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five minutes after they came out of it. He would have to watch her carefully, sit on her if necessary—
He turned back with the blanket toward the figure that had been strolling to him, and discovered it was no longer strolling. The girl was now sitting on the road about fifteen feet away, waving one arm as though trying to chase something away from her. The motion wasn't violent, just faintly annoyed, and even as he watched she gave up on it with a shrug and lay down on the road as if it were her bed. Even from where he stood Kylin could tell she was out again, so he sighed and took the reins of his mount to lead it closer.
"Well, old horse, it looks like we won't be having her company for a while after all," he said, ready to laugh at himself for feeling disappointed. "Once she wakes up again she ought to be completely out of it, and then we'll be able to talk to her. Talk to her. I hadn't thought of that. Evon broil it, what are we going to tell her?"
His horse snorted and shook its head, leaving that entirely up to him, much too smart to get involved in a mess like that. What had Traixe said to him, about how quickly she would refuse to marry Kylin if she wasn't convinced she was keeping her father from dishonor? He knew it was true, even though he wished it wasn't, and it looked as if he was going to have to go right back to the part he had so happily abandoned.
"Even though it's going to be damned hard explaining what I'm doing here," he muttered, going to one knee beside the girl to spread the blanket he would wrap her in. "If I'd changed clothes before leaving the castle I'd have to tell you the truth, but I didn't think it was important enough to stop for."
She stirred very faintly when he put his arms under her to lift her onto the blanket, and once he put her down on it he couldn't keep his hand from going to smooth her hair.
"I'll have to speak to the King about passing a law against women like you," he murmured, looking down at her unresponsive face. "You're not beautiful enough to make me feel like this, so it simply isn't fair. Do you realize I came away from the castle in such a rush, that I never got that woman Traixe promised me?"
The girl lay unmoving on the blanket, aware of nothing, but Kylin wasn't quite that fortunate. He was very aware of
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what was so close to him, and the situation had become a good deal more desperate. The woman was his and he was determined to have her, but how in hell was he supposed to accomplish that while staying in character? He would have to think of something, would think of something by the time she woke., or that would be the end of the role. It never occurred to him that he might have her right then, at the side of the road behind some bushes, with none, including her, being the wiser. He insisted on his women being alive, and at the moment she wasn't.
"We'll find a cave like the one I slept in last night, and then we'll work on the problem," he told the girl as he covered her with the blanket, then began gathering her up. "You're going to enjoy yourself with me, and then you're going to marry me, and we'll both be very happy. You have my word on that, my girl, and I've never yet broken my word."
Her head rolled against his shoulder as he stood with her in his arms, and he smilingly took that as complete agreement.
Chapter 7
I awoke to a dim light feeling fairly comfortable, wondering why I was expecting to be uncomfortable. It was a strange thing to be expecting, as strange as thinking the air would smell odd, even though it didn't. And nothing was moving, even though 1 felt it ought to be moving. I put a hand to my head as 1 shifted around in the blankets, knowing at least that was right, trying to figure out—
Blankets? Right? How could blankets be right? What in broiling hell had hap—
I sat up so fast everything around me swung dizzily, finally remembering what had happened on the battlements. I'd been taken, Evon broil it, like the greenest recruit, and they'd used whatever had knocked me out to keep me under. I could remember bits and snatches of almost waking up, and a dream about escaping, but where the hell was I right then? It looked an awful lot like a cave, with a very low fire near its mouth and a stable lamp between me and the fire. Beyond the cave mouth was darkness, an after-sundown darkness, with no sign of that wagon. Had I escaped after all, or was that simply a rest stop for the night? I had to find out fast, before—
"Oh, excellent, you've finally awakened!" a voice said from the cave mouth I was no longer looking at, the last voice in the whole, entire world I'd expected to hear. "You must be absolutely famished, my dear, 1 know I would be. I'll have the Fire built up in a moment, and then I'll rewarm the rabbit left from my own meal."
I turned my head very slowly, trying to convince myself that if anything was a dream that had to be it, but it didn't
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work. The Flower was there at the cave mouth, having come in with a heavy armload of wood, and was already turning toward the fire. How he could possibly be there I couldn't imagine, but I was certainly going to find out.
"Where in Even's steel-lined hells did you come from?" I demanded, aware of the outrage in my voice but helpless to do anything about it. "And where could you possibly have gotten rabbit for a meal? Did a family of them come up to you and drop dead at your feet?"
"Certainly not," he answered in injured tones, keeping his head down as he began feeding the fire. "As a boy I was as well-schooled in rabbit-catching and such as my brothers, even though I've always found the doing rather repellent. Now, however, the repellent has -become the necessary, therefore do we have rabbit for supper."
"Old rabbit, would be my guess," I muttered, still more than annoyed, then raised my voice again. "Okay, you've explained the meal. Now how about explaining what you're doing here."
"That, my lady, should be obvious," he said, his tone also suggesting how obvious the answer was. "You are, after all, my lady, are you not? Was I to allow scoundrels to run off with you and do nothing about it? When we discovered what seemed to be your trail, I naturally followed at once. The effort was somewhat rigorous for a civilized man like myself, but it allowed me to be there when I was most needed."
"When you were most needed," I echoed, only then noticing how well-worn his finery was. "Are you trying to tell me you rescued me? You?"
"Well—ah—not quite that," he admitted, glancing up at me as he reached for a leather-wrapped something I hadn't seen on the far side of the fire. "I was on the road, still riding in pursuit, when I suddenly found that part of what I was in pursuit of was coming toward me from the very direction in which I rode. Apparently you had somehow managed to escape your captors, and were walking back the way you had been brought."
"Walking back," I repeated, the phrase triggering memories I'd thought were from a dream. "I seem to remember walking after—getting—out of a wagon, and it was a very pleasant walk. I think I was humming."
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"You may well have been," he agreed, using a branch to put what came out of the leather pack into the building fire. "I had the distinct impression you weren't aware of me, however, and before I could reach you you had stretched out right there on the road to sleep. I wrapped you in a blanket as quickly as 1 could, then found this cave for us."
"Wrapped me in a blanket," I said, distantly wondering if 1 were fated to start every speech from then on by repeating what had been said to me. That might have been my first concern—if I didn't have another to push it out of place. "Why—why did you have to wrap me in a blanket?"
"For a rather—distressing—reason," he said, keeping his eyes on the rabbit rather than raising them to me. "I do hope you will forgive me for being unable to put this more delicately, my lady, but you were rather—extensively unclad, and under the circumstances f thought it best—"
He broke off at the sound I voiced, a sound that even I couldn't completely interpret. I suppose part of it was some sort of laughter, due to the fact th
at I'd almost repeated the phrase, "extensively unclad." Only a Rower would apologize for not being able to put it more delicately, and I was , trying to see if there was a more delicate way of saying I was stark naked. Because that's what I must have been.
Stark naked. And in front of Him.
"My lady, are you all right?" he asked, his eyes undoubtedly on me, his "concern" clear in his voice. I had to guess about where his eyes were because I was no longer looking at him; I had turned my head away, my own eyes were closed, and my hands were tight on the blanket over me, holding it up to my chin.
Which was absolutely stupid. For some idiotic reason I suddenly felt as though I'd never been naked before, as though I had never shared my nakedness with my Fistmates or any other men. And then it came to me that it wasn't the concept of "men" that was bothering me, it was "man." One particular man who wasn't fully a man, but who had chased after me as though he were. I was terribly, horribly embarrassed, and more uncomfortable than I could in any way understand.
"Oh, yes, I'm absolutely fine and dandy," I said after a minute, forcing myself to open my eyes. "I must walk naked
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down a road six or seven times every year. Nothing to it. What happened to my clothes?"
"I've really no idea," he said, and then 1 heard the sound of steps as he moved away from the fire. "If they'd been anywhere about, I would certainly have recovered them for you. Here, you may begin your meal with this, and if you should want more I'll be glad to put it in the fire for you."
By then he was standing over me with the branch and rabbit, and I had to admit I was considerably more hungry than embarrassed. 1 held the blanket over me with one hand as 1 took the branch with the other, and then I was tearing at the meat with my teeth while he walked to the other side of me and bent down. He straightened with a small waterskin which he also brought over, and men he was sitting down on the stone beside me.
"My lady, I really must have a serious word with you," he said, his entire expression already looking serious. "I clearly noted your embarrassment of a moment ago, and I cannot allow you to be distressed in such a way. That you stood before me unclothed is of no moment at all, not in any manner at all. We are betrothed, and as soon as we return to your father's castle> you will become my wife. Such things as nakedness are commonplace between husband and wife, and therefore should bring you nothing of embarrassment."
"If it's all that commonplace, then it's your turn to indulge," I said around a mouthful of rabbit, resenting his entire attitude. I didn't need his comments about an embarrassment I couldn't even understand the reason for feeling, and I certainly didn't need him discussing again something he would or wouldn't "allow." He was acting as though I really did belong to him, and that was too ridiculous for words.
"You needn't try hiding your upset with flippancy," he came back, actually trying to look at me sternly. "You are a woman with a woman's sensibilities, and modesty in its proper place is nothing to be ashamed of. I'm well aware of the fact that I'm a virtual stranger to you, but I would have you remember my betrothal rights. Nothing improper occurred between us, and I want you to understand that."
"Apparently I understand more than you do," I said, in no mood to dance delicately around the issue. "You're taking our proposed marriage as something guaranteed to happen,
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and that's your biggest mistake. I haven't yet agreed to marry you, and probably won't."
"But, my lady, we are betrothed," he said, having the nerve to speak slowly and gently to me, as though explaining something to a child. "Betrothal rights are mine, including acceptance or refusal of the match. I have so far voiced no refusal, and the Law allows none to you. Your father had not only agreed to the match but had insisted on it, and now must stand by his word."
"I can't see any problem in that," I said with a shrug, still chewing. "If my father gave his word, let him marry you. I won't be treated as though I were less than a slave, not even by the King's Law,"
"My lady, the Law treats you as what^ou are," he said, still with that clenched-teeth-making patience. "You are a woman, and not entitled to the rights earned by men. The right of refusal is mine, and I have not as yet decided whether I will exercise that right."
If there had been any handy weapon around at all, he would have learned something about the rights some women had. I was so angry I was on the verge of forgetting about what was left of the rabbit on the warming stick, but then i really heard the last thing he'd said.
"What do you mean, you haven't yet decided whether or not you'll refuse?" I asked, feeling the first, faint stirrings of hope. "I thought you were, as Traixe put it, 'taken' with me. Has Evon's luck made you 'take' it back?"
"In full fact, I continue to find you as unexplainably attractive as I did," he answered, this time with noticeable stiffness as he straightened where he sat. "That this feeling has never before been mine does not mean it's shallow and fleeting. No, my hesitation comes from another source entirely,"
"Ah, so now we've found hesitation," I pounced, feeling better and better. "You know that old saying, don't you: he who hesitates does better to refrain? That sounds like good advice to me."
"At this juncture I have little interest in advice," he came back almost snappishly, his light eyes looking annoyed. "My dresser, Jestrion, attempted to give me advice concerning females before I left home, and although he has as little experi-
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ence with them as I, his were the words which raised my doubts. Because of him, I now find myself hesitant. Would you care for more of the rabbit?"
"No," I answered, putting aside emptied stick and emptied bones to reach for the water skin. "What 1 want is to hear about these doubts. If they have any substance, I'll tell you immediately."
Or sooner, I added to myself as I raised the waterskin, not about to let that priceless opportunity pass by. No matter what he said I should be able to confirm the worst aspects of it, and maybe even make them seem even more terrible. Just before I blocked out sight of his face with the waterskin I thought I saw amusement in his eyes, but his next words proved I must have been mistaken.
"Your graciousness is not unexpected, my lady," he said gravely, and I lowered the waterskin to see that he wasn't looking at me any longer. "My doubts are—personal ones, and certainly cast no reflection on you. Jestrion insisted I would find no pleasure with a female, in fact it would be exactly the opposite. If this were to prove true then I, in turn, would be able to give no pleasure to you, which would hardly be honorable or fair. Under such a circumstance, I could do no other thing than voice my refusal to the marriage and depart forever."
He ended his speech with his head hanging, obviously already more than half convinced that his fears were not unfounded. It wasn't quite fair to encourage him in those fears, but defense of self comes before fairness in those who intend surviving.
"In marriage, a husband is required to satisfy his wife," I agreed with him soberly, making sure my tone shared the gravity he'd been showing. "So you have no experience with women at all, no experience with how difficult it is to satisfy a partner. Even many—more enthusiastic—men find the accomplishment beyond them. For a virgin to expect to outdo them ..."
I let the words trail off as I shook my head, projecting enough doubt to emasculate a satyr. Virgin or not, he had one infallible way of knowing whether or not he was interested. If all that doubt turned him incapable of any interest at all, he should have no choice but to draw the conclusions I wanted
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him to. My hopes were very high as I put the waterskin aside, and then he sighed.
"Yes, my lack of experience is what causes my hesitation," he said, sounding completely depressed as he still avoided my eye. "How can 1 know what success or failure would he mine without ever having tried the thing? I've heard men discussing the matter
, of course, speaking as they seldom if ever speak before women, and without exception they all found such—delight in it. 1 would like to believe that I, too, would experience delight but how am I to know?"
"Well, one thing you can't do is believe everything you hear," I said, looking for defeat rather than depression. "Since men are supposed to enjoy themselves with women, a lot of them insist they have when they're talking to other men. The truth of the matter is that they haven't enjoyed themselves, and weren't able to satisfy the woman involved, either. I learned these things from my Fistmates in our Sword Company, so you know they have to be true. With odds like that against you, you'd be best off forgetting the whole thing—before you experience the agony of failure."
"The agony of failure," he repeated, rubbing his face with one hand as he stared down at his folded legs, his voice faintly muffled. "Yes, I've heard tell of that agony, and certainly wouldn't care to experience it. I am, however, in an extremely untenable position in that 1 must learn the truth in order to see where honor lies. It would be greatly distressing to learn of my lacks only after the ceremony was completed.''
"Distressing isn't the word / would use," I said in a mutter, then went on, "Well, if you feel that way about it, there's only one thing you can do. As soon as we get back to the city, you'll have to patronize a night house. That will settle the question with no two ways about it."
"A night house," he echoed, finally looking up to stare at me blankly. He seemed to have caught the repeating disease I'd been suffering from, but apparently wasn't aware of it. As a matter of fact he didn't seem aware of much, as though he hadn't the faintest idea of how to answer my suggestion and was concerned with nothing but thinking furiously. 1 thought I might know what was bothering him, so I smiled at him to add to it.
"Yes, I'm afraid failure in a night house would become
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rather widely known," I said, using faint compassion to disguise the twisting of the knife. "You could spare yourself that by simply accepting the most likely results without torturing yourself, and give my father another reason for your refusal. I'm sure he would accept just about anything as a reason, as would I. . . ."
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