In spite of himself, Antony walked past the shrine toward the little hut where the Wood God's Wife had appeared to them. The memory set his skin to prickling. Here he'd accepted the hospitality of a Goddess, and he'd kissed Jennia for the first and last time. With luck he'd never see either again.
To his relief, he found the one-room house empty. He leaned against the wall, thinking of Jennia's body pressed against his for their wedding kiss: her warm, pliant lips, her breasts against his chest and his cock hard against her hip. A twitch began; he ghosted his fingers over the increasing bulge in his buckskins and groaned. Her memory would torment him just as Magda's had, though Jennia's would be more sweet than bitter.
He'd never touched those full, magnificent breasts. He'd always preferred smaller women until Jennia. How she'd whimpered and cried every time the charms pleasured her! Just the sound of her voice in ecstasy had nearly driven him mad let alone the sight of her. The scent of her arousal still clung faintly to his fingers no matter how much he washed. He wished more than ever he'd taken her after the demonstration in Rabny Ford and tried to remember why he'd gone off with Tassie. Ah yes--he'd been afraid that if he stayed, he'd end up falling in love with Jennia, but he'd already been in love with her since the moment he'd seized her in that field. What had possessed him to chase her?
By now Antony was rock hard, images of Jennia cascading against his closed eyes. He gave up, pulled his cock from his buckskins and dug in his waistcoat pocket for his toy. Voices and the dull thud of horse hooves came down the path. He quickly stashed the opalescent globe and fastened himself up. The newcomers were probably pilgrims to the shrine, in which case perhaps he might conduct a little business; prayers to the Wood God were traditionally offered for success in hunting and cases of impotence. The wagon was in full view. No point in pretending he wasn't there. Antony stepped out of the little house and walked toward the shrine.
A tall blond man held the reins of two horses. It was Starret Bentam. Why had he come after Antony--to thank him? His irritation mounted. He looked toward the wagon, and there stood Jennia, scratching Dolf's mane. The irritation grew to angry despair. He wanted never to see her again, never to be reminded of what he couldn't have. "What are you doing here?"
Jennia turned from the big horse and smiled at him, a full-hearted smile like nothing she'd ever bestowed on him before. At least she's grateful, he thought. "I had to come after you."
"Whatever for? Bentam thanked me for both of you."
"Antony, all my things are in the wagon," she smiled.
His face flushed. "Oh. I--I was in a hurry."
"And you never let me thank you properly, Mister Onyx," said Starret. "I literally owe you my life. If you ever need anything, and I mean anything--a place to live, money, a swordarm--you have it from Starret Bentam and his children."
"I don't owe you anything. I didn't do it for you," blurted Antony; he reddened further and looked away.
"You're an idiot, you know," said Jennia. "A wonderful, wonderful idiot. My idiot." She walked toward him, hips rolling.
Antony glanced at Starret, expecting--what, jealousy? Benevolent tolerance of his betrothed's flirting? Instead, the soldier was remounting his horse. "I'll just leave you two alone," he grinned.
"I don't understand. You're not taking her with you?"
"She's already married, and I have a wedding of my own to attend," said Starret. "I expect you both there. Jen, send me word of where you settle down so I can get the invitation to you." The young man saluted them both and started back down the path to Deep Well, leading the other horse.
Jennia took Antony's unresisting hands and laced her fingers in his; they were cold, probably from shock, she thought. "Such beautiful hands you have. So elegant. I'll miss watching you juggle the charms. D'you suppose if I gave you juggling balls you'd keep doing it for me? Do close your mouth, you're catching flies, love," she smiled.
"Why did he take your horse?" Antony quavered. "How are you going to get back to Deep Well? Do I need to take you back?"
She'd never seen him flustered before--no, once, that first day when he'd chased her down in the meadow. He'd looked at her as if she were the first thing he'd ever truly seen in his life. "Where I'm going depends on where you're going. I love you, Antony. I think I always have, from the beginning."
"No. No, no." He dropped her hands. "Don't. I have nothing now--I'm nothing."
Her eyes and heart overflowed in loving exasperation. "You are everything to me! Antony, what a beautiful, stupid thing you did! The only thing dumber would be to leave me just when you've given up so much for me. I almost wish we'd never met. Then you'd still have your magic. But I would lose your love, and I don't think I can live without that. I know you love me, Antony. Say it!"
By now tears were flowing down his bearded cheeks. "Jennia, with all my heart. I love you with all my heart!" Antony enfolded her in his arms, pressing her close.
Jennia put her arms around his neck and kissed him, opening his mouth in her eagerness. He rocked back on his heels in surprise, steadied himself and returned her passion kiss for kiss. He buried his face in her neck, the brush of his beard and the sun-and-salt scent of his skin sending shivers straight to her center. She unfastened his waistcoat, tugged his shirt from his buckskins and ran her hands up his lean, hard chest; she scratched at the flat nipples and kissed him again. "I want you, I want you," she said against his lips.
Antony scooped her up and headed toward the wagon, but suddenly he turned and headed toward the house of the Wood God's Wife. "We got married in there, we should seal it in there," he said.
"I don't care if you fuck me against a tree," Jennia whispered into his neck.
"Oh, gods," Antony groaned, and picked up his pace.
At the door of the little house, they found its bareness transformed. A wide bed stood where the pile of bracken and leaves had once been; invisible hands had laid out a meal on a table beside it, complete with wine. Antony set Jennia on her feet in the doorway, and the two hesitated in awe. "I suppose we have to accept divine hospitality again," she said.
"I suppose we're leaving a better offering," he answered. They entered the little house and closed its door behind them.
The surprise slowed them down, their kisses still intense but more deliberate, almost sacred. Jennia sucked his lower lip into her mouth and nibbled; he groaned and squeezed her ass. One to remember, she thought. They shed their clothing and lay down together, still exploring with hands and mouths.
Antony rolled her onto her back and straddled her; he took her breasts in his hands and played with them, squeezing gently, then more firmly, rolling the nipples between his long fingers. "I watched you with my charms, I saw what you liked, I thought only of you whenever I used my own charm, did you know that? Everything those toys did to you, I wished it were my hands doing it to you."
"They were your hands," she moaned. "I want your mouth, Antony, I want your mouth everywhere, I want--" He was sucking at her nipples now, first one and then the other, and speech left her. She gasped and writhed as he ran his tongue under the fold of each breast to come back to the tips; he bit and suckled until Jennia thought she would go mad with desire.
Antony was hard against her thigh, and she wriggled her hips to bring his cock to her entrance. He moved his mouth up her neck to her lips again, kissed her deeply, and spread her sex open with his fingers. "So wet, so wet you are, oh Jennia, you're wet for me, come for me, let me feel you come around my fingers," he growled in her ear. His thumb brushed her clit, and she nearly obeyed him; when he pushed two fingers inside her, she did. She arched up and up, hearing her own voice from a great distance above the roaring of her heartbeat.
Antony gave her no chance to recover, plunging into her over and over, and driving her through a second climax. Antony thrust deep into her once, twice, three times and came; she shuddered and cried with him as his warmth flooded her. He fell to one side before he took her in his arms again and kissed her lips
, her cheeks, her eyes, until their trembling stopped.
"Where shall we go, love?" said Jennia. "Shall we go back to Deep Well? I can find work in a weaver's concern, even if I can't weave myself."
He gave her a light smack on the ass. "We are going back to Rabny Ford, darlin'. Trompkins the innkeeper's been after Tassie Marles for as long as I've been coming to town, but she wants to marry a man who'll take over her da's farm. Trompie won't mind--that's a rich holding--but he's been holding out for a fair bit for his place. I can give him that." Jennia kissed him, and he smiled down into her flushed face. "So I'm going to buy the inn, and you're going to set up shop as a master weaver. There are 200 souls in Rabny Ford if you don't count the farmers outside of town--and the Guild doesn't, even though it's easily three times the number of folks in town. More importantly, I am going to fuck you senseless every chance I get. I've wanted this, oh gods, I've wanted this. I've been so alone, never more so than when you were close and I couldn't kiss you."
"You've never been alone, sweetheart, you've always had your toys," she teased.
Antony pulled her atop him. "I'll never use a toy again. Neither will you." His cock already stirred between her thighs. He pulled her down to kiss her, and they began again.
The next morning, a brightly painted wagon trundled away from the Wood God's shrine. A shaft of sunlight illuminated four shining spheres in the Wood God's cupped hands, sending tiny dots of reflected color dancing among the leaves. It crept up the silvered wood until it gilded the God's horns and mighty phallus; the smile on His bearded face was broader than ever, and He seemed to watch the wagon leave His woods in great satisfaction.
The wagon's big, placid horse ambled steadily eastward, pulling it behind him with no apparent guidance; its doors and windows were shut, the curtains drawn. The sun's rays slipped through the open skylight, following a trail of laughter. A sunbeam shone on a tapestry hanging on the wall, just visible through the skylight's opening. The intricate, glowing silk threads portrayed a dark-haired man, his arms encircling a plump woman with shining hazel eyes. Tankards of beer foamed among the piles of fruit, game and bread heaped at his feet; at hers, three chubby children tangled one another other up in yarn.
The laughter rose and shifted into a gasping moan.
The sunbeam discreetly ducked behind a tree, and the driverless wagon rolled down the road toward its new home in the east.
* * * * *
Other books by MeiLin Miranda:
An Intimate History of the Greater Kingdom
Book One: Lovers and Beloveds
Book Two: Son in Sorrow
Short stories: Accounts and The Gratification Engine
Aria Afton Presents
The Amber Cross
Dalston Junction
Scryer's Gulch
Fears Moon Woman
About MeiLin Miranda
MeiLin Miranda literally came back from the dead to write the fantasy series "An Intimate History of the Greater Kingdom" and the online fantasy western serial "Scryer's Gulch." She lives in Portland, OR with a husband, two kids, two cats, a floppy dog and far, far too much yarn. Find out more at: http://www.MeiLinMiranda.com/
The Mage's Toy (Aria Afton Presents) Page 7