Free Tigana by Guy Gavriel Kay Page A

of their own imperative accord—to touch her eyelids and throat and then drift downward to the dreamt-of swell of her breasts, her own fingers were nimble among the drawstrings at his waist, setting him free.
    ‘Oh, Triad!’ he heard himself moan as her cool fingers stroked him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before that you liked it dangerous?’ He twisted his head sharply and their lips met fiercely for the first time. He began gathering the folds of her gown up about her hips.
    She settled back on a ledge against the wall behind her to make it easier for him, her own breath now rapid and shallow as well.
    ‘There will be six of us,’ Devin heard from the room outside. ‘By second moonrise I want you to be …’
    Catriana’s hands suddenly tightened in his hair, almost painfully, and at that moment the last folds of her robe rode free of her hips and Devin’s fingers slipped in among her undergarments and found the portal he’d been longing for.
    She made a small unexpected sound and went rigid for just a second, before becoming extremely soft in his arms. His fingers gently stroked the deepest folds of her flesh. She drew an awkward, reaching breath, then shifted again, very slightly and guided Devin into her. She gasped, her teeth sinking hard into his shoulder. For a moment, lost in astonished pleasure and sharp pain, Devin was motionless, holding her close to him, murmuring almost soundlessly, not knowing what he was saying.
    ‘Enough! The others are here,’ the third voice outside rasped crisply.
    ‘Even so,’ said the first. ‘Remember then, you two come your own ways from town—not together!—to join us tonight. Whatever you do be sure you are not followed or we are dead.’
    There was a brief silence. Then the door on the farthest side of the room opened and Devin, beginning now tothrust slowly, silently into Catriana, finally recognized the voice he’d been hearing.
    For the same speaker continued talking, but now he assumed the delicate, remembered, intonations of the day before.
    ‘At last!’ fluted Tomasso d’Astibar bar Sandre. ‘We feared dreadfully that you’d all contrived to lose yourselves in these dusty recesses, never to be found again!’
    ‘No such luck, brother,’ a voice growled in reply. ‘Though after eighteen years it wouldn’t have been surprising. I need two glasses of wine very badly. Sitting still for that kind of music all morning is cursed thirsty work.’
    In the closet Devin and Catriana clung to each other, sharing a breathless laughter. Then a newer urgency came over Devin, and it seemed to him it was in her as well, and there was suddenly nothing in the peninsula that mattered half so much as the gradually accelerating rhythm of the movements they made together.
    Devin felt her fingernails splay outwards on his back. Feeling his climax gathering he cupped his hands beneath her; she lifted her legs and wrapped them around him. A moment later her teeth sank into his shoulder a second time and in that moment he felt himself explode, silently, into her.
    For an unmeasured, enervated space of time they remained like that, their clothing damp where it had been crushed against skin. To Devin the voices from the two rooms outside seemed to come from infinitely far away. From other worlds entirely. He really didn’t want to move at all.
    At length however, Catriana carefully lowered her legs to the ground to bear her own weight. He traced her cheekbones with a finger in the blackness.
    Behind him the lords and merchants of Astibar were still shuffling past the body of the Duke so many had hated and some few had loved. To Devin’s left the younger generationof the Sandreni ate and drank, toasting an end to exile. Devin, wrapped close with Catriana, still sheathed within her warmth, could not have hoped to find words to say what he was feeling.
    Suddenly she seized one of his tracing fingers and bit it, hard. He winced, because it hurt. She didn’t say anything