by Chris Lange
As he dragged her along rows after rows of brown, giant trees, the rumble she hadn’t ceased hearing grew louder. She kept up with him, hanging on to his firm hand, until they passed through a breach between thick trunks. He slowed down then, and her jaw dropped.
She took the last step out of the forest to land onto the pebbled bank. The large pool of water glistened blue, green, and almost purple in the sunlight. Half-surrounded by high cliffs, the inviting pond seemed to call to her. When she turned her head toward the source of the gurgling sound, she discovered a small waterfall cascading down the top of the cliff.
“Wow! This place is wonderful.”
He let go of her hand to get rid of his sword, coat, and boots. Dears Gods, but that man really enjoyed stripping. So much so that he had to display himself every chance he got. Warmth spreading over her cheeks, she quickly looked away when he passed his shirt over his head.
“Look at me, Ariana.”
No. What for? She was already well acquainted with his fantastic body. The vision of his muscular chest would send her straight into the realm of fantasy, so why add to her embarrassment? Didn’t he know better by now than to dive into dangerous grounds that had the tendency to shift his moods?
“I said look at me.”
“I am. I will.”
She did while keeping in a long sigh. Then she blew out a silent breath when she realised he still had his pants on. A brief sound reached her ears, but she wasn’t sure if he’d chuckled or not. He gave her a brief nod, his lips pursed to refrain from grinning, his index finger held up.
“Watch this.”
He slowly turned round. His bare skin caught golden rays, and she thought her pulse longed to become a separate entity. Her gaze caressed his broad shoulders, the strong muscles along his back, the narrow waist, the cute dimples disappearing below his waistband. He looked at her over his shoulder.
“So?”
“So what?”
“By the Mighty Gods, woman, you don’t pay much attention, do you? No wonder you get lost in your own cave.”
“Actually, I live in a hut.”
Although unable to see his eyes from where she stood, she felt positive he’d have shot her an irritated look had he been facing her. He hit the sides of his thighs with an emphasis of arm movement.
“Where’s the arrow hole?”
His expectant tone cut through the pleasure of admiring the hard lines of his body. Aroused in spite of his impatience, she took it upon herself to pay attention to the flawless skin of his back. No hole. No wound. For the life of her, she had no idea what he wanted her to say about that.
“I guess it isn’t a miracle after all. I probably healed you. It’s the first time in my life I treat such a serious injury and I honestly didn’t think my herbs would be potent enough. I’m glad they were though, because they saved you. Is this what you’d like to hear?”
He wheeled round. Pebbles crunched under his feet as a gust of air brushed her. Why was he suddenly so interested in the nature of her treatments? She remained frozen when his silver gaze invaded hers. His neck muscles stood out, and the scar in his cheek took on the colour of snow.
“Herbs lull pain, soothe rashes, and help with minor injuries, but they don’t make holes disappear.”
Although she sensed a restraint in his irritation, his placating tone triggered her anger. Who was he to criticise her trade, her life’s work? What did he know of the true power of plants?
“Of course they do, that’s exactly what healing is about. What would be the point otherwise?”
His rigid stance and all-knowing look frayed her nerves. Squaring her shoulders, she used her most sententious tone.
“Listen, I’ve treated countless battle wounds, and I pride myself in leaving no scar. Ever. Why else do you think I trained all these years? To have you tell me that I don’t know what I’m doing?”
“I’m not sure which game you’re playing, Ariana, but I’m warning you. I won’t stand for this crap much longer.”
“Crap? Really? Then next time we meet, remind me to cut your leg off myself, and to let you rot in barns. How is that for crap?”
Her forehead and cheeks burned, but not from embarrassment. He was obviously set on disregarding every word she said, and she had rarely felt such anger rushing through her veins. His blatant ingratitude fired her nerves, and she shot him a fiery look before striding away.
She’d depart for Frahern right now. Whatever the cost, she’d find her way and he could save his guiding skills for someone else. Someone he wouldn’t mock, sulk at, or insult. But he seized her arm even before she reached the cover of trees and whirled her to face him.
“Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, or undermine your work. That really isn’t my point.”
He looked less tense, as if his temper had cooled down from the genuineness of her reaction. His sincere apology touched her core and she decided to give him another chance.
“Well, what is your point?”
He released her arm. After getting all worked up over something she couldn’t fathom, he now looked surprised. So puzzled, in fact, that the beat of her heart decreased. Yet she tensed as his face abruptly expressed comprehension and his voice softened to a throaty murmur.
“You have no idea.”
“No, but I’d love an explanation.”
He ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, sunrays lighting the fair streaks. As he had a knack for sidestepping straight answers, she figured he’d use his ability once more. Incredibly, he didn’t. With the late afternoon sun bearing down on them, he cupped her face in his hands and looked her in the eye.
“You have magic, flower.”
She swallowed. Every time she gave him credit, he flung her into yet another one of his tricks. Her resolve wavered. She had no intention of further arguing her case, but the gravity in his gaze forced her to listen. His words spun in her mind. Spun and whizzed.
Going round in circles, they struck her mental walls until she widened her eyes. He wasn’t teasing. He believed what he'd just said, and the implications loosened her whole body. Gently removing his hands from her face, she burst out laughing.
“You think me a witch?”
He stood his ground, observing her giggling with utmost seriousness. Under his severe scrutiny, her fun quickly flew away to leave her even more confused than before. She took a calming breath.
“You can’t be serious. I promise you I’m not a witch.”
“I didn’t say you were.” He shook his head as if to brush off an unsettled matter. “You know what? Let’s forget about this for the time being. The sun will be down soon. We should enjoy it while it lasts.”
What did he have in mind now? A dip in the placid waters? Her guess turned out to be accurate because he turned his back on her and pulled his pants down. Then he called out without glancing back.
“Come on, Ariana. I won’t look.”
She had no such qualms, apparently. With all her heart and soul, she watched him walk to the edge of the pool. Her belly fluttered as she drank in the arousing vision of his round buttocks moving with every step, of his muscles bulging along the length of his legs.
A bolt of desire rattled her as she gnawed at her bottom lip, her body unable to contain the heat swamping her pussy.
She had no right to look at him like this, no right to feel like flattening her belly against his butt, sliding her hands around his hips, and stretching her fingers toward his fair, thick growth of hair.
Whatever her cravings, she must think only of Kelton and forget about how the Lord of the Clans made her throb.
Yet, he was right. Sliding underneath the blue-green waters would relax her knotted body, alleviate her tensions, and probably be the best part of her day. She smiled. Strong-headed as he proved to be, he always recognized opportunities and never missed an agreeable moment.
She took her clothes off and entered the fresh pool while he swam the short distance to the wa
terfall. Like a boy full of mischief, he straightened up right under the cascading stream. She heard his laughter as the strong flow hailed down on him and almost brought him down.
Happy to see his pleasure, she began to swim across the pool. The water would soon be too cold for her taste if she didn’t move. When she believed herself far enough from him, she floated on her back, drawing enjoyment from the warmth of the sun and the rippling mass underneath.
But she kept an eye on the waterfall. Although he had steered clear of her for the past two days, she couldn’t be sure of anything. His physical needs might rise again, and she’d have a hard time making him back off.
He rocked and shouted under the tumbling water. Positive his little game wouldn’t end anytime soon, she let her head sink. The pond wasn’t deep, water barely reaching her nose when she knelt. A chill enveloped her face as she swept her hair back before resurfacing.
She glanced sideways, her skin puckering from the cold temperature. Still under the fall, he appeared to shake himself like a wet dog. She grinned while lazily swimming back to the other side of the pool. Some kind of weed clung to her ankle when she reached the middle.
Feet flat on the bottom, she squatted to seize the soft plant and loosen it. The long weed resisted her tugging for a while before floating backward as soon as she finally succeeded in unlacing it.
She raised her gaze. A lone waterfall met her eye, and he was nowhere in sight. She swept her surroundings, pulse racing, stomach tightening with a sensation that had nothing to do with fear.
He broke the surface so close to her that she yelped and stood up. She shouldn’t have. His eyes expanded as he riveted his gaze on her naked breasts, on her exposed nipples stiff with cold.
He stared. She froze, the thumps of her heart loud enough to chase away a flock of geese. Features taut with lust, he contemplated her tits as her guts cramped with untamed desire.
Chapter Fifteen
She wanted him to touch her so much that her legs buckled. Her body went down, and the pool waters shrouded her nudity.
As though he woke from a powerful vision, his gaze lost its dreamy veil. He backed away from her to look at a distant point over her shoulder, his face expressionless, his mouth pursed in a tight line.
“Let’s head back to camp.”
Disappointment in herself stabbed her like a million bites. He acted like a responsible clan leader, but she deserved to be locked up in a secluded monastery and left to meditate on the errors of her ways.
She couldn’t keep on being unfaithful to Kelton like this. Once was bad enough but, on account of finding herself alone and scared in strange territories, her behaviour at the tavern might have been justifiable. Repeating the same act of betrayal, however, would be utterly disloyal and inexcusable.
Hoping Cameron wouldn’t notice her distress, she swam after him to the shore. He disregarded his clothes, but flung his thick sheepskin coat over his shoulders. By the time she waded out of the waters, his eyes were fixed on her face while he held her cloak open.
“Here, wear this. We need to keep our clothes dry.”
She accepted the cloak and put it on while he picked up their belongings. Long shadows followed their progress through the giant trees as he led her back to the clearing where their horses grazed.
He lit the fire, spread a blanket over a patch of grass still tinted by the waning sun, and indicated she should use it.
“You’ll be warm soon.”
She sat on the cover. Flames kindled, licked the dry branches, then engulfed the whole pile of wood. Heat breezed past her as she brushed the mass of her hair to the side and began smoothing it with her fingers. The saddlebags contained a hairbrush, but she felt content just sitting there.
He kept himself busy while she mused by the fire.
He settled the horses for the night, prepared their meal, gathered more wood for the fire and set up a small tent. She’d wondered about the contents of the brown pack secured behind his saddle. Now she knew.
Not a speck of water wet her skin once all his preparations were done. Even her hair had lost most of the moisture from the pool. Yet she hesitated about getting dressed, about erecting an obstacle between their rather bare bodies. She could have slapped herself.
Instead, she scooped up her clothes with unsteady fingers, walked to the tent, and crawled inside. Being out of his sight provided little relief.
She observed her surroundings. Small, but large enough to fit two people, the shelter would, without doubt, trigger awkwardness at bedtime, along with a rush of unchecked longings. The knowledge constricted her chest.
He had his pants on when she got out of the tent. He also had the look on his face that told her some matters would be debated. With the dying glow of the sun lighting her steps, she joined him and took the bowl he offered her before sitting down on one end of the blanket. He settled on the other side.
“Enjoy your meal, little witch.”
All right, so he wouldn’t even let her taste his stew before launching the first attack. His eyes sparkled as he dipped a spoon into his bowl. She blew on a piece of meat before looking at him.
“If I was what you believe, don’t you think I’d know?”
“Anyone else would.”
In spite of the light tone of the conversation, she sensed he wasn’t mocking her. Merely trying to make her realise something.
“What’s that supposed to mean? That I’m some kind of dimwit who’s unable to tell science from magic.”
“Not in the least. But you’re naive and you have a tendency to trust people too easily. Like your shaman, for instance.”
“Please, don’t speak ill of my shaman. You don’t know him. He’s taught me everything. He’s been there for me when I needed him, and I can assure you he’s a good person.”
She swallowed a mouthful. If he gave her the chance, she’d have to congratulate him later on his culinary talents. Now wasn’t the time though, as he nodded but kept his gaze fixed on her.
“I’m sure he is. I’m just saying he might have a goal you’re not aware of. Think about it. Of all the people at his disposal, why would he send someone who can’t tell north from south on such a dangerous journey?”
“Because I’m his best healer.”
“I have no doubt about that.”
“And also because she’s my aunt.”
He reached behind him to produce the knife they’d used to cut their bonds, and a loaf of bread. Another item he must have found in the house. He handed her a slice, interest making his eyes glint.
“How well do you know her?”
“She left the tribe about ten summers ago to get married with a man from Frahern. I was a child, but I recall a very nice woman.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I’m not sure. My shaman only said she’s gravely ill and I’m the only one who might save her.”
“I bet you are.”
She didn’t know what felt worse. The fact that the Lord of the Clans sounded sincere because he believed she healed with magic, or the frightening suspicion that her shaman might have kept things from her. Although not convinced she belonged with the magic people, she had to admit that he’d given her very little information prior to her departure.
“You still think I’m a witch, don’t you?”
“Look, I base my argument on facts. You may have treated a lot of injuries, but I have inflicted even more, as well as received some. I’ve watched medicine men and healers from all over the Four Kingdoms do their best, and I can assure you none of them possessed a tenth of the skills you seem to have. The only time I saw something similar to the miracles you perform I was in the city of Palance. And the healer happened to be a wizard.”
He grinned when she opened big eyes. All thoughts of food forgotten, she sat up straighter at the mention of a real person with magic living and breathing in the legendary city of Palance.
“Do you know him? What’s his name?”
“Caiu
s, I think. He’s the personal advisor of the king of Palance.”
“What’s the city like?”
“Impressive. Beautiful. Constantly in danger of being stormed by the armies of Agravar or Borgom.”
When he spoke of war, his whole face took on a different expression. Even his movements appeared sharper. His body hardened, his jaw clenched, straining the muscles of his neck. Yet he didn’t seem to be aware of the sudden tension in him while she watched the subtle changes.
“Where do you stand in this war? I know you don’t want to choose sides in order to protect the clans, but sooner or later you might have to. What will you do when that time comes?”
“War isn’t about courage and glory. War is just battlefields flooded with men’s blood, women and children crying over their lost ones. I’ll fight for the tribes whenever they’re attacked, but I will never send my people to be slaughtered.”
The passion in his voice made her quiver. He hadn’t been appointed Lord of the Clans solely because of his fighting skills and huge size. As a man, and as a warrior, he embodied justice and peace. Profound respect mixed with awe and brought tears to her eyes. She fought them back to ask the question that still nagged her.
“I understand your position, but I’ve always heard that Palance and Moonstill are kingdoms where people live in peace. What would happen if Agravar and Borgom started the war again and won it? Given that the tribes are scattered everywhere, surely they would suffer too. Anyhow, when did the war stop?”
“There was a great battle a few moons ago. Palance and Moonstill were victorious, so the Four Kingdoms have enjoyed relative peace since then. But the war isn’t over, I can feel it. Soldier squads, like the unit we ran across this morning, still patrol and pillage the territories of Agravar and Borgom. It’s like embers just waiting to be kindled.”
“I’m surprised those kings haven’t realised they could tip the scales in their favour if they offered you an alliance?”
“Oh, but they have. I refused all their overtures.”