by Ann Lawrence
He sketched a quick bow in acknowledgment of her compliment. “I will also expect you to keep your father from interfering.”
“I have no power over my father!” Ardra looked from Vad to Gwen and back. “Do not expect so much.”
Gwen could not help feeling compassion for her. She remembered trying to persuade her own father that he should be supporting her and not her sister when R. Walter had decamped. It was like talking to a brick wall. To this day her father still believed it was Gwen who should bend.
“I trust you to do your best,” Vad said. “As I will do mine.”
“Once I get you to the upper levels, how will you persuade the maidens to go with you?”
Vad merely arched a dirty brow. Ardra looked from him to Gwen and lifted her hands in silent question.
“I think what Vad’s not saying is, ‘What maiden wouldn’t go with him?’”
“Ah,” Ardra said with a smile. “Of course. And you are so obviously from Tolemac.”
Ardra reached into the bodice of her gown and pulled out a small pouch of soft tanned leather. “I have also brought some herbs from the healer. Shall I dress your wound for you?”
Vad shook his head.
Gwen rooted about in the basket for something to do, but Vad plucked a leather pouch from her hands. “You must not touch what you do not understand. Some of these leaves are easily bruised.”
He carefully spread out the contents of the basket. Ardra sat on a few furs and watched him work. She had packed a mortar and pestle, the small caldron, and a stone flask of oil that Vad muttered happily over for several moments.
Last, the basket revealed a half dozen or so pottery bottles with wooden stoppers. “These will do well for adding the potion to the casks of wine,” Ardra explained. “At Narfrom’s insistence, the wine is the very best. All will wish a taste.”
Gwen put a hand on his wrist. “Before you start concocting your potion, let me clean your wound.”
“After this task.” He shook her off, and she joined Ardra on the furs, trying to ignore what was obvious here in the brighter light of the cavern, his knife’s stone handle had no more hints of blue or green. It was a solid, dull gray against the gleam of the gold wrapping it. And yet, as he ground leaves, sniffed, added oil, heated his little caldron as if the slightest change in temperature was important, she had to admit he looked hale and hearty, whatever his blade handle might predict. His exhaustion had dropped away as he worked. “It’s unfair that he’s not only good-looking, but also handy,” Gwen whispered to Ardra.
“Is he not perfect?” Ardra whispered back. “Look at his feet.”
“Huh?” Vad’s feet were rather dirty from traipsing about the cavern barefoot.
“Have you ever seen such symmetry? Such bones?”
Gwen gave Ardra a long look. “There’s nothing special about his feet. You don’t have a foot fetish, do you?”
“Foot fetish? What is that?”
“Let’s just say, do you ever feel an urge to collect shoes, sniff them, and so on?”
“Certainly not! I am merely noting a thing of beauty, worthy of preservation in marble or wood.” Ardra tossed her head, and the mass of her golden mane slid from her shoulder. It was held back from her brow by a circlet of silver. Her tawny eyes gleamed catlike in the fire’s glow. Gwen felt disheveled, and woefully missed her hair dryer.
Then a thought occurred to Gwen as she inspected the alabaster smoothness of Ardra’s complexion; maybe Ardra was more comfortable raving about Vad’s feet than his face. “Frankly, I think his face is far more worthy of sculpture than his feet,” Gwen suggested. “They’re just big and dirty.”
“They are not big,” Vad said as he hunkered down and sniffed a spoonful of his potion.
“His ears are big, too,” Gwen quipped. Ardra fell into a paroxysm of giggles, and for the first time Gwen saw the happy, youthful girl she might be if not weighed down by the gravity of her father’s situation.
Vad glared at Gwen, and she gave him a toothy smile as she leaned near Ardra to keep her words private this time. “You know, his nose is not so perfect either.”
With great seriousness, Ardra studied Vad. “I see nothing to criticize about his nose,” Ardra whispered back.
“Take another look. The bridge is too high.”
Ardra ran a finger down her nose as if tracing the perfection of Vad’s. “Nay. ‘Tis exactly what his face requires.”
“Okay, what about his hands? Too big, just like his feet.”
“No, you go too far. How noble he is, how strong.”
“How can you accuse me of liking him when you’re in love with him yourself?” Gwen said under her breath.
Ardra shook her head, her hair flaring out in a golden bell about her shoulders. “I cannot love a Tolemac warrior. It is against all my teaching. I might admire his form, his honor as a warrior, but only a Selaw man can command my heart.”
Gwen realized that maybe Vad hadn’t captured her heart because Ardra was already in love—or had been. “Enec? What about him?” Gwen touched Ardra’s tightly clenched hands.
She dropped her eyes and bit her lip. “He was…unworthy of my attentions. A mere bowman, of good family, but…he is dead now.”
Gently, Gwen took Ardra’s hand. “I lost my lifemate, you know.” Ardra nodded and looked up. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “You will find another to love one day.”
Ardra shook her head and impatiently wiped her cheeks with the back of her other hand.
Gwen squeezed her fingers. “Yes. You will. And I’m not making light of your feelings, or what mine were. He will always bring an ache to your heart, but you will find room in there for another one day. There’s a saying we have in Ocean City. ‘Time heals all wounds.’ And it’s true.” The only answer Gwen received was a return squeeze of the hand. “Let’s see what cooking boy is up to. He looks neglected.” Gwen rose and tugged Ardra to her feet.
When they knelt at Vad’s side, he glared at them. “Are you quite finished criticizing me?”
“Criticizing? Were we criticizing, Ardra?” She nudged Ardra, who raised a small smile. Tracks of tears still marred her cheeks.
“No, Vad. We were admiring your many…skills,” Ardra said with great tact.
He grunted. “When I have saved your father, I will ask for your oath of secrecy that no man of Tolemac will learn what I have been doing here.”
Ardra took up one of several spoons Vad had laid out in a neat row and stirred his concoction. “I shall swear now. No man will know you have done women’s work.”
“I think you’re wasting a payback,” Gwen said. “Can’t you think of a better reward? Pot of gold? Cask of jewels?”
Vad’s and Ardra’s eyes were equally round and incredulous. “Ask for payment for such aid?” he said. “‘Tis more important that I maintain my dignity.”
“There’s nothing undignified about cooking. In Ocean City, men cook all the time. Some of my world’s finest cooks are men. What’s the big deal?”
“Amusing. Next you will say women can be warriors.” Ardra smiled, her spoon poised in midair.
“You bet, if they want. Everyone’s equal—or at least we try to make sure everyone has equal chances, male or female.”
“So I heard once from your friend, Maggie,” Vad said. “I thought she was just making up tales to entertain or entice Kered.”
“No, it’s true. We’re far from perfect and have a long way to go, but we try.”
“Of course you have a long way to go,” Ardra agreed. “You must trek the ice fields. ‘Tis a very long way.”
Vad arched a brow and grinned at Gwen over Ardra’s bent head.
Somehow being on the same wavelength with him warmed her insides. “I wouldn’t be too worried about the cooking thing, though. You seem to be cooking up your first failure. Whatever that mess is, it smells like the inside of your boots,” Gwen said, wrinkling her nose.
“And when were you smelling my boots? Are you sure you do not have a foo
t fetish?” Vad’s deep laughter sent a bolt of pleasure through her.
She could not help a smile and a little smugness that Ardra didn’t get the joke.
“Go, Ardra,” Vad said, giving a final stir to his caldron. “This needs to cook for several hours.”
Ardra extended the medicinal pouch and Vad took it, opening the drawstring top and sniffing. He grunted a thank-you. Gwen turned to follow Ardra from the cavern.
“Gwen. Remain here.”
“Why do you want me to stay?” Gwen hopped up onto the flat boulder and sat by the drawing when Ardra was gone.
“It is tempting fate for you to be too long above. Instead you may tell me all Ardra left out.” He leaned next to her. His scarred cheek looked fairly well healed, but only the finest of plastic surgeons would be able to restore him to his original perfection. How smooth his skin was despite the rough beard, the grime from their journey. A temptation to touch his cheek nearly overcame her.
“Why don’t we fix up your arm while we talk?” Gwen hopped off her seat. She didn’t really want to be in such close proximity to him. Hypnoflora flashback must be responsible for these nearly uncontrollable urges she had toward him.
He rolled up his long sleeve. Gwen stifled a gasp. The wound was puffy and looked painful. “It’s a miracle you can still move it. Doesn’t it hurt?”
“I am trained—”
“Yeah, yeah. To withstand pain, eighth-level stuff.” She shook her head.
“Seventh.” He grinned and touched the tip of her nose in an unexpected gesture of playfulness.
“Oh…seventh…sure,” she said, losing her train of thought.
“If you are intent on playing the healer, take one of the bowls over there and mix a paste of the herbs and water for after I bathe,” Vad directed her.
She sensed he could do it himself, but was deliberately sending her from his side. Maybe he felt the same urges as she? Not likely. Don’t read too much into his smile or touch, she warned herself. He had recovered from their lovemaking quite quickly.
As she mixed the paste, she forced herself to do as Vad had asked—tell him what Ardra had left out. “Ardra got me back here very quickly this time. Why didn’t she take the shorter route when she brought us here?”
He shrugged. “What are you saying?”
“What I’m saying is that when she urgently needed to talk to you, her path was pretty direct, but last night it took forever to find this cavern. Why the subterfuge with us?”
“Subter…?” he repeated.
“Subterfuge. Deceit, ploy? Aren’t we supposed to be on the same side?”
“Perhaps it is just the caution all Selaw are bred to when dealing with strangers. They have been dealt a hard life and must often fight off marauders who want the ice.”
“And there’s a definite tension in the fortress. The gossips think there’s going to be some huge storm that will flood all of Selaw, washing everyone into the river to drown. They say they’ve never seen such a gathering of darkness.”
“Do not be afraid.” He rose and offered her his hand.
She stared at his hand, the strong fingers that had caressed her skin, skimmed her lips, raised flames of desire. She entwined her fingers with his.
“Get a grip, girl,” she muttered.
“Why don’t you also make use of the pool?”
Gwen’s skin itched, and the temptation was almost overwhelming. “I suppose we’d better make sure you’re really cleaned up or the maidens won’t be tempted to run off with you.”
“No temptation, no rescue?” He smiled.
She couldn’t help smiling back. “That’s right. No temptation, no rescue… Is there something more I can do to help with the rescue?” she asked impulsively.
“Why?”
She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“Why would you help us?”
“I want this all over and done. I guess I want to go home.”
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “And how do you think you will go home?”
“The same way you traveled to Ocean City—I’ll cross the ice fields.”
His fingers tightened; his words were hard. “If ‘twas so easy, men would be doing it daily. ‘Tis why the council sent me for the map in the dagger and accused Kered of being a traitor for taking it. No man has attempted to cross the fields and ever returned.”
“Maybe they just really loved Ocean City,” she said softly, shaken by his vehement assurance that no man had survived the journey. Her voice squeaked a bit when she went on. “Does that mean you won’t try to get me home?”
“When we have rescued the maidens and released Ruonail from Narfrom’s power, you will find Ruonail grateful enough to grant us a reward. I shall ask him for an escort for you—to Nilrem. Suitably protected and provisioned, you should be able to remain at Nilrem’s until he returns. He will know how to assist you.”
“And what will you be doing while I’m backtracking?”
“Fulfilling my quest. Returning the dagger and the map, and, I hope, regaining my sword.” He clenched his fist, the knuckles white. “It is all I want.”
“What if it doesn’t work out? What’s the worst the council can do to you?”
The expression that flitted quickly across his face just as quickly disappeared, and she knew he was not going to tell her. He shrugged. “They will deprive me of status.” The words were simple, but Gwen imagined it entailed much more than she could possibly understand.
“I need something to wear,” she said, changing the subject.
“Try these garments.” He swept a hand out to the bundles he’d carried from the Selaw settlement. “They will not fit me, so you should make use of them.”
“I suppose.” She sorted through the miscellany of clothing and found a linen tunic so soft, she had to resist rubbing her face on it. There was no way she could put it on over dirty skin. Sounds behind her told her Vad was shucking his clothing. For a moment she gritted her teeth against the vision of his beautiful body—and the temptation to turn around and admire it. A splash and a stifled oath made her turn.
He was scrubbing at his hair with sand he scooped from the bottom in huge handfuls and dunking his head.
She pulled off all her clothes except her long, rough linen overshirt. It came to her knees.
“There’s soap in Ardra’s basket,” she said. “So why the sand?”
“It will remove most of the grease. Soap is too precious to waste on such a task.”
She sat at the edge of the pool, and tucked her chin on her knees and her shirt about her feet.
What a simple pleasure it was to watch him. The torches bathed him in a golden glow. The beautiful colors of the nearly transparent stones reflected light and lent a gemlike atmosphere to the chamber.
He stood up. The water barely reached his waist.
“Yikes,” she muttered. Water ran in silver trails down his back and moved in a wide vee behind him as he walked toward the steps. Every move he made was fluid and strong. A sigh filled her chest, but she stifled it. He was unreal, from another world, a distrustful world, cold and cruel. And wasn’t a person shaped by his world? Maybe he was cold and cruel inside.
No, she wouldn’t believe that. Somehow there was no cruelty etched on his face. Whatever fine lines he had about his eyes and mouth looked as if they were put there by laughter and smiles.
A sharp, vivid image came to her. Vad, his eyes closed, his body moving over and within her. Then he had opened his eyes, looked down on her, and smiled. A bright rush of flaming sensation deluged her. It had nothing to do with the joining of their bodies and everything to do with the joining of their… What? Souls? Minds? Hearts? She couldn’t explain it, just instantly knew she would never feel cold in his arms.
And she wanted to feel his arms around her again, unaffected by the seductive soap. She wanted to touch her mouth to the pulse at his throat and know again pure, unrelieved passion.
The thought of being
lost in such a swamp of caring as she remembered from her visions made her rise abruptly to her feet.
Every muscle of his body was sculpted like marble, and perfectly set off by this dazzling cavern of turquoise and lavender. She tried, but failed to look away as he washed his upper body. Hers was on fire. Thank heaven, he had his back to her. He started to climb out of the pool.
“Don’t you have any modesty?” she asked, fanning her shirt to cool herself and looking away as he stood on one of the steps and soaped down the rest of his body.
“You have seen all I have to offer. And…you need not look,” he said with amusement.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she muttered.
“No,” he said. “Most women are happy to look at me.”
“Sure. Who wouldn’t be? Your genes should be registered as a deadly weapon.” She was sure shot through with knee-wobbling lust.
“Could you put that in words I understand?” He stepped back into the water and stood there, hands on hips, the water lapping dangerously low on his belly. His honed chest, long arms, and corrugated stomach were a feast to the eyes. The three arm rings on his well-developed biceps told her how far from her he was in this world.
A quick dunk in the pool would cool her off. She slipped into the water, fighting down the shirt as it billowed up around her chest.
No. She was not going to be cooling off. The water was blood warm. Soothing underground springs moved the water about her legs in an imitation of the gentlest of whirlpool baths. It stimulated as well.
A splash behind her made her jerk around. The cavern was empty.
“Vad?” she whispered, glancing right and left. A rush of water by her legs made her leap toward the side of the pool.
He rose in a fountain of water, like a pagan water deity.
His laughter echoed about the small space. “Frightened? What did you think it was? A water dragon?”
“W-w-water dragon?”
“Aye. Of course, they have not been seen in many generations. ‘Tis said they disappeared when man began to ply the sea in wooden ships.”
He made his way through the water to where she stood. To avoid his intent blue gaze, she dug her toes into the side, boosted herself out, and stomped to where the soap lay on the step.