Love's Call

by C. A. Szarek

  “Thanks for putting it that way.” The duke flashed a sheepish smile. “Oh, congratulations on your betrothal. With Avril’s situation, proper acknowledgment fell to the wayside. Sorry about that. I hope Ansley wasn’t upset.”

  “Thank you, and no she wasn’t. I don’t think it’s necessary to announce formally.” Leargan waved his hand.

  Dark brow up, Jorrin studied him until he squirmed. “Did you tell her about the scroll?”

  “No.”

  “So she has no idea her father will be here soon?”

  Leargan scowled. “No.”

  “Well, you’d better tell her before she finds out and thinks you only want to marry her because King Nathal ordered it. It will hurt her.” The duke smirked. “Woman are funny like that.”

  He dragged his hand down his face.

  “That isn’t the only reason you asked her, is it?”

  “Of course not,” Leargan bit out.

  Jorrin’s gaze was appraising, and Leargan averted his eyes from the blue stare.

  Why did he want to marry her?

  He wanted her physically, but he’d spoken the truth when he’d told Jorrin he didn’t want a marriage without love.

  What exactly did he feel for Ansley?

  Desire. More than any other woman. Ever. Her passion equaled his. They’d suit each other well, and King Nathal, a man who’d always been a father to him, had chosen her for him.

  That was all he needed to know.

  Pushing away thoughts and feelings he didn’t want to acknowledge, Leargan shook his head.

  Not now.

  “Then why?” Jorrin stared.

  Don’t ask questions you can feel the answers to. But he couldn’t say the words. “Ansley is mine.”

  His friend’s eyes narrowed. “You’d better explain everything before they get here. She might want to know her wedding is about a sevenday away.”

  The door to Jorrin and Lady Cera’s chamber opened, and Leargan was grateful for the distraction.

  Ansley smiled at him before looking at Jorrin. “Cera is asking for you.”

  The duke nodded thanks and disappeared into the room.

  She stayed in the corridor, hands clasped together in front of her.

  “You’re not going back in?”

  “It’s pretty intense in there.” Ansley took a step toward him.

  Reaching down, he entwined their fingers. “Everything all right?”

  “Aye. She’s pushing. Won’t be long now.”

  Leargan leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I promise I’ll stay by your side when our first child is born.”

  Why had he said that?

  Something about Ansley, round with his child made his heart pound. He wanted it, almost as much as he wanted her.

  Her eyes widened and she blushed.

  He brushed his lips against hers, pulling her to him.

  She offered him a tremulous smile.

  “Did I scare you?”

  “No...”

  “You do want children?”

  “Oh, aye,” Ansley whispered.

  Leargan smiled. She would have his children. Why does that feel so right? “Good. So do I.” He couldn’t keep his hands off her, so children were inevitable anyway.

  “How many?” She snuggled closer.

  “I hadn’t thought about it.” He shrugged. “Definitely a little lad with your eyes.”

  Ansley looked down, cheeks even more crimson, but he guided her face back up, making her meet his eyes.

  “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.”

  “I…I’m not. Especially after today.”

  “Good,” Leargan whispered against her lips.

  She opened for him, and he tasted her fully. Their tongues mingled and coherent thought fled. He deepened the kiss.

  Until Ansley pulled away from him, glaring to the right.

  Ali growled again, yellow eyes sharp, glowing. “Stop it, now.”

  The wolf whined and laid her great head back down on the floor.

  Leargan relaxed and felt Ansley relax against him. “Thanks. Can we leave her out of the room on our wedding night?” He was only half-joking.

  She looked into his eyes. “She won’t hurt you.”

  “I know. But she hasn’t seen you naked in my arms yet.” He swallowed hard.

  Why did you say that?

  He must be a glutton for punishment.

  She trembled against his chest. “I haven’t seen that yet, either.”

  Biting back a groan, he ignored the longing in her tone. He was determined to be honorable. Especially since her father and the king would be there soon.

  How could he explain everything to her?

  Leargan wanted her to understand that he wanted to marry her, and not because the king had ordered it. Coward. “You will. I promise you. But I want to do things right.”

  “What I feel is right.”

  Blessed Spirit, she’s going to kill me. “It’s good to know my feelings aren’t one-sided.”

  Ansley froze in his arms, stiff against him. She swallowed, making him want to kiss her throat.

  “Are you all right?”

  What did I say? Had he upset her?

  “Aye…I’m fine.”

  “It’s a boy!” Lady Aimil threw the door open. “Come see him, he’s gorgeous!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Leargan and Ansley looked at each other and grinned.

  Morag and Neomi, Cera’s lady’s maid, gathered soiled linens and blankets, and an empty bucket. Wearing wide smiles and bustling around the room, it was hard to tell if they would ever tire.

  Jorrin stood next to the bed, tears glistening on his cheeks. Ansley smiled as he leaned down to kiss his wife.

  Tristan sat in a chair not far from the hearth, wiping sweat from his brow. He was pale, but Aimil had told her that when he used his healing magic, the larger the injury, the more physically it affected him. Healing someone from a birth was a serious thing.

  Aimil stood behind her husband, rubbing his shoulders and whispering to him.

  Cera propped against her pillows, cradling a small bundle, wearing a brilliant smile as she looked down at her baby.

  Ansley glanced at Leargan, smiling at the wonder in his dark eyes.

  He entwined their fingers and squeezed, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

  “Come here, come see him,” Cera whispered.

  They walked to the bed, Leargan pulling his hand out of hers so he could embrace Jorrin. The murmur of their hushed deep voices teased her ears, but Ansley only had eyes for the baby.

  Cera’s curly red hair covered his small head, and her fingers itched to see if it was as soft as it looked. His cheeks were full and pink, his little rosebud mouth peaceful while he slept in his mother’s arms, and his ears tapered like Jorrin’s. Tiny hands peaked from beneath the blanket he was swaddled in.

  Ansley had never seen a more beautiful creature. “Oh, Cera, he’s beautiful.” She reached to touch his curls. Downy soft.

  Cera looked up, her gray eyes shining. “Thanks, Ans. Do you want to hold him?”

  “Sure.” She leaned down and gently took the bundled baby into her arms.

  He stirred in his sleep but didn’t wake, and she kissed his soft little cheek.

  “What’s his name?” Leargan asked softly, appearing at her shoulder.

  “Fallon Braylen,” Jorrin said.

  Ansley smiled. A tribute to both their fathers.

  “Lord Fallon Aldern,” Leargan whispered.

  Cera and Jorrin both grinned.

  “Your father would be proud, Cera,” Ansley said, gently handing little Fallon back to his mother.

  Eyes misty, Cera nodded, and Jorrin squeezed her shoulder.

  “Oh, sorry…” Ansley whispered. Last thing she wanted was to make her friend cry.

  “No, no it’s fine. I just wish they all could see him.”

  “They can, from wherever they are, love.” Jorrin caressed his wife’s
cheek.

  “Thank you.” She stared up at him.

  Ansley shifted at Leargan’s side.

  Jorrin and Cera were looking at each other as if they were the only ones in the room.

  “Tristan, are you all right?” Leargan asked. He must have sensed her discomfort, unless he felt the same way, too.

  “Aye.” Tristan gestured with his hand. Like when he’d healed Avril, Aimil’s husband did not like the attention on himself. “I’ll be fine. Won’t have trouble sleeping, though.”

  “Have a rough night, did you?” Cera teased, causing them all to laugh.

  “Hey, I healed you all the way. As if you were never pregnant. Your body doesn’t know the difference, except you’ll be able to nurse him. Other than that, you’re as good as new. No soreness, bleeding, the after birth complaints of most women.” Tristan winked.

  “I am grateful, honestly.” Cera smiled sweetly. “Much better than having to heal on my own.”

  Little Fallon shifted in her arms letting out a wail.

  The three men in the room winced.

  “I think that would be our cue to find our chambers,” Aimil said, a hand on her rounding tummy.

  “Aye, I agree.” Leargan shot a look at the healer. “Tristan, do you need assistance?”

  “No, I’m fine, but thanks.” Lord Dagget rose from the chair.

  Jorrin walked them to the door. Fallon was already quieting as Cera started to nurse. “Thank you all for tonight.”

  “Congratulations, Lord Aldern,” Ansley whispered.

  “Just Jorrin,” he chided gently. “And congratulations to you, too.”

  “Thank you.” She leaned into Leargan and he shot an arm around her shoulders.

  “See you all tomorrow…or the next day…” Jorrin said, closing the door after Cera’s wolf slipped past them, heading inside.

  “We never did offer proper congratulations, Ansley,” Tristan said.

  Aimil beamed from his side, her arm around his waist.

  “It’s fine, really.” She wanted to bury her face against her betrothed. Her cheeks burned as she met the healer’s warm hazel eyes.

  “Leargan’s a good man, I’m sure he’ll make you happy. I know he’ll be very happy with you.”

  “Aye, I’ve no doubt,” Leargan said.

  Ansley glanced at her knight, almost undone by the tenderness in his eyes. She locked her knees to keep them from wobbling. “Thank you.”

  “Well, good night. Though it’s still early, I need to get to my bed before I fall over. I’ll follow Jorrin’s sentiment…see you tomorrow, or the next day.” He winked when his wife giggled.

  “I’ll walk you to your room…again,” Leargan said, laughter in his tone, after the other couple disappeared in the opposite direction.

  Ansley couldn’t keep her eyes off him as they walked down the corridor arm and arm. She wanted to say so much, but words evaporated before they were born.

  He’d told Tristan he had no doubt she’d make him happy. Was it true or just small talk for a man who obviously loved his wife?

  Shivering, she leaned into him.

  Leargan squeezed her against his side, saying nothing.

  They arrived much too soon. Ansley shifted, biting her bottom lip. She didn’t want him to leave.

  “Good night, Ansley.” He opened the door.

  Ali rushed into the room and immediately jumped onto the large bed, lying in the middle.

  Ansley and Leargan exchanged a wry grin. “I guess I’ll make sure she’s out hunting on our wedding night.”

  He chuckled. “I’d appreciate it.”

  “Good night, Leargan.” Ansley took a step closer and rested a hand on his chest. Looking into his dark eyes, she leaned up to kiss him.

  Leargan lowered his head and met her halfway, kissing her until she was dizzy. His arms went around her, holding her against his chest as her knees weakened.

  She wanted him to spend the night in her room, but he’d say no.

  How many times did she have to tell him she didn’t want to wait? Would the man even take her if she stripped naked before him?

  “You’d better go inside,” Leargan breathed against her lips, panting hard against her breasts.

  Ansley nodded, brushing her lips against his just one last time.

  He groaned. “You’re killing me, Ansley.” His intense gaze bored into hers.

  Staring, she said nothing. Then she grinned. “I’m sorry.”

  Without another word, she closed the door, leaving him standing in the corridor, wide-eyed, his mouth open.

  She leaned on the door, sucking in a breath and giggling when she heard his laugh from the corridor.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Avril watched Sir Roduch shift in the chair, arms crossed over his broad chest. Head tilted to one side, his eyes were shut, but there was no way he was asleep. Or comfortable.

  She stopped herself from reaching for him; which was odd, considering she’d been plastered to him for most of the day. In his arms, against his wall of a chest.

  His hands on hers, on her lower back, her arm, even the barest brush of her wrist.

  It was rare he wasn’t touching her when they were together. It didn’t make her uncomfortable or scare her. It made Avril crave him.

  That afternoon, she’d walked the gardens with Roduch, holding one of his large hands, their fingers entwined.

  Warm. Safe.

  She’d never felt so free in her life.

  If she could stay at Castle Aldern, she could get back to feeling like herself…someone she’d lost track of the day Tynan had taken her to his home when she was fourteen.

  Avril shivered. She crushed her eyes against the memories of that night...her wedding night.

  Tynan’s offensive breath on her face and his rough lips bruising hers. His hands smashing her breasts. His obese body on top of hers, forcing her legs open. The agony when he’d shoved his member into her, tearing her virginity away.

  She’d screamed and Tynan had slapped her. He’d told her he knew she liked what he was doing to her. He’d thrust into her, over and over, the pain excruciating. Avril had kept her eyes clenched shut the whole time.

  Then he beat her when she’d sobbed afterward. Physically thrown her away from him. Hit her with a bathing linen he’d tossed and demanded she clean the blood up and change his sheets. He hadn’t even given her access to water or the chance to bathe.

  Her parents had given her to a monster.

  Tynan had paid them more gold than her father had made in the entire previous turn. Her family needed that money. With four younger siblings to feed, she couldn’t go back, or her brothers and sister would starve. Her father’s injured leg meant he couldn’t farm anymore.

  She had to stay with her husband to save her family. At the expense of everything Avril had ever held dear.

  All for her damn magic. Visions, prophecies, all forced at her husband’s behest, instead of coming naturally as the Blessed Spirit intended.

  Sick, sometimes deathly ill, was how she’d lived the past four turns. Weak, with barely enough recovery time before he’d make her do it again.

  More. Tynan always wanted more. Information, gold, power, sex. Ways to use what she saw against his neighbors so he could get their land. Promise them something and blackmail them into being beholden to him. And he wasn’t even a lord. Despite what he told them all.

  He’d killed his family—the rightful cousin who was supposed to own his farm. Tynan had made the whole family—wife, husband and two children—ill, kept them ill while he cared for them so he could inherit the place she’d eventually lived with him.

  Only Avril saw that he’d poisoned them.

  Bastard.

  She loved Sir Roduch’s name for Tynan Mont.

  “Avril?” Sir Roduch shot straight up, fair brows drawn tight as he stared in the dimness of her room. “Are you all right?”

  Avril nodded, heart pounding. He’d startled her, but she wasn’t afraid of h
im. Guilt crept up from the pit of her stomach. Even though she’d told Sir Roduch’s captain and the duke about what her husband had done to her, she’d never mentioned her magic. Never mentioned the crimes Tynan had committed against others because of her gift.

  Or was it a curse?

  She was safe at Castle Aldern, and no one would use her magic without her knowledge, or against her, but somehow the words wouldn’t form to tell him.

  Avril was more than her magic.

  Wanted Sir Roduch to see that. Wanted him to know her.

  Care for her?

  Swallowing hard, she sucked in a breath and sat up, leaning into the headboard. “I am.”

  Shoulders relaxing, Sir Roduch sighed. “Good.”

  She stared until the big knight shifted in the chair, dropping his arms, hands in his lap. “Sir Roduch…”

  He leaned in, making her stomach flutter. “Aye, lass?”

  “Do you want to sleep with me?” She forced the words out before she lost her nerve, heart thundering.

  “Avril…I don’t think…”

  “Wait.” After putting her palm up, she took a deep breath. “I mean, sleep in this bed with me.”

  “Are you sure?” Eyes wide, his face was open, sincere. It would crush him if she changed her mind.

  “That chair can’t be comfortable. You’ve been sleeping there more than a sevenday.”

  “It’s not comfortable,” he admitted, averting his gaze.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Avril whispered.

  It was true.

  She wished for eloquent words to explain herself, but nothing came. She wanted to be with him. Wanted him to hold her.

  “You mean that?” Sir Roduch breathed.

  “I mean it. Please share my bed. I know you’ll not touch me. I know you wouldn’t rape me.”

  “Never.” He stood and made a fist, vehemence coming from his whole being. He shed his boots and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. A move that belied his size. His eyes locked onto hers. “Are you sure about this?”

  ****

  Roduch looked down at her, holding his breath for her answer. He never would’ve guessed, in a million turns she would ask him to share her bed, not even if he’d had a vision about it.

  It was true the chair was killing him, but he’d vowed not to leave her side. Except for the headwoman, everyone respected his decision.