22 Nights

by WINSTEAD JONES, LINDA

  When Merin reached the edge of the water, he removed his boots. She suspected that he might want to step into the creek to cool off. She expected he’d roll up his pants legs next, but instead he yanked his dirty shirt over his head and dropped it to the ground, then readjusted the braided rope at his waist so he could unfasten his trousers.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to take a piss, and then I’m going to take a bath, of sorts, in this creek.”

  She could turn her back while he relieved himself, and in truth she would have to do something very soon. She’d been suppressing her own natural urges all afternoon, and would soon have to pee. But if Merin walked into the creek to bathe, he would drag her along, and she was not taking off her clothes in front of him! Could she remain dressed for twenty-two days? Yes, she could!

  He whipped off his trousers, apparently not caring that she watched. And though she was slightly mortified, she did watch. His entire body was hard, totally masculine, and it seemed there were a few more scars than she remembered. He’d lived a hard life, and the harshness was written on his skin. Even his butt was hard and nicely shaped. There were no scars there, she noted.

  With his back to her, Merin relieved himself by the creek. She ordered him not to look and did the same, as quickly as possible. She might consider remaining un-bathed and in these same clothes for twenty-two days, but she could not go long without taking care of her body’s natural functions. The task was easier for him, thanks to his male anatomy, but she was accustomed to managing quickly and efficiently. When she was done and her trousers were in place, she advised him that she was done.

  And then he turned to her.

  The appendage between his legs was not as she remembered. Not at all. It was soft and just hung there, not at all threatening or intimidating. That thing wouldn’t hurt her, or anyone else. She relaxed a bit.

  “Are you taking off your clothes?” he asked.

  “No!”

  “Not planning to bathe or change clothing for the next twenty-two days?”

  Bela pursed her lips. “Twenty-two days is not so very long.”

  He smiled, and she noticed that his manhood twitched and grew a little. Oh, no! She was not putting herself through that agony again!

  She drew the small knife she always wore at her waist and wagged it in his direction. “This is ridiculous. We’ll just have to stay married. I don’t mind so much, since you’re not around to bother me. I’ll cut the rope”—she grabbed a section and placed the sharp side of the blade there—“and you can leave. Go tell you emperor I’m not interested in his offer, and we’ll continue on as we have, married but separate.”

  Merin moved very quickly and efficiently. He grabbed the knife from her hand and snatched it well away from the rope. “No. I can’t continue as we have because I’m no longer ignorant of the situation. We will dissolve this marriage, Bela, and you will present yourself to the emperor. When he chooses someone else and sends you home, you can return to your people and find yourself another husband to torture.”

  “I do not torture you!” she protested. Belatedly, her feelings were hurt. “Why are you so sure the emperor would not choose me, given the chance?”

  He smiled. “Just be yourself, Bela, and you’ll be safe. The emperor will prefer a female as his bride, I’m quite sure.”

  Perhaps she did prefer manly pursuits, perhaps she did not want to be a wife and mother, as it seemed every other female she knew did, but that did not mean she would take such an insult without response. “I am very much a female, and can even appear so when it suits me. Many men have desired me,” she said, moving slightly closer to him. She wished she had her knife back. If she did, she might threaten him just a little.

  “The empress will have to wear pretty gowns every day. She will have to obey the orders of the emperor and give him children. I imagine he’ll want many. She’ll have to entertain dignitaries and such every night, and smile at people she does not like.”

  “I can do that. See?” She smiled widely at him.

  “As empress, you would be required to bathe every day.”

  Suddenly she realized that his manly appendage was hard and long and threatening, not at all as it had been moments ago. They were so close it was almost touching her. She took a single step back, moving quickly. “There is no need for you to be difficult!” she protested, without getting specific about how he was being difficult.

  “Like it or not, you owe me whatever pain and embarrassment this next twenty-two days costs you,” Merin said without shame. “You lied to me on more than one occasion, you tricked me, you used me, and thanks to your scheming we’re literally bound together for twenty-two very long days. And so you will pay.” He looked her up and down. “Taking anything off before we go into the water?”

  She shook her head.

  “Fine.” Merin turned and tugged on the rope as he walked into the creek. Bela stumbled along, her eyes on his bare ass and a scar on his back, not too far from his spine.

  She cried “Stop!” as she reached the edge of the water. Merin was already in the creek, the water almost up to his knees.

  “Let me take off my boots. I don’t want to get them wet.”

  He nodded once, and she quickly removed her footwear. When that was done, Merin stepped toward the center of the creek and Bela followed. As if she had a choice! Her feet got wet. The cool water did feel wonderful, though she would never tell him so. When the water hit the hem of her pants, she called out, “Isn’t this far enough? You can bathe there and I’ll stay mostly dry.”

  Merin turned to face her. The water came to his thighs now. Not deep enough to suit her, but still, since he was not quite as close as he had been on the bank, she didn’t mind looking. Somehow he was . . . interesting. “No,” he said simply, and then he yanked on the rope that connected them and she was pulled into the creek deeper than she desired. Cool water splashed up and around her, droplets hitting her face and dampening her clothes. Still, Merin pulled on the rope until she was in the water as deep as he was . . . only she still wore all her clothing.

  “You’re not really going to go the whole time without a bath, are you?” he asked, more amused than she liked.

  “I’ll work something out.” There had to be a way!

  “I’ve seen you naked before.”

  “And look where that got us!” she protested.

  He grinned. “You threw yourself at me,” he said softly. “You said you were a widowed woman dying for a man’s companionship. You stripped me naked and jumped on as if you could not wait.”

  “That’s how it’s done,” she protested. “I have seen animals mate, and I walked in on Clyn and his wife, once, so I know full well how a man and a woman are supposed to work.”

  “Trust me, you didn’t get the whole story.” He tugged on the rope and pulled her closer to him. She tried to protest, but he was stronger than she was. “If I had known you were an untried maid, things would’ve been different that night.”

  “Different how?”

  He looked at her strangely. “This is not a discussion we can have, wife. I’m really not . . . capable.”

  “I thought you were capable of anything and everything,” she said, giving her voice a sarcastic edge.

  “Don’t test me.”

  “I just wonder at what task the mighty General Merin might fail.”

  She knew in a heartbeat that she had pushed too far. He grabbed the rope and yanked it until her body was fully against his. His shaft poked at her, and it should’ve been disgusting—but was not.

  “There is much more to sexual union than jumping on,” he said in a decidedly testy voice. “There is preparation, anticipation, desire. While it is true that at times a man and a woman can sometimes come together quickly and with a joyous outcome, that happens only when they are prepared. If in their minds they have imagined the moment of joining until they cannot wait, if they are lovers who have been too long apart, then it works v
ery well.” He moved his hand between her legs, and he was holding her so close and so tightly she could not move. “In other instances, physical preparation is preferred.” He found and massaged a very sensitive place between her legs, pressing against her damp trousers and making a circle with his thumb. The touching made her twitch and then quiver, and she could not say it was entirely unwelcome. “Some like kissing, others prefer a more direct method of arousal.” He pressed harder and she gasped, and though she wanted to tell him to stop, the words would not come. “And then, when neither the man nor the woman can wait a moment longer . . .”

  “Stop,” she managed to say, her voice croaking and weak.

  “Don’t push me, Bela,” Merin said as he dropped the rope and backed away from her.

  This time she took the warning to heart.

  Her heart was beating oddly, and the back of her neck tingled, and between her legs she quivered. A part of her wanted to grab his hand and put it back where it had been so very briefly, but she would not. She knew where that would lead.

  She had never seen Merin look just this way. He looked decidedly dangerous, decidedly hungry. Best to leave it alone, for now.

  “You already need a bath,” he said. With that he picked her up and threw her down so that she went fully into the creek and was soaked from head to foot.

  SAVYN did not feel quite himself as he rode away from home. He wasn’t even quite certain why he’d asked to make the trip to Arthes when he was perfectly happy in Childers, where he’d been born and raised and had lived his entire life. Hadn’t he been perfectly happy there? Hadn’t he had a good life? Something didn’t feel quite right, and yet he was not compelled to turn back, even though he felt very much alone as the journey continued.

  The sentinels and the deputy minister and the man who drove the carriage knew one another well. They conversed often, even laughing as the day grew long. The two ladies were hidden from view in their coach, but they had one another for companionship and conversation. Only Savyn was separate. He did not fit in here, and yet he did not want to turn back, now when it was not too late to do so.

  When the party stopped for the evening, his eyes were instinctively drawn to Lady Leyla as she was assisted from her carriage, and somehow he no longer felt entirely alone.

  He had always thought her beautiful, as did everyone who laid eyes on her. When she’d arrived in town, she’d been nineteen and newly married to the powerful man who owned everything and everyone in town, and he’d been ten years old and a wheelwright’s apprentice. Fifteen years had passed since then, and still he remembered his first sight of her as if it had been yesterday. He’d never known anyone who had hair like Lady Leyla, black as night and wildly curling. She’d smiled at him that day, and he’d been captivated. Even now he remembered that the smile had been a little sad, a little lost.

  Now that he was a man, he noticed more than her hair and her smile. Yes, she was older than he, but you’d never know it to look at her. Her face was pale, like milk, and her eyes were a remarkable blue. Truly remarkable. She didn’t look much different than she had fifteen years ago. Perhaps her face was a bit leaner; perhaps there were fine lines at the corners of her dark eyes, but somehow those small changes only made her look more lovely. She had a nice womanly shape, and a delicate way of moving, and a perfect face with a slightly pointed chin and an adorable little nose. Her hips swayed a little when she walked, and he had never seen hands more delicate and pale than hers. She put every young woman in Childers to shame. None could compare to her. Watching her stretch her legs after being in the carriage for hours, he could almost imagine what soft hands like hers would feel like on his rough, overly warm face.

  Lady Leyla Hagan was more than beautiful, she was also kind. How often had she secretly helped villagers who were sick or had fallen on hard times? She did so quietly, delivering food and medicines on the sly, afraid that her stepson, the less kind Wybert Hagan, would not approve of her actions.

  How did he know this? Savyn could not recall where he’d heard the tales, but he knew. The knowing made him long to take her hands in his own and cradle them, just for a while. Even now, when she was answering the emperor’s very flattering command, she looked sad. Could he make her smile?

  Savyn laughed at himself as he turned to care for his horse. “I am a fool, Albin. A fine woman like Lady Leyla would never so much as look at a man like me, much less touch me or allow me to touch her.” She would soon be empress, he supposed. How could the emperor not choose Lady Leyla as his bride, no matter who the other women in the contest might be? She would make a fine empress.

  Savyn was certain that with his brother’s help, he would find work in Arthes. Maybe he should’ve gone to the capital city years ago, after their mother had died. Settled there as a solid citizen of Arthes, he would surely catch a glimpse of Empress Leyla now and then, as she was traveling down the city streets or making an appearance with her husband. His stomach knotted. An empress would definitely not smile at a craftsman, much less touch him. Lady Leyla surely did not even remember that long-ago kind smile that had made a child fall in love.

  The sentinels had chores to do, and they rushed about setting up camp for the night. The carriage driver saw to the horses, all except Savyn’s Albin. There were small tents for the ladies and for Deputy Bragg, lightweight shelters which would do no more than keep the wind from their sleeping bodies. But like the other men in the party, Savyn would sleep under the stars tonight, as he would for all the nights to come until they reached their destination.

  Again his eyes were drawn to Lady Leyla, and he watched her out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to give his attention to Albin. She stood alone, not talking to her companion, Mistress Hilde, or with Minister Bragg. Not only did she stand alone, she wore a cool expression that would keep others from approaching. To others she might appear cold, but to Savyn she simply looked lonely.

  Traveling could be dangerous. There were wild animals about, as well as thieves who would be drawn to a woman like her, a woman of quality and wealth and delicacy and incredible beauty. Lady Leyla had three sentinels, a driver, and a deputy minister to look out for her, but if necessary he would take care of her, too. He would keep an eye on the lady; he would make sure she was always safe. Something inside him commanded that it was his duty and his right to do so.

  After making that decision, after deciding to commit himself to Lady Leyla for the remainder of the journey, Savyn suddenly felt better. He felt more himself, more whole, less isolated than he had at any other time during this long, strange day.

  Chapter Four

  AS if it wasn’t bad enough that he and Bela were tied together like a team of horses, they were assigned their own small cottage, in which they were expected to live, cook, sleep, and clean. Together. Alone. The cottage was nothing special, but it was clean and solidly built. Bela had informed him that the cottage was used for infrequent visitors, and for the occasional marriage dissolution ceremony for a couple who lived too far from the village to be monitored in their home.

  The first evening had not been so bad thus far, Merin mused. He was comfortable enough, clean and dressed in dry clothes. It wasn’t his fault that Bela refused to take off her wet clothing. It wasn’t his fault that she preferred to let them dry on her body, it wasn’t his fault that she preferred to be miserable than to be naked in his presence.

  He could be patient. He could be very patient. She wasn’t going to spend the next twenty-one and a half days in those same clothes.

  For the short amount of time they were to remain married, they wouldn’t have much, as luxuries went. The rough cottage they’d been assigned was situated not far from Bela’s family home, with two smaller and one larger home between them. It consisted of one main room which was furnished with a table and two chairs, a small hearth for warmth and cooking, flint and steel for starting a fire, and a sagging bed that looked much too small for the two of them to share without things getting interesting in the
night. There were two plates, a couple of mugs, a pot, and the basic utensils. He had a change of clothes and his weapons, and Bela had brought the same with her—one set of clothes much like the wet ones she currently wore and a fine-looking sword which she stored on a weapons rack on the wall. She handled the sword with reverence, she looked at the weapon as if it were made of solid gold. The grip of that sword gave Merin a bit of a chill at first glance. The stone there looked oddly like the crystal dagger which had dispatched Ciro and ended the war. He dismissed that thought as fancy and concentrated on helping Bela cook their stew for supper.

  Merin knew how to cook and was not afraid or ashamed of the chore, even though some found it unmanly. Not knowing how to prepare a decent meal would’ve made him helpless, dependent on others, and he refused to fall into that trap. The small kitchen area of their marital cottage was well stocked with common herbs, and he flavored the stew with them. Bela watched with some sign of interest. Heaven above, he knew more about cooking than she did. Why was he surprised? She seemed to shun all womanly attributes.

  While the stew simmered, they sat side by side in two small chairs and watched the flame lick at the pot that hung over the fire. Now and then Merin glanced at Bela. Yes, he was still angry with her, as angry as he had ever been with any living being who wasn’t an enemy, and yet he could not deny that she was tempting, in an odd way. Not that he would give in to such temptation, but still—it was perplexing.

  And entirely physical. She might swear that his attraction was one-sided, but he had felt her response when he touched her as they’d argued in the creek. If he wanted to seduce her—properly this time—he could do it. But he would not. Getting more involved with her than he already was would be a disaster. Bela was likely to be more trouble than she was worth.