by Kai Andersen
Heat simmered in her belly, and something clenched within her, in the lower portion of her body. She knew she was staring, but found it hard to look away.
He had thrown away his clothes, which were bloody from the fight, and had donned only a spare pair of trousers. He had given her his one spare shirt to use as a nightshirt. It ended well above her knees. She had thought to sleep in the clothes she’d worn during the day, but they were grimy from the day’s travel and she’d realized she didn’t really want to sleep in them.
She wrenched her mind back to the topic at hand.
“But the wind at night is strong. What if you get sick? How will we rescue Michael then?”
He stilled, then turned glittering eyes to her. “Okay, then. I sleep inside the tent, and you can enjoy the stars.”
“How ungentlemanly!”
“You can’t have it both ways, Princess.”
She hesitated, perturbed by his sudden mood change. They had been so close after their close escape from the monster, but now it felt as though there were an ocean between them. “I just thought ... maybe we can share the tent and the bedroll and the blanket. That way --”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” He was staring at her, shocked.
“Nothing has to happen, Rodin,” she shot back, annoyed that he wasn’t accepting her goodwill readily. “After all, we would be sleeping in our clothes. I ... I just thought ...” She bit her lip. “Maybe you can hold my hand while I sleep. I ... I think I’m scared of sleeping alone after ... after ...”
His eyes softened. “Of course.” He stepped aside. “Why don’t you go in and get settled? I’ll just douse the fire a little and make sure the horses are secure.”
“Thank you for being so understanding.”
“Glad to help, Princess.”
She frowned after him, not liking the sarcastic tone in his voice. Then she remembered that there were things she had not discussed with him yet. Maybe later, before they slept. Or tomorrow.
She was lying on her back on the right side of the bedroll, modestly covered with the blanket, when he entered the tent. For a moment, he just stood there at the entrance, staring at her. At least, she thought he was staring at her; it was dark, and she couldn’t really tell.
“Rodin, you’re, uh, you’re on the left.”
“Right.”
He lay down beside her, his movements quiet and economical as he laid his sword on the ground beside him. He was a strange presence beside her, big and warm and ... strange. She had always slept alone in her big bed at the castle, ever since she had gotten over her fear of the vastness of her room. But now, with low howling sounds shattering the quiet of the night at intervals, she couldn’t help but creep closer to Rodin, shifting in her designated side of the bedroll as she tried to have some human contact to reassure herself that she was not alone.
“Rodin?”
Her voice was timid and soft, but Rodin immediately answered. “Yes?”
“Can you hold my hand? I ... I’m scared.”
His big, warm hand immediately engulfed hers. “Don’t let those sounds bother you. They might sound near, but they’re really far away from here.”
“Okay. I’ll ... I’ll try to sleep now.”
“You do that.”
His voice was strained, and she supposed he must be tired after traveling for most of the day and then battling that monster. She would have to ask him what it had been; it helped to know the enemy, to know if they abounded in this part of the country, so that they would be better prepared for it the next time. Yes, she would have to ask ...
* * * * *
Consciousness filtered through her brain, making her aware of how warm and comfortable and safe she was, how she didn’t want to move from this position if it were possible. Her back was spooned against a warm, solid, male body. Rodin’s, she was sure. Lately, she couldn’t seem to do anything but dream of Rodin. Right now, her head was bent forward because he was nuzzling his face against her hair, breathing in her scent. One of his hands was curved around her waist, idly stroking her through the shirt. One of his legs had insinuated itself between both of hers. In fact, her pussy was now resting against his thigh, which moved sometimes and thus rubbed against her.
She sighed. The hand at her midriff moved up, cupping her breast and kneading the soft mound. His thumb brushed over the nipple, sensitizing the bud until it tightened and peaked.
She gasped and arched into his hand, her bottom coming to rest against his hard length.
His hand stilled, and the atmosphere changed around them.
He had awakened.
It was not a dream.
She had always been rudely awakened from previous dreams of Rodin. She now found that reality was no better.
Rodin rolled away from her. Standing stiffly beside the makeshift bed, he wouldn’t meet her eyes as he said, “Forgive me, Your Highness. It will not happen again.”
Giselda sat up and stared helplessly at the flap of the tent, through which he had disappeared. No matter how much she wanted the crown, no matter how much she wanted to be queen, there was one thing she could no longer deny. She wanted Rodin, too, if the lust running through her was any indication. How was she going to reconcile both desires?
Chapter Twelve
Rodin drove the pace like the devil was after him.
Giselda tried to keep up with him, but though her stamina was good and her horse one of the best in Mithirien, she was no match for Rodin’s vigor and unflagging energy. After their lunch rest at midday, she didn’t even try.
She set Randalin to walk at an easy pace, her eyes on the cloud of dust kicked up by Rodin’s horse as it moved farther and farther into the distance. She was sure Rodin would turn back once he noticed that he was missing a princess; he was that conscientious. True enough, he came storming back, a fierce warrior on his warhorse, promising vengeance on his foe.
Giselda’s breath quickened at the magnificent sight; he was all male beauty and strength. She could never forget how he’d made her feel in the garden with just his hands and his mouth. She ached with need and longing to feel the same pleasure and satisfaction coursing through her veins once again.
When he was about to draw level with her, she quickly schooled her face into an expressionless mask, the one Serena’s little sister called “the princess face.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Good, he was angry. She had had enough of the blank face he’d seemed intent on presenting to her from the moment he had awakened to find her in his arms.
“Following after you, what else?”
“Do you think you could pick up the pace a little?” His horse pranced nervously beside her, as affected by his cold tone as she was. “I would have thought that you would be in a hurry to find your prince.”
There was that inflection again. “An hour or two won’t make a big difference. Anyway, I seldom come to this part of the kingdom, so I want to enjoy the scenery.” She made a show of looking around at the green countryside.
“I knew it was a mistake to allow a spoiled princess on this mission.”
At that, her cool facade evaporated. She rounded on him, her eyes flashing. “For your information, my butt is hurting and my whole body is aching from that punishing pace you set yesterday and this morning. I may ride like I was born on a horse, Mr. Expert Horseman, but I did not have the training you did!” She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead. “You can go ahead and rescue Michael and get that damn bird, and I’ll just plod on at my slow pace.”
He gave a great sigh and pulled his horse to a walk beside her. “Ah, Princess, why didn’t you tell me?”
Tears welled up at his gentle tone, and her momentary anger faded away. She sniffed. “Because you’ve been so horrible. You’re mad at me, and I don’t even know what I did.”
He sighed again. “I am not mad at you. You could say ...” He hesitated. “... I am mad at me.”
“W
hy?” She looked at him, surprised.
He looked straight ahead. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Which means you’re not going to tell me,” she said wryly. “Okay, I can accept that. I won’t even command you, which is perfectly within my right.”
“Your Highness is to be commended for her restraint.”
“Which reminds me, please stop being so formal and calling me ‘Your Highness’ or even ‘Princess.’ Why don’t you call me by my name?”
“It wouldn’t be proper.”
“Oh, pooh. You called me ‘Giselda’ once.” At his blank look, she explained, “Last night, when you thought I was hiding and you were looking for me.”
“I was frantic; I didn’t know what I was saying.”
A thrill went through her. He was frantic.
“I have the responsibility of bringing you back safe and sound to the king. Else, he would have my head for sure.”
Everything in her seemed to deflate. She was a responsibility.
“Oh. Well, we’re out here in the wilds, and who’s going to notice? Anyway, this mission makes us more like partners than anything else. So, my first and last decree as princess on this mission is that we drop all usage of titles and ranks until we complete this job and we are back at the castle.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
“Giselda,” she said firmly.
“Yes, Your -- Giselda.”
If his voice was a little husky and seemed to say her name in a caress, Giselda convinced herself it was just her imagination.
“By the way, about last night ...” She trailed away as she remembered this morning.
“Yes?”
She cleared her throat. “What was that monster that attacked me?”
Rodin laughed. “Hardly a monster. Just a wolf.”
“Wolf?” Giselda shuddered. “That is a monster to me.” She paused. “Don’t they normally travel in packs? Maybe there are more out there.”
“Yes, but my guess is that our wolf was one of the older ones that couldn’t keep up with the pack when they hunted. Maybe it was injured or something. Anyway, after I disposed of it, I checked the area to make sure there was no other threat lurking about.”
She shuddered. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, Rodin. I was so terrified, and I didn’t even have a weapon -- not that I know how to use one. I was just thinking how lucky it was that you reached me before it did. If it were the other way around, the only things you’d be bringing back to my parents would be my bones.”
“Don’t think about it anymore,” he commanded roughly. His hand tightened on the reins, and Giselda found it interesting that his knuckles had turned white. “It didn’t happen. But from now on, you are not going anywhere without me. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered meekly.
He grinned sheepishly. “I sounded like a dictator, didn’t I?”
“Very. I imagine that’s how you are with your men.”
“I suppose so. I really wouldn’t know.” He laughed. “Nobody has dared to answer me in the same tone you did.”
Giselda didn’t know how it came about, but she was pleased all the same that the air between them had changed, becoming more relaxed and comfortable, friendlier.
“By the way, did you leave a note telling your parents what you’re doing?”
Horror washed over her. “Uh-oh. I forgot. I was in so much of a hurry that it slipped my mind.” Would he send her back now?
“We may reach a village soon. I know -- we’ll send someone over to the castle with a note, maybe to my father so that no one will know your identity.”
Giselda was so relieved at his suggestion that she immediately agreed and moved on to another topic before he could change his mind. “What do you call your horse?”
He shrugged. “Horse.”
“He doesn’t have a name?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Why should he?”
“Well ...” She gestured helplessly. “My horse has a name. Randalin.”
“So, because the princess’s horse has a name, every horse in the kingdom should have one,” he mocked.
“No, it isn’t like that at all! I just think giving them a name defines their personality, making them more real, more vivid. ‘Horse’ sounds so ... general and pathetic.”
“I don’t see the need to give them names. Before I could even remember its name, it will be gone, replaced by a newer, more powerful horse. Do you know how many horses I’ve gone through in the past year? This is the eighth.”
“But why?” Giselda was confused. “I thought seasoned warriors had their own horses, which is especially useful during battle because by a touch or a nudge, the horse would know what its rider wants and --”
“You said it yourself: ‘during battles.’ We haven’t been embroiled in a battle for years, not that I wish for one. It’s just that ... I’m good with horses, so I help train those with potential to become better warhorses.”
She looked over at him in wonder and understanding. “So that’s why Frederick came up with the idea of a horse ranch, and for you to help him manage it.”
“Partly correct.” A small smile played about his lips. “Only, I was the one who thought up the idea.”
“How perfect! See, that’s why you should start naming your horses. If you do, the horses that you breed will not become nameless. Someday, they might even have their own place in history.” Giselda’s eyes were shining as her thoughts jumped ahead to history books written several generations down the road. “Like, Starlight was responsible for saving the life of its rider, Prince Whatever, with its speed and agility. Or, Lifesaver knocked down an enemy who was about to thrust a sword into its rider. What about --”
Rodin was laughing uncontrollably. “Giselda, you are priceless.”
“I’m glad you agree. So, what do you want to name your horse?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? How plain. Let me think of a good name for you. How about ... Flower?”
“For a warhorse? Get serious.”
“Fighting Spirit?”
“Too long.”
“Demon.”
“Has potential.”
“Why are you guys so typical? You only like manly names.”
“You’re naming a warhorse, Giselda, not a gentle mare or a pony.”
For the rest of the afternoon, they traveled at a much slower pace, with Giselda still trying to come up with a name for Rodin’s horse, and both enjoying the somewhat silly and senseless conversation. An hour or two before twilight, however, Giselda noticed Rodin looking up at the gathering storm clouds with concern. His face became grimmer and tighter with each minute that passed.
Finally, she asked, “What is it?”
“We’re sure to run into the storm. I want us to set up camp before it pours. Can you move faster? A canter, maybe?”
“Yes.” She immediately sent the signal to Randalin.
Rodin was beside her, matching her pace for pace. “I am sorry to ask you --”
“Don’t be silly, Rodin. You’re right; we need to get settled before the storm breaks. Besides, we’ve rested enough.”
They didn’t talk anymore as they raced against the storm. The sky got increasingly darker with each minute that passed, and the wind howled long and hard. Sometimes it was hard going, as the strong wind pushed against them. Rodin caught hold of Randalin’s reins as they trudged onward, so that they wouldn’t be separated. Finally, his sharp eyes caught sight of a small opening that led into a cave. After checking to make sure it didn’t contain any unfriendly animals, he led both horses farther inside.
They divided the work between them, and pretty soon, a fire was roaring warmly, with a spit of meat roasting over it. The horses were fed and tied together a little ways inside the entrance of the cave.
“We’re lucky the meat didn’t spoil,” Giselda commented from her position in front of the fire. The m
eat was the second of two rabbits Rodin had hunted for their lunch.
Rodin threw her a look. “What do you mean ‘spoil’? I just slaughtered it.”
“What?”
“Now, don’t be squeamish. You need to replenish your strength.”
“Next time, don’t tell me about it. I don’t need to know that what I’m about to eat was previously a living and moving thing.”
Rodin laughed.
The rain came down in torrents just as they were settling down to sleep. They lay down in the same position as the night before, only because Giselda insisted that the intermittently booming thunder scared her. But actually, she’d noticed that though Rodin was laughing at her quips, he was tense and uptight, and every time it thundered, he jumped. She thought he needed her hand more than she needed his.
“Do you think we’ll come to a village tomorrow?” she asked drowsily.
“Why?”
“I just thought ... how frantic ... Father and Mother will be ... when they discover ... I’m missing.”
“Don’t worry.” His thumb grazed her wrist soothingly. “I’m sure we’ll come to a village soon.”
“Good.” She rolled and snuggled against him. She felt him stiffen, but she felt so warm and secure that she didn’t care to move away. “Don’t want them ... worry.”
“You should have thought of that before you sneaked away.”
She yawned and laid a hand on his chest. “’Morrow ...”
“Yes.” His arm tightened around her. “Tomorrow.”
* * * * *
Frederick was shouting in her ear. She told him to shut up, to go back to his wife. All around them, cannons boomed. He kept shouting, “No! No! No!”
Giselda opened her eyes, heart thundering. She was covered in sweat. She realized she was dreaming -- or rather, nightmaring.
Outside, the rain still poured, and thunder boomed. That must have been the cannons she’d heard in her nightmare.
“No!”
Beside her, Rodin was thrashing about, restless in his sleep. He’d kicked the blankets down to their feet. She shook him gently on the arm. “Rodin, wake up! You’re having a nightmare.”
“No, Talina! You can’t leave me! No!”