22 Nights

by WINSTEAD JONES, LINDA

  He took her face in his hands and looked into her moss-green eyes, eyes which were alive with passion and curiosity and life. Bela did not hesitate to look fully into his eyes, even though her fingers closed around his erect penis, even though she stroked him slowly, up and down the length. Maybe it was the light, maybe it was the way she stroked, but at this moment she was beautiful, beautiful like no other woman he had ever seen.

  That was as far as they got before they heard hoofbeats approaching at a fast rate of speed.

  Merin cursed. So did Bela, as she dropped her hands and backed away. He did his best to straighten his trousers, not an easy task at the moment.

  They rushed for the creek bank and Bela pulled on her shirt. Merin stepped into his boots just as Tyman crested the hill. Good God, how could he have known? And how had he gotten here so quickly? Judging by the expression on his face, Bela’s brother was not happy.

  “Trouble’s come calling,” Tyman said. “You two get dressed and get back to the village. We need every sword.” He gave his sister an annoyed and brotherly look. “You’re becoming more trouble than you’re worth, Bela.”

  THEY’D been traveling for days and had weeks left to journey, and already Leyla was bone weary. She could bear the bumps of the carriage and the stifling heat and the less than adequate food and the unpleasant company of a disapproving relative by marriage and crude sentinels. She could bear sleeping on the ground—or more often lying awake on the hard ground, trying to claim a bit of sleep.

  What she could not stand was Savyn’s presence. If he were not here, she would be able to forget, at least to some degree. If he had stayed behind in Childers, he might already be courting a proper young girl by now. At the very least, she could imagine it was so. Instead, he was ever present, silent and distant and achingly handsome, and a constant reminder of what she could never have again.

  Perhaps she deserved to be tortured.

  Blessedly, Hilde was taking a late afternoon nap. The old woman’s snores filled the confines of the carriage, but the snorting and sawing were preferable to her constant words of criticism. How would she bear the remaining days of this journey without touching her companion’s head and convincing her she was mute?

  The carriage jerked to a stop, waking Hilde, who snorted and slurped and grabbed about for something to hold on to. At first Leyla was not concerned. They might’ve come to an obstacle in the road, or perhaps there was a problem with the horses.

  And then one of the sentinels screamed, and the hairs on the back of Leyla’s neck rose up and tingled.

  Bravely, she poked her head out of the window to her left, to see what was going on. From this vantage point she could see all. A silver-haired man dressed all in black rode among the others with a sword in one hand and a hatchet in the other. Two men had already fallen and lay dead: one sentinel as well as the carriage driver, who had obviously jumped from his post to do battle. The attacker was fighting the other two sentinels while Deputy Bragg hung back, placing himself between the battle and the carriage. He would likely be fighting the attacker soon, since the man in black was a superior swordsman to the sentinels. In fact, he moved like no other she had ever seen, with speed and accuracy which should not have been possible. Long silver hair, unnatural in its brightness, danced in the wind, and the way his weapons moved was uncanny. Another sentinel fell, the victim of a single swipe of the silver-haired man’s sword.

  The door to her right opened, startling Leyla, and she snapped her head about as Savyn offered his hand. “This way, M’Lady,” he said in a low but insistent voice.

  She did not hesitate, but jumped across the carriage and took the hand he offered. The attacker would not be able to see them from here, at this particular moment. If he moved closer or more to the side, however, he might witness their escape.

  Tempting as it was to leave her unpleasant chaperone where she sat, she could not. “Come, Hilde. Hurry!”

  The woman shook her head. “I won’t put my life in the hands of an untrained boy who knows nothing of warfare. Don’t be foolish. The sentinels will save us. Get back in this carriage, where it’s safe!”

  Leyla shook her head. She knew in the pit of her soul that this carriage was no longer safe, and she trusted Savyn with her life much more than she’d trust an army of sentinels. And they did not have an army of sentinels. All that remained was one sentinel and one diplomat, and soon there would be no one to protect them. “Come with us,” Leyla insisted. This time Hilde simply shook her head.

  “We cannot wait for her,” Savyn insisted. “We must make our escape.”

  “We cannot leave her here.” She had seen the silver-haired attacker move. Even though he was outnumbered, he would not lose. Would he show mercy to an old, helpless woman?

  Savyn did not ask again. He lifted Leyla from her feet and tossed her over his shoulder, and then he ran away from the carriage, away from the fighting. He carried her into the woods lining the rough road.

  He did not pause, did not seem to be burdened by her weight as he rushed into the deepest part of the woodland. He ducked often, and still low-lying limbs sometimes brushed their heads or Savyn’s arms. Low growth occasionally slowed his progress, but he fought through, staying in the thickest part of the wood, where they would be well hidden from a horseman. In the distance, they heard a woman’s bloodcurdling scream, and Savyn’s step faltered.

  Leyla’s heart almost stopped. That could’ve been her scream, if Savyn had not rescued her. “Put me down,” she said.

  “We cannot go back,” Savyn said without pausing.

  “I know,” Leyla conceded. They would be able to move faster if he did not have her weight.

  Savyn whipped her down and set her on her feet. He took her hand, and they began to run side by side.

  Chapter Six

  TYMAN had not thought to bring an extra horse with him—not that mounting while bound to Merin wouldn’t have been a challenge—so Bela and Merin ran toward the village. It wasn’t far, yet Bela felt as if she couldn’t move fast enough. She and Merin ran at a steady and comfortable pace. Neither had to slow or shorten their stride for the other.

  Her sometimes irritable brother had not waited for them. What had he meant by that comment about her being too much trouble? How could a crisis that would put an expression like the one on Tyman’s face be her fault?

  Once the village was in sight, she and Merin cut sharply to the side and headed for their cottage to retrieve their weapons. There was no question, no Should we? or Might we? They both needed to be armed before facing whatever trouble had come to the Turis. Once they were safely inside the cottage, Bela called for Kitty, and Kitty came. Merin strapped on a sheath and sword with the ease and speed of one who had done just that many times. He was efficient but not panicked, ready for whatever might be waiting. They briefly looked one another in the eye before heading out of the cottage to see what kind of trouble had arrived.

  Their movements were cautious and quick as they headed for the village square. They did not have to go quite that far to find the trouble. It was easy enough to spot the crowd of villagers that had gathered at her father’s house.

  As soon as Bela could see through the crowd well enough to recognize the spotted horse and the red-haired man standing beside it, she groaned. Nobel Andyrs was Turi himself, or once had been, but Bela’s father—acting as chieftain—had banished the brash man from the village months ago. Nobel had gotten into a dispute over a mine claim more than once, and on the last occasion he had killed the other party. He was greedy and unpleasant and unrelenting.

  Nobel was also one of the foolish men who had pursued her at one time, even though he knew very well she was no maid and had no desire to be anyone’s wife. She’d refused his attentions vehemently, and when he’d finally realized she was not being coy, he’d been angry—not heartbroken. He’d wanted an alliance with the chieftain, not a bride. Their last encounter had not ended well for Nobel.

  As she and Merin appro
ached, making their way through the crowd of women and children and older Turis—most of the younger men of the village were working in the fields or in the mountains—the red-haired outcast turned his head to look at her. Perhaps he had heard their approach or seen the wave of the crowd that made way. He smiled and then, as Bela and Merin made their way to the front of the crowd, Nobel’s gaze fell to Kitty. That was when she saw the flash of lust in his pale eyes.

  When Merin revealed that kind of deep desire in a glance, at least he was looking at her.

  “Here to sacrifice more fingers?” she asked, her grip on Kitty tightening very slightly.

  Nobel raised his left hand, displaying the three fingers which remained there. “If that thing you carry dares to so much as scratch me again, my man will gut your mother.”

  It was then that Bela saw the other men, those who stood beyond Nobel and his spotted horse. They looked as rough as their leader and were all well armed, and one of them clasped Gayene Haythorne too closely to his filthy body. He also held a very large knife that touched her slender throat.

  “What do you want?” Bela snapped, trying not to show her fear—and failing. That was her mother.

  “What I have always wanted, Belavalari Haythorne. You as my wife, of course.” He glanced pointedly at the telling rope which bound her to Merin. “I understand you will be available in a short while.”

  “She will not be available for you,” Merin said calmly, his voice deep and even. How could he stay so calm when a madman held a knife to her mother’s throat?

  A few weeks ago she’d been blissfully unattached—for all intents and purposes. Now an emperor wanted to inspect her for bridal consideration; she’d had to reveal the secret marriage to Merin in order to save his neck; and now Nobel was back. This was just too much for any woman to bear. And others wondered why she shunned marriage!

  Nobel looked at Merin, unafraid. “I would make her a widow and have the deed done now, but I’m not foolish enough to kill a general of your standing and suffer the consequences. My bride and I will not wish to spend our lives running from an army.”

  “In that case, I demand that you release the Lady Gayene,” Merin said. He added a curt “Now,” when his order was not immediately obeyed.

  Bela cast a glance at her husband. What seemed like moments ago, he’d been caught up in need and lust and, well, her. Now he was every bit the general, displaying no weaknesses, no needs at all. He was, in fact, quite impressive. Any woman would be proud to call this man husband, even if temporarily.

  “Before I order that done,” Nobel said, “I must inform you that I have a large number of loyal men waiting not far away. If I and my companions don’t return to them very soon, they will fall upon this village like a plague. They will spare no one.” His eyes flitted over the villagers who watched, and he smiled, not at all shamed to threaten bodily harm to the weakest among them.

  “We have fought the likes of you before,” Bela’s father said with anger.

  “And you lost many of your clan in the process,” Nobel reminded him. “Do you want that for your people again? Do you want to see the funeral pyres burn night after night after night?”

  He did not. None of them did.

  “How do we know you’re not lying?” Clyn asked.

  “See for yourselves.” Nobel pointed in the direction of the river, where a constant Turi guard watched for invaders. In the distance, a gentle hill that looked over the village was lined with mounted men. Nobel’s men. Bela could not help but wonder what had happened to the guard who had been stationed there. Even the best among them couldn’t defeat so many armed men.

  Nobel raised a hand and Bela’s mother was released. Gayene fell into her husband’s arms, unharmed but obviously terrified.

  “Here is my proposition,” Nobel said. “I will wait for Bela’s current marriage to be dissolved, and then we will be wed.” He looked at Merin, bolder than he should’ve been. “Don’t look at me with such disapproval, General. It’s obvious you don’t want her. I do. You should not complain that I will be waiting for your departure.”

  “Well, you’re out of luck,” Bela said, intent on telling Nobel of Emperor Jahn’s plans.

  Merin reached out and snagged her hand, squeezing it too tightly. “Don’t argue with the man, you exasperating woman. Be still, for once.”

  She turned to glare at him. Exasperating woman? Be still? And how dare he stop her from . . . His eyes caught hers and she instantly understood. For some reason Merin did not want Nobel to know that she was to make a trip to Arthes to be introduced to the bride-seeking emperor.

  Nobel turned away with a smile on his face, and he reached for a bulging sack which hung from his horse’s saddle. He tossed the bag carelessly; it landed at Bela’s feet. The unbound sack hit the ground hard, and from the opening a few colorful stones spilled out. Most of them were red and dark blue, like the stones found in the Turi Mountains, but many were a pale yellow, almost clear in color. “My first payment for my bride,” he said. “It’s quite generous, don’t you think? The rest will be delivered on our wedding night, sweetheart.” He had the audacity to wink at her.

  Bela surged forward. “I will never marry you, Nobel Andyrs! If there was no other man on this earth, life as we know it would end because I would not allow you anywhere near me! Try to purchase me as if I were a horse—try—and I will send Kitty toward another part of your body. You’ll wish she’d aimed higher and taken another finger when I’m . . .”

  She stopped speaking when Merin yanked on the rope that bound them and she fell back so hard she ended up on her ass in the dirt. Nobel and all his men laughed, and then Nobel looked down at her with something besides lust in his pale blue eyes. She could not help but shiver.

  “You will marry me, Bela, because if you don’t, my men will raze this village to the ground. No one will be spared. Not your family, not the women, not the children. No building will remain standing. No sow or dog will live when we are done. Every field will burn.”

  A chill ran down her spine. This was beyond madness. Why? Why would he wish to wed her when with his new-found wealth he could have any other woman . . . as long as the woman in question was not too discriminating about the man she called husband.

  “Say nothing,” Merin commanded softly, before turning his attentions to the red-haired interloper. “The marriage will be done fourteen days from tomorrow morning. Don’t show your face here before then. Is that understood?”

  “Of course, General,” Nobel said with a touch of humor. “I’ll see you then.”

  Nobel and his men rode toward the waiting riders—the waiting army. Bela and her family stood there in stunned silence and watched them go.

  None dared to challenge the Turis, but Nobel dared. None should want her, but Nobel did. Nobel Andyrs should not be capable of raising an army of men willing to listen to him, but apparently he was.

  Merin offered her a hand to assist her from the dirt, a hand she refused as she struggled to her feet. “I don’t care what he says, I won’t marry him. I’d rather stay married to Merin, if I must!” It was intended as an insult, but didn’t come out sounding at all insulting.

  She tried to imagine Nobel touching her as Merin had last night, and she immediately felt weak and queasy, as if she’d eaten something bad. “You got it wrong, you know,” she said in a calmer voice. “The marriage will be done in thirteen days, come tomorrow morning. Thirteen, not fourteen.”

  “I know,” Merin said in a low voice.

  “Then why?”

  Merin pinned his eyes on her. “I bought us another day, that is all.” Then he turned to Bela’s father, general to chieftain. “I suggest we discuss this situation in the privacy of your home. Now.”

  “There is no need for privacy,” the chieftain said. “We must devise a plan, and I need the men of this village with me in order to do what must be done. We will defend our homes and our people from Nobel and his men.”

  Merin moved closer to
the chieftain, all but dragging Bela with him. “There is a spy in your village,” he said in a lowered voice. “Until we know who that traitor is, we cannot involve anyone beyond the immediate family.”

  Bela’s father stubbornly lifted his chin. “None of my people would dare . . .”

  “Then how did Nobel know that Bela and I were in the process of undoing this marriage? He was not surprised to see the rope that binds us. Someone told him.”

  CAYSE Trinity stared at the woman he had just killed. As with the others who littered this battlefield, he had taken her life quickly, as painlessly as possible, and without regret. He did not intend for anyone to suffer at his hands, least of all a woman.

  Something was wrong here. This pudgy hag could not possibly be the potential bride he’d been sent to kill. She was an old woman, not fit to be empress for a ruler who was barely past his thirtieth year. It did not take long for him to discern what had happened. The opposite door of the carriage, the one he had not been able to see while fighting the sentinels, stood open.

  Did the woman he had been hired to kill think she could escape? And what kind of lady fled and left her companion behind? A selfish one, he imagined. Or a smart one. There was no way the hag could’ve kept pace with a younger woman fleeing for her life.

  He was not overly concerned by this turn of events. He’d find Lady Leyla, and he’d finish the job he’d been well paid to do. In fact, he was a little bit pleased that this mission wasn’t as easy as he’d first thought it would be. Everything was so easy for him these days that he welcomed a little challenge.

  Not that chasing down a pretty woman would be so hard.

  Trinity exited the carriage, leaving the body of the old woman where it lay. He patted the silky black neck of his fine and faithful stallion Gano, an animal who had served him well, and surveyed the scene before him. This was an almost peaceful little valley, or had been before he’d ambushed the party. Now it was littered with bodies and would be peaceful no more.