Hemlock

by N. J. Layouni

  “To convince me—”

  “Oh, for the love of God!” Her simmering temper flashed back to a boil. If he doesn’t kill me soon, I might have to do it myself. “You’re just too fecking damaged to be saved.”

  She shoved him hard in his chest. He barely moved. The half-smile playing on his lips inflamed her even more. “Go on then. Do it!” She lashed out, slapping his stupid, handsome face. His smile vanished, and his eyes returned to stone slits. Good! “Kill me!” Her fingers tingled with the contact. She liked it and raised her hand to hit him again.

  But he was ready for her this time, grasping her wrist as she launched her hand. “Witch!”

  “If I were a witch, I’d turn you into a toad and stamp on you, mate,” she snarled. She was going to die soon anyway. He couldn’t do her any worse harm than that.

  As Vadim hauled her closer, she struck out with her free hand, only narrowly missing his face. At the same time, she kicked at his shins. His grunt of pain gave her much satisfaction.

  “Be still, you hellion!” Vadim roared, securing her flailing hands in one of his and holding them firmly behind her back. He trapped her foot between his legs, preventing from kicking him again. But she kept on struggling, her body writhing against his as he tried to secure her, cursing him with every vile name in her considerable repertoire. She was only dimly aware of Forge barking at them.

  “Martha. Stop this!”

  “Why should I?” Her hair flew wild about her face. “I’m not…going to make it easy for you to…kill me.”

  “Kill you?” Vadim’s eyes narrowed. “I was angry, but I would never do you harm.”

  That stopped her. “Wh…huh?” She looked up at him, panting from her exertions. “Why not?”

  Rearrange these words, you idiot: Horse, gift, look, never, a, mouth, in, the!

  “Does it matter?” He released her hands and stroked a tendril of hair back from her face. As his features relaxed, the ice retreated from his eyes and warmth returned. The Vadim she knew—or thought she knew—had returned.

  “Yes. It matters.” He might be thawing, but she certainly wasn’t. She swatted his hand away and tried to take a step backwards. Unfortunately, her foot was still trapped firmly between his legs. She would have fallen were it not for his arm around her back.

  He trailed his fingers down her cheek.

  Did he have a split personality or something? “Will you please stop mauling me? And take your fecking hair out of my mouth!” She pushed uselessly against the hardness of his chest.

  But he drew her nearer, leaning until their foreheads almost touched. His hair fell about them in a dark and private shelter, hiding them from the world, and he didn’t let her go.

  Martha flinched beneath the heat of his gaze. Despite everything, after all he’d accused her of, her body responded to his nearness. Her legs wobbled, and heat flooded her veins. Imperceptibly, she swayed towards him.

  Hello? Have you forgotten you thought he wanted to kill you only a few moments ago?

  Apparently so. And she no longer cared. As if governed by his will, she slid her hands up his chest and linked them about the strong column of his neck. Vadim smiled. The small crooked one that always released killer butterflies into her stomach. She couldn’t fight him. Not when she wanted him so badly.

  “I really hate you,” she murmured against his lips.

  “I know,” he replied softly. “And so you should.”

  ***

  When their lips touched, Vadim forgot everything except the woman in his arms. With a groan of hunger, he gathered her closer, crushing her soft, pliant body against him. Martha did not resist. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she opened her mouth and kissed him back, her tongue sliding irresistibly over his.

  How I have missed her.

  She moaned within his mouth, and the sound of her pleasure set his blood ablaze. Traitor or not, some things could not be faked. She might hate him, but she wanted him. But not nearly as much as he craved her.

  Breathing fast, he cupped one of her soft buttock and held her to the hardness of his body. It would be easy to take her, to make her truly his.

  In one smooth movement, he had her down on the ground, pinioned beneath him. Still she made no protest. Her arms only tightened about the back of his neck as she clung to him, demanding his kiss with a rising savagery. The taste of her made his head spin. He wanted to bury himself within her until everything else ceased to exist. What she was, what she had done, no longer mattered.

  No woman had ever wielded such power over him.

  Martha slipped her hands beneath his shirt and grazed her nails over the hot muscles of his back. He shuddered. The touch of her icy fingers upon his flesh was too good. Taking his lower lip between her teeth, she sucked on it, his body hardening with each pull. Just as he thought he would explode, she moved on, kissing her way along his jaw line.

  He exhaled a shuddering breath. But the respite was all too brief. She pressed her lips to his ear, murmuring his name in a manner which was as bold as it was needful. The ache within him fast became unbearable.

  He trembled in her arms, as though this was his first time with a woman. Cupping her face in his hands, he looked down into her dilated eyes. The heat of her rapid breaths scorched against his lips.

  “What enchantment is this?” He lowered his hand, trailing his knuckles over the exposed swell of her breasts. She shivered and closed her eyes, arching her neck to entice him. Her response pleased him. “You truly are a witch, my love.”

  Martha’s eyelids flickered open. She regarded him languidly, a tiny smile drifting over her lips. “Ssh.” She pulled him down to kiss her, and Vadim had no thought of resisting. Burying his fingers in the thick, damp waves of her hair, he surrendered. Her will was his.

  Gradually, their frenzied kisses became one deep and endless embrace. Though he was hardly aware of doing so, his hand moved, sliding beneath her skirt, tracing the curve of her calf. He squeezed gently then moved higher, brushing up the side of her knee to her lower thigh. The fever of her skin increased the further he explored, tantalising him, urging him on.

  It took all the strength he had not to push ahead with his advance, though it cost him dear. He could barely hear the sound of his own labored breaths for the blood thundering through his head. The throbbing in his trews was becoming unendurable.

  Then Martha arched beneath him, parting her thighs to accommodate him, beckoning him nearer. How he wished he could accept. Never had any invitation been so welcome. The softness of her body was as welcoming as a feather bed. It would be easy to assuage the hunger that devoured him from the inside. He longed to possess her whole, to end his suffering. The secrets of her body were there beneath him, waiting to be discovered, to be claimed as his own. Traitor or not, he wanted her.

  And what of your honor? Can you set it aside so easily?

  With effort, Vadim dragged his mouth away from the sweet oblivion of her kisses. Easily? No. Her small mewl of protest did nothing to ease his pain.

  But he did not leave her yet. Breathing hard, he withdrew his hand from her hair and, leaning on one elbow, he trailed his fingers across her flushed face. Wordlessly, she looked up at him, a tiny crease forming on her brow. Reality was returning to her again. He watched the passion disperse from her eyes like the clouds after a summer storm.

  Vadim watched and listened, committing every moment to memory, storing them with his most precious thoughts, along with the beloved inhabitants of days long ago.

  He could not stop himself from touching her, stroking her, prolonging the bitter joy of her nearness. When Martha’s hands slipped from beneath his shirt, he knew she was herself again. The expression in her eyes told him clearly what her mouth did not.

  Her body tensed beneath him. She wanted him gone.

  How long would it take to make her pliant and willing again?

  ‘Twas a dangerous thought. Taking care not to squash her, he rolled away and stood up.

  He pr
offered his hand down to her, but Martha ignored it and scrambled to her feet without his aid. She dusted herself off, adjusting the clothing that had come loose in the fervor of their passion. To his annoyance, she caught him looking at her as his eyes lingered a moment too long on the low neckline of her dress. With a little huff, she pulled her cloak about herself, hiding her luscious body from his sight. He experienced a pang of disappointment tinged with guilt.

  With her head held high, Martha met his gaze. Now her eyes were as cold as the winter snows.

  “I didn’t go all the way down into the village.” Her voice was so quiet that he had to strain to hear her words. “If you must know, I spent the day on the ridge above Darumvale, watching what was going on. I couldn’t come back until dusk in case the soldiers spotted me.” She ran a hand over her hair in a useless attempt to tame its love-mussed beauty. “That’s the truth, Vadim. Take it or leave it. I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

  She turned away and, calling to Forge, walked back toward the cavern. She did not look back.

  What a fool he was. He should have waited and let her explain. Instead, he had behaved like a savage. Why?

  Because it would be safer for you if she was a traitor. The voice in his heart mocked him. It is safer to hate than to love, is it not? Ah! She has you shackled now, my friend.

  With a swirl of his cloak, Vadim strode away into the night. The need to escape overwhelmed him. If he stayed, Martha’s virtue and his honor would not live to see another sunrise.

  Go on, run. His inner voice laughed. For all your courage, you are nothing but a worthless coward.

  ***

  Martha watched him leave. After craving his presence for so long, she was now glad to see him go. What she needed was a little time to collect herself.

  She tried to light the fire, but her hands trembled so badly she couldn’t get a spark. She dropped the flint and it hit the ground with a thud. Damn him!

  Forge whined, pleading for his supper, so she gave him a share of the remaining dried meat, and a little of the stale bread. “Sorry, lad. That’s the best I can do.”

  Forge didn’t mind. He wolfed his food down with quick enthusiasm. Once he was certain nothing else was on offer, he went outside to snuffle in the bushes for rabbits.

  Martha wasn’t hungry. How could she think of food after what had just happened?

  When she eventually managed to light the fire, she sat for a long time, staring into the dancing flames, occasionally raising her fingers to her swollen lips. The memory of Vadim’s kiss still lingered. But it meant nothing. Less than nothing. Hadn’t she any pride at all? He’d made his feelings perfectly clear, yet she’d clung to him like an animal in heat. She cringed to think of it.

  Can’t you fall in love with a nice, honest bloke for a change?

  She leaned over and threw another piece of wood onto the fire. Ouch! She sucked in her breath and pressed a hand to her aching ribcage. It felt bruised and sore. But that was hardly surprising after being pressed against the handles of Vadim’s sword and dagger for so long—though she’d barely registered any discomfort at the time.

  But it was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. The true nature of Vadim’s ‘friendship’ was her worst injury. She’d trusted him, loved him. And all the time he’d been lying to her. He was her jailer. He’d never been her friend. Never.

  “You stupid, stupid girl!” She chucked another log onto the fire then went in search of her bedroll.

  Wide-eyed and sleepless, she lay for hours, staring at the fire, reliving each hurtful word and every bitter kiss. She was still too angry to cry.

  As the light of the new day touched the horizon, sleep finally arrived to claim her.

  Her last conscious though was that Vadim hadn’t returned.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  After a brief and troubled sleep, Martha opened her gritty eyes to another beautiful day. There was still no sign of Vadim. He’d probably abandoned her for good this time.

  Well, he can suit himself. I’m done with him and his paranoia. She refused to break her heart over another worthless bloke. How many months of her life had she wasted crying about Tony? Well, she wasn’t about to do the same thing over Vadim.

  Despite the early hour, it was already warm. Today promised to be even hotter than yesterday. Martha snuggled her face into Forge’s neck as he lay beside her and closed her eyes, listening to the chorus of joyous birdsong. But the sounds didn’t soothe her. If anything, her mood was even blacker than it’d been on the previous night.

  Anger simmered in her guts, gnawing at her until she couldn’t lie still another moment. Kicking off the blanket, she scrambled out of bed and grabbed her backpack, carelessly stuffing her paltry possessions into it. If Vadim ever decided to return, he wouldn’t find her waiting for him like an expectant dog. Damn him to hell!

  “C’mon, Forge.” The dog was still asleep on the bedroll, snoring and twitching. She nudged him with her toe, making him jump. “Get up, you lazy old thing. We’re leaving.”

  ***

  As the sun reached its zenith, Vadim arrived back at the cave, a couple of rabbits swinging in his hand.

  Martha was nowhere to be seen. Where had she gone now?

  But a quick search of the cavern told him this was not another of her exploratory jaunts. Her bedroll and pack were gone. Nothing remained to indicate she had any intention of returning. His heart quickened, whether due to anger or concern he could not tell.

  The infuriating little witch!

  He had spent much of the previous night deep in thought, examining his uncharacteristic behaviour and wondering at the cause of it. Since Martha had entered his life, Vadim hardly recognised himself anymore. She vexed and inflamed him by turn and seemed to deliberately set out to court his blackest moods. Not only was she stubborn, wilful, and devious, her lack of propriety frequently shocked him. Hardly the kind of woman any man would choose for a wife. She was altogether terrible.

  He kicked a small stone with unnecessary force and sent it clattering about the cavern. Something on the floor drew his eye. He crouched down and picked up an old sock. One of his. Turning it over in his hands, he recognised the haphazard darning on the heel. As he traced his finger over the stitches, his heart twisted. Martha’s work.

  Despite the warning in his head, she had somehow managed to creep beneath his skin and find a place within his stony heart. He smiled and tucked the sock into his jerkin. Not only was she the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, but she was kind, generous, fearless, and altogether diverting.

  Truly, she was perfection in a womanly form. She made him smile when he thought he had forgotten how. How could he not love her?

  He had returned to camp with the express intention of telling her so, directly after begging her forgiveness, of course. His conduct on the previous night had been utterly vile.

  Now she had denied him even that. He ground his teeth. When he caught up with her, he would throttle her. Or perhaps he should spank her instead? His lips curved into a grim smile. Both prospects were equally appealing.

  ***

  It was good to be on the move, to be doing something again, instead of sitting back and waiting for life to happen.

  Martha marched along at a brisk pace, her arms swinging by her sides. As the warm sunshine caressed her skin, she finally noticed the beauty of the new day. Forge bounded ahead, following the trail they’d taken on the day Guy had died.

  Since returning to Darumvale was out of the question, she set her sights on Edgeway. Of course, she’d need money to establish herself there. Perhaps she should take Guy’s horse and sell it? Yes. That might work. She couldn’t leave the poor creature to starve in that overgrown paddock.

  For once, she had no fear of the unknown. Anger and betrayal still burned too brightly within her heart. What was left to fear? She’d lost her home world. Except for her own miserable life, what did she have to lose?

  Making plans was good. It stopp
ed her mind from dwelling in dark places.

  When she reached Edgeway, she’d need to find lodgings and some form of employment. Once she was settled, she’d ask around about this Madoc the Seer fellow—if he even existed. He was probably yet another of Vadim’s lies. She wouldn’t put anything past that man. And to think, she had— No. It was best not to dwell on it.

  Forget about him, Bigalow. The man you loved never existed.

  He was an actor playing a role, one designed to suit his own twisted purposes. Ooh, but he was slick! He’d known how vulnerable she was, yet he’d deceived her without mercy. Martha scowled and quickened her pace. Two-timing Tony now looked snowy innocent in comparison with such a hardened player as Vadim.

  He didn’t have a heart. Just a swinging brick attached to a bit of rope.

  She should have left him long ago. The sooner she got away the better.

  It would take all day to get back down the hill if she dawdled. Martha broke into a jog. She was finished with dawdling. For good.

  ***

  Vadim tracked her as far as the ruins of the old Miller homestead. He crouched in the dust and traced his fingers around the outline of a horseshoe. The freshest tracks did nothing to hearten him. Martha must have taken Guy’s horse. He did not need one of Ma’s visions to guess her destination.

  “Oh, Martha,” he murmured. “What have you done?”

  Cold needles of fear pricked his spine. If anything happened to her he would never recover from it. All the blame would lie at his feet.

  He got up from the dirt and looked along the road in the direction she had taken. He could not let her go. Not now. He would make her listen. There was still some hope. Although she was angry, he knew she bore some gentler feelings for him.

  First, he needed a horse. He could have run to Edgeway, but that would only extend Martha’s lead. The less time she spent without him, the happier he would be. By all the Spirits, he prayed she would stay safe until he found her again.