A Winter Moon

by S. J. Smith

  "He will realize that things could have been far worse," Brida said. "He's a sensible man, but he fears what he doesn't understand. Most men do."

  "If it were a simpler thing to understand I would make an attempt to explain it to him. Still, in a few days’ time I will be well, and once I have the payment agreed upon, or a suitable replacement, then I will return to my home."

  "Where do you live?" Brida asked. "Not in a cave, I hope."

  "No," Cynric replied, amusement tinging his voice. "A cottage, secreted away, though clearly not well enough if a mere captain could so easily find me."

  "Alfred's a very talented man," Brida replied.

  "I'll not argue that."

  "I have another question," Brida said carefully. She continued when Cynric hummed. "If Father doesn't have the money to give you and you decide to take a different form of compensation, would you remain here?"

  He rolled his head to fully look at her. "If it would make you happiest," he replied. "It would be bad enough to make you marry a stranger, but even worse to take you from your home."

  "Why do you wish to marry at all?" Brida asked.

  "Why any man does," Cynric replied. "I am a man, despite whatever 'powers' I may possess."

  "I bet you looked magnificent," Brida said before she could stop herself. She was rewarded with a grin from Cynric that made her stomach squirm as though someone had released butterflies into it.

  "You're not afraid," he said. "Why is that?"

  "Dragons in stories are always beasts of great wisdom," Brida replied, "with scales as golden as any coin, who could make the sun jealous with their beauty."

  "They're frightening as well," Cynric said. "I'm glad you do not fear me."

  "I am as well." Brida cleared her throat. "Now, if you'll help as much as you can, I need to clean and check your wounds for any infection."

  "They're fine," Cynric said. "Infection isn't something I'm prone to."

  "Are you a healer?" Brida asked.

  "Are you?" Cynric replied.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by her brother Eldric's voice from a few feet away.

  "Father wishes to speak to you," he said.

  Brida turned to face him in time to catch the wary look he threw at Cynric, but was surprised and pleased to see there was only curiosity in his eyes.

  "Very well," she said, then turned back to Cynric. "I'll return tomorrow."

  "I'll watch him sister," Eldric said. "I'm very curious about our guest."

  "Be kind," Brida said warningly as she passed.

  Eldric chuckled. "Am I ever anything but?" he asked and took her place.

  As Brida removed herself from the tent she heard Eldric quietly ask Cynric how he was feeling, and Cynric's easy reply. The pleasant fluttering in her stomach turned to a heavy weight as she thought on what her father could want from her. She had a feeling she already knew the answer. War was never cheap, and it had been a long time since Ulric had seen peace.

  A soldier directed Brida to a small study on the ground floor where Ulric did work when he wished to be left in peace. Brida closed the door gently behind her and took a seat across the large oak desk. Ulric had a small smile for his daughter that failed to hide his exhaustion. He poured her a cup of wine.

  "I know what you're going to say," Brida said.

  "Do you?" Ulric replied. "Enlighten me, then."

  "You don't have the money to give Cynric the price you promised."

  "No, I do not."

  "And you're going to offer him me instead."

  "I am," Ulric said. "Does that upset you?"

  "It should," Brida said, "but you and Eldric and Edmund have already done so much for our family. It's my turn now."

  "It needn't be anything extravagant," Ulric continued. "A simple blessing by the priest and you will be given the room in the tower, properly furnished this time."

  "As you say, Father," Brida replied. "I only ask that you allow Cynric time to heal."

  Ulric nodded slowly and sighed. "I know not what kind of man he is, but your brother persuaded me that he is to be trusted, and he did offer us his aid when he could have easily refused. He is owed what I promised." He reached across the desk and Brida placed one of her hands in his. "I'm so glad you understand the importance of this."

  "I do, Father," she said. "Is that all you wish to speak to me of?"

  "Yes," Ulric said. He leaned back in his chair. "Yes. Go, you should rest. You have spent a long day tending to our men. Cynric will be fine with your brother watching him."

  Brida left her wine untouched and stopped to kiss her father's cheek before taking his suggestion and retiring to her room for the night. She tossed and turned, thinking on what was to become of her life, and before she slept came to the conclusion that Cynric had the ability to make her a very happy wife indeed, and help her give her father many strong grandchildren to dote upon.

  *****

  In a few days’ time Cynric was well enough to stand with the help of a cane similar to the one that Edmund still needed to use. It was amazing that he could sit, let alone do anything else, but aside from some stiffness in his movement he seemed perfectly fine. His fever was gone and color was back in his face, his hair dark and sleek and his eyes bright and sharp. He was slowly pacing the field outside the hospital tent when Brida came to find him.

  "Have you heard?" she said by way of greeting.

  "I have," Cynric replied. "It's to be this afternoon." He smiled. "And here I am without proper clothes."

  “I don't have a dress,” Brida replied. “Or a dowry. Only myself.”

  Cynric smiled at her. “Something tells me that's enough.”

  “I'm glad to see you walking,” Brida said.

  “I told you I would heal quickly. Don't be afraid, you will not have an invalid for a husband.” He laughed shortly. “Is that thought as strange to you as it is to me?”

  “I've been prepared for this moment my entire life,” Brida replied. “It's not as strange as you might think.”

  Cynric glanced up. “I suppose not.” He cleared his throat. “Is it not bad luck for me to see the bride before the wedding?”

  Brida blushed and giggled. “I just wished to see that you were well, and you are. I'll see you this afternoon?”

  “You will,” Cynric replied. “I promise.”

  She left him to continue his rounds, glancing over her shoulder as she walked back to the keep, seeking comfort in the garden. She wasn't afraid, but she was nervous. Knowing what to expect was different from actually experiencing it. She had never missed her mother more than right then, but Brida knew that she would have been proud.

  Furniture that had long sat in storage was cleaned and painstakingly taken up to the tower room that had been granted to Cynric while Brida prepared for the blessing and binding of their hands in marriage. Judith's presence was comforting. She did up Brida's hair, loose enough that it wouldn't prove too much trouble that night when she and Cynric were alone, and laced her into a dress of pale yellow, the closest to white she had.

  There was no pomp or ceremony, just a small gathering in the chapel, including Brida's brothers and father to bear witness. She was shaking as she approached Cynric at the altar, wearing clothes that looked borrowed from Eldric and leaning lightly on his cane.

  He took her hand in his, his fingers warm. “Do you always feel this hot?” Brida asked before the priest spoke.

  “You could call it a perk,” Cynric replied. He squeezed her hand, and looked like he was going to say something more, but the priest began reciting verses and they both fell silent.

  Brida threaded her fingers firmly through Cynric's and took a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. Cynric rubbed his thumb against the inside of her wrist, just once, but it was enough to still her nerves. To keep the event as quiet as possible there was no feast to be had after, but there were rings to be exchanged, two simple bands of gold. Brida's fit snugly on her finger and was as
hot against her skin as Cynric's flesh. His kiss missed her lips just by a hair, landing just at the corner but making her whole body tingle.

  “There's food waiting for us I think,” Cynric said. “I'm famished. Shall we?” Brida could only nod.

  A fire had been started in the room and a rug laid out. Some of Brida's things had been brought up, but the most impressive feature was the large bed that dominated the room and was covered in blankets and furs. A small table with two chairs by the fire held two plates piled high with meat and potatoes, complimented by a bowl of fruit. Cynric pulled her chair out for her and in a surprisingly companionable silence the two of them ate. Cynric finished his food quickly and threw back a cup of wine.

  “Are you feeling all right?” he asked.

  “I'm fine,” Brida replied. “Nervous, perhaps.”

  “There's no reason to be,” Cynric replied. “All the gold in the world couldn't add up to how much you are worth to me. I'd never lay a harsh finger on you.”

  “No,” Brida said and watched Cynric get to his feet. “No, I know you wouldn't.”

  He smiled at her and held out his hand. Brida hesitated, only briefly, then took it and let him pull her to her feet. Slowly he reached up and took the pins out of her hair and set them by their plates, then ran his fingers through her hair. Brida's eyes slipped shut. She felt Cynric kiss her cheek then pull away. When she managed to open her eyes again Cynric had removed his tunic, revealing the already healing scars on his torso. The taut flesh glinted in the firelight.

  “Oh,” she murmured, and before she could stop herself her fingers were crossing the distance between them and tracing along the scars. His muscles rippled under her touch, and she met his eyes again.

  He was nervous, too. She could see it in the way he moved to pull her closer against him, feel it in the gentle kiss he pressed to her lips. Somehow, his gentleness settled her own nerves, and she reached up to sink her fingers into his hair, stroking softly. Cynric grunted at that, a deep, throttled sound, and she shivered.

  “Come to bed,” he murmured, and within moments his fingers were undoing her dress, letting it pool onto the floor, along with the rest of his clothing. In the dim light of the crackling fire, she was tempted to hide herself under the blankets... but then Cynric’s hands were on her, running up her hips, over her stomach. A soft moan tumbled from her lips, and he smiled into her skin.

  “Your hands...” she began, then faltered.

  “Hmm?” The word was not so much heard as felt, rumbling against her neck.

  “They’re so warm.”

  He chuckled, and pressed the full length of his body against hers. Brida gasped softly into his lips as he kissed her again. The heat in his skin seemed to coil in her stomach, streaking lower like lightning. He was ready, and with every kiss she knew she was ready too.

  Cynric’s hands stroked her thighs, parting them gently. His eyes searched hers, waiting, and she nodded. When he hesitated further, she reached down and touched — it was true. He was hot as a blazing iron, even there. Her fingers wrapped around his manhood, squeezing, and he groaned, hips canting forward.

  She could wait no longer — the next time he kissed her, she flicked her tongue, urging him on, and wrapped a leg around him. He drifted down, pressing up against her, and Brida rubbed against him, testing.

  “Careful...” he murmured, “I don’t want to hurt...”

  “Shh,” she said, kissing him again. “I know you won’t.”

  It began slowly, and true to his word he sought not to hurt her. He entered her, agonizingly slowly, and after a long, slow thrust Brida pressed against him, urging him on. The heat rose in her stomach as every breath caught in her chest, she released them with moans and sighs that matched Cynric’s.

  She could feel the end too quickly, the heat boiling over, desperately clinging to him with every thrust, and at long last crying out into his shoulder. He followed quickly after, kissing her roughly, desperately, until at last he lay still on her, nose nestled in the crook of her shoulder.

  Her fingers found his hair again, stroking gently. He pressed his lips to her shoulder.

  “I have many regrets in this life,” he said as he rolled to the side and Brida curled up and pressed her ear to his chest to listen to his heart. “This is not one of them. I hope you feel the same.”

  “I do,” Brida whispered. She traced a finger along the line of Cynric's scar. “I never thought this is where my life would take me, but I do.”

  Cynric kissed her brow and pulled her closer, enveloping her with his warmth. “I will always protect you,” he said. Brida groped for Cynric's hand and held it tightly, letting the beating of his heart send her to sleep.

  THE END

  Bonus Story 32 of 40

  Mari Me

  Marianne Kent opened her eyes to Jake Langdon's intense blue eyed stare. WTF?

  "Jake—" she opened her mouth to scream, but his strong, rough hand covered her mouth. His other hand tangled mercilessly in her new curly extensions.

  He leaned down so they were nose to nose. "What the fuck are you doing in bed with my brother?"

  Her eyes darted to Henry, lying in his rumpled hipster skinny clothes, passed out and snoring on top of the cheap motel comforter beside her. His ginger-red hair was tousled across his pale angelic face, a complete contrast to his brother's slightly tanned chiseled features, dark blond hair, and built soldier's body.

  Asshole. This was not her situation to explain. It was Henry's. He'd gotten her into this little cross country adventure, now Jake was back and on her ass like a demon reckoning?

  "Fuck," Jake dropped his green duffle bag onto the floor.

  "What are you doing here?" Her voice was hopelessly muffled against his calloused palm. Her eyes flicked the dark inked patterns and letters highlighted on his white forearm. She could barely see him, though the neon light outside kind of illuminated the room. Not that she needed a light to know it was Jake. She'd know his masculine scent, and the pissed off set to his once broken nose, and perfectly squared jaw anywhere.

  She shifted beneath the scratchy covers, though his six foot four frame loomed large. Her soft body was no match for Jake's hard knee, which he used on top of the covers to trap her in place.

  His eyes flicked to Henry then back at her, clearly furious. Understandable. Finally home from wherever his SEAL duty had taken him, most likely he'd expected her to be at the door back in Virginia, wagging her tail like a puppy's welcome home. It was, after all, what she usually did, mind you this time he'd been forewarned. She was done pacing the floor and wringing her hands in agonized worry while he ran off to get himself killed for the red, white and blue. She had a life to live. A good one now that she was about to graduate.

  Henry groaned and turned beside her. Figured he'd just keep on snoozing right through this traumatic reunion he'd inadvertently created.

  "Eyes. Here." Jake's fingers tightened in her hair.

  Dammit. She didn't just spend ten hours on this weave only to have him pull them out!

  "I'm the one asking the questions."

  She narrowed her eyes and pressed her back teeth together. How was she supposed to answer anything with his mammoth-sized paw clamped down on her mouth? She grunted and struggled to sit up.

  Jake tossed back the covers, grasped both her wrists in one hand and forced them over her head while his iron hard body pushed her to the middle of the bed. She uselessly battled against his muscled chest, her nipples tightening with the sparks of friction as his long jean-clad legs tangled with her bare ones.

  She flinched, because just like that she was spread out facing him, her dark form flush against his white one, arms overhead, the rest of her body forcibly entangled with his. Excitement and heat thrummed through her system. He had just successfully dominated and titillated her at the same time.

  Damn.

  "Start. Talking." He lifted his hand slowly, the glint in his eyes harsher than she'd ever seen. And she'd seen Jake pi
ssed. From petty jealousy to unbridled rage, she'd dealt with him through a full range of emotions. "And it better be good, because I'm about ten seconds away from committing murder one."

  "Get off me," she silently railed against her exposed vulnerability. Their skirmish had raised the hem of her t-shirt to show her thin panties, an advantage he exploited by pressing the rough cloth of his jeans against her naked thigh. Could she help marveling at their erotic colour contrast? It had been months since they'd last been wrapped together.

  She struggled again, and he grasped her round hip and ground his determined pelvis up against her barely veiled pussy. Her tummy fluttered against his now he had her more intimately pinned.

  "Now," he jerked his head toward Henry, but his intense blue eyes stayed on her. "What—the fuck—are you doing in my brother's bed?"

  "It's…" she squirmed against his hold, but he had lodged his long hard length completely into her softness. "…a long, sordid story."

  "Shorten it."

  She looked up at her clamped wrists, both still encased and pressed into the cheap pillow by his one hand. "First let me go."

  "Not a chance," he murmured coldly. "You're not going anywhere." He settled himself further, the movement of his hard length, encased in his jeans sending sharp frissons of heat right through her feminine nub.

  God. Where in Hell was her will power? It wasn't like she'd never rejected a man before. But this was impossible. He was impossible.

  Yet damn it if she didn't roll that nub against her panty and his abrasive jeans. It was so easy to respond to him this base way. Elemental. It always had been, ever since she was thirteen, him fifteen and they had lain together in the tall grass during their summer in the Hamptons. It started out innocently enough, lying and giggling together, staring straight up at the clouds on a long summer day. Then they’d started wrestling, then kissing, then making love the way only two horny teenagers could. Wild. Naked. Outdoors. For hours.

  "I'm not telling you anything until you get off me." What did he think this was anyway? Some kind of betrayal? She'd told him they were done before he left. Granted, she was here with his little brother, technically in bed, but it wasn't like she was banging the younger man anyway. It was Henry for God's sake. The family screw-up. When something went wrong in the Langdon family, all eyes fell on Henry. She was the victim here and, if anything, in the process of being fleeced by the youngest Langdon—right out of her graduate studies tuition fees for saving his ass.