22 Nights

by WINSTEAD JONES, LINDA

  Merin closed his eyes and quickly fell into a deep sleep, exhaustion overtaking him. Bela’s warm, soft body rested against his, and she slept, too. He woke once to hear her even breathing, to take comfort in the fact that she was there, still connected, still his. When he returned to sleep, with crystals sparkling all around—above and beneath him—he dreamed briefly of a daughter who looked like Bela but had his dark, curly hair. She was tall and had her mother’s wide smile, and she held a sword as well as any warrior he had ever trained. She was unafraid; she was beautiful. And he was comforted by the unshakable knowledge that she was going to be all right.

  IT wasn’t as though she had not dreamed of this before, Bela thought as Merin removed her clothes and kissed her body and aroused her with his hands. From that night when he’d shown her what sexual pleasure could be, she had experienced many different versions of this particular dream.

  This one was different. It was more real than the others, more wonderfully vivid, and the dancing lights around them were like their personal rainbows. Yes, Merin was making love to her in a rainbow.

  His face was as comely as ever, if more colorful than usual as the bright hues of the rainbow cut across his face. He took his time in preparation. In past encounters she had been anxious to get to the end, to take the shattering pleasure, but he was right in insisting that the preparation was important. She had come to love this part, when Merin kissed and aroused her so patiently, when she knew in her heart he was not at all patient.

  As in the way of dreams, one minute he was dressed in clothing damp with water from the enchanted river, and the next they were both undressed. She liked him this way, naked and pressed against her, wonderfully bare and entirely hers. Bela had never thought of herself as being soft in any way, but when she and Merin held one another this way, the softness of her body and the hardness of his were in stark and wonderful contrast, and for the first time in her life she was glad of the softness of her body. It was right for this. For them.

  When she was more than ready, he thrust inside her and she cried out in relief and pleasure. Her cries echoed, they reverberated and turned into what sounded like a laugh. Had she ever thought they would not fit properly? Had she ever thought this would not be achingly wonderful? She was his, and he filled her very nicely. He filled her perfectly, stretching and pushing and thrusting and claiming. Too soon they found completion together, their bodies arching and trembling as one.

  It was hot. So hot. They created an intense warmth that rose from their bodies in waves. Sweat beaded on her flesh, it made her and Merin slick with the heat they made.

  And then the rain came, gentle and cooling, and Merin’s body drifted down to cover hers for a moment before he rolled away. They lay on their backs, naked and sated, as the gentle rain washed over them. She had never felt anything like it before, and she had been out in the rain many times. This rain felt like gentle fingers, it cooled and caressed.

  This rain was like the rainbow that danced around them, that colored their bare bodies red and blue and yellow and green. It was tender, and it was theirs. When the rain stopped, Bela rolled onto her side and draped one leg over Merin’s body. What a wonderful dream.

  THOUGH it was hard for him to know how much time passed as he walked, Savyn realized when the day began to fade. The warmth on his face had gradually disappeared, and the temperatures had begun to cool. The day had not been a waste. Throughout the day, which had seemed unbearably long, he’d learned a thing or two. A fallen tree branch, sturdy but slender, helped him make his way along the road without tripping again, as he swept the ground before him. He could also tap it along the grassy edge of the road to make certain he was moving straight ahead and not listing or weaving to one side. He’d had to trip over the damn branch in order to find it, but it had been a good enough trade.

  His hearing was quite good. In fact, he heard everything. Insects, the wind in the trees, small animals in the forest, Leyla’s voice.

  For a long while after he’d heard her frantic cry, he’d waited to hear her step or the horse’s hooves on the road. She was likely to feel responsible for him and his infirmity, so she’d probably try to collect him as one might a wayward dog. If he heard her coming, he would slip into the forest and hide there. He would not be led about like a wounded and faithful dog, no matter how noble Leyla’s intentions might be.

  Savyn realized that he had gotten too accustomed to calling the woman of his fantasies Leyla, in the short time they’d been on the run. He should revert to the more proper Lady Leyla, or simply Lady. He had no right to call her or to think of her by her given name. No right at all.

  He waited for quite some time, listening closely, but she did not come. There were no footsteps or clopping hooves on this lonely path.

  Lady Leyla would be fine without him, Savyn assured himself as he trudged forward. In fact, she would be much better off. If she had decided to search for him, perhaps she had gone toward the village which had been their original destination days ago, a lifetime ago. She would find help there. Maybe she would even make her life there, with a new name.

  When darkness fell, Savyn continued to walk along the road. He had his stick, his hearing, his memory of this path. What difference did it make if there was light to illuminate his way or not? He was lost in darkness. But even without his sight, the night was ominous. In the distance a wolf howled. Night birds cawed. Something in the forest hissed, and insects attacked his exposed skin, taking particular delight in his neck. He swatted them away, determined to keep moving as long as possible. He needed to put some distance between him and Lady Leyla. He needed to escape.

  Still, before morning arrived, he was compelled to rest, even to sleep. He found a soft patch of grass on the side of the road away from the forest, and he lay there for a while, sleeping in spurts, waking often to a noise or a breeze. Maybe some wild animal would attack him in the night and take his life, such as it was. It was a risk he would gladly take if it meant the torturous fantasies would stop.

  Savyn felt some relief when morning came. He was still alive and Lady Leyla had not found him. Maybe she had not searched for him at all. Maybe she was glad to be rid of her burden; maybe she was already in the village, where she could start a new life.

  And still, he was not surprised a short while later when he heard Lady Leyla call his name again, much as she had the day before. He also heard the gentle clop of a horse’s hooves. Perhaps she had gone toward the village at first when she searched for him, or perhaps she had remained at the hut for a while, awaiting his return. Whatever had delayed her, she had not given up, as he had hoped. She was coming for him.

  Savyn considered moving into the woods and finding a sheltered spot to hide, but now that the time was upon him, something inside refused to take that step. He could imagine too well thinking himself hidden while he was exposed in some silly or pathetic way. He could imagine Lady Leyla seeing him too easily and taking pity on a man who could not even conceal himself properly in the woods. So he kept walking. Even when he knew she was close enough to see him, he did not turn about. What would be the use? He could not see her.

  When she was close and the horse slowed, he half expected her to start haranguing him. She should. He had caused her a great deal of trouble by running. But instead of attacking him, she remained silent. It was a few minutes before he heard the horse stop. A moment later Lady Leyla’s feet hit the road, and soon her steps trailed his. She kept a distance, and did not try to run to catch up with him. Instead, she continued to follow, her footsteps in time with his, a soft echo of his own tread.

  Finally she asked, “Where are we going?”

  Savyn sighed. She was going to make this difficult. She was going to make him say it. “We’re not going anywhere, not together. You can go on to the village. I half expected you’d be there already. Have you decided upon your new name?” He did not stop or even slow down.

  “I’m not going anywhere without you,” she said, her voice even
, but a little thick. Maybe she had been crying.

  “There’s no need to be afraid,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not worried about myself!” she said, finally showing a hint of anger.

  “I certainly don’t want you to worry about me,” Savyn said. “I’ll be all right. If my sight returns, I’ll go home and take up where I left off, mending and building wheels and making swords.”

  “And if it does not?” she asked sharply.

  “Then I will go where God takes me, I suppose.”

  Her pace increased; it almost sounded like she was running. When she grabbed his arm and yanked, shifting him off balance, he almost fell. Instead, he righted himself clumsily and turned to face her, wishing he could see her angry eyes and her wild hair and her luscious lips. Yes, he had to get away from her. This had to stop, or he would go mad.

  “There is something you do not know,” she said softly, even though there was no one around for miles to hear her words.

  “I imagine there is much I do not know.”

  “I lied to you,” she said more harshly.

  “A fine lady such as yourself owes me nothing, not even the truth.”

  “Stop it,” she whispered.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop being so damned gallant and calm. I lied to you! Because of me, an assassin took your sight and nearly killed you. You should despise me!”

  “And yet I do not,” Savyn said. “I do not despise you at all. Could not, even if I wished to do so. Why is that, Lady Leyla? ”

  He did wonder what lie she had told him, but in truth he did not care. He still wanted her. He still loved her. What a ridiculous notion, that he might be allowed to love one such as her.

  “We were lovers,” she said, her voice even lower than a whisper.

  For the first time in a long while, Savyn laughed. “I believe I would remember if that were true.”

  He heard Lady Leyla take a deep breath and hold it for a moment before she said, “I took the memories from you.”

  Savyn felt as if she had kicked him in the gut. What she suggested was a ridiculous notion, and yet it explained much. His fantasies were, at least in part, lost memories fighting to come back. His love for her, his need to protect her, they were not new at all. Everything fell into place, and he felt a rush of fury and regret. “Why? Why would you make me forget?”

  She spoke softly and quickly, spitting out the words. “I was leaving, and I had no choice in the matter. More than anything, I wanted you to be happy, to have a wonderful life, and I could not give that to you. All I could do was let you go, and I did so the only way I knew how.”

  “By using your witchcraft on me and erasing a part of my past?”

  “Yes.”

  He did not know whether to be angry or relieved. In truth he was both. “Can you put the memories back?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, and she reached out to touch his forehead. “I have never tried. I suspect the memories are simply gone and cannot be retrieved.”

  Savyn wished again that he could see her eyes at this moment. Was she sorry she’d ravaged his mind to clear her own conscience? Did she regret using witchcraft on her lover?

  “Someone’s coming,” he said, sensing the rumble of the road, hearing the distant creak of a wheel. “A wagon,” he added. “Two horses, I believe.”

  “We should hide in the woods until they pass,” Lady Leyla said, taking his arm and guiding him and the horse in that direction. He wanted to shake off her hold, but did not. With his stick he could find his way to and into the forest, but locating a proper trail and a hiding place was another matter. He had become a pathetic creature.

  When they were a short distance from the road, he asked, “What was I to you, Lady Leyla, a stud? A convenience when your husband could not satisfy you? Did you pay me for my services?”

  “No!” she said, softly but insistently. “It was not like that, not at all.”

  “Then what was it like?” he asked.

  Lady Leyla came to a halt and said, “We can wait here. We’re far enough from the road and the growth here is thick enough that those passing should not see us.”

  Using her voice as a guide, he found and grabbed her face. “What was it like?” he whispered.

  “We should talk about this later,” she said, her voice as soft as his own.

  “No, we will talk about it now. I want to know what you did to me, and I want to know why. Did your husband pay me to do what he could not?”

  Lady Leyla sighed. “You and I were not together until long after my husband died.”

  “Did you love him, then?”

  “No,” she answered sharply. “I was a spouse bought and paid for, a slave as much as a wife. There could be no love in such a relationship.”

  “Did you love me?” He could hear the wagon on the road as it passed them without pausing. Children laughed and talked quickly, making so much noise there was little chance anyone would hear the words in the forest above the creak of wheels, the clop of hooves, and the voices of children. And if anything was heard, it would be dismissed as the whispers of animals or the scurrying of forest dwellers.

  “Love would not have been wise,” Lady Leyla said, her voice trembling just slightly. “Not then and not now.”

  “Of course not. The fine lady and the poor craftsman would not make a proper couple, not at all, not even when I could see. My, how people would talk.”

  “I never cared for any of that,” she insisted. “People have talked about me all my life, and I learned a long time ago to dismiss whispers, to ignore the hate and the fear. But you, Savyn, I suspect you trouble yourself more than I do over what people say.”

  “Did you ever ask me if I cared about such things?”

  “I am nine years older than you!” she said sharply, ignoring his question. “It would not be at all fair for me to bind myself to you when a future was impossible.”

  Savyn placed his hand on her cheek. Yes, the curve of her cheek felt familiar, just as her scent and her voice and his fantasies were so sharply and torturously familiar. Nine years seemed nothing to him, so unimportant that he was angry she would even think of it as a problem. “If all this is true, then why do you tell me now? Why didn’t you just let me go?”

  “You need me,” she whispered, though the wagon had passed and the time for whispering had passed as well. “You can’t go out into the world alone, not like this.”

  He didn’t want her to feel sorry for him. She could hate him, she could want him, she could be bored with him, or angry or frustrated—but he would not have her pity. “I’ve been having fantasies about you,” he said. “Vivid dreams so real I thought they would drive me insane.”

  “You should remember nothing,” she said softly.

  “And yet, I do. I have always had a gnawing need to protect you, and there are moments when my hands itch to touch you, and I have to clench them into fists to keep from reaching out. Since I’ve been injured, it’s become more intense, more real, but from the moment we left Childers, there was . . . something. Something maddening. I knew long before I stole a kiss what your lips taste like,” he whispered, lowering his head slightly, “and I know very well what it feels like to slide into your heat, how you gasp when you find release, how your fine sheets sometimes smell of us. If you took all that away, why is it still with me? I swear, the bits and pieces that flit through my mind are enough to steal the last of my reason.”

  It was Leyla—Lady Leyla—who closed the distance between them and kissed him. Her lips met his and it was, as before, like coming home. Like finding himself again, after being lost for so long. It no longer mattered that he could not see. He could feel. He could feel very well.

  She tasted as he knew she should, and when his hand caressed her breast, the gentle swell filled his hand, as was right. As the kiss grew deeper, Leyla made an agreeable sound that spoke of need and passion and the love she denied. Trinity’s horse ran from them; they did
not care. Leyla—just Leyla, not Lady Leyla, not when he held her this way—wrapped her arms around his waist and held on. She was so warm and soft, so right in his arms.

  Savyn dropped to his knees, still entangled with Leyla as they fell. The kiss turned frantic; they were lost in each other, for the moment. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth and held it there, then deepened the kiss and thrust his tongue into her mouth, devouring her, taking what he had only dreamed of.

  This was his dream come true, and it was good. He did not need to see in order to kiss Leyla, in order to arouse her. He had held her in the dark many times and he knew her body well, just as she knew his. It was such a relief to know that there was a reason for his love, for his fantasies. He was not mad, and his aching need to protect her, to be with her, to have her, it was all natural and right. Leyla had tried to take this from him, but in spite of her magic he remembered. Perhaps he remembered with his heart, not his head. Perhaps her magic could not touch him there.

  He pushed her skirt high, his fingers brushing her bare thighs, and she whispered, “Yes.” She was ready for him, wet and hot, and he teased her with hands that knew her body very well. He did not think, he simply followed instinct as he aroused her.

  Leyla fumbled frantically with the ties of his trousers and released his swollen penis. She rolled onto the ground and brought him with her, her thighs wrapping around him. Her gasp and her hands spurred him on as she guided him to her damp center.

  He thrust deep, and when he did, everything he was, all he had ever been, was inside Leyla.

  Savyn forgot that he was blind as he made love to Leyla hard and fast. It might’ve been nighttime in the confines of her bedchamber, with the drapes shut tight so no one would be able to see. They were upon hard ground instead of her soft mattress, but he did not care. All he cared about was being inside her, making her shake and scream.