by Ann Lawrence
“Arm ring?” She said the word, then gasped. He licked up her wrist, over her pounding pulse. In moments he had her tunic over her head. A breeze kissed her bare breasts as his mouth kissed her throat.
Her breeches slid easily down her hips and legs, snarled on her crossgarters, but yielded to his knife.
He slashed the thongs and threw the thin strips of leather to the dew-studded grass. She shivered, then grew hot. He peeled off his tunic and dropped it. A liquid rush tore through her as he stripped his own breeches and boots off.
Naked, aroused, he stood before her.
“The last time we made love,” she said softly, “was in total darkness. This time I want to see your face. I want to watch every muscle move.” She skimmed her fingers down the valley of his chest. His muscles leaped beneath her fingertips. “I want to see the expressions on your face.” Then a thought came to her, and she bit her lip and withdrew her hand. “Your expressions will change, won’t they? You won’t hide what you feel from me with your awareness training?”
“Sweet Gwen, I will hide nothing of my thoughts.” He took her hands and placed them on the honed muscles of his chest.
“Thank you,” she said, and plucked at his nipples until they were tight points. He bit his lip and groaned. She learned every valley and ridge of his chest just as she had in the grotto, only this time she kept her eyes on his face, a face now beautiful to her not because of nature’s kind arrangement of bones and flesh, but because it truly was a window to how good he was, how kind inside.
His eyes were black in the night, his hair a silver blaze about his shoulders. The snap of a twig made her jerk her hands from his stomach and turn.
“It is only a night creature, a very small one,” he said, and wrapped his arms about her waist. The feel of his hard body, his arousal nestled against her buttocks, made her groan in turn. He spread his hands over her stomach and then slid them up to cup her breasts, much as Narfrom had. The memory made her shiver, and she clutched Vad’s hands tightly to her. “Narfrom touched me like this.”
His body went taut behind her. “I will kill him the next time I see him.”
“It was to intimidate me; he felt nothing for me, but I want to forget.” He gently caressed her, soothing her nipples and inflaming them at the same time.
“I want my child to drink from your breast. I regret this implant you have.”
So do I, she said to herself. She turned in his arms to see his face. “Make love to me, Vad,” she said, and locked her arms about his neck.
He placed her on the ground and granted her wish. She was so aware, every sense heightened by her intense need for him, that she imagined she felt every ridge of his fingerprints as he traced her hip, her inner thigh. She could not get enough of him. She stroked his back, his buttocks, cupped him in her palm, and finally bent her head over him.
“Gwen.” He gasped and arched off the velvet grass. She straddled his thighs and used both hands to measure him and bring him pleasure. He groaned and bucked his hips. When she could tell he was at the limit of his endurance, she sat back, massaged the long muscles of his thighs, and whispered soothing words until he relaxed and fell still.
Then she began again, rubbing her hands in long strokes over his body. Every nuance of his pleasure streaked across his face. He arched his head back and moaned, and finally snatched her into his arms and flipped her over. But he did not do as she expected and enter her; no, he did everything she had, only much slower. He ran his tongue and hands from her shoulder to her toes, touching and laving her with infinite patience.
“Now, please,” she said, and he slid up her body.
“Look at me,” he whispered against her mouth. She opened her eyes and stared into his. “I love you, Gwen from Ocean City,” he said, and slid into her.
She wrapped her legs about his hips and hung on for the ride she knew was coming. “I love you, too.” His eyes closed; a groan tore from his throat. She felt every inch of his hard, deep thrusts, each hot spurt as he came. An answering hammer of blood and flare of heat coursed through her as she came with him.
“Wake up,” he said at her ear.
She groaned.
“We have a moment or two before the sun rises and we must go.”
“Uh,” she said as his hand moved to her inner thigh. “Go?” She should know what he was talking about, but her brain was fried.
“Aye.”
She remembered now. He caressed her with a light touch, and her body rose instantly to a fever pitch. She reached for him; he was more than ready. “My noble warrior,” she teased as she encircled him.
He peeled her fingers away. “No. Not yet. I have waited three long conjunctions to lie with the woman I desire, so I wish it to be nothing but the best of pleasure for you. Let me prepare you.” He leaned over her and kissed her nose.
She cupped his face and stared into his beautiful blue eyes. “No, don’t prepare me. You prepared me three times last night, and if you do it again I’ll have a coronary.”
“A coronary is bad?” He took her hands and stretched them out to the sides.
She found her wrists pinned to the grass. The long length of his body over hers, his gentle imprisonment of her hands, made her heart thunder in her chest. He nudged her thighs apart with his knee, and she felt the flame-hot heat of him.
With a soft moan, she answered him. “A coronary is very bad. It means my heart will stop beating, from too much…joy. So no more preparation. Please.” She gasped when he bent his head and his long hair skimmed her breast. “Please. No preparation.” The words barely made it past her lips as his teeth closed over her nipple.
“Just this?” he asked a moment later as he sheathed himself.
“Yes,” she cried out at the heat of him, the hard feel of him inside her. She tightened her legs about his hips.
In the near-dawn, with the sky brightening each moment, she could see the love in his gaze. “Free me,” she said, and he did.
Vad went down on one knee by the fire. He made a quick sketch of the map. Gwen watched as he placed an eight-branched tree in the center, then surrounded it with other symbols.
“Choose a peril,” he said with a gesture at the drawing. Behind him, pale pink tinted the dawn sky. “Should I fight the sow, the hounds, or the dragons?” he asked.
“Gee, none of the above,” she muttered. “The map reminds me of an island.”
“Not an island, an area—the Forbidden Place. It is believed that the perils surround the tree to protect the treasures buried there from those who would seek them for the wrong purpose.”
“What’s a right purpose?” She rested her chin on her knees, watching his shoulders ripple through another shrug, and sighed. They were great shoulders.
“Nilrem chose the tree and the Forbidden Place as a challenge to man’s honor. No one has succeeded in finding the treasures—or the wisdom it is said will be gained in the bargain. Perhaps the treasures do not really exist.”
“You didn’t mention this honor bit to Narfrom. He’s going to be a bit put out if he finds the treasures and they don’t work. Do you know how to find this eight-branched tree without the map?”
“I believe so. Certain items I remember on the map are known places. Gog—”
“What’s gog?”
“Gog was a sleeping giant of legend. If you look for him now, you will see but a steep mountain to be climbed. The Raven’s Ford, the sacred spring, the evil bog, these are all known places. The former two were sacred places of worship in the ancient times, and the latter is still believed by many to harbor evil spirits.”
“By all means, try to avoid the evil spirits.”
He smiled. “The ignorant cling to their beliefs despite what the priests might tell them.” He tapped the river ford. “The Ford of Ravens. ‘Tis said that if one sees a woman there, instead of ravens, she will show you your death in the reflection of the water.”
“Marvelous,” Gwen said. “Avoid that place, too.”
“Would the pack of eight hounds be preferable?”
“Can’t you come up with any other numbers? Why not nine? Or five? I’m sick of eight,” she said tartly. She tried to remain calm. How could he speak so casually about this latest quest?
“You must be fatigued,” Vad said, then yawned and scratched his belly.
Gwen felt her face flush red. “You’re not?”
“I slept. But I imagine the folk who guard the tents slept little from all the yelling. A compliment to my prowess, I believe it was, all your yelling.”
“I did not yell, or maybe just a little. Oh, stop. Please.” She hid her face in her hands.
Vad loved looking at her. He now knew every hair on her head, the shape of her ears, the taste of the soft skin behind them. To distract himself from the thought of soft skin, he bit into one of their remaining apples.
“Weren’t there piglets on the map? They sound nonthreatening,” she said.
“Their sow is the size of three horses, each piglet the size of one. Her milk is a burning acid, and the piglets suckle and spit the liquid at intruders. If the piglets are male, they have razor-sharp tusks.”
“What an image.”
Gwen stared up at him, and he found himself mesmerized by the depths of her dark eyes. He forced himself to think of perils instead of seeking the peace of her embrace. Never had he known such contentment. For the first time he understood Kered’s need for Maggie, understood how Kered had given up all for the woman he loved. Under other circumstances, would Kered have given Maggie up to protect her?
Vad hoped Gwen would understand what he must do.
“Other than deadly milk, is there anything else special about the sow?”
“She has bristles about her snout that cause an itch so terrible, you will die of it, your skin hanging in bloody tatters from your scratching.”
“That’s more information than I need,” Gwen muttered. “What about the hounds?”
Vad shrugged. “The hounds have fangs that drip poison. A gash from their teeth will fester immediately. They are said to run more quickly than the fastest horse and swim faster than a snake.”
“Then it will be the nest of dragons,” Gwen said, her voice trembling.
He cast the apple core into the shrubbery. “Dragons spew venomous spittle. It eats through the skin. Some people are not susceptible to it; others die writhing in pain as the sores eat away their flesh.”
“I have a confession to make.” Her words were soft sounds, scattering the images from his mind.
He went down on one knee by her and tucked several strands of her hair behind her ear. “What? You desire me again?”
“Men. They think only of making love.”
But her smile belied the sharpness of her tone, and it was not making love he was thinking of. No, he was thinking of her smallness and vulnerability.
“I borrowed some stuff on our way here.” She handed him a worn leather pack. “I hope you won’t be too angry with me.”
He looked inside and grinned. “Do you know what we have here?”
Gwen watched him pull out a bundle of soft cloth. “What is it? A weapon we can use?”
“Better than that—bread.” He unwrapped a loaf of bread, tore off a piece, and handed it to her.
They ate. More time wasted.
“What will you do with the cooking stand?” she asked when he was packing his horse for the journey.
Silently he held the iron handle and brought it down in a harsh swipe. “A favorite weapon of women, it is said.”
“Used on the heads of their cheating lifemates, I presume.” She shivered, the bread in her hand forgotten. “You’ll have to choose your own peril. I can’t help you. They all sound so frightening. Before coming here, the worst peril I’d ever faced was Mrs. Hill.”
He grunted. She encircled his waist and laid her head against his chest. “What’s your best weapon, Vad?”
“The sword,” he said.
“Oh…I’m so sorry.” She squeezed him hard.
“I have my own confession to make.” He steeled himself for what he must do. “There is not much choice between the perils; each is a formidable challenge. But the choice is already made for me.”
“Why?”
“I have been given only five sun-risings. This is the first. I have no choice but to go straight to the tree—through the bog, past the hounds.” Each moment he spent here by the fire with her was just more delay.
“We can do it,” she said softly.
A brisk wind rose. He looked at the sky. It was just about light enough to begin his journey. It was clear, almost cloudless. He could not imagine a blue sky. Then the earth seemed to tip and spin. In his mind’s eye he saw the strange thing Gwen called a plane in the sky, a blue sky, with a trail of pure white behind it.
He shook the image off.
“I. Not we. I will not be taking you with me. When I am gone, seek Ardra in the camp. She will be permitted her own servants and will thus be able to protect you.”
“What?” Her body had gone stiff in his arms. She stared up at him with a look so vulnerable, he felt skewered in his vitals.
“I am not staying with Ardra!” She jerked from his arms and stood there, her mouth open. Then she threw her bread at him. “How dare you! How dare you make love to me all night, then abandon me in the morning?”
He brushed the bread from his chest and struggled to maintain his composure. “You cannot come with me. Do you really think the council expects success? My death is far more likely.”
“Damn the council then. Let’s take the horses and go to Nilrem’s mountain. We can go home to my place and live happily ever after.” Tears ran down her cheeks.
“Happily ever after.” He said the words slowly. “You expect too much.” He carried the purloined pack to his horse. “I am thinking only of your safety.”
Gwen watched him prepare the horse. Only one horse.
“I don’t need you to look after me—or anyone else! And what about returning with the treasures and asking for an arm ring for me?” Her skin felt hot, her hands cold. There was a burning pain in her throat. “Was that a lie?”
“No,” he said, and reached for her, but she evaded his touch—his seductive touch. “I did not lie to you. If I am successful, I will do as I said. And you will be there, in the camp, safe and protected to attend the ring ceremony.”
How military he looked, how implacable, how stubborn, in his Tolemac warrior uniform, creased from being carelessly discarded during lovemaking.
She wanted to shriek. “You knew you were leaving me behind last night, didn’t you? You knew it even as you made love to me. That’s why it was so intense, wasn’t it?” Every muscle in her body ached from the night of passion. Her heart ached, too.
“Aye. I knew it last night. I knew I could not allow harm to come to you.”
“I knew it, too.” She pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I knew it. You told me so in the cavern. You said if you had me, you’d leave me.”
“I am not leaving you. I am protecting you.”
She sank to her knees and hugged her arms about her ribs. The pain in her chest was enormous. Ardra had known it, too. A man as beautiful as Vad would never stay with one woman, she’d said.
“Rise. I must go. You must go.” He put out his hand, but she ignored it.
“Go. Just go then. But I’m not going to stay in some camp with Ardra! And if you come back, she’ll be the one undergoing a ceremony with you—a lifemating ceremony. Damn you.”
She ran from him, reached the bushes, and in a burst of speed flew blindly toward the cover of trees.
The low branches snatched at her hair. She ran until the pain in her side caused her to fall to her knees in a swath of grass, trampled green grass, trampled from their lovemaking. She knelt there and wept. He was never coming back. He’d die, or abandon her for another, worthier woman. Ardra.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gwen pounded the trample
d grass with her fists. Vad had known he was leaving, known it each time he’d kissed her, touched her. If she’d known…she would never have made love to him again. How much easier it was to take rejection without the scents and aches of lovemaking still lingering on your body.
A crackle in the undergrowth made her leap to her feet. Would Vad come after her? Gwen strained her ears for the jingle of harness or the sound of footsteps, then peered into the dense tree cover. When she heard nothing, she wiped her tears and tried to compose herself. The effort was too great. She sank to the spot where he’d made love to her and silently wept.
Of course he didn’t want her. She wasn’t from his world. She was a liability. She brought him no illustrious ancestors, in fact, had only a family she neglected badly.
She thought of her mother, her father, her sister, even R. Walter. They’d never know what had become of her. And what would become of her if she stayed here? Would she serve Ardra? Never.
It hurt all the more because she liked Ardra. Ardra was sweet and gentle. Ardra had saved her life. What courage it had taken to stand up to her father. What man wouldn’t want her?
Gwen faced the reality of going home. Somehow. Now. Not later, when Ardra was enjoying the Selaw equivalent of a honeymoon with Vad, but right now. The mental picture of Vad lying on a bed, a real bed, with someone else, was too much to bear. She pressed her fists to her temples to block out the image.
“I have to get away,” she said aloud.
Then she realized that if she left, she’d never know if Vad survived his treasure hunt. The thought of him alone in an evil bog, surrounded by…bog things made her skin crawl. No matter what her own fate must be, she had to know what became of him.
She worried about Narfrom. The sky was a clear, bright lavender overhead. Maybe he was at Sotheby’s auctioning the treasure map, claiming it was for Merlin’s treasures. He might also be out there somewhere seeking the treasures himself. She still believed the ultimate confrontation with him had been postponed, not prevented.
Another flood of tears overwhelmed her. Why hadn’t she resisted Vad? Her pain was of her own making.