From what she could gather, the villagers relied on peddlers—travelling salesmen—for much of their news. The knowledge they brought with them was often far more valuable than their wares.
In summer, the villagers got their news fresh from the ‘Big Smoke’—as she called Edgeway—at the weekly market. In winter, however, this was impossible. The High Born—the nobles—might communicate with one another by hawk or pigeon mail, but this method was beyond the means of most ordinary folk.
Who would they communicate with anyway? Most local girls seemed to marry a boy from the same village—or maybe from the next one if they were particularly daring. News was usually only walking distance away. And if the nobility had news for the villages under their control, they certainly had the money and the means to make it widely known.
She squeezed her dress, wringing the scummy soap water from it.
This world was certainly much smaller than the one she’d left behind. Most of the people she’d met hadn’t ever travelled further than Edgeway; the world beyond its borders was as mysterious to them as it was to her. Darumvale was the centre of their universe. It was the place they were born and, most probably, where they’d die.
So where did Vadim fit in?
Darumvale might be his winter base, but she got the impression it wasn’t his permanent home. He seemed too large for the village, somehow. Perhaps he really did belong in the mountains? Or maybe with the woman who had loaned her the dress. She should have asked him about her, but she wasn’t brave enough.
It’s none of your business anyway. She diverted her attention back to her laundry. There was no point torturing herself about his mystery woman. Vadim and his personal life were none of her concern. The sooner she got that into her thick skull the better. All that mattered was getting home again.
She wrung out her clothes until her hands ached and then arranged the damp garments by the fire, draping them over the chair backs.
Laundry complete, Martha dragged the tub outside to empty it.
Enormous snowflakes tumbled from the sky, obscuring everything. She could barely make out the Great Hall anymore. Even the mountains had vanished into the whiteout. Shivering, she propped the tub against the wall of the house then hurried back indoors.
After the chill of outside, the heat of the cottage hit her like a physical blow. It was like walking into an overheated department store on a winter’s day. She slid the doorbolt and went to check on her steaming laundry.
The embers in the hearth glowed hot and red, and flickering shadows danced about the whitewashed walls. Forge looked up, his tail thumping a welcome on the thick wooden floor.
“Do you want to go out? You must need to pee by now.”
In reply, the dog gave a huge yawn and flopped onto his side. Apparently not.
Actually, taking a nap wasn’t a bad idea. The bed looked so inviting, all heaped up with blankets and furs. So what that it was only late afternoon? She was tired and, until her clothes were dry, she couldn’t go anywhere.
The lure of the bed was impossible to resist. Martha crawled deep beneath the covers like an animal about to hibernate. The furs felt like silk against her skin. Eyes closed, she listened to the wind as it blew itself into a gale, moaning like a soul in torment beneath the eaves of the house.
Snuggled up safe and warm in her cozy cocoon, she felt sleep beckoning her. Was Vadim safe and warm, wherever he was? She hoped so. Although she was not a particularly godly person, she offered up a silent prayer for his safe return.
Bang. Bang. Bang!
Sweet Baby Jesus! Martha sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding. What the feck was that?
Forge was going crazy, barking and scrabbling at the door.
“Be quiet, lad!” She swung her legs out of bed. “It’s only Sylvie and Seth, you great eejit!” They’d promised to call on her before bedtime.
She pattered barefoot across the wooden floor, and shoved the dog to one side with her hip. “Wait a minute,” she called. “I’m coming.” They probably wouldn’t hear her over Forge’s thunderous barks of displeasure.
Grabbing the dog with one hand, she slid the door bolt. “It’s open.” She pulled Forge away from the door, clinging to his scruff so he couldn’t attack her visitors. He was certainly riled enough.
The latch clicked up, and the door swung open, a blast of snowflakes gusting in on the howling wind.
Along with Vadim.
“Never open the door without first knowing who stands on the other side!” His brows merged into a mono-brow, he scowled at her so fiercely. “I might have been anyone.” With that, he kicked the door closed behind him.
Martha’s heart swelled. The joy of seeing him standing there, stamping snow from his boots and looking so thoroughly out of humor, welled up in her chest like a huge bubble of helium. “You’re back!”
She released Forge and flung herself into Vadim’s arms. If her greeting surprised him he didn’t show it. With only the briefest hesitation, he hugged her until her ribs creaked.
“Foolish girl,” he muttered against her hair. “When will you ever learn caution?”
Holding her shoulders, he set her away from him and looked her up and down. His eyes widened as they encountered the low neckline of her shirt. “Whatever are you wearing?”
“It’s yours. I hope you don’t mind. My things are still drying…oops!” As she followed the direction of his gaze, she saw just how much skin the garment revealed. Grabbing the edges of the neckline, she pulled them together before Vadim’s eyes prolapsed completely.
He cleared his throat. “And you consider that a suitable garment for answering the door?” His mouth curved into a slow smile. “What if I had been old man Hemble?”
Martha grinned. “He’d have probably suffered a heart attack. Anyway, I thought you were Sylvie.”
“An easy mistake, I am certain.” Vadim released her and swung off his cloak, showering the room with thousands of tiny ice crystals that fell tinkling to the floor. “Though I doubt Sylvie would have the strength to batter at a door with a sword handle for so long. I had begun to think you were dead.” He hung his cloak behind the door.
Martha giggled. “Stop exaggerating. You only knocked three times.” Her head swam with the delight of seeing him again.
He took off his sword belt and lay it on of one of the chests. “I was not pleased to discover you had abandoned Seth’s worthy hall.”
“But I needed a bath. It’s impossible to get any privacy there. You know that.”
“Anything could have happened to you.”
“In this village?” She arched her eyebrows at him and snorted. “I sincerely doubt it.”
She stroked Forge’s head as he leaned against her legs. The dog still eyed Vadim with silent suspicion.
“Besides,” she continued, “I had Forge for protection, just in case the Evil Earl decided to ski across country and find me. Not that he even knows who I am.”
“Martha.” Vadim frowned, not appreciating her levity.
“Did you find him, by the way?”
“No.” He crouched down and unfastened his sodden boots. “I received word he is back in Edgeway castle. We were lucky he chose another route. He will not be travelling further abroad for some weeks. Nor will anyone else, for that matter. I barely made it back myself.”
Martha nodded, very grateful that he had. “Who told you where he was? One of the ‘others’ Jem mentioned the other night?”
He stiffened and looked up at her. “Yes.”
“Is he like you? Does he live in the mountains too?”
“He is an outlaw, just like me. Yes. Perhaps we might discuss this later?”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” He looked so tired. The dark smudges beneath his eyes spoke of his fatigue. What was she thinking? “Come and sit down.” She hurried over to the fire and tugged her drying shift from the chair so he had somewhere to sit.
***
Once he had removed his boots, Vadim glanced over
to where Martha stood prodding at the glowing fire with a metal poker.
By all that is sacred!
He shook his head and looked away. “Perhaps you…might wear your cloak until your gown is dry.”
“Why?” She turned her head to look at him, apparently oblivious of what he had seen. “I’m not cold.”
Vadim could not meet her eyes, such was his discomfort. “Your shirt…” He cleared his throat again. “The fire has rendered it almost…transparent.”
“Shit!” Martha threw down the poker and backed away, her arms folded over her breasts.
Vadim fixed his eyes on a swirling knot of wood, high up on one of the roof beams. At last, he heard the whisper of fabric upon fabric.
“Okay. You can look now.”
Vadim exhaled and turned around. To his relief, Martha was safely shrouded from neck to ankle in thick, serviceable wool. She disturbed him enough when she was fully clothed. But, to his cost, he could not un-see what he had just witnessed. The vision of her body’s gentle curves outlined beneath that thin shirt was now etched onto his memory, adding more fuel to the inner fires he battled to conceal.
Throughout his scouting trip, Martha’s ghost had been his constant companion, tormenting him with the memory of her kiss and the feel of her soft body pressed to his. And now that he had tasted her, he wanted more. Much more.
But he was her protector. If he seduced her, she would have a claim on him. His life was dangerous enough without the added burden of a woman. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides, resisting the urge to wrench the cloak from her shoulders and press his lips to her smooth, pale skin.
“Are you hungry?” Martha asked, lighting a candle with a taper from the fire. “Sylvie sent lots of food if you want something.” Without waiting for his reply, she hurried about preparing supper, chattering as she worked.
Vadim barely heard her words, too intent was he on mastering himself. As he sat beside the fire, the heat gradually penetrated his icy limbs and banished the primal lust from his blood. Martha was safe. For now.
With a bright smile, she handed him a wooden platter heaped with food. Then she shooed Forge away from the front of the hearth so that he could stretch out his legs.
“Thank you,” he said when she sat down beside him. “You are most kind.”
While he ate, Martha regaled him with tales of all she had done during his absence, including the finer points of soap-making.
“How is it that something so wonderful starts out so vile? I had to swallow back a vomit burp more than once.” She grinned. “I don’t think Ma and Sylvie would have appreciated that in their cauldron, do you?”
Fortunately, he had finished eating.
“Probably not,” he agreed with a chuckle. “Though by all accounts, you have been working very hard recently. The ladies of the big house had only the best things to say about you when I called on them earlier.”
“Really? It’s nice to know I’ve managed to impress someone here. But you might want to talk to Bren before you go believing the good stuff. She thinks I’m useless, and quite rightly too.”
“Bren can be…plainly spoken, but she has a good heart.”
“I know. She’s one of the nicest people I’ve met so far.”
He took another sip of his ale. It was weak and watery, unlikely to get him drunk no matter how much he imbibed. Which was just as well. For both their sakes.
Suddenly, Martha leaned forward, studying his face. “I thought you said you were going to get rid of your beard.”
“You do not like it?” Vadim touched the black stubble upon his chin. “I thought I might keep it after all. It is certainly much warmer than going about bare-faced in this weather.” And it might serve as a reminder not to kiss her again.
She shrugged one shoulder. “It’s your face. Whatever floats your boat, mate.”
“I beg your pardon?” Some of her expressions were difficult to fathom at times.
“I mean,” she explained, “you should do as you wish. If you like your beard, keep it. Besides, I’m currently growing one on each of my legs, so I can’t pass judgement.” With a grin, she parted her cloak, giving him a brief flash of her shins. “See?”
His jaw dropped. “You remove the hair from your legs? Whatever for? Is it a custom where you come from?”
“I suppose it is. I hadn’t really thought about it.” She took the empty platter from his lap and stood up. “Do you want any more ale?”
Patting his tunic in search of his pipe, he watched as she moved about the cottage, illuminated by firelight. Were all the women of her world as singular as she, or as beautiful? He shook his head, upbraiding himself for thinking such a thing.
She is not yours, and she never will be. Remember that.
***
That night, Martha sensed a shift in their relationship.
Admittedly, she had her emotions on a tighter rein, refusing to listen to the insistent whisperings of her heart. But this was something else. Something from him.
Vadim was different. Withdrawn. Oh, he was still courteous and friendly, but that was it. His eyes no longer burned when he looked at her. And when they were forced into close proximity, the air did not fizz and crackle as it had before. Not on his side, anyway.
It was as if someone had reached inside his head and flicked an inner switch to the ‘off’ position. Had she only imagined those kisses in the snow?
Their wedding feast was a large and merry affair, and the entire village turned up to celebrate it. The Great Hall glowed as bright as day with dozens of torches and expensive beeswax candles, and at the center of the event was a delicious spit-roasted deer.
Fiddles and flutes played irresistible tunes, toe-tapping music that made it impossible not to want to dance. Everywhere she looked, Martha saw smiling faces. The sounds of conversation and laughter competed with the music. The Great Hall seemed to come alive. It really did feel like the heart of the village.
Seth rolled out more barrels of his beloved ale for the celebration, fueling another round of toasts to the ‘happy couple’. Some of the bawdier wishes made Martha blush to her ear tips. Vadim only smiled and raised his tankard in reply. He wove his fingers with hers, giving her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
Fortunately, the music resumed. A slower tune this time. “Shall we?” Vadim set down his beer—which he’d barely touched all night—and led her to the middle of the hall.
Folded in his arms, she swayed to the music with her head resting upon his chest. She closed her eyes for a few moments, savoring the feel of him. His warmth and man-scent caused the bunched up muscles in her shoulders to sag. She sighed, kneading the softness of his loose linen shirt with her fingers, pretending their closeness was real.
Vadim hummed softly to himself as he held her. The low sound rumbling through his chest and into her head. Where was he now, she wondered. Who was he with? Not her.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he murmured at length, his lips moving upon her hair.
Reluctantly, Martha raised her head to look at him. “Yes. Are you?”
He smiled and touched her cheek. “I hardly know.”
Oh, for goodness sake. “What’s to know?” she asked, cross with him now. “It’s a simple enough question.”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb, its roughness grazing lightly over her skin. “For you, perhaps. Ah, Martha. Your view of life is so simple. I envy you that.”
Great. Now he thinks I’m simple.
At that moment, the music stopped, saving her from saying something she’d probably later regret.
As much as she despised the deception of their ‘marriage’, it was nice to be the focus of so many good wishes. The villagers presented the ‘happy couple’ with small gifts: a carving in the shape of a horse, several pieces of pottery, and a matching pair of matching cloak pins, to name but a few.
The best present of all, however, came from Bren and her husband, Jared.
“Here.” Bren sh
oved a beautifully worked leather collar into Martha’s hand. “We may as well make it official since Forge practically lives with you now.”
“You mean?” Her eyes shone as she looked into Bren’s slightly horsey-looking face.
Bren nodded. “The dog is yours.”
“Oh, Bren!” She hugged the older woman hard and planted a kiss on her ruddy cheek. “Thank you so much. Both of you.” She directed a smile at Jared.
“Yes. Thank you,” Vadim added. “We are overwhelmed by your generosity.” He sounded more than a little sarcastic.
Jared guffawed with laughter and slapped Vadim energetically on the back several times, almost causing them both to spill their ale. “No, my friend. ‘Tis I who should be thanking you for taking that ungrateful beast off my hands.”
For the remainder of the party, although Vadim remained by her side, Martha became increasingly aware of the distance between them.
Had it always been there? Had she imagined it all? What she felt for him was real enough. She couldn’t stop looking at him, willing him to look at her.
Vadim must have felt her staring, for he glanced at her, his lips curving into a brief smile before returning to his conversation with Seth.
At old man Hemble’s insistence, and much to the delight of the other party guests, Vadim was eventually persuaded to kiss her.
“We might as well surrender, my love,” he said with a smile, taking her in his arms. “They will not leave us alone until we do.”
Martha shrugged, feigning the same indifference. “Might as well.” She tilted her face towards his, her heart leaping somersaults in her chest as she recalled the last time he’d kissed her.
Vadim drew her closer, but not close enough. He didn’t crush her to him as he’d done before. Lowering his head, he gently brushed her lips with his. The crowd roared in approval, and the fiddlers set off playing another up-tempo tune.
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