Free Gideon by Jacquelyn Frank

her that the Mind Demon who had transported the medic to this location had been an Elder, stronger and more skilled than an adult like her.
    The Ancient"s arrival at that particular moment had an extraordinarily disturbing effect. If there was anyone amongst her people who would be able to determine the meaning of the changes she was feeling within herself, Gideon would probably be it. And, of course, she would have preferred to burn in hell before asking such a private thing of him. Yet now he was here, as if bidden by her thoughts, standing in that always so self-assured manner he had, and looking elegant and spotless in the old-world style of clothing he favored more often than he did the modern attire in his wardrobe.

    Right then, he wore white from head to toe, relieved only by silver embroidery that perfectly picked up his natural coloring. He wore breeches of a soft cottonlike material that fit him like a second skin and extended into leather boots of the softest tan color possible before it could be called beige. They reached up to just below his knee, so that he looked like he was going riding. As was his habit, he wore a silken shirt with long, piratical sleeves that rippled from his extremely broad shoulders to cuffs of soft lace, the delicate material resting along the backs of powerful hands, his long fingers finished elegantly in spotlessly manicured fingernails. He wore a single ring, a silver loop on his thumb shaped into the medics"
    signet.
    Legna looked away from him before she found herself doing an overly accurate mental description of the way the laces of the shirt were neglected beneath his throat, allowing the material to gape haphazardly over his collarbone. Suffice it to say, Gideon wore the habits of his lifetime like an unapologetic statement, and he wore them very well. He blended the male fashions of the millennium in a way that was nothing less than a perfect reflection of who he was and how he had lived.
    This only served to beautify his distinctive and powerful presence with his incidental confidence.
    “Gideon,” she said evenly, inclining her head in sparse respect. “What brings you to my chambers so close to dawn?”
    The riveting male before her remained silent, his silver eyes flicking over her slowly. Her heart nearly stopped with her sudden fear, and immediately she threw up every mental and physical barrier she could to prevent an unwelcome scan and analysis of her health.
    “I would not scan you without your permission, Magdelegna. Body Demons who become healers have codes of ethics the same as any others.”
    “Funny,” she remarked, “I would have thought you to believe yourself above such a trivial matter as permission.”
    His mercury gaze narrowed slightly, making Legna wish that she had the courage to dare a piratical scan of her own. She was quite talented at masking her travels through the emotions and psyches of others, but Gideon was like no other. She was barely a fledgling to one such as he.
    Gideon had noted her more recent acerbic tendencies aloud once before, irritating the young female even more than usual, so he resisted the urge in that moment to scold her again and instead let her attitude pass.
    “I have come to check on your well-being, Magdelegna. I am concerned.”
    Legna cocked a brow, twisting her lips into a cold, mocking little smile, hiding the sudden, anxious beating of her heart.
    “And what would give you the impression that you need be concerned for me?” she asked haughtily.
    Gideon once more took his time before responding, giving her one more of those implacable perusals in the interim. Legna exhaled with annoyance, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and coming just shy of tapping her foot in irritation.
    “You are not at peace, young one,” Gideon explained softly, the deep timbre of his voice resonating through her, once again giving her the feeling that she was but fragile crystal, awaiting the moment when he would strike the note