Darkover to join the Federation. Rinaldo believes otherwise or at least has his own goals.”

He paused, gathered himself. Gods, this was harder than he had thought!

“One of those . . . goalsseems to be ridding me of what he sees as my sexual perversion. Rinaldo claims he has the power to free Danilo and that he will do so when I promise to give him up and marry decently.”

Linnea’s lips soundlessly echoed his last words.

“If I do not,” Regis went on, knowing that if he stopped now, he could not finish, “he hinted that Danilo will—Valdir threatened—”

Light and swift as silk unrolling, she reached out to touch the back of his wrist. “I know. I know what Valdir said.”

With the contact, fingertips soft as a butterfly’s kiss, Regis felt her presence in his own mind. His normal laranbarriers had been shredded by worry and fear. If she would have him, despite everything, she should know what she was getting.

Oh, my dear,she spoke with her mind to his. My dearest. I have known that from the first time I saw you. How could I let harm come to someone you love as you love Danilo when I have the power to prevent it?

It was too much, the wave of tenderness and acceptance flooding into him from her mind. He wrenched his hand away, shot up from his chair, and strode to the hearth. He stood, chest heaving, facing away from her.

The intensity of their psychic rapport diminished but did not disappear. She came closer, carefully not touching him. His body tingled with her breath.

“Is it possible?” he muttered, as much to himself as to her. “Can you love me—want me—knowing the better part of my heart will always belong to him?”

Regis felt the slightest pressure, her cheek on his back, not at all intrusive but nonetheless compelling, as if he were a mountain and she a weary traveler, as if he were a straw in the wind and she a sheltering tree. He closed his eyes.

I have known, from the first time we met,she said telepathically, that your heart was big enough for more than one love. I needed to be sure that it is me you love, for myself, and not a substitute for another.

At this, he turned to face her. Tears filled her eyes with liquid light. One spilled over, leaving a glistening trail down her cheek. He brushed it away, lifted her chin. Bent to brush her lips with his. She answered him but utterly without demand, without desperation.

He remembered the moment, years ago, when he had stood desolate at the ruin of his world, aching with grief for his dead children.

“Regis, I heard—” She had raised her eyes to his, and suddenly they were in deep rapport. “Let me give you others.”

For an instant, they had stood outside of time, more deeply joined than in any act of love. She had come to him in neither pride nor pity nor ambition for the status that bearing a Hastur child would bring, but a sharing of his most profound emotions. She had sensed how difficult his life had become and through that moment of mental union had simply wanted to ease his burden.

He remembered thinking that a child of Linnea’s would be too precious to risk . . .

The image of that child, that daughter who was as fair as a chieriand as filled with grace, rose in both their minds.

Regis’ arms slipped around Linnea as if she had always belonged there. As he pressed her to him, he felt the softness of her breasts, fuller than he remembered. She took his hand and placed his palm over the small roundness below her waist.

Our son. Our Dani.

Linnea drew back, regarding Regis with the inhuman composure of a Keeper. “We will get through this. No matter what happens with Lord Rinaldo Hastur or his Ridenow confederates, they cannot touch what we have together.”

An emotion akin to gratitude welled up in Regis. He had almost lost her, this woman with all her courage and understanding. She was with him now, and he sensed that never again would there be such a misunderstanding between them. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he began to hope.