Warriors in Winter

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Warriors in Winter Page 11

by Michelle Willingham


  ‘The charm didn’t work,’ he warned.

  She was fully aware of the warning in his voice and reassured him, ‘I never expected it to. But I saw no harm in indulging her. She’s been teased enough by the others.’

  ‘And you like to champion those less fortunate?’

  There was an accusation in his voice, as if he believed she was patronising him. ‘Sometimes.’ The stones in her palm spilled to the ground.

  ‘Were you planning to throw those at me?’ he asked.

  ‘How did you know what I had in my hands?’

  ‘I have ears, kjære. I hear everything.’ He stood up, skirting the fire until he hunched down beside her. His nearness unsettled her, and she started speaking to cover her nervousness.

  ‘When I was a girl, my cousins and I used to tell fortunes with stones.’ She rested her hands against her skirts, keeping her gaze fixed to the ground. ‘I suppose you never played games.’

  ‘I gambled with dice,’ he admitted, ‘and always won.’

  ‘And why is that?’

  ‘Because I could feel the dice in my hand and cheat.’ Though he didn’t smile, she sensed the diminishing anger. ‘The others refused to play against me, after a time.’

  She could understand why, given his unique abilities. But she’d played games numerous times with her cousins, all of whom were bloodthirsty opponents who loved to cheat.

  ‘I could beat you,’ she predicted.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t wager with a blind man, Rhiannon. You’ll always lose.’

  The confidence in his voice made her want to try it. She reached for a stone that was smooth on one side, rough on the other. ‘Are you certain?’

  His smile turned wicked. ‘And what would you want from me if we had a wagering game?’

  A flush came over her face, for he’d made her remember what it was like to kiss him. The carnal images that flooded through her mind were completely forbidden...made worse by the knowledge that, after tomorrow, it was unlikely she would see this man again.

  Anything could happen. Or nothing at all.

  She shivered, torn about what to do. In the end, her conscience prevailed.

  ‘I would like honest answers,’ she admitted. ‘To any question I ask.’

  Kaall’s mouth twisted, and he opened his hand to reveal the stone. ‘Don’t wager with me, Rhiannon. You’ll lose.’

  ‘I’ll toss the stone for you, and you’ll call rough or smooth before I catch it. Will you promise to give me the truth?’ She reached for his hand and pressed the stone within it.

  ‘Only if you give me what I want in return.’

  She heard the sensual invitation in his voice, and her traitorous imagination envisioned another kiss. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Nothing you’re not willing to give.’

  She eyed him, and saw the interest in his face. Here, in this isolated dwelling, she was at his mercy. At any time, he could have forced his attentions on her...but he’d pulled back, letting her free of the kiss.

  ‘Then I can refuse, if it’s not something I wish to do?’ At his nod, she released a slow breath. ‘I want to believe you’re a man of honour. Can I trust you?’

  He said nothing at all, but placed the stone in her palm. ‘Try it and see.’

  * * *

  Kaall sensed her nerves tightening. Though he’d given her every opportunity to stay far away from him, she’d refused. Honest answers, she’d claimed to want. He couldn’t imagine what sort of questions she would have, but he decided to let her win a few matches, to find out.

  ‘Call it,’ she ordered. ‘Rough or smooth?’

  He’d placed the stone rough side down, and the weight of it was slightly askew. Odds were, it would land with the smooth side facing up. ‘Rough,’ he told her. As she made her toss, he moved away from the fire, for it was growing warm within the space. His arm ached from the wolf bite, and he could feel the tightness of his skin as it swelled. In truth, he was grateful for this distraction, for it would be a long night.

  He heard the sound of Rhiannon catching the stone. ‘Smooth,’ she told him, bringing his hand to touch it. ‘And now you’ll answer my first question.’

  Kaall took the stone from her, and heard her pause as if trying to find the right words.

  ‘My question is about men. My...father would never allow me to speak to men or become friends with them.’

  Kaall hid his smile, for he could understand exactly why Rhiannon’s father didn’t want her around men. He’d felt the same way about Emla, though she was hardly more than a young girl. The idea of any man courting her was reason enough to lock her away until she was five and twenty. Or older.

  ‘What is it you want to know?’ he prompted.

  ‘I’ve never had any fortune in finding a husband,’ she confessed. ‘My father threatened any man who dared to even look at me. What should I do?’ In her voice, he heard the embarrassment, as if it pained her to ask the question. And yet curiosity had won over her pride.

  ‘Smile at a man who interests you,’ he replied. ‘If the man returns the interest, he’ll come to speak to you.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘You’ll have to win another toss of the stone before I answer that.’ This time, he intended to win a prize of his own. Adjusting his palm, he widened the space and ordered, ‘Your turn.’

  ‘Smooth,’ she predicted.

  With a shift of his wrist, he flipped the stone so that it would land rough-side up. ‘My win.’

  She made no response, and he knew she was expecting him to demand a physical favour. Instead, he voiced his own question. ‘Tell me what you look like.’

  From her silence at first, she seemed taken aback by his question. ‘I have brown hair and—’

  ‘No. More than the colours.’ He set down the stone and reached out until he touched her hair. ‘I haven’t seen colours since I was very young. Brown means nothing to me.’

  She took his hand and guided it over the silken mass of her hair. ‘It’s like the earth, after a rain. Not quite as dark, and there are hints of gold in it. As if the sun were warming the earth. It falls below my waist.’

  ‘And your eyes?’

  ‘They’re green and grey, depending on the light.’

  ‘Like water or ice?’

  ‘Like a running river,’ she answered, ‘and the moss that grows upon the stones.’

  ‘Other men call you beautiful, don’t they?’ His hand moved over her face, touching the soft cheeks, feeling the slender line of her nose.

  ‘Some do.’ Her voice was soft, but he didn’t care that he’d made her uncomfortable. In his mind, he was beginning to form a vision of Rhiannon. And he liked what he saw.

  ‘Your turn.’

  He heard her lift the stone into her hand and as she gripped it, he expelled a slow breath, fighting against the pain of his arm. He could feel his skin growing hotter and knew what that meant. But first, he would get through this night.

  ‘Smooth,’ he predicted.

  ‘Rough,’ came her answer. When she brought it for him to touch, he wondered if she had flipped it over. He wouldn’t put it past her to cheat.

  ‘I shouldn’t ask this, I know. But I—I want to know. When you kissed me earlier, it was the first time for me. I did a poor job of it, and I was wondering, how does a man want a woman to kiss him? Soft or firm or—’

  Kaall clamped his mouth shut to stop from laughing at her. She was serious in her questions and after a brief hesitation, he managed to answer. ‘Any way a woman kisses a man is welcome. It’s impossible to do it wrong.’

  He claimed his next turn, already knowing the forfeit he would claim. Again, he used the weight and surface of the stone to cheat, and successfully won the toss.

  ‘What is it you want from me?’ she whispered.

  ‘I think you know that answer.’ Kaall reached out and found her hand, following it up her arm until he located her face. He threaded his hands into her dark hair, imagining the
spill of it over her creamy skin. Her hands remained at her sides, and he ordered, ‘Put your hands on my shoulders.’

  She did, and the coolness of her fingertips against his neck revealed her fear. His body heat was rising hotter from the wound, but he said nothing, for it would only upset her.

  ‘Put your mouth upon mine and kiss me,’ he said, waiting for her. ‘I’ll teach you what you want to know.’

  Rhiannon didn’t move for a long moment. ‘I don’t know if I should. It’s really meant to be between two people who have feelings for one another.’

  ‘It’s a lesson, Rhiannon. I’ll show you what a man wants. Nothing more.’ He didn’t want her imagining anything else between them. It was a way of tasting her mouth once again, giving him a memory to take with him.

  She held back for long moments, making him wonder if she would refuse. And just when he’d given up, he felt a closed mouth descend on his with the barest kiss.

  ‘More,’ he commanded. ‘This time, open your mouth slightly. Let me kiss you back.’

  This time, when she lifted her mouth to his, the warmth of her breath spilled into him, tender in her innocence. He returned the kiss, keeping it slow and deep. Making no demands, only offering her a taste of him. Against her mouth, he murmured, ‘Is this a better first kiss?’

  ‘Second kiss,’ she corrected. Drawing back from him, he sensed that she was intrigued but shy.

  ‘Or did you want this?’ He took her face between his hands again, kissing her hard. With his tongue, he slid against her mouth, demanding that she open. When she did, he invaded her warmth, feeling the tremor of her pulse as his hands moved to rest near her throat. He withdrew and moved his tongue within her mouth, imitating the sexual act.

  She was both innocent and passionate as she matched his kiss. He grew aroused by her, wanting to spend this night discovering why a woman like her would bother kissing a man like him.

  But as she did, the darker memories rose up. Of Lína, whom he’d adored. He’d wanted it to be like this between them, but she’d turned from him. Her kindness had never been desire, and that knowledge had dug into his heart. She’d been right to choose another man to wed, though he’d have laid down his life for hers.

  Women didn’t want men who couldn’t protect them, who were less than whole. Especially not beautiful women who could have any man they chose.

  He tore his mouth away, realising that he was trying to use Rhiannon in place of Lína. And that wasn’t fair at all.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I never should have—’

  ‘Forget it happened.’

  Rhiannon hadn’t known what she was doing, while he’d taken advantage of her. He wasn’t at all a man of honour, like she’d believed. Frustration flooded through him, and as he returned to sit by the fire, a wave of dizziness passed over him.

  Now that he’d regained his awareness, his arm ached as if someone were trying to saw it off with a dull blade. Kaall took slower breaths, trying to blot out the pain.

  ‘Your skin is warm,’ he heard her say. She returned to his side and touched his forehead. ‘This is a fever.’

  He captured her wrist, holding her cool palm to his skin. Right now, he’d much rather distract himself from the pain by kissing her again. Or by letting her touch him. With reluctance, he let go of her hand.

  ‘I won’t die from a fever.’ He started to move away, breaking the spell between them. ‘We should both get some sleep, and it will be better in the morning.’

  ‘Not always,’ she warned. ‘How far away are we from Gall Tír?’

  He could see where this was leading and put an immediate stop to it. ‘Too far.’

  She took his hand, insisting, ‘You can’t remain here without any further treatment. If I have the right herbs, I can—’

  Kaall pressed her back against the wall. ‘The longer you stay with me, the more danger there is to you, søtnos.’

  She didn’t move, and he bent nearer to her, speaking against the soft column of her throat. ‘I’ve kept my hands to myself. But don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy that kiss. Don’t tell me you didn’t want more.’

  Goose flesh rose upon her skin, revealing her own sensations. He’d released her, but she didn’t move away. Which made it dangerous for both of them.

  ‘I don’t know what I want.’ Her voice was a whisper, filled with indecision. ‘Only that this is forbidden.’

  His mouth slid over her throat in silent invitation. ‘If you don’t want me to touch you again, you’d better move away, Rhiannon.’

  She said nothing for a moment. But when he moved his hands to cup her face, she lost her courage and fled. Her footsteps trailed away until he heard her lift the hide away. The freezing air blew within the warmed space, cooling his desire.

  ‘It’s stopped snowing,’ she offered. ‘I could help you return to Gall Tír. It’s not so very far.’

  There was little point to it. It was the middle of the night, when the temperature would be coolest. ‘No. But if you want to return to Laochre, I won’t stop you.’

  The hide dropped downward again. ‘What kind of a healer would I be if I left a wounded man alone, suffering from a fever? It could worsen tonight, and then I’d never be able to move you.’

  ‘I don’t need to be moved,’ he snapped. ‘Let it be, Rhiannon.’

  ‘It’s not a sign of weakness to seek help. This wound is getting worse, and I know you’re in pain.’

  ‘It wasn’t so bad a few moments ago.’ When she’d kissed him, he’d forgotten all about his arm.

  But he heard the rustling noise, and a moment later, he felt her arrange a fur coverlet over his shoulders. ‘I’m taking a torch, and we’re going to Gall Tír. I need herbs to treat your fever, and it can’t wait until morning.’ She took his hand in hers. ‘Unless you’re not strong enough to walk there.’

  He had no desire to walk outside into the freezing temperatures. Especially given the danger from animals and with only Rhiannon to lead the way. But his arm was burning with pain, and she was right; there was nothing more she could do for him here.

  ‘I can’t lead you there,’ he warned.

  ‘I know how to get there, now that the snow isn’t blinding me.’ She lit a torch and drew back the hide covering the entrance of his cavern. Reaching for his hand, she led him forward into the night.

  Chapter Three

  His hand was warm, and though Kaall followed her, Rhiannon saw how the fever weighed upon him. In the forest, their feet sank into the snow past their ankles. The night was freezing, and she huddled close to him for warmth.

  As soon as she did, she realised her mistake. Getting closer to this man would only unravel another thread of her willpower.

  He lowered the fur covering over her shoulders, resting his arm around her. It was a simple gesture, nothing other than a friend might do. But her mind was spinning off other visions, as if more would happen between them.

  Each time he’d kissed her, she’d been unable to refuse. His touch disintegrated her naïve ideas, drawing her toward temptations she should avoid. She didn’t deny that she took pleasure from the warmth of his body, just as she’d enjoyed his kiss.

  And he was utterly forbidden to her.

  ‘What is the fastest way to reach Gall Tír?’ she asked, as they moved further away from the cave.

  ‘It’s about two miles east of Laochre. Keep the forest to your right side and keep walking. You’ll find it.’ Though he trudged beside her without complaint, he was guarding his arm, holding back the pain.

  ‘How did you get to the cave alone?’ she wondered.

  ‘Trahern MacEgan is a friend of my father’s. He brought me to the shelter when I asked for his help.’

  ‘But why would he—?’

  ‘Help a man like me?’ he finished. ‘Trahern knew Vigus and I were trying to stop the raid.’ There was tension in his posture, and he added, ‘I’ve lived here since last spring.’

  Half a year, then. His daughter must
have been taken away just before that. ‘How old is your daughter now?’

  ‘Emla will be four in a few months.’ He adjusted the fur coverlet over them as she led them outside the forest and into the clearing.

  She continued talking, wanting to distract him from any pain. Keeping a swift pace, she guided him east.

  ‘It’s almost the winter solstice,’ she remarked. ‘Did the two of you decorate your home with greenery in the past?’ She imagined a young girl helping with freshly cut pine branches.

  ‘Her mother, Lína, died on Twelfth Night, and I saw no reason to celebrate.’

  She reached out to touch his hand, understanding that his pain had not faded. ‘Perhaps one day, when you’re together, you can find a way to honour Lína and pass on your memories to Emla.’

  When they reached the clearing, she saw the dim flare of lights from Laochre Castle to the west. Ahead, a single rider moved closer toward the forest, a torch in his hand. Rhiannon shielded her eyes and recognised the young man.

  ‘Wait here for a moment,’ she said to Kaall. ‘There is someone I need to speak with.’

  He remained in the shadow of the trees, holding on to his arm while Rhiannon picked up her skirts and hurried forward. When the rider spied her, he moved in fast.

  It was her cousin Cavan. ‘Thank God,’ he breathed, dismounting from the horse. ‘When we didn’t find you, I went back to search.’

  ‘I am fine,’ she admitted, embracing him. ‘I found shelter.’

  ‘Come on, and I’ll take you back,’ he offered.

  For a moment, Rhiannon hesitated. Although they were closer to Laochre, it wasn’t a good idea to bring Kaall there. After he’d killed Brianna’s husband last winter, the young woman hadn’t abandoned her quest for vengeance. Bringing him among her family would only result in more danger.

  ‘No. I can’t.’ She shook her head. At her cousin’s incredulous look, she said, ‘I promise you, I have a place to stay. But there’s a wounded man who needs my help. I’ll come home in a day or so.’

  She couldn’t consider abandoning Kaall. Not now, when he needed her.

  ‘You can’t just disappear,’ Cavan argued. ‘Your father will turn over every stone looking for you.’

 

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