22 Nights

by WINSTEAD JONES, LINDA

  Still, Trinity was a little surprised that the two had eluded him for so long. He’d expected to find them last night and end this job, but they had traveled in a bit of a circle, making illogical choices and leading him around and around. Were they that smart, or did they travel so in-consistently and oddly because they were lost and afraid? Lost and afraid was more likely than smart.

  They had no food, so he expected that when they’d left this cave, they’d headed in a direction that would take them to the nearest town or house. There were a few settlers on the other side of the hill, he knew from his travels. He would certainly find those he sought there. It would be a shame to kill them too quickly, especially as they had proven to be more fun than he’d imagined they would.

  The woman was probably pretty, as she was being considered as a potential empress. Trinity hadn’t been with a pretty woman for a long time, and he did not think he had ever lain with a real lady. Maybe he could separate those he sought and kill the man, then devise a plan to present himself as the woman’s protector. As a lady she would need one, he imagined. Had she seen him from her coach before she’d run? A disguise of sorts might be necessary, just in case. He could pretend to be someone else for a while; he had done so before. Maybe he could even seduce her. He was a generous lover. She would die happy.

  Trinity bent down and placed his head in the cave where his prey had slept last night. Again, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The scent that filled him was heady and sweet and unique. Yes, he would know Lady Leyla when he found her.

  LEYLA’S legs ached from the constant walking, but she did not ask Savyn to slow down or to carry her again. She did hold his hand, as much for comfort as for assistance. He steadied her. He had steadied her for the past two years, just not quite so literally.

  The sight of the thatched-roof house in the distance was so welcome she almost cried out in joy. Smoke rose from the stone chimney, and well-tended farmland surrounded the small house. Leyla’s step increased in spite of the pain, but before she’d gone very far, Savyn stopped her. He planted his feet and drew her back so she stood close by his side.

  “Why have you stopped?” she asked, anxious for shelter, food, rest, and the sight of people who did not wish to kill her.

  “I’m going to find a safe place for you to wait while I go to the farmhouse and ask for food.”

  “No!” She did not want to be alone . . . and she saw no reason why she couldn’t go with him.

  Savyn reached out and placed both hands on her cheeks, and he gazed down at her with intense eyes she knew too well. She noticed, as she had that very morning, that his beard was coming in, rough and untended. He was usually so well-kept and clean, so meticulously pretty. Not today. He was also always willing to listen to her commands. Again, not today. He was determined and commanding, unwilling to offer her all that she wanted. “We do not know what might await us there, My Lady. The man who ambushed our party might’ve visited this farm. He might still be there, waiting for us.”

  Leyla’s heart leaped at the idea. “Then you should not go there either,” she said insistently. “If it’s not safe for me, then it’s not safe for you.”

  He gave her an impossible smile. “My life is of no consequence, but I will not allow anything to happen to you, My . . . Leyla.” He stumbled over the words, as he started to call her My Lady once more and then remembered her request. In the past he had often called her My Leyla, and as he said the words, a kind of dulled recognition flitted into his eyes and then was gone.

  Savyn dropped his hands as if he had finally realized the impropriety of the intimate gesture. “I will find a comfortable and safe spot for you to wait, and I will go to the farmhouse and beg for food. I believe I can pass for a beggar on this day.”

  Leyla studied her ragged, dirty dress. She could only imagine what her always unmanageable hair looked like. “So could I.”

  Savyn shook his head and smiled gently. “Never.”

  She felt a rush of anger and fear. “If the man who seeks us is there, waiting, and you don’t come back, what am I supposed to do?”

  “You run,” Savyn said softly. “Run, and don’t look back. Hide. Steal. Beg if you must. Don’t let him find you, no matter what. You have a gift. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

  “I rarely use my gift,” she said, “and when I do, I must be close enough to touch. That isn’t always possible.”

  “If I don’t come back . . .”

  Leyla grabbed his hand and held on tight. “You will come back to me,” she insisted. “You must.” She looked into his eyes, and her heart broke for what she’d given up and could never reclaim. If she’d believed love was enough, she never would’ve made him forget what they’d had. It had been selfish of her to believe that they could have even a small bit of what they wanted without pain. “I need you, Savyn.” He could never know how much meaning those words had for her.

  Savyn instinctively leaned forward, as if moving to her for a kiss, but he stopped himself long before their lips met. He looked confused for a moment, and then he glanced away from her and began to study their surroundings. “That thick group of trees over there will offer you shelter and cover,” he said, trying to be stoic but revealing too much with the emotion in his voice. Somehow, some way, he had suffered a flash of memory he should not, could not, have.

  As they headed toward the place where Savyn intended to leave her, he did not take her hand.

  Chapter Eight

  MERIN had not bothered to pack a small tent, and on this first night on Forbidden Mountain he had not even sought out a small cave for shelter. The night was mild. Erecting even the most primitive shelter would take time they did not have, and besides, he did not mind sleeping beneath the clear skies. They each carried a small blanket to cover the ground, and that would suffice.

  He had built a fire just before darkness fell, using fallen limbs, dried brush, and the flint and steel he carried in his pack. Their food—which for the duration of this journey would consist of oatcake and a goodly supply of a mix of oats, dried fruits, and nuts—did not need to be warmed, and apparently there were no animals on the mountain, so predatory cats would not be a problem. Still, the fire did offer them some comfort. He suspected they would need the fire more tomorrow and the next night, as they moved higher, where the air would be cooler this time of year. Perhaps they would even have to search for shelter, but he hoped not. He did not want to take the time for even the smallest of comforts.

  Traveling would’ve been much easier if he and Bela had untied the rope that bound them and stored it in one of the packs, as long as they were out of sight of the village. But they had given their word before leaving. Bela’s father and the seer, Fiers, had both insisted. Merin had known more than one wizard in his lifetime, and he suspected the Turi seer would know if they did not keep their promise. The little old man possessed a goodly amount of power. Besides, Merin did not break his word, certainly not to make his own days easier.

  And yes, being apart from Bela would make his life much easier.

  Tonight something was wrong with his wife. Something was always wrong with her, but tonight there was something new. He could feel it and he could see it on her face, a face he was coming to know so well. She was bothered by something, and she was not telling him what or why. Usually she was quite comfortable when it came to voicing her complaints, but tonight she kept secrets, as she had all day.

  Maybe she was afraid he would wish to resume their physical interactions, now that they were once again alone. He could put her fears to rest where that was concerned.

  While Merin was certainly not averse to the pleasures of a woman’s hands or her mouth, he knew he would not be satisfied with anything less than everything where Bela was concerned. Everything; all of her. If they touched as a man and wife might, he would end up inside her and then they would never be unwed. They’d make a baby, if not tonight, then in the nights to come, and if there was a child of the union, they would be fore
ver married, at least under Turi law.

  He studied her pensive face, which was striking with the flickering fire to illuminate the features. When had she become beautiful? When had the sight of that face begun to make his stomach and his heart clench?

  “I expect nothing of you,” he said sharply and without emotion.

  Her head snapped up. “What?”

  “What began in the creek before Nobel’s arrival, I do not expect you to finish it. Now that I’m thinking clearly, I realize such a physical liaison would not be wise, not for us.”

  She studied him for a moment, and though he studied her closely, he could not tell what she was thinking. Was she relieved or insulted? Usually Bela’s emotions were very clear on her face, but at the moment she was unreadable.

  “Does that mean you have no interest in touching me as you once did?”

  No interest was not the right phrase, but it would do. “That is correct.”

  “Pity,” she said softly. “Now that you have enlightened me, I find myself rather intrigued by the physical interactions of a man and a woman.”

  Her words cut through him and seemed to grab at his insides, deep and with surprising strength. He tried to ignore that grabbing. “When we are no longer wed, other men can intrigue you.”

  She was silent for a moment, and then she said, “I don’t think so.”

  Merin felt a surge of anger. He did not want Bela to be afraid of men. That’s why he’d tortured himself to show her the truth of sex properly—if only partially—done. “It would be preposterous for you to live without such physical pleasures. If you don’t want children, there are precautions which can be taken, with time and planning. There’s no need for you to take a husband if that is your concern . . .”

  “Do you think I am a loose woman who will search for such pleasures with just anyone?” Her voice rose slightly and reverberated among the rocks.

  Apparently he could say nothing right tonight. “I did not say . . .”

  “Do you think I should become the village prostitute?”

  “Good heavens, no!” His patience was gone. “I don’t understand you at all, Bela. I can never entirely grasp what you want and what you don’t want. You shun all things womanly, but by God, you are acting very much like a woman tonight. Why can’t you just tell me what you want? Why can’t you just be straightforward?”

  “Fine.” The word was a sharp, stinging snap. “I want love,” she said honestly and without stammering. “Until you returned to us, I did not think I desired love at all, but you have taught me differently and it is quite maddening. I’m not sure I can forgive you for that, for turning my life upside down and inside out and making me want what I never before cared about.” Her eyes met his, and he saw the anger and confusion there. “I am a straightforward person in all matters,” she said. “I do not keep secrets and dwell upon my thoughts in private.”

  Merin laughed bitterly. “You do not keep secrets?”

  Her expression was contrite, even sheepish. The anger seemed to fly away, leaving her more confused. “Long ago I did what was necessary, but I did not enjoy lying to you and my family. I merely did what I believed had to be done. Six years ago I had the body of a woman, but my mind was still very much that of a child.”

  “A spoiled child willing to do anything to get what she wanted.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  There had been nothing childlike about the woman he remembered, and seventeen was a marriageable age for many. But she was right—her thinking at that time had not been right. Merin found it wise not to recall too clearly that night when she’d thrown herself at him. It wasn’t just the unpleasant finish that dismayed him, but the memory of her bare body pressed to his, all too briefly.

  “My thinking is no longer muddled by childish desires and stubborn plans of defiance and deception,” she continued. “I leave all that behind me now, Tearlach Merin, and speak only the truth. I think I might love you. No, that is a cowardly way to say what’s in my heart. I do love you. I’m certain of it.”

  Again, she surprised him. “You say that only because I’m the first man to make you . . .”

  “That’s not why,” she interrupted without anger. “You are handsome and gallant and strong, and you’re a powerful man in many ways. You have a fine body and a pretty face. I would be lying if I said that I do not admire all that in you, and I do not wish another lie to come between us. There is more than power to admire, of course. You care about people and you’re willing to sacrifice much of yourself for others.” She cocked her head and studied his face too closely. “But more than that, I am drawn to you in a way I cannot entirely explain, as if something inside me craves you to the pit of my soul. That was true six years ago, though I did not recognize it at the time, and it’s true now. I might tell others and myself that I chose you because I thought you would die in battle and leave me a convenient widow, but I was inexplicably drawn to you even then. I might’ve said that any man would do, but that’s not the truth. Only you would do, then and now.”

  No other woman would share her feelings so openly, so evenly, and without demand. He could only do the same. “You are intended for the emperor.”

  “Do you never defy your Emperor Jahn?”

  “Never.”

  She sighed. “Do you love me, even a little?”

  He hesitated, and in the moment of absolute silence he wished for an interruption of some kind. The caw of a bird or the howl of an animal would suffice, in this place where there was neither. There was only the crackle of the fire, which accentuated the deep silence between them. Finally he said, “I do care for you, Bela.”

  “That’s not the same as love,” she responded quickly. “I care for many people, but I love very few. My family. My friend Jocylen. And you. My love for you is different from all the rest. I’m not sure I can explain it.”

  “You should not love me.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “You have not answered my question properly, Merin. Do you love me?”

  In truth he didn’t know, but the answer had to be no.

  Bela looked a little disappointed, but she was not surprised, and she did not cry or rail against him. “I hope that one day you might, because until you do, I can’t allow you to lie with me as a husband lies with his wife. It would be wrong.”

  He had just told Bela that they could not touch in that way, so why was his first instinct to argue with her?

  She did not flirt or plead or bat her eyelashes, as other women might’ve. There was not a single tear, not a sniffle. Bela wasn’t playing with him. No, she was deadly serious. “I’m going to get some sleep,” she said, grabbing a nearby blanket and placing it on the hard ground between them. “It’s been a long day, and we have much to do tomorrow.”

  Bela remained close, thanks to the braided rope that bound them, and Merin found himself watching her as she closed her eyes and seemed to find sleep quickly.

  No, he did not, could not, love Bela, but he had to admit she was like no other woman in the world, and he wanted her to distraction.

  SAVYN returned to Leyla as quickly as he could, but in his absence she’d been crying. Her eyes were red and her face was puffy. She was probably worried about what would happen if she found herself on her own, without his protection.

  “I have bread,” he said, smiling and ignoring the fact that she was upset. “And a small amount of fatty meat. I also have a tin cup of water. I think it’ll taste better than what we drank from the creek this morning.” He had tried so hard not to spill even a drop. “It isn’t much, but it’ll do for now. According to the farmer’s wife, there’s a village only a day and a half walk from here. We will head in that direction in the morning. I can find a job there and earn enough to buy some real food, and then we will decide what to do.” It was almost dark, so it made sense for them to remain here, in this thick copse of trees, for the night.

  As he’d walked back from the farmhouse, Savyn had been trying to think of the
fastest way to get Lady Leyla to safety. Since she was destined for the emperor, emperor’s men would be best. But how, and who could he trust? He only knew he had to get rid of her as soon as possible.

  He had started having vivid fantasies about the woman in his care. Realistic, bone-shattering, mouth-watering sexual fantasies, as if he knew what it felt like to hold her naked body against his. As if he knew what she sounded like when she whispered his name with passion. As if he knew what it was like to push into her wet heat and find a pleasure like no other.

  She was so glad to see him that she threw her arms around his neck, which caused him to spill a few drops of the water. But she quickly realized the impropriety of her reaction and pulled away, dropping her arms to her sides. Everything in him wanted to drop what he carried and pull her back to him, but he did not. They weren’t right, these fantasies. She was intended for another, and was of a class he could not dream of touching.

  They ate in silence, and then, as darkness fell, he made a bed of sorts from the large leaves of a pollux tree. The leaves would not be soft, but they would keep the dirt from the lady’s back. When the bed was prepared, she lay upon the ground and pulled her knees up to her chest, drawing herself into a tight ball of terror.

  Painful as it was, he lay down beside her and comforted her as best he could, without going too far, without revealing how he felt. Why did the words I love you play at his lips? He barely knew Lady Leyla. Perhaps he had admired her from afar for many years, but that did not mean he had the right to dream of loving her.

  The image of her smiling at him flashed in his mind, and he shook it away. She was a kind woman, that was all. She smiled at many people, those she knew well and those she did not know at all.

  He rubbed a hand along her arm and whispered to her that all would be well. Leyla did not agree, but neither did she argue. She eventually fell asleep, and when she did, she unwound slowly and drifted toward him. Soon her body was resting against his, and Savyn was so hard and needful that the pain kept him from sleep.