“Why not now?” he asked.
Tyman and Clyn were amused by the proceedings. The chieftain was hard to read, as usual. Bela rose up on her toes, as impatient as Merin to have this done. A few lost days, and all was ruined.
“The daughter of the chieftain should be wooed,” Gayene said calmly. “The people of the village should see that she’s desired as a woman, that you find her worthy of your time and attention.”
“I must return to Arthes.” Where he’d have to explain to the emperor that he’d decided to claim this potential bride for himself. That would not go over well, he imagined.
“Will a mere three days make all that much difference?” Tyman asked.
Merin looked to Bela, waiting for her to join him in his argument. She was oddly quiet. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked. If she did not want him he would leave tonight.
“I have not changed my mind, not at all,” she said.
“But?” he said, seeing the uncertainty on her face.
“But I find I am not at all opposed to being courted. For three days,” she added quickly. “Not fourteen, that would be much too long. And I think I would like a more proper wedding this time, since it is necessary that we remarry in any case. Something to remember. Something we can tell our children about.”
Merin smiled. “You have a woman’s heart after all,” he said gently.
“I suppose I do.”
He bowed crisply to his former and future wife. “If you wish to be courted, I will court you properly. If you wish to have an appropriate wedding, we will have one. But three days is as long as I’m prepared to wait.”
She grinned. If waiting three days would make her smile this way, then he would gladly suffer the wait.
Bela offered her hand, and he took it. “It’s late,” she said. “We can go home now. I’m so ready to fall asleep in that awful sagging bed, after too many nights sleeping on rock.”
“Oh, no.” Tyman and Clyn both stood, and so did Gayene, who spoke with authority. “You two are no longer wed, so it would be most improper for you to share that little cottage.”
Bela’s mouth dropped open. “But many couples live together in the days before they’re wed.”
Gayene’s chin snapped up. “Common folk do, but it would be improper for the daughter of the chieftain to live with a man before marriage.”
“We’ve lived together for weeks!”
“You were married,” Gayene reminded her daughter. “As of yesterday, that is no longer the case.”
“Then forget the courtship,” Bela said as she stepped toward Merin. “We’ll just say the words here and now, and you can’t stop us.”
Merin took Bela’s hand and leaned down to kiss her knuckles. She deserved better than a quick ceremony followed by a proper bedding. She deserved to be shown how much he wanted her, how much he desired her as his wife. “We’ll wait,” he whispered. “Three days.”
“But . . .” Bela began.
“I will woo you, Bela,” Merin said confidently. “I will win you the way a man is supposed to win a wife. You will not doubt that I am sure of what I want when we are married in a ceremony that takes place before the entire village.”
“But three days,” she whined. Somewhere in the background, one of her brothers growled.
Merin did not take his eyes from Bela’s face. “Three very long days, and then a lifetime together. I will gladly wait those days for you.” And by the time they were married, she would have no doubt that he loved her without reservation.
BELA waited until the rest of the household was asleep, which seemed to be a very long time. The two prisoners who had not died of their battle wounds had stopped screaming an hour or so ago, but she did not doubt that they still lived—and would, for a while longer. She could almost feel sorry for them, if they had not made the ultimate mistake of aligning themselves with Nobel Andyrs and a daughter of the Isen Demon.
Her mind would not be still. All night she had thought of the child she was meant to bear, of the demon-girl that child was meant to kill. She considered the fate of the world if destiny did not play out as it should. A mother should not have to concern herself with the fate of the world, not where her child was concerned, but what was she to do? Whether she liked the idea or not, her daughter would be a warrior. With a father like Merin to teach her and a devoted mother to guide her, she would be the finest of warriors.
Escape by the front entrance would be impossible, since there was still much activity in the village square. Bela decided she would sneak around the back of the houses to reach the small cottage where Merin waited. Would he be surprised to see her, or was he expecting her visit?
She could not wait to touch him, to make love to him again. They’d always had the red; they’d survived the black; now she knew what the white truly meant. Pure love. Love that could survive anything.
Wearing her usual garb—Tyman’s hand-me-downs—Bela opened the single, large window in her bedchamber and put one booted foot outside.
The voice that came out of the darkness surprised her. “I don’t think so.”
Instead of withdrawing into the room, she leaned out to see her brother—he whose clothing she currently wore—leaning against the house as if he were waiting for her escape.
“What are you doing here?” she asked sharply.
Tyman grinned. “Waiting for this very moment, little sister. Retreat to your room and get some sleep. Morning will be here before you know it.”
“But Merin . . .”
“Merin is not your husband at this moment. If he abuses your affections, I might have to kill him, and that would be unfortunate.”
Halfway in and halfway out, Bela made herself as comfortable as possible. “Unfortunate? I thought you didn’t like him.”
Tyman shrugged. “I did not like General Merin when I thought he’d hurt you. In truth, he is the only man I have ever met who is worthy of you, even if he is not Turi.”
Escape thwarted, Bela resigned herself to sleeping alone tonight. Knowing her brothers, she suspected that if Tyman left his post to sleep for a while, Clyn would take his place.
“Who is watching over Merin?” she asked testily, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.
Tyman’s lips twitched. “As long as one of you is under guard, all should be well.”
That was true enough.
“We’re practically wed,” she snapped. “We have been married before, and in three days will be married again.”
“When those three days pass, it will no longer be necessary for me to watch your bedroom window.”
“Merin and I have already had sex, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”
Tyman made a gagging sound, then added, “I do not wish to hear this.”
Bela smiled. “Many times. Many times in many different ways. He’s quite talented and . . .”
“Am I going to have to gag you for three full days?”
Bela relaxed. “No, of course not. What’s wrong, Tyman? Are you ignorant in the ways of love? Does hearing about my sexual experiences make you blush?”
“I am not ignorant,” he said in a low voice. “That does not mean I wish to hear my sister talk about how talented her soon-to-be husband is in bed.”
“Actual beds are not at all necessary,” Bela said, “though they are quite nice, especially when . . .”
Tyman came to the window, forcibly assisted Bela back into her room, and then shut the window behind her with a decisive thud and evident relief.
Bela knelt there for a while, her head resting on the windowsill as she watched her brother pace. She finally fell asleep there, oddly peaceful and wonderfully content.
Chapter Seventeen
“TOMORROW we’ll have to go to town to buy food,” Leyla said as she served up most of what was left for their breakfast. She sounded nervous about the prospect, and Savyn knew that if she had her way, they would remain here forever, hidden away from the world.
“
Just as well,” he said. “I’m tired of dried meat and hard biscuits.”
“And berries,” she added.
“And berries.” On her last trip to gather the sweet morsels, two days ago, Leyla had insisted that he go with her. She did not quite trust him, not yet. He had told her that he loved her, but she was still afraid of losing him. That would not happen. Not ever.
It had been during that berry-hunting trip that Savyn had had the first sign that his sight was returning. The headache had been less on that morning, and his head had felt not quite so overly full. When they’d walked away from the hut, hand in hand, he had sensed as much as seen a shifting in the light. That shifting light had been enough to give him hope that perhaps his sight would return, but he had not been sure, so he’d said nothing.
Now he watched Leyla. He watched her! The fine lines of her features and the details of her ragged and stained gown were blurry still, but she was solid and beautiful before him as she arranged their food on a battered tin plate she had found on a dusty shelf.
“I’m not very hungry,” he said.
“You need to eat, to keep up your strength.”
“I’m not a child who needs to be told when to eat,” he said. “And there are other things I would prefer to do right now.”
Savyn would forever regret his harsh words to Leyla as they lay on the forest floor, but he had done all he could to make amends in days past. He’d felt her body quiver and squeeze his, he’d listened to her sighs of satisfaction. He’d told her time and again that he loved her, and she’d spoken the words to him in return.
There had even been moments in recent days when he’d been certain all would be well, whether he regained his sight or not. Every day it had become a bit easier to walk, to eat, to orient himself, to function. If he had no other choice, he could learn to live without his sight, and he could even be content. He knew that now, because he had been content here, where they had nothing but each other.
It was Leyla who brought about this turn in his thinking. She was all he truly needed.
But in all those days he had not been able to see her face, not as he could now. His vision was not perfect, and might never be, but he could see her.
Savyn walked directly to Leyla, took her arm, and led her into the morning sunlight that broke through the holes in the roof. He smiled as the radiance hit her face and she blinked against the brightness.
Leyla deserved better than a rough bed on the floor of a hut no self-respecting hermit would live in. She should have a better haven than an abandoned hut that was literally falling apart, a single tin plate, a scarcity of food. One day he would see that she had the fine home she deserved, but he could not discount all that had happened in this hut. She had been happy here. So had he.
In the past few days she had spoken often of starting over as man and wife in some other place. More than once Leyla had mentioned changing their names and hiding from the dangers and the censure of the world. He had not told her that would never happen, but neither had he agreed.
Now he reached out and cupped her face in his hands, running his thumbs along her soft lips, as he had done quite often, then leaning in and down to kiss her. She opened to him with that kiss. She held nothing back. He ended the kiss too soon for her and backed away so he could see her face. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.
He saw the pain in her eyes, the slight frown of her wonderful mouth. “There’s more to what we have than beauty, Savyn.”
“Yes, there is,” he said, “but I will never get tired of looking at you. Your eyes are the most perfect shade of blue, and the curve of your cheek is perfection, and your mouth is not only soft and kissable but a lovely shade of red, like a ripe plum.”
She blinked and looked into his eyes. “You can . . .”
“See you?” he finished. “Yes, I can. Not as well as I’d like, not yet, but . . .”
Leyla threw her arms around his neck and squealed before he could finish. Then she cried a little, before laughing some more.
“Do you know what I missed most when I could not see?” He did not give her a chance to answer. “I missed seeing you. Your smile, your eyes, the swell of your breasts . . .”
“Savyn!”
“It’s true. Even when I did not remember what we had once been to one another, when we were traveling and I did not dare to tell you how I felt . . . just to look upon you gave me great joy and peace.” He stepped away and looked her up and down. In the sunlight he could see her very well. “Your fine dress is stained with mud.”
“I tried to clean it, but the mud went too deep,” she explained.
“Soon we will buy you another,” he said, allowing his fingers to trace the swell of her breasts. He wanted to take this stained garment off her body and see every inch of her skin, and he would. Soon. All these nights when they’d made this hut their home, he had loved her in the dark. To be with her in that way had been fine, very fine, but he wanted more. “I wish to see all of you, bare and smiling.” He unfastened a small button and slipped his fingers inside to touch her skin.
She tried to help him, tried to quickly undress herself, but he stopped her by gently pushing her hands aside. “No, I will do this myself, as I can now discern every blasted button, hook, and eye.”
Leyla stood in the sunlight and allowed him to undress her, as he wished. She was more beautiful than any fantasy, and he did his best to commit every line to memory. When he pushed one faded blue sleeve down her arm, a fading but still ugly bruise marred her shoulder. Trinity had done that. The assassin should be condemned to hell for hurting one so tender as Leyla. Savyn kissed the damaged shoulder, allowing his mouth to linger there for a moment before he continued with the slow disrobing.
But for that ugly bruise, she was perfection. She was his. He ran his rough hands along her pale, soft skin, and there was no rush to get to the end of this exploration. When she stood before him completely naked, he kissed her breasts, tasting the small, dark nipples and feeling them grow hard against his tongue. He lifted his head to watch the dawning ecstasy on her sunlit face as he slipped his fingers between her legs and aroused her.
She was as beautiful as she had been in his fantasies. More so, if that was possible. Every soft curve, every inch of flesh, was perfection. And her face . . . Leyla was not just beautiful, she revealed her emotions and her desires in her open expressions. How could he ever have doubted that she loved him as much as he loved her?
He did not want to take her out of the sunlight, not even to lay her on their makeshift, hard bed. She undressed him there in the warm shaft of sunlight, and then he lay on the floor right there and she straddled him anxiously.
Lost inside her, he watched the press of his hard body to her pale softness, he watched the growing need on her face, and then he watched as she quivered and lurched above him. A sob was caught in her throat as she moved her hips to invite him deeper, harder, and then he shattered with her.
They were still joined, still awash in the sun, when he said, “Promise me that you will never use your magical abilities on me again.”
“I swear,” she whispered.
They would make new memories, and he would cherish them all. “Tomorrow we will go to the village up the road, where we will buy food and two horses and a proper dress.”
“Why horses?” she asked, her expression one of concern. “We can catch a ride with a traveler, or walk to the next village, or just stay there, if it suits us. The money we have will have to last us for a while, so we should be very careful how it is spent. I’ve been thinking of names . . .”
Savyn pulled Leyla to him and silenced her with a kiss, a kiss she willingly accepted.
“And while we are there in the village,” he said, ignoring her objections, “we will say the words that will make us man and wife.”
Her face was close to his as she whispered, “I do not need words.”
“I do,” Savyn said. “And what of our children?”
Even tho
ugh her face was now in shadow, he could see well enough to note the wrinkle that appeared between her eyebrows. “I had not given much thought to children,” she confessed.
“You should, as often as we have attempted to make one.” A terrible thought occurred to him. “Don’t you want children? ”
“If they are yours, yes,” she said without hesitation.
“Then they should have their father’s name, should they not? ”
“Whatever name we . . .”
Savyn shook his head. “They will have the name Leone, and none other, and they will know that their father is Savyn and their mother is Leyla. I will not hide, and our children will not live with deception. I know you think the only way we can be together is to change our names and lie about our ages and hide away for the rest of our lives in a hut much like this one.”
“It would not be so bad,” she whispered.
“It would be a lie. Besides, you know the name of the woman who attempted to have you killed. The emperor should know.”
“What do you propose?” she asked, more worried than annoyed. “Is it safe to go to Arthes? What if the emperor still wants me to participate in his silly bridal contest?”
“By the time we arrive in Arthes, you will be my wife, and with any luck you’ll be carrying our first child.”
“Then why should we go there at all?”
“We will inform the emperor or an official in his command that our party was attacked by someone who intended to kill you, and you will tell him what Trinity told you before he left. I will find my brother, if he is still living in Arthes, and perhaps he can help me find a proper and well-respected swordmaker who will take me on as a worker until I can save enough to start my own business. Tearlach is a general in the emperor’s command, so he would be the one to help us get word to Emperor Jahn, I suppose.” He kissed her again. “And I will tell the whole world that I love you, Lady Leyla. Leyla Leone.” He smiled. “We will not disappear. We will not run in fear, not from those who would dare to hurt you, and certainly not from those who might not approve of us, for one reason or another. I love you and you love me. There is no need for us to hide ourselves away.”
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