"Yan, tell the truth. If we accept, will our throats get cut in the night?"
Sweet Goddesses! Had she no fear?
Quan threw back his head and laughed. "Lady, what have you heard about us?"
"That those who fall among brigands come to harm."
Quan looked positively pained. Ranald would have laughed if he weren't so worried. He stepped closer to Alys--who knew how this brigand would respond to her courage?
Quan bowed. "Lady, accept the word of Quan, that these tales are all slander and lies. We mean you and your companion no harm. Come dine with us, accept our hospitality for the night, and in the morning Yan will show you a way that is not blocked. In return, all we ask is a small contribution toward the cost of lodgings."
Here it came. A demand for all the money they carried.
"We can gladly contribute to the meal," Alys replied. "I have two good cheeses in my packs, and Yan will tell you...
"Your mother's cheese?" Yan asked, grinning.
"Indeed."
"Quan," Yan said, turning to his leader. "They are the finest cheeses in all of the east."
Quan raised his eyebrows. "That we will judge later." He turned to Ranald. "Sheath your sword, envoy. I'll not harm one who protects a refugee from one of those evil places."
Ranald lowered it, looking Quan in the eye. "I will protect her with my life."
"I believe you, envoy. Save your fighting skills for those you flee from. We'll take no penalty but those promised cheeses."
Ranald nodded and sheathed his sword. "They are veritably fine cheeses."
Quan smiled, but turned immediately and barked orders to his followers. One led the packhorse. Ranald chose to keep hold of Saj. Yan was given the office of guiding Alys. The brigands led them along a twisting and steep path. The last mile or so was downhill--hard going in the failing light, but arrive they did in a secluded valley sheltering a cluster of rude stone huts.
One was offered to Alys and Ranald. Rush tapers provided a meager light, and the cheese was handed over with as much ceremony as a monarch's tithing. Alys and Ranald were welcomed as guests, bid come to dinner within the hour, and left alone.
In a very small hut.
Death might be preferable.
Or would it?
"Ranald?" Alys looked up from unpacking her saddlebags. "Can we trust them?"
"I know less than you, Alys. Your old friend means you no ill, it seems, but he is one among many. As for accepting a brigand's word--we have little choice. Each hour that passes with our throats not slit is one hour nearer dawn, and the chance we may continue our way."
"I am sorry to have brought you to this." She stepped close, resting her hand on his arm. "If only you had not shown me kindness that first morning, you'd be on your way, having accomplished your mission."
He rested his hand over hers. "You are my mission, Alys."
"Oh! Ranald!" she whispered. She might have cried it to the heavens. The soft words from her lush lips, and the light in her eyes, shattered his last resolve. He drew her against him and brought his mouth down. They might be dead by dawn, but here, in this stone hut on this earthen floor, was his moment with Alys.
Their lips met and opened, and his tongue found hers.
Alys gasped but no sound came out. Her mouth was no longer her own. It was Ranald's, utterly and completely. She needed, ached for this kiss and more. She opened her lips and welcomed his tongue against hers. His touch was hot, sure, gentle, and insistent. He took what she ached to give, and give she did: her soul, her being, her very self, she channeled into the sweet melding of their mouths. His arms encircled her back. Alys leaned into a body hard from years on a horse. His touch was soft and confident as one hand eased up her waist to cup her breast. She still wore her cloak against the cold, and a dress of thick homespun with shifts underneath, but she felt his touch deep in her heart. His hand cupping her breast sent her mind soaring. She pressed herself closer and kissed back, taking his tongue with hers, pressing her lips to his, and glorying in the hard body against hers.
She reached her arms up and wrapped them around his broad shoulders as his hand eased down. Before she could protest, he was lifting her skirts and opening her legs with his knee as she leaned against his strength.
Whimpering with anticipation as his cool hand stroked her thigh and heat rose deep in her body, Alys pulled her mouth off his. Looking into the heat and need in his eyes, she said, "Ranald. I want--"
"I know!" His mouth came down harder. She clung to him as her legs went weak, gasping as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the pallet in the corner.
As he laid her down, the heather in the mattress crackled. She laughed. "It's a noisy bed."
He leaned over her, hands resting at either side of her head. "'Twill be louder when I make you cry out with joy."
She reached up and undid the ties of his cloak. "You will, will you?"
He tossed the swirl of dark fabric to the ground. "You have my word on it, my love!"
He lay beside her on the rough pallet. He smelled of fresh air, horse, and Ranald. Gently, he unfastened her cloak and spread it out around her. His touch warmed her through her gown and his breath brushed her neck. Alys raised her breasts against his hands. Just the brush of his fingertips through her clothes sent a wave of excitement rushing to her core. He trailed his fingers up the side of her face and dropped a kiss on her forehead. His eyes were dark as midnight and glinted like black diamonds. Her heart did a little thurrrup in her chest. "Please." She was not entirely sure what she was asking for, but she longed for it.
"Dear, beautiful Alys," he said, and his mouth met hers. His lips were hot and insistent and sent a tide of excitement rushing through her as she opened her lips and welcomed him. His tongue met hers, matched hers, stroking and exploring. He tasted of desire and passion, and she reached into his mouth to take everything he offered. His arms closed around her like a loving vise, holding her close as heat flooded her body and she pressed herself into him, wanting his closeness, aching for his touch, needing to feel his skin.
His mouth moved on hers, with hers, in hers. They only had one mouth, moving in sympathy--tasting, taking, and giving until she thought she'd melt or explode. His palm closed over her breast and she'd have cried with delight but his mouth took everything from her. He slid his hand to her hips, pressing her close until she felt the heat of his erection through her clothes, and a thrill of satisfaction told her she hadn't been mistaken. Ranald wanted her, needed her, and was ready for her.
She no longer cared what awaited her after this night. She could face anything, even the warden and his minions, knowing she'd be loved by Ranald ven Strad.
His other hand cupped the back of her head, holding her firmly as he steadily and certainly kissed her until she clung to him for support, wondering if she'd end up a steaming puddle at his side.
Wanting more, Alys fumbled with his jerkin and shirt buttons until her fingers felt skin and muscle and hair. Her hand pressed against his chest and every finger tingled from the roughness of his hair. Excited at the contact, she spread her hand until she felt his nipple. Smoothing her fingers over the warm flesh, she felt it harden, and smiled at the discovery. Ranald groaned.
Pulling back a little, he smiled down at her. Seeing the need and passion in his eyes, Alys shivered with excitement, anticipation, and a frisson of fear at the step she was taking. After this, nothing would ever be the same.
"Cold?" Ranald whispered. "I'll keep you warm."
He drew her to him and his mouth came down to hers--slowly this time, gently. As her lips parted, he increased the pressure until her heart and tongue raced to keep up with him. From somewhere deep inside she moaned, and Ranald eased his hold around her shoulders. He cupped one breast, then the other, sending sensation and pleasure rippling through her. One hand moved back and forth, circling, stroking, and gently squeezing as his other hand eased up her skirts. His touch on her thigh stirred wild sensations--her hear
t raced, her breath caught in her chest, and her mind yearned for more, and more. She pulled his jerkin open, and in the weak rushlight she could barely see, but her hands sensed the strength and muscle under his skin as she smoothed her fingertips over his shoulders and down his torso, rubbing the mat of hair that was sprinkled over his chest and narrowed near his waist to disappear into his breeches. Her mouth went dry at the thought of what lay behind the soft leather.
She rubbed her fingers over his nipples so they firmed under her touch. Thrilled at her power to arouse him, she bent her head and took one nipple in her mouth, easing her tongue over the ridges and bumps around it and then skimming over the tip.
"Alys!"
It was a slow groan of pleasure. Excited further, she trailed kisses over his chest, caught his other nipple between her lips, and this time she nipped gently after laving his erect nipple.
"Woman," he all but growled. "Now my turn."
His fingers fumbled on the lacing of her bodice, but he released them and pushed aside her chemise, exposing her breasts to the night, and his touch.
Her throat went dry and her pulse raced as he bent his head and kissed each of her nipples with an agonizing and wondrous slowness. Her hands tunneled though his hair as she shivered and moaned, hardly knowing she did either. Heat rushed through her to pool between her legs. His mouth traveled up her chest, trailing soft kisses along the side of her neck until he found her mouth and sent her halfway to the heavens.
She was gasping as he broke the kiss, and shifted off the bed. "Ranald!" He could not leave her--not now!
"Hush, love. I must ready myself. Too many clothes." He sat on the bed, pulled off his boots, and then stood and unbuckled his belt and removed his breeches.
She'd thought her heartbeat fast before; now it outpaced a swooping bird. She stared. Even in the failing light, Ranald was twice the size she'd imagined from the bulge under his clothes; his cock pointed straight at her. She reached out to touch him; half-scared, half-elated. Stroking the warm, hard flesh, she closed her fingers around him as he murmured, and she smiled to feel the power beneath her fingers.
"Gentle, my love!" Ranald's hand closed over hers. "I'm not made of adamant."
"Forgive me!" Uncertain, she moved back.
Ranald took her hand, turned it over, and kissed her palm. His lips touched warmth on her fingers where she'd felt his heat. "Don't be sorry. Your touch is magic." He sat on the bed beside her. "But I intend the same magic for you."
How could she not believe him when his mouth played on hers, and his hands drove her wild? With slow precision, he kissed and stroked her neck and breasts as she sighed and moaned under him. She felt wild, abandoned, and thrilled.
Ranald raised her skirts and kissed her navel, then his fingers trailed down to play in the hair between her thighs. Alys shivered and murmured as he delved deeper, parting her folds. She was so hot there that his fingertips felt cool. Wondrously cool. Excitingly cool. Her body arched without any effort as he stroked and rubbed her until she moaned aloud. Then he trailed kisses down her belly. Like a slow awakening, she felt her body open under his touch and then his mouth was there.
His breath was warm, his touch heated, and her body caught fire.
She called his name and Ranald whispered, "Soon, Alys, soon." And moved away.
"No!" she cried, reaching for him.
"I'm here, love." He was between her legs, caressing her until she rocked. It was impossible to stay still. She squirmed and wriggled and his fingers stayed with her, driving her crazy, driving her to the heavens, driving her wild. She was climbing, flying, soaring. A rush of power and sensation seized her. She screamed aloud and shouted Ranald's name. She bucked under him, half-leaving the bed, before she collapsed on the mattress, shaking, chest heaving, her mind whirling, and Ranald's arms holding her close as the last shudders slowed.
Her heart still raced like a wild bird's. "Ranald?" she managed between gasps, as she reached out and pulled him close. "Never in my dreams have I imagined joy such as ours."
"Nor I," he replied. "Now, dear heart, if you so will, 'tis my turn."
His fingers parted and eased into her moist warmth as he settled himself between her legs. Their eyes met. His were dark and glazed. He was panting. His fingers stroked her warmth as he eased himself closer, spreading her legs wider, opening her. Her breathing quickened in anticipation as he parted her folds wide, easing something inside--it was too small to be him. "What?" she asked.
"Easy, sweet love," he replied. "You're small and tight. I want to make it easy for you. Let me first open you with my finger."
He could do anything, anything at all, if he'd continue this wondrous caress. Alys sagged back on the bed and gave herself over to his touch. The same amazing sensations stirred deep in her once again, and she rocked her hips to bring him deeper and whimpered as he withdrew. "Shh," he whispered, then shifted his thighs and entered her.
He filled her. Stretched her. Alys gasped and Ranald froze. Poised above her--the muscles knotted in his forearms, his eyes wide, nearly gasping. "Is it too much, love?" He moved as if to withdraw.
He couldn't--not now! "No!" she cried, clasping his back and pulling him down on her, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist. "I want you, Ranald!" On the edge of disappointment, she almost shrieked, but he started moving inside her. Faster and harder and wilder, her body joined with his, took his rhythm, shifting and rocking as he drove them both to climax.
She bucked under him as he gasped, "Alys!" and collapsed on top of her. Feeling his weight, she relaxed under him, enjoying the pressure of his body on hers and the heat that still pulsed between them.
As he slipped out of her, she shivered with disappointment. "Be peaceful, sweet love," he whispered. "I will protect you."
She curled against him, wrapped her leg over his, and closed her eyes.
She didn't have a chance to doze.
Ranald shifted. "Alys, we cannot linger, much as my heart yearns to. We must ready ourselves for our evening with our hosts." What a hideous jerk into reality! "Lie still," he said, as she made to sit. "I must wash you." He crossed to the water bucket in the corner, dipped in a towel, and returned to her. The cloth was cold against her skin. After he wiped her clean between her thighs, he drew her skirts back down, and proceeded to wash himself as she relaced her bodice.
"Alys," he said, as he stepped into his breeches and buttoned and buckled himself together. "We need to consider the future. Both our lives have changed this evening. But first we must see what this band of brigands has in mind. 'Tis indeed our good fortune that you knew that lad, else I fear we'd have been relieved of our purses. As it is, who knows? Stay near me, and let me do most of the talking."
"I had hoped to talk with Yan about his family. He will surely want news."
Ranald rebuttoned his shirt, tucked it into his breeches, and reached for his jerkin. "Share what news you choose, Alys, but be circumspect with our own plans. We know they've agreed to provide us shelter for the night and to not rob us. That's all we know."
Alys pulled up her woolen stockings that had somehow ended up near her ankles. It was perhaps improper to dress before Ranald, but after what they'd shared, modesty seemed insignificant. "I will be discreet and cautious," she promised, as she pulled on her boots and laced them. Reaching for the comb in her knapsack, she smoothed her tousled hair.
When she indicated she was ready, Ranald took her hand and led her out into the night.
* * *
CHAPTER TEN
Ranald thanked all Nine Goddesses for the darkness. In daylight, everyone around would have noticed the radiance on Alys's face, or the satisfaction in his own eyes. In the circle of the fires, the flickering light and shadows hid the outward signs of their wild lovemaking. He'd spoken truly earlier: they needed to talk, and he needed time to ponder how best to protect her now. But instead, he was compelled to sit by the fire, eat chunks of some charred animal, drink surprisingly good cider, and tell
his story to Quan and his closest cronies as best he could.
He made it as brief as possible: he'd been on a mission for the monarch, when he encountered Alys on the road. Her escort had been disabled, and Ranald, as the monarch's envoy, had taken upon himself the obligation of conveying her in safety to her family.
"No obligation, I perceive," Quan said, his teeth bright in the firelight as he nudged Ranald in the side.
He'd feared that. "The Lady Alys is an accommodating charge." The loud guffaws showed his attempts at glossing over things were futile. No matter. In the morning they would be gone, and who, outside the mountains, cared for the opinions of a band of brigands? That was assuming they got out. "I must thank you for your hospitality, Quan. The road has not been easy, and with the blockage--"
"Ah! Yes!" Quan pulled a strip of meat off a bone with his teeth. "We blocked the way last spring."
"Indeed?"
"Aye. We wanted to ensure travelers had the opportunity to enjoy our hospitality."
"You have many guests?"
He laughed. "Enough, but seldom have I had a guest offer fare in exchange for our hospitality. Usually, we have to ask." He looked over to where Alys and Yan were slicing cheese and toasting it over the embers of a smaller fire. "A generous young woman."
Every fiber in Ranald's body clenched at the insinuation. "An honorable young woman," he replied. "I will get her safely to her family. We must leave as soon as possible in the morning." Provocative maybe, but best to know how things stood.
"We'll not delay you," Quan assured him. "Though young Yan enjoys her company. He's been sadly homesick."
"Why did he come?"
"Why did any of us end up here, fighting for our existence in the mountains? Life was intolerable. He was one of seven children, forced into an occupation not of his choosing. His master used him cruelly and worked him at all hours. If his parents died his fate would be no better than your charge's. What did he have to look forward to in that village? A life of labor and punitive taxes." Quan paused. "If you ever have the monarch's ear, enlighten him about abuses in his provinces. That village of your charge's is not the only one with a corrupt warden and a self-serving council."
PARADOX III Page 8