WindWarrior

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  "I heard what happened,” she said, wrapping both hands around her glass. “I'm sorry she hurt you."

  Believing there was no way she could have heard as yet about the drama that had taken place earlier that day, he told her—not wanting any secrets between them.

  "I heard about that, too,” she said and when his eyebrows shot up, she cocked a shoulder. “I've been having a few visitors today.” She looked around at the counter where a few wicker baskets sat. “I've got fresh bread, a jar of fig preserves, some homemade candles, a sack of sugar and several other items that have been brought as welcoming gifts from neighbors."

  "Neighbors?” he questioned. “What neighbors? The closest cottage is in Cathair and that's ten miles from here."

  "Curious neighbors,” she answered. “But nice ones."

  "Who couldn't wait to tell you all the local gossip, I suppose,” he grumbled. He stared down into his glass—as yet to take a sip. “I'm not sure I like people coming out here bothering you."

  "They weren't bothering me, and I enjoyed the company,” she defended the new acquaintances she'd made. “Drink your lemonade."

  He took a sip and once again his eyebrows shot up. He swallowed then licked his lips. “That is the best I've ever had, tarrishagh."

  "I would like to plant several citrus trees, especially lemons,” she said.

  "I'll get Guy to procure a couple,” he said.

  "Mayhap a lime, too?” she asked and he nodded agreement.

  "So,” he said, stretching out his long legs. “What did they tell you about the doings this morn?"

  "That the punishment you doled out was needed, just, and accepted by your people as a desire on your part to do right by them."

  He searched her eyes and when he found no censure there, he sighed. “And my lady-wife? What did they say of her?"

  "That one year, six months, and twenty days would not come soon enough,” she said with a twitch of her lips.

  Dek groaned. “By the gods, do they miss nothing?"

  Maire looked away. “Not even the twenty-four Seedings which I'm sure by now are less than that,” she replied softly.

  He flinched, reaching out to cover her hand. “Maire, it wasn't something I wanted to do. It isn't something I want to do. It is...."

  "Necessary and we'll not speak of it again,” she said in a firm voice. “Would you like something for your headache?"

  "How did you know I.... “He shook his head gently. “Aye, I would."

  She got up from the table and went to the cupboard to rummage through the bottles and jars there. “I will be planting a few papaver plants so I can brew my own tenerse,” she informed him. “I'm setting aside a portion of my herb garden for medicinal plants."

  He smiled—remembering Guy's comment about the drool. When she came back to the table she had a small glass of milk-colored water that had a more pungent odor than he was accustomed to. He sniffed the glass. “Is that vinegar?"

  "A few drops, aye,” she answered. “It will greatly reduce the pain."

  He made a face but downed the offensive liquid in one gulp, shuddering as the taste hit his pallet like a rocket. “Ugh, tarrishagh. That's bloody awful! It tastes much worse than the moldy shite you gave me in Vardar and that was worse than normal tenerse."

  "Drink your lemonade,” she ordered. “It will cut the taste."

  Lifting his glass, he took several swallows before his eyes began to glaze. He blinked as the warmth and the peacefulness spread through him.

  "That's some gods-be-damned good shite,” he mumbled, running his tongue over his numb lips. “Moldy shite, but good shite."

  The windows shook as another rumble of thunder sounded. The light was going out of the sky and the wind had picked up. Maire went to close the front door as Dek got up and walked out on the back porch. He held the cool glass to his forehead as he surveyed the newly dug gardens and the trees that had been planted. He laughed as the ducks waddled past for the safety of the barn as lightning zigzagged through the heavens. He saw Jenny—at least he thought it was Jenny—trotting under a lean-to in the corral. He thought he saw lights in the little hut beside the barn but Maire joined him at that moment. She snaked an arm around his waist as he tucked her under his arm.

  "You should lie down,” she told him, “until your headache goes away."

  "In your bed?” he countered.

  "In one of the guest room beds?” she offered.

  He glanced across the room. “On the settee?” he inquired.

  She agreed so they walked back through the kitchen and great room to the comfortable settee.

  "You sit,” he told her and when she started to protest he told her he wanted to lay with his head in her lap. “Your fingers in my hair."

  Maire made a tsking sound, but she accommodated him, threading her fingers through his thick curly hair as he laid on his side with his knees drawn up. The settee barely held his tall, muscular frame, but he snuggled close, arms crossed over his chest. The back of his head was pressed against her belly, and it sent waves of desire rippling through her womb.

  With a suddenness that made them both jump, the sky seemed to break open with a sharp crack and a deluge of fierce wind and rain pelted the cottage.

  "I don't like bad weather,” she said, her voice tinged with nervousness.

  They were facing the large front windows which had yet to have draperies sewn for them. The darkness beyond the mullioned panes was lit often by the flare of lightning.

  "The storms can be pretty severe,” he said. At that moment his world was so mellow the threat of the weather had little meaning for him. With her hands in his hair, massaging his scalp, the universe could implode, and he wouldn't care.

  "You're not bothered by storms?” she asked.

  "Not in the least,” he answered.

  "What about when you were a child?"

  He chuckled softly. ‘The only thing that scared me when I was a child was my mother. The woman was a dragoness. My ta'zeer has nothing on her."

  She smiled. “Did you get many spankings?"

  "Let's put it this way,” he said. “I didn't sit down from the time I was two until I was eighteen."

  Maire laughed, smoothing the locks from his forehead. “Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration, milord?"

  He turned over so he was on his back looking up at her, knees crooked. “If you don't believe me, ask Jules and Guy. Most of the time they had their asses lit up alongside mine.” He reached for her hand and drew it down to his chest, pressing the palm over his heart.

  The rain slashed against the windows with fury. The wind howled in the eaves. Fierce lightning spider-webbed its way across the gunmetal gray heavens and in the west, the sun was dipping to the horizon.

  "I don't believe you'll be riding out tonight,” Maire said then gasped. “Oh, Deklyn! Your poor horse!"

  He sat up so quickly the tenerse made his head spin violently, and he had to clutch the back of the settee. Trying to stand, he found his knees had turned to rubber. He turned his head to Maire, his eyes full of guilt.

  "I'll see to him,” she said, and before he could snag a hand at her gown, she was racing toward the door.

  "Don't you dare to go out in that gods-be-damned.... “He got no farther for she was bolting through the door and into the torrential downpour. Struggling to stand, he flopped back to the settee as his entire world canted off to one side. In the brief flashes of lightning he saw her untying his horse then running with the beast around the side of the house—no doubt leading the beast to the barn. Fear for her safety and irritation at his wobbly legs and spinning head set his adrenaline to pumping through his body—which, in turn, intensified the effects of the tenerse. He tried one more time to stand but his legs skidded out from beneath him, and he crashed to the settee. As one last lightning crack came, the lights in his world went completely out.

  * * * *

  It was the bright sunlight coming through a crack where the blanket had slipped sideways from
the drapery rod that woke him. Blinking at the blinding brightness he closed his eyes again and nestled down into the comfort of the soft mattress and cool pillow. All around him were a sweet, deep quiet and the scent of the ozone clinging to the crisply ironed sheets. He buried further under that crispness and dozed off for a moment or two.

  He heard laughter.

  Feminine laughter. His Maire's girlish laughter.

  Then an unknown male's loud guffaw.

  He frowned and popped his eyes open. Across the room was unfamiliar furniture, a bare pale blue wall where dark oak paneling should have been, and a strange woman smiling gently at him.

  "Good morn, Your Grace,” she said softly. “Would you be liking your breakfast up here or will you be taking it with milady?"

  Once again, he heard a man laughing, Maire shrieking as though she was being chased, and he sat bolt upright, fury lashing his handsome face.

  The woman put out a hand. “They're only teasing one another, Your Grace. That's my husband, Hank, and they do it all the time."

  Memory came back to Dek, and he let out a harsh breath, slanting his hand through his hair. “Where the hell am I?"

  "You're at Sheidaghan, Your Grace. In one of the guest rooms upstairs,” she told him.

  "And I got here how exactly?” he queried, flinging the covers back to get up then gasping as he grabbed them again and jerked them up to his chest for he was completely naked beneath the covers. “Who the hell took the clothes off me?"

  The woman had turned away with a hand to her mouth, her face red, lips pursed with laughter.

  "That would have been me, Your Grace,” a strange man who was no doubt the unknown woman's mate said as he came into the room. “Milady thought you'd be more comfortable without your pants and shirt and since you weren't wearing no undies...."

  "Where is Maire?” he interrupted. He felt foolish clutching the sheet like a bashful maiden.

  "I'm right here,” the lady in question replied as she came into the room with a cup of steaming coffee. “I heard you bellow all the way down in the kitchen.” She came to the bed, placed the cup on the night table. “These two wonderful people are Caro and Hank."

  "Did you see me naked?” he asked in a suspicious voice, eyes narrowed.

  Maire lifted one fine brow. “Well, it wouldn't be the first time, but if you mean last eve? No, I did not nor did Caro."

  "Saw him just now, though,” Caro said with a laugh even though her overlaird glared murderously her way.

  "Hank saw me running with your mount.... “Maire began.

  "We'll discuss that foolishness later,” he snapped. He looked at Caro. “She saw me naked in a roomful of my men when she was seeing to my wound.” He pulled the sheet down to show her the injury.

  "I understand completely, Your Grace,” Caro said, obviously having trouble forcing the humor from her face.

  "We've never been alone when I was without my clothing,” he said. “Isn't that true, tarrishagh?"

  Though she realized he was gallantly trying to protect her reputation, Maire continued as though he hadn't spoken. “Hank came out of the guest cottage to help me rub down the poor beastie. We fed the horse then Hank escorted me back here."

  "She looked like a drowned rat, she did,” Hank said with a grin. “Told her to get herself upstairs and into a bath while I picked you up and brought you up here. You was dead to the world, you was, Your Grace."

  "I was asleep all night and didn't get out of bed even once,” Dek stated. “Not even to piss.” Which he realized he had to do very badly.

  "Deklyn,” Maire said with exasperation in her voice, “they know we were not intimate nor will we be until you are free. Stop trying to protect me."

  "There won't be any tales spun about you spending the night here, Your Grace,” Hank said. “If'n anyone dares to ask, they'll be told that I slept in that there chair over there the entire night so you've nothing to worry about in that regard."

  "Caro, would you help me in the kitchen?” Maire asked, noticing the way Dek was shifting uncomfortably on the bed. “Milord, do you need Hank's assistance?"

  Dek stared at her. “No,” he said with a bit of pique.

  "Then we'll leave you to your dressing,” she told him and ushered the two servants ahead of her from the room. “Come downstairs when you're ready, and I'll fix you a plate."

  "Aye, mommy,” he grumbled, “and I'll be sure to wash ‘hind my ears."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twelve

  * * * *

  While Miriam healed and Ynez spent a week of solitary confinement in her room with guards carefully inspecting every meal tray as it went in and came out lest the two women try corresponding, Dek took care of the distasteful business of visiting his lady-wife's bedchamber three times each day until the deed had been done. Despite the odious task that sent him to Ynez's chambers, he was content. His afternoons were spent at Sheidaghan with Maire, but he refrained from spending another night there—afraid of generating talk that could damage his lady's reputation. He did not, however, refrain from sharing his lustful dreams with Maire and this night was no different.

  Hand and in they walked along the pristine white sand of Montyne Cay as a playful breeze ruffled their hair. Turquoise waves lapped at the shore and ran over their bare feet—soaking the cuffs of his turned-up white cotton pants and the hem of her light blue muslin gown. Beneath the warm rays of the tropical sun, his bare chest was as nut brown as a native's.

  "I love it here,” she told him and leaned against his shoulder.

  "When we're married, we will travel to the real Cay and build a beach house. Would you like that?” he asked.

  "Aye,” she sighed. “I would."

  He untangled their hands to slip his arm around her shoulder, holding her to him as they continued down the beach. They were headed for their favorite spot to go swimming. It was there where dolphins swam up to join them in their frolic and skinny-legged sandpipers played tag with the sea foam rippling to shore. Coming to the gently curving crescent that marked that special spot, he released her to unbutton his white trousers and step out of them.

  Maire pulled the muslin gown over her head and stepped naked into his open arms, delighting in the feel of his sun-heated flesh against her bare breasts. He cupped the back of her head to hold her cheek to his chest, laying his own cheek atop her spun gold hair.

  "I love you so much,” he whispered.

  "As I love you,” she replied.

  They stood that way for a long moment as the waves folded over their feet and the sand beneath their soles shifted away. Her arms were around him. His left hand rested on the curve of her bare bottom, caressing her. He finally broke apart from her, reached down for her hand. Together, they ran into the undulating waves, laughing like children as their hands separated, and they dove into the warm water.

  They swam with the dolphins, dunked one another, came together for fleeting kisses and prolonged savoring of the other's mouth. They touched. They rubbed their bodies against one another. He ran his hand between her legs to caress her. She molded her fingers around his cock to massage him until he was hard and aching with need. When that moment came, they shared a look, and he put his hand to her chin to lift her face, lowering his to taste the sweetness of her mouth. His lips plied hers with gentle touches. His teeth nibbled at the full bottom lip until she opened to his seeking. Firmly, he pressed his tongue in the wet warmth, his cock stirring against her belly.

  "Love me,” she pleaded around his fiery assault.

  Dek dipped his legs, put an arm behind her back and under her knees to lift her high against his chest. He carried her out of the ocean and onto the beach. He went to one knee—placing her on the sparkling sand—then covered her with his warrior-honed body. The waves flowed around them, leaving behind foamy bubbles to catch in her long blond hair.

  He spread her legs with his knees, put a hand between them to guide his shaft into her velvety heat, and slid de
ep inside her.

  "Deklyn,” she said on a long sigh, gathering him to her, one leg lifted to hook her foot over his calf.

  They moved together on the shifting sand slowly but with demanding purpose—his cock thrusting powerfully, her cunt welcoming the heat and hardness and command of his shaft. He dug his hands beneath her to lift her rump, so he could go deeper still, touch her womb, touch her very core. Her hands clutched at his back as the muscles rippled and played beneath her palms.

  Their climax burst like a supernova—exploding with white-hot heat. They cried out as he pumped his seed, and she milked every last drop of it from his pulsing rod. Exhausted, he collapsed atop her. She held him tightly.

  "I will never let you go, Deklyn Yn Baase,” she told him.

  "I will never leave you, Maire Barnes,” he replied.

  * * * *

  Dek sighed heavily. He was sitting in his office going over a mound of paperwork that had accrued in his absence from Drogh-gheay. For an hour he had been scrawling his signature to documents and still had a three-inch stack left to tackle. His hand ached, cramped. He sighed again and tossed the pen to the desk top, leaning back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. The day would not end quickly enough for him, so he could swing atop his horse and race toward Sheidaghan and the woman he loved. He flexed his tired back, yawned, and then lowered his hands. He reached for the pen, shaking his hand to alleviate the cramping. The sooner he finished with the blasted infernal paperwork, the sooner he could leave the suffocating confines of the keep. He sat forward, pulled a page off the stack and began reading it as a knock came at his door.

  "Enter,” he called out, not looking up, scribbling his name at the bottom of the page. He laid the pen down and reached for the red candle sputtering on his desk. He glanced up as Jules entered but didn't greet his cousin. He allowed a blotch of the wax to spill beside his signature then pressed the Great Seal of the barony into the warm wax.

  Knowing how much his kinsman hated having to deal with paperwork, Jules slipped into one of the two chairs that stood before Dek's desk and crossed his legs. “How much longer will you be?” he asked quietly.