Brude snapped. “Still entirely selfish, are you? I was hoping you had changed, but it seems you can think of nothing but your own desires. Have you never heard of sacrifice?”
“I’ve been instructed in it by the best.” The very best.
“Then it is time for you to embrace that teaching. This is survival. Think how ashamed of you your father would be.”
Barta stood motionless, unable to speak for her hurt.
True, still at a distance, turned his head in Barta’s direction as if he felt her flare of distress. Certainly he couldn’t hear Brude’s words, not unless he had the hearing of a hound.
Around the lump of pain in her throat she choked out, “I am surprised you would consider taking me for wife when you still hold so harsh an opinion of me.”
“I have no choice. I can think only of the welfare of the tribe—as must you. I will have your answer in the morning, understand?”
Not awaiting a reply, he stalked away, leaving Barta drenched with cold.
****
“What did Master Brude say to you? He upset you, so I could tell.”
Deep darkness had fallen once again. Here on the banks of the quiet stream a few fires burned low—Barta could just glimpse the nearest, tended by Tally’s friends. The girls had made him supper and stayed with him while he ate it.
Exhausted, many members of the tribe already slept. Not far away, Pith had rolled into his blankets; across the camp Brude and Avinda sat with their heads close together. Children had been tucked among rugs, and a measure of peace spread slowly through the trees.
Barta, who ached with weariness, had expected True’s question but felt nearly incapable of answering it. She snuggled closer to his side, and his arm snaked about her; the breath came easier in her lungs.
All she wanted was the peace and pleasure of his company, without discord. She sighed. “He asked once again for my answer. He says he will have it come morning.”
True said nothing but, this close to him, she could feel the protest jerk through his body.
“He insists our union will stabilize the tribe. And I do want that, I want to put our pieces back together if I can. If I have, in fact, left my selfishness behind me, should I not accept him?”
“You ask me?” True’s rough voice sounded like a growl.
“Should I not? Speaking with you feels almost like talking to myself.”
“You would do better talking to Gant. He understands these matters far better than me.”
“What matters?”
“Of the heart, of the choices people make for themselves and one another.”
“Perhaps he does understand those things, but I am not in love with Gant.”
For an instant neither of them breathed, but the connection between them flared and demanded acknowledgement.
At last he whispered, “I have told you I will be with you no matter the choice you make.”
“With me, yes, but in what way?”
“At your side. Fighting for you, always at your call.”
“I want you in my bed, True. You—not him. I thought you understood that.”
“Me first, so you said. Before you accept him. Yet you will accept him.”
“I may have no choice. It is not what I want. But it has been brought upon me—I believe the goddess works to impress upon me—that sacrifices must sometimes be made.”
“So they must.” In the dim light, she saw him close his eyes like a man in pain. “Barta, if you must go to his bed, it will not change the way I feel about you.”
“Nothing can?”
“Nothing can,” he agreed.
“But does that not make it all the more wrong that I should go to his bed, when you and I are so closely bound? It should be you, only you.” At the urging of instinct she pressed her mouth to his, lips parted, wooing him into her. She could not get close enough, not unless he became part of her and they one.
He tasted the inside of her mouth with long, slow sweeps of his tongue that banished every other thought, every worry, and turned her blood molten. Her heart began to pound in demand.
When he turned his attentions to her cheek and her throat, moving downward in a blaze of heat, she said, “I want you tonight, True. Before I give him my answer. I will have you.”
He said nothing, merely drew her down to lie beneath him on the ground. His fingers threaded through the laces at her bosom and teased them apart. She felt his tongue at her breast.
But she seized his head in both hands. “Do you hear me, True? Do you understand?”
“You wish to give yourself to me.”
“Completely.”
“Completely.”
“Then we will always have this even if…well, whatever else happens. This will remain sacred between us. Do you agree?”
“I exist only for you, in any way you ask.”
“But…” She strove once more to see the expression in his eyes. “Do you want me also?”
“Do I want you? Only as I want my next breath, as I want my heart to keep beating. No, even more than those things.”
A gust of breath left her lungs, a sigh that contained both gladness and longing. “Need,” she whispered.
“Yes. I need to taste you, every part of you. Need to feel in full these bonds between us.”
“Then show me.”
“What of the guard? Should they stumble upon us…”
“They will not, here. If they should, let them. I mean to have you this night.”
He began tugging at her clothing, spending no more words. She shed her garments eagerly and without shame, more sure of this than anything that had ever come before. She pulled at his clothing also, her hands shaking with need.
When they were both naked, when their bodies met skin on skin in the soft dark, it felt so wonderful she gasped.
“Kiss me,” she begged and their mouths met, their bodies met, and she felt him in full.
Let me have this if but once, she begged the goddess, and I will never ask for another thing.
True broke their kiss, licked her lips, and dragged his tongue down her body, past her throat, her breasts, and lower still. She felt his teeth nip very gently at the skin of her belly before he lifted her effortlessly beneath him, the muscles of his stomach flexing. Not until he started to flip her over did she gasp again.
“True? What—”
He set her on her elbows and knees and positioned himself behind her, nipped her shoulder and licked it in consolation.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Mating you.”
A wild, delirious laugh rose to Barta’s throat. “But, like this?”
“Certainly. How else?”
Barta’s mind lashed madly. Was this how men and women made love in the north? Arousing, without a doubt, but—
“I was hoping this time—our first time—we might join face to face.”
“Eh?”
“As people do.”
“People?”
Laughter bubbled up again. “People such as us. We are not animals.”
He froze for an instant; she could feel his thoughts racing. He breathed, “You must show me.”
“Well, I have never…”
“Nor have I, not with any woman.”
“Oh?”
“But I wish to join with you in this way, Barta.”
She flipped back over beneath him and drew a ragged breath, all her laughter flown. “Then listen to your body. Follow as it bids.”
He nodded, joined his mouth to hers, and began to move. She wound her arms around his neck and followed.
There would be pain the first time, she knew that much. At this moment she didn’t care. She felt alive for him, aware and sensitized. Her love for him rose in a staggering wave, lit by fire.
She dug her fingers into his hair and wooed him with her body. He nudged her thighs apart and—just as easily as breathing, as being—slid inside her, a knife coming home to its sheath where it belonged. No pain, only the shatter
ing sense of rightness, and completeness that defied description. They moved together to an ancient rhythm, fully joined, and hung like a star in the sky before they came as one.
Perfection, full and exquisite. Barta scarcely dared breathe for breaking the spell. True remained inside her, close as flesh could be to flesh, their mouths still fused. Emotion barreled through her and tears pricked her eyes.
Now nothing would be the same for either of them, not ever again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
All thought had emptied from True’s mind, drained away in the wake of the passion. Only belonging remained, that which he’d sought every instant since returning to Barta—this sense of wholeness, of peace.
Who knew it might be like this, that two could become one flesh, creating a being so much more than either alone? Part of him still remained inside her. The miracle of that stunned him; he didn’t want to withdraw from her and cause this wondrous moment to end.
Eyes closed in fierce bliss, he licked the inside of her mouth slowly. The scent of her filled him, the taste had become part of him. He needed nothing more.
She made a small sound in the back of her throat and stroked his tongue with hers. No words were needed now. He’d already emptied his seed inside her but could feel himself growing ready to do so again.
Barta had been right—face to face, heart to heart, was much better, and one flesh best of all.
And oh, how they fit together! He flexed his hips, demonstrating to her his return to readiness, and she moaned, still while sucking on his tongue.
Receptive, yes. Fire roared through him, surpassing anything he’d ever felt as a hound.
She quickened, her inner muscles once more tensing around him. By the goddess, what a marvelous sensation! As if to some music of the gods, they began to move once more in a primal dance.
Barta loosened her grip on his hair, trailed her fingers down his back, caressing his muscles as she went, and cupped his naked buttocks. She broke the kiss to say, “Need you. Like this, just like this.”
Still devoid of words, he bunched his shoulders and dove for her breast. She arched beneath him, and her muscles began to milk him from within.
“Oh, wondrous,” she gasped in his ear when he emptied himself again. “Wondrous.”
Still unwilling to separate from her, he collapsed with his mouth beside her ear, his heart racing. “You,” he breathed, “are now well and truly bred.”
“I am, aren’t I? And glad of it.”
“Are you glad?”
“Yes.”
“Even if I have given you my…child?”
“I am glad!”
As was he. But he wondered what the goddess would make of it. This hadn’t been part of his bargain with her. He’d asked only to return to Barta, not breed her, and he could scarcely imagine such a child.
A gentle breeze stirred, drying the sweat on his back. Barta whispered, “If you want to do it the other way—from behind—I’m willing.” She rubbed her cheek against his. “I am willing to do anything you ask.”
“I am satisfied.” He made as if to withdraw from her; she clasped her palms more tightly on his buttocks, preventing him.
“No. Stay.”
Ah, a command he understood. He eased and ran his tongue along her shoulder, gathering the salt.
She laughed softly. “If you do that, I shall need you again.”
“Still. You need me still.”
“Yes.”
So she felt it too, this profound sense of joining… What could one do with such a gift but accept it? He licked her again, a slow, leisurely swipe of his tongue. “By the goddess, you taste good. As good as you smell. I want to taste you everywhere.”
“I want what you want. Have I not said so? Go ahead.”
“Are you certain?”
“I belong to you now, True.”
“No, it is I who belong to you—I always have.”
“We belong to one another, sure and strong. Can you feel the bonds?”
“Yes.”
“Unbreakable.”
That, he understood. Had he not returned to her from death because their ties endured?
“And so, True, I give my body to you along with my heart. Do as you will with it.”
“I will protect you always. Cherish you. Die in your defense if I must.”
She froze, suddenly rigid. “Why do you keep saying that? It is the last thing I want. I’ve already experienced the loss of so many beloved and could not endure it again…could not bear losing you! That is why I am glad I’ve had you this night, even if we are never to be together again.”
His heart fell. “Do you say we will not?”
“I have not decided what I should tell Brude, have I?”
True did not want her to wed with Brude, did not want any other male to touch her, ever. But it was not his place to make demands. It was his place to follow and accept what she offered him. And this night she offered herself completely.
Very gently he withdrew from her. She murmured in protest.
“But, Mistress, you have given me leave to taste you. Everywhere.”
“Oh. Even—?”
“Where we were joined.” The scent coming from there he found most arousing of all.
She sighed in complete submission. “Do as you will.”
****
“I need your answer, Barta. The tribe must regain stability. We have to make plans.”
Barta stood before Brude in the morning sunshine—a woman changed. Some fundamental need inside her had been answered and at the same time awakened. She could not think about True without desiring him and could not seem to think of anything but him. Even now, away from him for the first time since the long, deep night, her senses tracked him and the bonds between them hummed.
She regarded Brude with new calm. A man with a great heavy burden on his shoulders, she no longer wanted to battle him.
She looked him in the eye. “Something you should know before you hear my answer—I am in love with True.”
He grimaced. “You think that is a surprise to me? I’ve seen the way you look at one another. I do not care. Haven’t I said you are welcome to keep him on the side?”
“Yes.” She jerked her head up a notch. “But I tell you now fairly, he and I did lie together. I may be carrying his child.”
Rage blossomed in Brude’s eyes, a blazing wall of disparagement. He raised his arm, and for an instant Barta believed he would strike her down.
“Foolish girl! Stupid, selfish girl. Could you not control your impulses? I thought you said you’d learned something from all our losses!”
People around them stared; Brude had raised his voice along with his hand. From the corner of her eye Barta saw True materialize and approach.
I will protect you always. Cherish you. Die in your defense if I must.
Would Brude turn upon True if he tried to defend her? He seemed angry enough.
She took a careful step backward and asked, “Do you still want me for wife, in this condition?”
Brude’s face worked for a moment, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Did I not tell you to have a care over that?”
“You did—once we wed. We are not yet wed, and my body is mine to give as I will.”
“You understood my meaning and have deliberately defied me. You have not changed—perhaps you never will. You deserve a thrashing.”
“Barta?” True stepped into place at her side. He touched her arm lightly, and strength flooded through her.
“It’s all right, True.”
“ ‘True,’ ” Brude sneered once again. “What a lie of a name. He might be anything but that—any type of snake sent to suckle at our bosom.”
“I trust him completely.”
“More fool you. I do not trust him.” He intensified his glare at True. “Just so you know, incomer, there will come a reckoning between us.”
True spoke softly, yet with that ever-present growl in his voice, “There is no sense in
us fighting one another when enemies lie all around.”
“Yes, and perhaps within.” Brude switched his glare back to Barta. “You did this just to defy me, did you not?”
“No.” Barta tangled her fingers with True’s. “I have told you why. He and I belong together…”
Brude virtually spat, “Well, he can have you. You are of no use to me bred by another. Stupid woman! Could you not make one sacrifice for your tribe?”
“I will make many sacrifices. Not that one.”
“Get out of my sight,” Brude barked, sounding uncannily like Radoc the night Barta had come home to admit she’d lost Loyal.
Was she truly the selfish wretch Brude insisted? Did she still think only of herself? But her heart had changed.
True tugged her fingers, and she turned away, only then noticing a small crowd had gathered around them. Folk, already shattered, stared. Had they all heard? Did they even now make judgments of her?
She caught a glimpse of Gant, his expression tight, and one of the girls who’d been tending Tally. She didn’t want word of this getting back to her young brother, who’d always looked up to her and so often taken her part.
Despair touched her heart. She followed True to the stream in silence and moved into his arms.
“True, am I the terrible person Brude accuses?”
“No.” True’s hands cradled her. She felt his lips brush her hair, weaving a spell which she tried to shrug off. She needed clarity now, if ever. Had her parents overindulged her? Given her a life of privilege? Her mother had certainly lectured and her father berated her often enough. Sudden longing filled her for her mother’s wisdom and her father’s strong guidance.
Gone now—swept away with her past life. Wick had left; she had only Tally, Gant, and this man in her arms.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and gazed into his eyes. That same wave of familiarity—for someone she could not quite place—swept over her, silent recognition so profound it left her on the very edge of realization.
“Who are you?” she breathed. “Who—?”
His lips parted. Before he could speak, someone came running; one of the girls who had been tending Tally called Barta’s name. Barta turned to see Tally struggling along in the girl’s wake, leaning on the arm of yet another girl. Tally, face pale, wore a determined look that aged him beyond his years.
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