by Sharon Green
The fawn had, until then, been standing rigidly with the uncontrolled quiver of terror all through it, but the sensation of pain was just too much for it. It exploded into the struggle of desperation, pulling with all its small amount of strength, and an instant later the fawn was free and racing off deeper into the woods. Kylin had tried to jerk back at the first indication of movement and had managed to do so, and was therefore surprised at the abrupt pain in his left hand.
"Now that's more like it," Sofaltis announced in normal tones, satisfaction in her voice as she began to turn to him after watching the fawn out of sight. ''Free again and able to run with the wind, not caught in a trap like - For Evon's sake, what happened to your hand?"
''The thorns must have caught me when the vine whipped back," Kylin said as he resheathed his sword after straightening, his bloody left hand held out in front of him. ''It's not too bad, and it isn't my sword hand, after all...."
''So let's ignore it until you bleed to death,'' the girl finished for him in disgust, looking up from his hand into his eyes. ''For your information your life is mine to take, and I won't be cheated out of my due by some thorns. Get back to the spring so I can take care of it.”
The order carried a kind of refusal to be ignored that surprised Kylin, but the satisfaction he felt outweighed the surprise by quite a bit. For the first time the girl seemed to be seeing him as an actual human being, and the loss of blood was a small price to pay for so large a step. Rather than grinning the way he wanted to, he gave a small, indifferent shrug and turned back to the brook.
The first touch of the very cold water on the thorn gouges was something Kylin was braced for, but he was still glad when the hand finally went numb. The skin of his palm had been shredded open rather than simply pierced, and if it had been his sword hand he would have had something of a problem. Sofaltis waited until the blood flow was nearly stopped, then began to rip and tear at the tunic she wore. She had obviously noticed the extra drapes and folds of the garment, and was intent on removing the top layer of cloth. When she had two wide strips and one narrow one, she gestured to his hand.
"Bring it out of there now and let the water drip off,'' she directed, folding one of the wide strips into a squarish pad, the inner surface of the cloth now out. ''It would help to have something cleaner, but this will have to do.''
When the pad was all folded she used the bottom of it to lightly pat the hand dry, then turned it over and placed it against the wound. The second wide strip followed the first and was coiled around the pad and hand, and then the narrow strip was used to tie it all on. Kylin felt as though he had a major wound rather than a few simple scratches under all that bandaging, but he wasn't about to complain.
''It's a good thing for me I'm traveling with someone who knows what she's doing," he remarked, supposedly adjusting the bandage but in reality watching the girl. ''Most women seem to be raised to pass out at the sight of blood. Thank you."
He looked directly at her then, catching the very end of the expression that had been on her face. Without thinking she had begun to show pleased satisfaction over what he’d said, her features becoming younger and more open than he'd yet seen them, and then she seemed to remember who she was smiling at.
"You can keep your thanks for when I have a weapon in my hand again,'' she said, and if her tone wasn't hostile, it was, at the very least, cool. ''That's the time you'll need to remind me you actually have a better side to your nature. Right now we still have a trail to follow.''
Her turning away marked an end to the conversation, and Kylin followed feeling more confused than ever. Why in Evon's name would she appear surprised that he had a better side? She'd even seemed reluctant to admit to seeing something like that, and he couldn't understand why she would feel that way. Didn’t everyone have better sides? Shouldn't a woman who was going to have to marry a man be pleased to discover he wasn't a thorough rogue? The girl was definitely unhappy rather than pleased, and Kylin was completely at a loss.
The trail continued on its way through the tangle, and although there were occasional sounds in the brush, nothing came charging out looking for a meal. Kylin kept a good portion of his attention alert against the possibility, but the rest of it was very much centered on the girl who walked in front of him. She, in turn, seemed to be preoccupied rather than simply silent, bothered by something and enmeshed in thinking about it. The big Fighter would have enjoyed knowing what was absorbing her attention, but was realistic enough to realize there wasn't much chance of that.
With both of them so wrapped up in other concerns, the beginning of the rainstorm caught the two almost completely by surprise. Neither had noticed how the gray skies had lowered and darkened, and the first raindrops were almost light enough to be ignored. The following drops, however, were not the same, and the prospect of a refreshing shower abruptly became the promise of a drenching downpour. Kylin and Sofaltis stopped to look quickly about themselves, and then the Fighter touched the girl's arm.
''There's a small opening in the brush a short way back," Kylin said over the strengthening rain, gesturing behind him. "We've got to try to find it.''
''Why the rush?'' the girl asked, apparently deciding to pretend the drops weren't bothering her in the least. ''If this is the first time you've been caught out in the rain, you have a surprise coming. Only leather does badly in it, and we aren't wearing leather."
"You mean you don't know?'' Kylin responded immediately, trying to widen his eyes at her despite the rain ''If we stay out in this too long we'll shrink. I've seen it happen to friends of mine. One minute they were my size, and the next - "
His right palm indicated a distance waist-high from the ground, and when he shook his head with a tragic sigh a laugh forced its way out of the girl. Kylin could see she hadn't wanted to laugh, but when his grin joined in she laughed again, as tickled over the nonsense as he'd hoped she'd be. They laughed together for a moment, and then the girl noticed that the strength of the rain was increasing.
"Maybe we'd better find that opening of yours after all," she said, raising her voice to be heard over the rain noise as she swept sodden hair back out of her face with a hand. ''If any rain is going to end up shrinking someone, this one looks like it's it.''
''And I'd really hate being that small," Kylin agreed with another grin, taking the girl's arm. ''It's this way."
They hurried through the growing downpour, trying to find what he'd only half-seen, and almost went past it because of their obstructed vision. At the last instant Kylin turned his head to look back, saw the narrow opening, guided the girl to it by the arm he held, then urged her in first. She had to go down on all fours to crawl through, but once Kylin had done the same he found the resulting tunnel through thc heavy brush just a little wider than he'd expected. The two of them couldn't crawl comfortably side by side, but they would have been able to if the need had arisen.
Inside the bush tunnel the light dimmed considerably, especially since it went back into the woods before angling left and then stopping. Kylin had been half-anticipating meeting whatever had made that bush-den, and when they reached the end of it to find it empty, he allowed himself a silent sigh. Arguing over a shelter with its rightful inhabitant in such narrow confines could have proven tricky, especially with the girl crawling ahead of him. Thank Evon it had turned out to be unnecessary.
"You know, this isn't bad at all," the girl observed, beginning to make herself comfortable where the tunnel ended. ''Dry shelter protected by all that undergrowth, abandoned but clean - All we're missing is a front yard with a well.''
"If you accept your wells upside down, going back out from under the trees will supply the need,'' Kylin said, moving up closer to where she rested on her right side. "If it doesn't stop raining by dark, we'll spend the night here.''
''If it doesn't stop raining by dark, we'll be spending a cold and soggy night here,'' she observed, lowering her head to examine the sodden tunic plastered to her. "Leather may not do well
in the rain, but it lets you have more than five minutes out in it before it starts to give you trouble.''
"But leather also resists being wrung dry," Kylin pointed out, coming even with where the girl lay. ''Take the tunic off and squeeze the water out of it, and maybe by dark it will have dried."
''And if it hasn't, I can spend the night freezing,'' the girl said sourly, using her left hand to try squeezing the very bottom of the tunic. ''Even in the north, I never really had to worry about freezing.''
''You still don't have to worry about it," Kylin murmured, putting his arm about the girl as he leaned closer. "I’ll make sure you don't freeze.''
Her head snapped up and she parted her lips to say something, but Kylin’s kiss ended whatever it would have been even before it started. He hadn't meant to do that, hadn't intended to push the newborn warmth Sofaltis was beginning to show, but he couldn't help himself. The wet tunic was outlining every curve and rise of her, and his mind kept shouting that the woman was his. He'd wanted her from the very first moment he’d seen her, and having had her once had only fed his desire, not sated it. Her lips were so soft and warm under his, the memory of rain still on them, and although she’d begun by struggling in his arms her lips weren't struggling. They were returning what they were being given, and the realization of that sent the heat racing all through his blood.
"Tisah,'' he murmured to the lids closed over her eyes, his hand in her hair as his lips continued to touch her. "My great-aunt's name was Sofaltis, and my great-uncle called her Tisah. I think I've decided to do the same."
"No - please - don't," she whispered with eyes still closed, trying to find the struggling she'd earlier lost. She wasn't referring to the name he'd chosen for her, and they both knew it.
"I won't hurt you," he crooned as though she were as young, innocent, and afraid as she sounded, his right hand sliding down and under that very wet tunic. ''I'd never hurt you, and I mean to prove it every day for the rest of our lives. You won't regret any of this, Tisah, that I promise.''
She moaned and tossed her head as though she were in pain, but there were no more words from her. Her flesh was damp but so very soft, and Kylin nearly moaned himself at the feel of it. She was his, his! - and in just another few moments he would prove it to her. Right then he was savoring what his palm and lips touched, the movement of her against him, the feel of having his arms around her. It seemed as though he'd waited forever to experience that, and he wasn't going to ruin it all by rushing. He wanted to rush, by Evon’s Silver Blade he wanted to rush, but instead he took her lips again fiercely, his hand this time going to that warmth between her thighs. Her gasp also brought her hands to his back, and then Kylin knew he was truly Home.
Chapter 10
The sound of birds woke me, and although I was very comfortable I couldn't at first remember where I was. It was dim there, the air had an after-rain freshness, a hard, warm body pressed lightly against my back, while a big arm circled my waist -
If there had been more headroom I would have sat bolt upright, thanks to the sudden return of memory. Without the headroom all I did was stiffen, silently cursing myself for the biggest damned fool alive. The day before I'd not only let him touch me I'd cooperated, for Evon's sake, just as though he weren't an enemy to my family! I'd actually wanted him to touch me, and when he had I'd enjoyed it!
I closed my eyes again and just lay still, remembering with a good deal of bitterness how I'd assured my father that I wasn't the sort to fall prey to the first attractive man likely to come along. I was strong, and independent, and a Blade, and something like that would never happen to me. I couldn't quite understand why it had happened, unless it had been caused by the memory of the first time he'd made love to me. The big fool was unexpectedly good, and I wasn’t used to denying myself the good ones, and he'd gone out of his way to make me laugh, and he hadn't even cursed the fawn when he'd gotten hurt freeing it -
But none of that changed the fact that he was my enemy. I stirred a little under the arm around my waist, feeling annoyance begin to push its way in beside the upset. Now that I was thinking about it, I could suddenly see another possible reason for the way I'd behaved: his constant references to our "upcoming marriage." No matter what I'd said he'd continued to insist that we were going to be married, and the attitude must have affected my judgment. I didn't want to marry him - or anybody - but the corner I'd been pushed into was telling me I'd have no choice - that he would be my husband - with a husband's rights - so I'd better get used to it -
''Son of a garbage eater!'' I muttered under my breath, really getting angry. Wasn't that typical of a cowardly enemy, coming at you from behind! He was using everything he could to defeat me, even my own mind, but it wasn't going to happen. It was time I started to fight back, and in the same way I was being attacked. If he wanted to play the game of hints and assuming and taking-for-granted, there was a dandy version of it I could use....
"Well, good morning,'' I heard from behind me in a murmur, and the arm around my waist was suddenly more than simply there. "I'd say it was a lovely morning, the beginning of a really pretty day. What say we give it a proper greeting?"
His lips came to my right shoulder with that, showing he was telling more than asking, already well into the prerogatives of a husband. If he hadn't been an enemy I would have been more than interested, but he was an enemy so I couldn't afford to let myself be drawn in. I had no experience in dealing with husbands, but associating with men on an almost constant basis gives a woman very useful insights.
''Well, if you really want to,'' I grudged without turning to him, heavy reluctance and disinterest in my sigh of resignation. His hand, which had begun to stroke my middle just below my breasts paused, and there was a moment of silence.
"After all that activity yesterday afternoon and last night, I expected more enthusiasm,'' he said then, his tone tinged with confusion and showing less assurance. ''Are you trying to say you don't want me to make love to you?"
''I'm not silly enough to believe I can stop you,'' I said with another sigh, unhappy but resigned. ''What difference does what I want make?''
"It makes a lot of difference," he returned, stung enough to use the arm that had been around me to shift me to my back. ''You sound as though you expect to be raped and that bothers me, especially since what I best remember from yesterday is eager response.''
"Well, of course I responded," I said with a small laugh, looking up into his sober face. "Once a woman has a certain amount of experience, she'll respond whether she wants to or not. The reaction becomes automatic, and she has very little control over it even if she turns out to be disappointed later."
"Disappointed?" he repeated, expressionlessly picking up on the word I'd wanted him to. ''You didn't enjoy what we had together?"
"Oh, it wasn't that I didn't enjoy it," I hastened to assure him, putting one hand to his wide, bare chest in an effort to take the sting out of the bitter truth I was being forced to speak. "You have to remember how many men I've tried over the years, and some of them were so - really good - that it's hard for other men to - come up to the standards they set - Oh, dear, I don't think I'm saying this right....''
"No, it's all right,'' he muttered, no longer quite looking at me. "You can't be blamed for not - ''
His words died out as his thoughts turned inward, the idea of having fallen short of the mark affecting his assurance the way I'd hoped it would. Women have one great benefit over men in that they don't need belief and self-assurance in order to perform; men, however, can't do without it. Laughter and ridicule won't stop a confident man any longer than it takes to get you out of your leathers, but understanding pity and commiseration can be devastating. Big, strong Kylin had gotten a taste of that, and suddenly his interest in proper new-day greetings wasn't as strong as it had been.
Very thoughtfully I refrained from interrupting his brooding, and when he came out of it after a minute or two the original subject was well behind us. It suddenly
became a good idea to get back on the road as quickly as possible, and although I was quietly sympathetic I didn't argue. Kylin of Arthil refused to let himself be pushed around as easily as other men, but when it came to being manipulated he seemed to have no resistance at all.
We got ourselves out from under the bushes before trying to get back into clothing and such, which was then accomplished with Kylin's attention some place other than on me. The tunic I'd had from him had dried during the night, which meant I had no more to do than slip it on, then tie my improvised sandals. Surprisingly enough, even with trousers, boots, dagger and pouch belt, and swordbelt, my companion was dressed almost as quickly as I was. We then shared what was left of the chicken for breakfast, searched for and found a leaf pocket of rainwater to wash the meal down, and then continued on our way.
The trail we were following didn't narrow again, and we continued on for hours with me, at least, hoping it would take us some place sooner rather than later. I used the silence of the hours for thinking purposes, but all that came out of the effort was added frustration. Making my enemy doubt himself was useful for keeping his hands off me while we traveled, but I wasn't foolish enough to believe it would affect his decision concerning our marriage. It wasn't me he primarily wanted, after all, so the plans he and his cohorts had made would stand. They had my father and me neatly boxed in, they thought, but there had to be a way out of the trap. Hours of thinking continued to leave me without the least idea as to where the key to freedom lay, but that didn't mean there wasn't any or that I was ready to give up.