Martha had finally stopped running from him.
She looked innocent in repose, her head tipped back, her mouth slightly parted. Vadim traced a path over her swollen lips. He longed to taste them again. Hot need flared in his groin.
Again? What is wrong with me?
Little wonder she was so weary. He could not now recall the amount of times he had taken her in the night, and she had been most willing to accommodate his demands. He had never desired any woman in this way. Not even back in his wild youth.
They had left the bed only briefly on the previous night. While Martha went outside to find Forge, Vadim got up to throw more wood on the fire before gathering a hasty supper to silence their grumbling stomachs.
Within minutes, Forge was sleeping by the fire, and Vadim was back in Martha’s arms, their meal barely touched.
He stroked her hair, smiling at her sleeping face as the words of their vow repeated in his mind. Together or apart, we are now forever bound.
The demons in his head were finally silent. Overwhelmed by the love within his heart.
He had forgotten what it was to be happy until the day Martha entered his life. Before that day, living held no joy for him. Its surprises were always bloody, or painful. Frequently both.
The day he found her, down by the river, had changed everything almost overnight.
She erupted into his cold, gray life in a flood of warmth and vibrancy. Vexing and dazzling him by turn. In no time at all, she had turned his world on its head, and set it spinning wildly on its axis. She was disobedient, unpredictable, and infuriatingly irrational.
He pressed a kiss on her sleeping mouth, unable to resist the temptation of doing so.
But Martha had other qualities too. She was amusing and kind, generous and loving. She had managed to snare him without even trying.
Suddenly, he was looking down into her sleepy blue eyes.
Martha smiled up at him. “Hi.” Her voice sounded husky.
“Good morning, wife.”
“I’m not your wife,” she said through a yawn, which she attempted to stifle with the back of her hand. “Not yet, anyway.”
Now Vadim smiled. “Oh, but you are, my love.” He held her hand away from her mouth, ignoring her warning of, morning breath? “You do remember our vows?”
“How could I forget them?”
She would pay for that sultry little smile very soon. “So, then you see, we are now husband and wife.”
“But I thought hand-fasting was like an engagement…a betrothal?”
He stroked the little crease that had formed on her brow. “And so it is. Until that promise is…consummated.”
“Consummated?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, feck! And we consummated all night long, didn’t we?”
He was not concerned. It was a natural reaction, he supposed. Perhaps he might have taken the trouble to explain the ceremony properly to her beforehand. But she had seemed to know what hand-fasting was, or one version of it, at least.
Maybe it was beneath him. It was certainly not the honorable way. The truth was, he had not wanted to give her any room to wriggle free of the pledge, not once she had agreed to it.
“Do you regret it?” He asked against her lips, already knowing what her answer would be. It was there in her lovely eyes. Such expressive eyes as he had never seen before. “Are you…dissatisfied, perhaps?”
“Oh, God, no.” She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, kissing him urgently. Then she drew back with a mock frown. “And just for the record, husband, I would have spoken those vows even if you had bothered to explain the small print to me.”
Small print?
But he was too happy to ponder the meaning of her latest strange expression. He rolled on top of her and cupped her face in his hands, showering her with ticklish kisses until she was helpless with laughter, squirming deliciously beneath him.
Suddenly, her merriment faded, and her eyes darkened. A sign he recognised of her own increasing passion. But he glimpsed something else too. A flickering shadow of pain.
“Vadim?”
“Tell me.” He stroked a strand of hair back from her face.
“Don’t ever let me go again, okay?” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “When I thought you were dead, I—”
“Hush.” Vadim kissed her tenderly, his heart aching for her. Since Martha returned, they had not discussed their separation, not properly. Not in the way that mattered. Now, for the first time, he caught a glimpse of the wounds she had kept hidden from him. “Only death will keep me from you, my love. I will always come home to you, I swear.”
What must she have thought, all alone in Edgeway for so long? No wonder she had fallen so easily into Anselm’s clutches. She had been vulnerable. Easy prey. The thought of his foster brother touching her sent a pulse of white hot anger through his body. Thank the Spirits she had run when she did.
He kissed her until she made the soft mewling sounds in his mouth which so inflamed him, then he thrust hard into the welcome of her body, claiming her as his. She was close. As her eyes rolled back, Martha clung to him, repeating his name like a prayer.
My wife. My love.
He cried out as he spilled into her, filling her with his seed. Then, exhausted, he collapsed beside her, resting his head upon her soft breast. He closed his eyes and listened to the gradual slowing of her heart. Martha held him, preening his hair with her fingers.
It sent him to sleep as sweetly as a lullaby.
***
Martha untangled herself from Vadim’s arms and crawled out of bed. She had to. Her bladder was about ready to burst. Forge seemed to have the same idea. He scratched at the door, whining softly to be let out.
“Come back to bed,” Vadim said. “It is still raining outside.”
Propped up on one arm with a sheet draped across his hips, it was all she could do to resist his allure. Martha chewed on her bruised lower lip. He looks so fine, though. It took all of her will not to obey him, to go over there and pull off that sheet and tangle her hands in his love-mussed hair.
“I don’t care,” she said firmly and swung her cloak over her nakedness. “I need to pee.”
She opened the door a fraction, and Forge darted outside, barging her aside in his haste to escape. Vadim was right. The rain was still belting down from the leaden sky, turning the ground to mud.
She inhaled, filling her lungs with the fresh, cool air as it dispelled the warm, heavy scent of love from the room.
“You could just use the bucket.”
“No, I could not!” Martha declared, blushing furiously. “Stop trying to tempt me back to bed, Vadim. I’m going.” She opened the door a little wider. As if I’d let him watch me—
He chuckled. “Strange creature. I am on intimate terms with every part of your delightful body now.”
His voice kept her there, plaiting her legs and holding onto the door while her mind replayed images of just how intimate they’d been. She smiled and looked back at him.
“And you certainly know all of mine,” Vadim continued, raking back his hair with a careless hand. “Your lips are nothing if not thorough, my love.”
Martha leaned against the door frame with a happy sigh, recalling how freely she’d explored his battle-scarred body. She particularly enjoyed revisiting the newest wound on his abdomen. Her stomach fluttered in memory of it…and of the aftermath.
“So why is it,” he continued, “you blush scarlet when I suggest you use the bucket, hmm?”
Her cheeks flashed hot. Men!
“It’s a girl thing, okay? You wouldn’t understand, love.” With that, she grabbed her wash bag from a peg by the door and dashed outside into the rain.
Once the most urgent demands of her body were met, Martha wandered to the little stream that ran behind the cabin, intending to have a quick wash. However, the stream wasn’t quite so little anymore. In fact, it was all grown up. The heavy rainfall had made it burst its banks. Now water flooded the grass, edging
ever closer to the trees.
Martha squidged her toes on the submerged grass, and mud oozed up between her toes. It felt good. Smiling, she closed her eyes and tilted back her head, letting the rain patter onto her upturned face. If only she could introduce Vadim to her aunt her happiness would be complete.
Hey, Aunt Lulu. I’ve found the most amazing man. Guess what? He loves me. Well, technically, he found me, but who cares. We just got married. Can you believe that?
Only the wind answered. Wherever her aunt was, Martha hoped she’d heard.
The feel of the windswept rain on her face unleashed a mad impulse from deep within her mind. Something she’d long wanted to do, but never dared.
Dare I do it now?
She dropped her wash bag onto a rock and unfastened her cloak. Holding the neck clasp together, she glanced around. Forge was out of sight; he was probably already back at the cabin.
No one else would be about in such awful weather.
C’mon. Be brave. Pretend you’re Lady Chatterley.
Taking a deep breath, Martha let go of her cloak. As it slid down her shoulders, she closed her eyes and raised her arms skyward, gasping and laughing as the cold rain battered her skin. It felt like heaven.
Vadim found her there, showering in the rain. Taking her in his arms, he gave her the solace of his kiss and the bliss of his love. For the first time in her life, Martha knew what contentment was.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
After two days of solitude, the rain finally stopped. Their all-too-brief honeymoon was over. Time restarted, bringing with it brought the intrusion of the outside world.
Once again, the little cabin had visitors tapping at the door. Seth was among the first to wish them joy in their union. Martha was always happy to see the Chief of Darumvale. He’d saved Vadim from death on at least two occasions, and she’d always love him for that. But lately, since the barrier of deceit between them had been removed, she’d begun loving him for himself too.
Other visitors were not so welcome.
Vadim’s fellow outlaws began stopping by, bringing with them an air of danger she wanted to forget. But how could she? Vadim was one of them—this masked band of brothers. He was their leader. The Robin Hood of Erde.
She tried not to mind when Vadim and his friends talked together, always in low, urgent murmurs so she couldn’t hear their words, but that didn’t stop her worrying. Vadim was almost at full strength now. No way was he about to retire from the outlaw life. Not while the Evil Earl still breathed.
One morning, she couldn’t take any more. With Forge at her side, she went down to Darumvale to collect more supplies. Not that they really needed them. She just wanted to avoid the whispered conversations for a few blessed hours. Their two latest visitors seemed disinclined to ship out any time soon. It’d been three days already. And it felt like a year.
One of Aunt Lulu’s old saying rang in her head. It was true. After a few days, fish and visitors both stank equally bad.
Why couldn’t she keep Vadim to herself, just for a little while longer?
Some hours later, Martha returned. The trip to the village hadn’t really settled her mind. If anything, she was more worried about Vadim’s intentions than ever. Weary and feeling more than a little down, she wound her way through the trees, following the path back to the cabin. As she approached the clearing, she heard the unmistakable clank and squeal of swords. Her heart lurched.
Shit! The Evil Earl’s found him.
She set off running, with Forge barking loudly at her side. An overhanging branch yanked off her headscarf, but she kept going. Sick fear fueled her legs. No matter what happened, she needed to get to Vadim. Now.
Still clutching her basket of goodies, Martha burst from the trees and out into the sunlit clearing. Her feet came to a sudden stop. I don’t believe this!
Forge stopped barking. Tail wagging, he lolloped toward the cabin.
Trembling and furious, she dropped her basket, careless of its contents spilling out onto the grass. She didn’t know whether to scream or sob.
Vadim had been sparring with the two outlaws.
As she entered the clearing, the three men all turned in unison to look at her, their swords frozen in a tableau of battle.
Vadim was the first to recover. “What is it?” he demanded, immediately lowering his sword. “Is there trouble?” His eyes scanned the trees for danger.
“No.” Not the kind he was imagining, anyhow. “Don’t bother,” she cried as their two long-stay guests pulled up their scarves to cover their faces. “I’m not interested in looking at either of you.”
Her eyes locked on Vadim. “Are you totally insane?” She stalked over to him. “You almost fecking died, remember? What, now you’re fighting again?”
“As you plainly see, my love.” He sent a rueful smile to other men. “‘Tis only a little practise, nothing more.”
Her temper flashed. “Don’t think I didn’t see that look.” Unfortunately for him, she was fluent in Man Code. Accompanied by the slight eye roll, he’d clearly given his friends the universal sign for women!
She moved back as Vadim tried to take her arm. His eyes narrowed. Good. He was finally getting it.
“What is this about?” he asked. “Why are you so upset?”
She tutted. “You think I’m fussing over nothing, don’t you?”
“Yes. I do.”
Martha glared at him. The linen shirt he wore clung to his sweat-slicked skin. His hair hung in a damp tangle of rats’ tails around his shoulders. Too clearly, she saw how he battled to control his rapid breathing. He looked gray, exhausted.
“This was way more than a little practise, Vadim. Just look at you!”
“And what would you have me do, m’lady?” His patience frayed, as worn out as he was. “Remain an invalid all of my life, hmm?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what?”
That was a good question. Martha looked away from his flaring eyes and glanced over her shoulder at his outlaw friends. They were picking up the spilled contents of her basket, pretending not to notice their boss getting an earful from his nagging wife.
She sighed. “But you were fighting both of them at the same time. That’s a little excessive, don’t you think?”
With a growl of irritation, Vadim propelled her toward the cabin, one hand against her lower back. He still held his sword in the other. The very sight of the weapon made her feel sick. A glittering shard of death.
As if he sensed her thoughts, Vadim slid the sword back into the sheath at his belt. They sat together in the sunshine on the steps of the cabin. For a while, neither of them spoke.
Martha concentrated on controlling her temper. Yelling at him wasn’t going to do any good. And fighting with him was the last thing she wanted.
Vadim was the first to break the silence. “You do not understand, my love,” he said softly. He reached for hands and clasped them in his, his thumbs slowly caressing her skin. “I need to be what I was, and soon. A time of great upheaval is almost upon us, and I must be ready to meet it.”
Martha frowned. What was he talking about? “No, I’m going to need a bit more than that, hon. Are we talking about your arch-nemesis again?”
“No. The King, Martha.” Vadim’s eyes glittered with a strange light. “A new king is coming.” He squeezed her hands tighter.
“What happened to the old one?” History wasn’t her strongest subject back home, let alone here.
“Nothing. Yet.”
Quiet excitement seemed to thrum off him in waves. Martha still didn’t get why he was so fired up, and it must have shown on her face.
“You remember I told you about the old King? His wife died—”
“—and he was murdered, and someone else stepped up to claim the throne. Yes, I remember. Go on.”
“A challenger has stepped forward. A member of the true house of kings.” Vadim’s lips curved into a smile. “He is rallying the faithful to arms.”<
br />
Martha’s heart lurched. Now it was starting to make sense. “O-kay. So where did he spring up from after all this time? And what does that have to do with you and”—she jerked her head, indicating his two friends—“your secret squirrel pals?”
Vadim chuckled, and placed his arm about her shoulders, drawing her to him. “Rodmar has been overseas these past years, forming alliances and gathering support for his bid. At last, his forces are at full strength. He is ready to take back what was stolen. They will set sail for Norland at the next full moon.”
Martha listened to his heart thudding beneath her ear and the soft vibration of his words echoing through his chest. Suddenly, she wanted to cry.
“You and the squirrels are going to fight for him, aren’t you?” Though she phrased it as a question, she already knew the answer.
“We must. Honor demands we keep the pledge our fathers made.”
Martha cleared her throat. “And what pledge would that be?”
And what about the pledge you made to me? You promised me forever.
With a sigh, Vadim gently took shoulders and held her away from him. He looked deep into her eyes. “There is something I have not yet told you…about me, about my past.”
“Oh?” I should be used to this by now. She sighed. “Go on, then. Let’s have it.”
“My father was…the previous Earl of Edgeway.”
“What!” Her voice sounded shrill, even to her ears. She blinked hard attempting and failing to process this new information.
His dad was the Earl, so that makes him…
“Then you’re the Evil Earl? I mean…you’re?” What was he exactly? She couldn’t get her head round it.
“I am nothing, my love. Not any longer.”
Martha ignored his quiet assurance. “I always suspected you were nobility, but…” She shook her head. “So that’s why…” She glanced behind her.
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