She had promised to cut it weeks ago, but loved the curls that only appeared when it had grown long enough to touch his shoulders. With a twinge of guilt, she saw now that the length annoyed him. I will cut it for him soon, she promised herself. It gets caught in the links of his mail.
He raised his arm to rub the blade and she saw the thick scar that seamed him from high under his arm down over his ribs to end on the bone of his hip. She let her mind wander back to the day he staggered under that blow. She didn’t realize she had sighed until he stopped rubbing the steel and looked up at her through the ropes of his hair.
“What is it, Little One?”
“I am looking at you and thinking how happy I am.”
He smiled, flashing his white teeth. “As am I. I never want to shut a heavy door against the freezing rain and biting wind again. This weather is delightful.”
“I wasn’t thinking about the weather,” she answered dryly.
He went back to his polishing.
Can I send him to Egypt? Can I bear it? Perhaps he will forget his anger.
She looked at the little arsenal on the bed. No. Three daggers of different lengths lined up beside a shorter and lighter sword, all waiting for their turn to be lovingly polished and protected from rust before one day fouling themselves in the gore of an unlucky man.
She turned her head.
His mail shirt hung over the back of the only chair in the room, its glittering links testifying to the care he had already spent on it. It had to be continually oiled to protect him from the blows from other men who would try to take his life. Her throat tightened. This wolf will never be a lap dog.
“My love.” Something in her voice must have startled him for he immediately laid the sword down and stood, alarm on his face.
“What is it? Tell me.”
Nadira had meant to calmly explain her thoughts, but the sight of him looming over her, so concerned, brought tears to her eyes. Instead of the reasoned conversation about vengeance and grief and duty that she had planned, she found herself sobbing.
He picked her up and carried her to the bed. She curled in his lap and sniffed until he handed her a clean cloth for her face. He smelled of honey and warmth and his arms were solid against her body. She put her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his, feeling comfort in the rough stubble.
“What is it? What did the witch say to you?” he asked again, this time low and soft, his voice a soothing rumble in his throat.
She answered him, “I must lose what I found to gain it back again. It makes no sense, yet it is a real truth.”
“Tell me what you need and I will provide it.”
She tried to smile, but her face was too tight. “It is you who needs what I have to provide. Giving it to you, I may kill you. But not giving it to you, I will certainly kill you.”
His hands tightened around her waist as he pulled her away from him so he could look her in the eyes, confused. “What are you saying?”
“I love you.” A tear tracked down her cheek.
“Yes?”
“I love you, but I must send you away, and I cannot follow to protect you.”
“Protect me?” His eyes moved up and down her body and his voice told her how foolish he thought her words were. Then the blue eyes darkened.
“Send me away?” Now the voice was hard, and his hands tightened even further on her waist.
Nadira took a long slow breath, looking deep in his eyes, which shone with profound hurt and confusion. She forced the words out slowly.
“Massey,” she breathed, “is in Alexandria.”
She had expected to be thrown to the floor and that he would, in her imagination, leap up, seize his sword and brandish it over his head with a roar of triumph. But he did not. He brought her to his chest again and kissed the top of her head, but she heard his heart galloping inside him.
“Alexandria,” he murmured.
“Yes.”
“How do you know this?”
Nadira paused. It was too late to pretend a lie to save his feelings. “Richard told me,” she said in a broken whisper. “I traveled to the land of the dead, and he told me to tell you.”
She held him tighter, not knowing what his response might be. He made a strange choking sound, so she clutched him with all her strength, thinking now he would fling her to the floor as he leapt up, but again he did not. He did not rise from the bed. Instead, his chin dropped to his chest.
She twined the curled ends of his hair around her fingers and waited for him to calm himself. When his shorts breaths faded to an even rhythm Nadira took her cloth and gently wiped his eyes. The blue in them was like the sea after a storm, and his voice was as rough. “Did he say anything else?”
“He does not blame you for his death. He knows what he did.” Montrose nodded, his gaze unfocused. She continued, knowing he was thinking of Richard. “He is content there. He says there is a library the size of the whole world and he is reading every book.” This brought a sad smile to his face. “But…” She hesitated.
“What?”
Nadira squirmed. “Must you go to Alexandria, then? Must you return violence with violence?” Was he as vicious as the priestess said?
He narrowed his eyes. She thought he must be imagining having Massey in his grip because his hands squeezed her painfully. She wriggled on his lap until he released her.
He said slowly, “I cannot let him live.”
She expected this answer and made a strangled sound in her throat.
Montrose continued, “He will wreak havoc on the lives of many more, killing, stealing, cheating until he is stopped. Can you think of it that way? Does that give you comfort?”
He is trying. Nadira looked up at him. Not vicious then. Righteous, perhaps, in his ignorance. He will not understand until he has experienced this worldly violence and is sated with it. In her head she heard the priestess’ soft voice. Let him go.
She nodded. “Go then. Will you take Alisdair and Garreth?”
“They would not stay behind.”
“No. Of course not. No. That was a foolish question.”
“Not so foolish. It tells me you will be afraid without them.”
“No. I will go to the temple while you are away.”
This brought a frown to his face. “Are you to be a priestess?” She saw his mind work around the assumptions and she saw clearly that he did not like them.
“I have only been invited to learn and study.”
He was relieved. “Good. You are my wife, not a priestess.”
“I am not your wife.” She tipped her head sideways, challenging him with this fact. “I remain, these many months, a reluctant virgin.”
His face hardened. “It is difficult.”
“But it should be easy.” She kissed him and ran her hands over his body, feeling both his reluctance and his desire.
“Make me your wife before you go.” She did not say ‘you might not return’. But he heard the words in the silence for he put his lips on hers and kissed her hard.
The sword and knives fell to the floor with dull clanks as he swept them from the bed with one arm and lay her down with the other.
“Will you honor me by becoming my wife?”
“I will,” she told him, digging her fingers into the thick muscles of his arms.
He drew back from the kisses, “Now we are man and wife.”
“Almost,” she whispered. “I can feel it…”
“Not yet, you can’t.” He leaned on one elbow and with his other hand he slid her gown up around her hips. “But it is imminent.”
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Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Hermetica of Elysium (Elysium Texts Series) Page 35