by Ann Lawrence
“This?” She looked about the workshop. “I don’t understand.”
“This is what you are. A metalsmith.” Briefly, he ran a finger up her arm, raising a shiver and goose bumps in its wake. “I know you are not a slave, no matter your lack of arm rings. This strength in your arms is from your skill with the metal. What if you remember who you are? What if this activity, this work you do, sparks more than flames in the hearth? Sparks memories? How could I stand it if you wanted or needed to leave me?’’
“Is that why you’re so distant? In case I leave? I’ve been trying to leave. I’ve been asking you to take me to Hart Fell. Were all your excuses just that—excuses?” Maggie gulped back her emotion. The lump in her throat felt large enough to choke her. “Why didn’t you just ask me to stay?”
“And have you awake one morning and remember your home and hate me for holding you here?”
“I told you all about my home. I do remember it… You think I made it all up, don’t you?” Maggie fought against tears. “Damn it, Ker. Just ask me to stay.”
He looked at the heat of the forge and watched the glow of the coals. “There is no way, in Tolemac, to change your status—or mine. I cannot bear to have you serve me when you are so much more.” Slowly, he unclasped his cloak and held it in his hand. “I have nothing to offer you.”
Maggie drew the leather apron over her head and draped it on the workbench. Her whole body felt hot, as if she stood too close to the hearth. “I haven’t asked for anything.”
Kered dropped his cloak to the sawdust covered floor. “Would you have gone to the god?” he whispered.
“I would go to no one but you,” she said softly.
He unsheathed his knife and laid it on the scarred wooden table. “Would you? Have come to me one day?”
“I can’t imagine ever being with anyone but you,” she said, laying aside the leather gauntlets that protected her hands.
“And I cannot imagine ever being with anyone but you,” he answered, unbuckling his sword belt and dropping it on the bench behind him. “This is you, Maggie, this fire, this heat. When I come here and watch you work—” He paused at her sudden gasp. “Aye, I come here and watch you work. You do not see me, but I see you. Your beauty enthralls me. The rhythm of your hammer reminds me of the beat of my blood in my veins. All my desires are here with you.”
Kered took a step forward and cupped Maggie’s face in his hands. They were so close to the hearth, Maggie saw the sweat break out on his face. Her hands grew slick with anticipation. She reached out and unlaced his shirt, spreading it open, and then pressed her lips to the visible throb of his pulse beneath his skin.
“You belong to me,” he said, stepping back and drawing his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. “Say you belong to me,” he ordered.
“I belong to you,” she whispered, splaying her hands on his chest, feeling the strength of his body. It was like touching the coals in the forge. Moisture sprang up between her palms and his chest. She dug in her fingers when his hot hands moved over her hips, drawing up the cloth of her gown, up to her waist, then quickly over her head.
He wrapped her tightly against his body, measuring every inch of her with his hands. The heat built from within them and from without. Where their skin touched, sweat ran. Slowly she moved against him, slipping along his silky skin, moaning at the sensation of touching him without restraint. Her hands tried to know him everywhere.
When he stretched out on his cloak and drew her astride him, she pulled away, going to kneel at his feet and tug at his boots. They might never come off.
“Help me.” She laughed. They bumped foreheads when he abruptly sat up. She collapsed back in laughter, then sobered as he eased his leather trousers over his hips.
This was for real.
“We can’t fall off any benches here, can we?” she whispered when he was completely naked before her. She rose on her knees and knelt between his thighs, then reached up and stroked back his hair to study his face. Gently, she rubbed the crease that seemed permanently etched between his brows.
“No, Maggie, there are no benches to fall from, no one to interrupt us.” He turned his head and caught her fingers with his teeth. The sensation was exquisite.
The workshop was an oven. Their hair stuck to their cheeks and shoulders. Maggie remained motionless on her knees. Bolt after bolt of sensation streaked through her as Kered moved his attention from her fingers to her breast, his lips and tongue gliding over her.
“You belong to me,” she said, at last drawing his mouth to hers. His tongue was hot, and she moaned at the rough silk feel of him.
“I belong to you,” he agreed, drawing her once again astride his hips.
The exquisite sensations of his hands on her skin and his mouth locked to hers did not prepare her for the startling moment of his possession. She wanted to scream at the power coursing through her. He was hot metal fresh from the forge. The air grew heavy with their breathing. Her chest heaved with each breath. The scent of him rose about her. She bent her head and pressed her mouth to his chest to keep from crying out as he moved.
He was the hammer and she, the metal. Each movement became a shaping of her body to his. He fit himself relentlessly, possessing her soul.
A swirl of sparks from the hearth rose and floated above them like stars in the heavens. His hands owned her, finding every sensitive spot, and just as she fashioned tiny links of a chain, each touch, each caress, forged a hold on her that was as strong as any steel.
His body reached its limit quickly, as if left too long in the flames, and he arched beneath her, his muscles going rigid. She braced her hands on his shoulders to watch him. Their eyes locked and then his fell closed. The arch of his neck drew her hands, the growl in his throat told her what would come next. He heaved against her and like a stream of molten silver, she felt him pour his passions within her.
The sensation shook her. Liquid waves of pleasure rolled from where they were joined. Her thighs went rigid, shaking against his hips.
He wrapped his arms around her and rolled her over. She shook and trembled in his arms. Without words, he touched her where they were joined and she moaned. He pressed his mouth over hers, smothering her sounds, gathering them in. Despite his swift ending, her inexperienced and unrhythmic hip movements tantalized him as nothing ever had, readying him in an instant of time that might have been an hour later or perhaps moments.
The heavy air clogged in his chest, thick with the scent of hot metal and passion. Her breasts were slick with dew and he licked across her skin, savoring the taste of her. The sounds of her passion were raw with something akin to fear, and he murmured against her lips to reassure her. Every nerve of his body throbbed with the heat of her around him and against him. She palmed his cheeks and stared, dazed, into his eyes.
He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Would that I could burn this image of you forever into my mind. Sear deep this sensation of the fire and your heat possessing me, so that this moment might never be lost. Whatever dream I might have had of taking you gently in some flower-bedecked bower, pales to what it is like to possess you here.” He touched a smear of blood on her thigh. “Possession is painful.”
Maggie’s hand shook as she traced the shape of his face. His heart ached that she would never see her home or her family again. He could never let her leave.
She was his soul.
The price was high—perhaps to be paid later if he did not fulfill her dreams of love and happiness or keep loneliness at bay. But he touched her lips with his and began to move anew, and his doubts and fears burst apart with his passions. Tears ran down her face. He hoped and prayed they were caused less by the loss of home than by the joy of discovery.
Every muscle in Maggie’s body ached. She tried to get up, but Kered’s heavy arm kept her pinned to his bed. A gentle tickle and he groaned and rolled over, freeing her. Quietly, she left the bed, crossing the path of orb-glow that lay across the floor, and tiptoed to her dark
cell and the chamber pot.
She stood in the chilly room for a moment and sighed over the loss of plumbing. Perhaps she should invent the flush toilet. Or Velcro. Or ice cream. There were a thousand little things she missed.
When she stood again at Kered’s bedside, watching him sleep, she knew none of them mattered. She eased down to his side and, as if he knew she was near, he turned and gathered her in. His warm breath feathered against her cheek. She kissed him. He hardened against her thigh, and she grinned at the incredible sensation of power it gave her to know that with but a look or a touch she could engender such reactions in him.
Maggie frowned. Was it just lust? No, Kered was not ruled by lust. He had all those awareness lessons to help him stamp down those feelings. The damn man had taken months to seek her out. She smiled. She owed Vad a game of gin rummy for bringing her that virgin costume. She frowned again. Losing her virginity had been more startling than painful. “I’ll never forget the moment, or the look on Kered’s face, or—”
“You dream aloud now?” Kered whispered against her cheek as he stroked his fingers along her hip.
Maggie knew she was blushing and said a quick—and silent—prayer that she’d not said anything too embarrassing out loud. “I was just remembering this afternoon, Ker.”
He growled deep in his throat and leaned over her, moving between her thighs with an urgency that stole her breath. There was nothing gentle about him. Like a wild storm he possessed her. He drenched her in his passions.
His madness transmitted itself to her. She trailed stinging bites across his shoulder and chest, devouring him as if she were starving.
They fell to their backs, spent from their passions. “I love you, Kered.” Maggie gasped, drawing his hand to her mouth and kissing his palm.
“I love you, too, Maggie.” He rolled over onto his elbow and captured her hand. “Say the lifemating words with me, here, now.”
“Why?” she asked, drawing away from him. She sat up and pulled a blanket protectively to her breasts. “You own me. I have papers, remember?” The wonderful glow of their lovemaking cooled.
“The papers protect you—nothing more. I can never own you, Maggie. You and I both know that.”
He sat up and drew so close she could see the glitter of orb-glow in his turquoise eyes. “Whether we say the words in a temple or here in my bed, if we mean them, they will join us.”
Maggie’s heart skipped a beat. An unpleasant sensation fluttered in her stomach. “I don’t need words, and I don’t want any promises you can’t keep. Surely, the council will demand that you chose a lifemate who offers a powerful alliance?” Pain rubbed its raw path across her heart as she waited for his answer.
“How can they force me to take a lifemate? Tie me up? Flog me? I will refuse.”
“And if refusing means the end of peace or the breakup of a treaty? Perhaps a life or two?”
She could almost hear his teeth click closed on any excuse he might offer. Tears ran over her cheeks and dripped onto the blanket. “Don’t say words or make promises you can’t keep,” she whispered.
Kered stared at her. The truth of her words stung him. “There is always something separating us.” He leapt off the bed and paced the chamber. With a sudden sweep of his arm, he cleared the table, sending documents and goblets flying. The clink of metal on stone made him freeze.
Maggie’s cry of anguish tore him apart. He went down on a knee and picked up the turtle. One edge was dented, but otherwise it was unharmed. She snatched it from his hand and clutched it to her chest. “That was careless of me,” he said. “Forgive me.”
She nodded briefly and then offered him the turtle. He took it and placed it carefully at the center of the table. A shaft of light from the window cut across the wood surface, shining on the glass. “Where is your pendant?” he asked, turning abruptly and gripping her arm. “I just realized it was not about your neck when—”
“I have the pendant.” She quailed at the expression on his face, but he was powerless to change it. “But the chain…I bartered it.” She twisted from his grasp.
“For what?” he shouted.
Maggie bent and retrieved her gown. He sensed she was hiding from him as she pulled the soft fabric over her head. A raw memory of slipping the gown off her body earlier that evening made his fists clench. She tapped the turtle on its back with one finger. “I bartered the chain to make this.”
“Ah.” Kered groaned, sinking to the foot of the bed and dropping his head to his hands.
“I made the necklace and if I wanted to give it away, or melt it down, I could.”
“Nilrem said the pendant and your appearance at the conjunction was an omen. How could you have tampered with an omen?’’ Kered stared up at her in disbelief, anger consuming him. “Get the chain back.”
“Mada broke it apart and sold it as small bracelets. It’s scattered all over Tolemac by now.”
Kered rose and went to the window, knowing words were useless. He stared up into the indigo sky. The four orbs had chased each other across the heavens and now, as if fatigued, they drew close to one another. Aligning for the next conjunction.
He shivered.
Chapter Twenty-One
Maggie ignored Kered, who stood silently watching her work in a small anteroom of his chamber. She knew his curiosity would bring him near.
“May I help?” he finally asked.
Maggie grinned, rising from her seat and offering him her place. “Just give it a few extra turns,” she said, showing him how to turn the handle on the wooden tub.
He did as directed. The sight of his arm muscles moving smoothly against his soft shirt sent desire through her like a bolt. Her nipples tightened against her gown. With conscious effort, she shifted her attention to his hands. A mistake, for the sight of his hands evoked memories of gentle and not-so-gentle touches.
Maggie thanked him and when he stepped away, she wiped salt and small chips of ice from her contraption. The tentative treaty with the Selaw had yielded the starving tribe much needed oats and each Tolemac councilor a sampling of the much craved ice.
She turned away and picked up one of the large alabaster bowls that Kered used when he ate. She scooped some of the pink mixture into the bowl and handed it to him along with a spoon.
“What is that thing and what is this food?’’ He held the cold bowl gingerly in his palms and stared at it with suspicion.
“Consider it another gift,” she answered. “The bucket man constructed it for me from a drawing I made. It won’t bite you!” Maggie frowned. “I hope you won’t consider it a waste of the ice. You did say to help myself.”
He scooped a tiny spoonful and brought it to his lips. As the chilly mixture touched his tongue, his gaze rose to hers in amazement. “‘Tis marvelous!”
Within moments, the bowl was empty and he was digging his spoon in the tub.
Maggie smiled at his delight. “There’s more,” she declared, pulling on his arm. He ignored her and, like a starving child, would not be deterred from scooping up more of the treat. “Kered!” Maggie punched him on the arm and he finally looked up, his tongue licking his lips.
“‘Tis…fresh berries and sweet cream, am I right?”
Maggie nodded, then swept a hand out to the table and pulled off a white cloth. There, arrayed in a row, stood dishes containing diced nuts and candied peel and pureed fruit. She tugged him to the table and ladled a few of the toppings into his bowl.
“It’s called ice cream and when you top it just so,” she said, ladling some pureed fruit over the concoction, “it’s called a sundae.”
Busy eating, Kered did not speak for many moments. “I cannot remember having tasted anything so wonderful.”
“You can’t eat it all; you’ll get a belly ache,” she warned.
“‘Twill be a small price to pay,” he said, rising.
Kered elbowed her aside as he hefted the tub, eschewing the bowl. His gluttony added to her mirth. Kered settled on a low
bench and put the tub between his feet, then began to eat directly from it. “Bring the rest,” he ordered.
“Please?” Maggie asked.
“Please!” He grinned up at her.
Maggie brought him several bowls at a time, warning him, “You’ll be sick,” as he dumped them into the tub. One by one they all disappeared into the mixture and then into his mouth.
“That’s the most vile sundae I’ve ever seen,” she said, tossing the last of the fruit atop the rest.
Kered ate every spoonful, then licked his spoon.
Maggie stared at him. He looked down at the tub, spoon poised in midair. “I did not save any for you!”
“You glutton!” Maggie grinned.
“What is a glutton?” he asked, then held his hand out, palm outward. “Do not explain. ‘Tis an animal who eats like a pig and offers none to others.”
“Very good, you’re learning. You certainly inhaled that treat. I hope you won’t be sick.” Maggie patted his shoulder.
“I will have Einalem tend me.” Maggie frowned, picking up his empty alabaster bowl. It was his turn to laugh. “Perhaps the twins may tend me, if not Einalem?” he mused.
“You cur!” Maggie banged his bowl on the tabletop.
“C-U-R!” he asked.
“Yes, C-U-R!” She smiled warmly.
He rose from the bench and wrapped his arms around her waist, swinging her high. She squealed and clutched his shoulders. “Thank you, Maggie. ‘Tis a food to please the gods, or a food for making love.”
There was a sudden silence between them as they stared at each other. A communication as old as time passed between them. Kered lowered her very slowly, just enough to bring her lips in line with his. He leaned to her and she to him.
He tasted sweet and sticky. Maggie used her tongue to lap the treat from his lips, and as she did he growled deep in his throat and drew her closer against his body. She let her tongue stray along his lips and then she boldly slipped her tongue in to taste his.