Khari'na Made (Muse Book 1)

by Jean Winter

  Kade was almost out the door when she called from the bedroom threshold, “My lord, may I request something … for working outside?”

  “What is it?”

  “I was wondering if, perhaps, there might be a pair of leggings or work pants I could wear.”

  He turned toward her fully, in dismay. She wanted to run around looking like a man? Lyra read his expression.

  “The closet is filled with beautiful dresses that I will only rip and ruin today rounding up sheep in the woods,” she explained quickly. “It would only be for working outside. If you have anything—please.”

  Kade frowned. How churlish she would look dressed like a man!

  However, it did stand to reason that if he was going to ask a man's work of her, she ought to be allowed to dress for it. Kade wasn't sure he had anything small enough, though. Ahna never wore pants. Women never wore pants. Then he remembered the box in Breht's closet. Breht tossed his outgrown clothes in there which Kade would periodically offer the miller's family a few miles down the road. They had quite the brood of growing children and were always grateful for Breht's and Jos'lie's hand-me-downs.

  He sighed. “Let me see what I can find.”

  The box produced an old pair of sturdy nelwrin fiber leggings and a thinning, long-sleeved tunic. Kade set them on the dining table, not bothering to explain where they had come from, while she cooked herself a couple eggs at the stove. He wasn't ready yet to talk about his children. They would be home from school for the weekend in a few days, but Kade wasn't sure if Lyra would still be here by then. It might not even be an issue.

  His initial survey of the pasture outside only revealed about a hundred head milling about. Kade hoped to recover at least fifty more ewes with lambs in the woods today. That wouldn't be too devastating a loss. With that many he'd still be able to fulfill his new wool contract with that Lord Candorwyt from the restaurant.

  The sky above gleamed clear and bright and Kade hoped Lyra was as fit as she looked. This was going to be a lot more work without Ahskr.

  Whinnee snuffled a morning greeting as Kade yoked her up to the wagon. The coral-scaled churung shook her broad head and stamped her wide foot pads as if eager to get on with the day. Kade gave her round snout a friendly pat. Then he started loading the wagon with wire, a couple spades, his cutters ….

  Kade was tossing the last new post into the bed when Lyra emerged from the house. Well, bless the Moon Mother.

  She sat in the sun at the top porch step to slide on her tall boots. Her hair was braided again like yesterday, the rope strands pulling the rest back and away from her face, the thick waves glinting and shining as she bent to cinch up her laces. She wore that decorative, leather armband of hers again over the sleeve of Breht's tunic which billowed slightly on her petite frame. The tunic hung loosely on her shoulders and down over her breasts in such an intriguing way that Kade was suddenly wondering how she might look in nothing but one of his own.

  Lyra hiked up the other leg to tighten those laces and another burst of unexpected arousal coursed through him. He had never seen a woman in men's clothing before. It just wasn't done. So when she began to walk over, pants rolled twice and held up by a belt at the waist that only accentuated the womanly blessings sloping away from there, Kade had to check himself to make sure his mouth wasn't hanging open.

  Blast. How was he supposed to concentrate on the livestock with her alongside him looking like that?

  “Thank you again, my lord,” she said humbly. “I know it's not a good fit, but I will be able to work much better for you today in this over a frock.” Her small, apologetic smile was offered over a nervous fingering of the shade hat he had given her yesterday.

  Kade grunted, clearing his constricted throat. “You look fine, 'Na Lyra.”

  Definitely. Definitely keeping her another day.

  They rode the wagon in silence, Kade forcing his eyes ahead while he talked himself down from more embarrassing impulses of crude, unbridled passion. You are just getting desperate, old man, because it has been months since you last slept with a woman. She could wear a gunnysack and you would still be turned on.

  Besides, she still wasn't being honest with him. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there were darker secrets behind those liquid brown eyes than her tale of premature widowhood. He needed to find out more about that before he let down his guard again.

  The makeshift rope net across the broken section of fence was still holding. Kade pulled up Whinnee and hopped down. Out of habit, he turned to offer a hand to Lyra, but to his surprise, she had already jumped off the other side and was loping through the tall grass toward the trees beyond.

  “You want to go after the 'poofs' first, right?” she called back, trying out the J'Kor family nickname for sheep. Jos'lie had actually coined it years ago when there was precious little she could adequately pronounce, and the name had stuck.

  “Aye.” Kade eyed her with curiosity.

  Lyra chose a young millsap tree and climbed—quite capably—up the trunk onto a middle axial branch. From there she worked her way out, cutting off a long, green shoot with a switchblade that suddenly materialized in her hand. Then she settled herself against the trunk, straddling a sturdy branch, to start stripping it of leaves while Kade just gave his head another shake and unhitched Whinnee to graze. Lyra was only a minute at her work. When she clambered back to the ground, Kade caught her short gaze off into the trees in the direction of their confrontation last night. She noticed him watching her, though, and quickly went back to her homemade leading stick, giving it a few trial swipes in the air. More than half her height, it made a good humming sound when she whipped it. She looked at him.

  “I saw a trail. Do you mind if I follow it and go on ahead?”

  Kade shrugged. “You sure you know what you are doing?”

  She actually grinned. “Most certainly.” And with a few more definitive swipes of her rod, Lyra took off at an easy trot heading west. Kade followed dubiously after, a little slower.

  For the next three hours, he became spectator to Lyra's scouting through sheltering underbrush and impeding vegetation to find clump after clump of sheep, standing listlessly together, wondering where their usual sweet, juicy pasture fodder had gone. She pushed them toward Kade who kept them together while she ran off to locate more. They did come across a dead sheep or two, mostly lambs, who had succumbed to some nocturnal hunter as an easy, lone target, but Kade was just grateful there weren't more.

  Lyra was a wonder. She worked enthusiastically with an untiring stamina. Her familiarity with the simple, instinct-driven animals that were the foundation of his livelihood was obvious as she deftly utilized both her rod and voice to move his sheep at will. Even Ahskr would not have been much faster. And Lyra almost looked happy.

  All in all, they herded fifty-six ewes with tired babies back to the pasture. Then under the pleasant dappled light of temperate forest they broke for the picnic lunch Kade had thrown together earlier while Lyra still slept. He complimented her on her shepherding skills. It was only fair.

  To his pleasant surprise Lyra tentatively opened up on the subject of her livestock experience, and before he knew it, they were swapping stories almost like friends: stubborn rams, dramatic lambing weather, and one fluke raid by an escaped, hungry zethrin that tried to carry off two newborns at once.

  Kade relaxed more than he meant to. It was just so nice, working together, talking casually. More small smiles were coaxed from the enigmatic, capable khar who wore his teenager's clothes so well and he found he couldn't help but look forward to the rest of today's work he had planned.

  The fence mending went quickly. Only a few of the posts were actually broken, and scarcely an hour later they were packing tools back in the wagon.

  A faint, shouted greeting carried across the field. It had come from the house and, squinting through the strands of afternoon sunlight that crowned the backs of his white-wooled flock in hazy splendor, Kade saw the constable
he had wired first thing this morning, waving an arm as he stepped off the porch toward them.

  “Finish packing up and take the wagon to that corral on the far side o' the barn,” Kade told Lyra. He pulled off his dusty work gloves. “I will be busy conducting some business for a little while. See if you can get the flock penned in there and I will be along shortly.”

  “Yes, my lord.” She bent her knee before turning away.

  Half way across his field, Kade yielded to the temptation to glance back at her, ably hitching Whinnee in place, though he condemned himself as he did so. Henna's bosom, he had already forgiven her and couldn't wait to start wooing her again! He must be getting soft in his old age.

  You pitiful fool.

  “Good afternoon, Lord J'Kor,” the husky, wire-haired constable said as he met Kade at the fence. He gave Kade a firm clap on the shoulder.

  “Detective Puul, thank you for coming out here so quickly.”

  Leading the way into the woods, he explained the details of last night's raid and showed Detective Puul the body of the young man. Kade had gone through these motions before. He would do them again. Unfortunately, his interrogation of the thief had not born any more fruit than usual. The boy was only a third party taking orders from a second party who probably didn't know anything about the first party who had hired them—just the bottom rung of a tall, well-organized, black market ladder.

  Kade had found something unusual in the clearing, however, where the sheep had been loaded for a quick getaway. It was a small container of what looked like someone's personal medicine kit. Some cotton balls. A little bottle of solution. A rubber dropper. But what intrigued Kade the most was the rectangular container itself: a semi-transparent material that held its shape, but was not totally rigid. It wasn't glass.

  Offering it to the detective, Kade was surprised to hear him say, “Aye. I actually found something like this before.” Puul pocketed the container and wrote another note on his little pad. “I will send it along to the boys upstairs for analysis.”

  “But do you know what it is? Where it comes from?”

  “I have no' the slightest. That is what the beaker boys are for.”

  “Well, what did they say about your other find?”

  “Nothing. It got whisked away to some bigger beaker boys higher up the pecking order and I never heard back. Now, is there anything else to show me before I take it from here and you can get back to your work and that pretty, little farmhand?”

  With reluctance, Kade let the mystery of the container go. He had enough on his mind already, and come to think of it, she was waiting for him. Puul promised he would wire someone to pick up the body and Kade bade the detective goodbye. He crossed the field again, and caught himself whistling part of Lyra's tune—that simple, sweet melody that had captivated him so that first night. He quickly pressed his lips shut in a taut grimace.

  In the corral, he found the entire flock neatly penned in, as ordered, with Lyra cross-legged in the dirt, stroking a dark, fuzzy lamb in her lap. It nuzzled at her face playfully, making her laugh. The melody crept in again.

  Kade leaned elbows on the fence. “Well, you appear to have everything in neat order, but I think we had better keep all this a secret from Ahskr. He will develop a complex if he suspects you are doing his job too well.”

  She looked up shyly. “I'm happy that I have been able to please my lord—even if it's just a dog's labor.” She let the lamb clamber out of her lap to find its mother and stood, brushing at her legging-wrapped thighs. “Although, I do hope that you will let Ahskr keep his job. I don't think he could do my cleaning or cooking quite as proficiently.”

  “Aye,” Kade said, retrieving his inoculation kit from the wagon. “Nor would he do for the other things I need o' you, 'Na Lyra. Askr's shepherding job is quite safe.” He couldn't help but slide that in there. The woman was so sensitive to innuendo it was like flirting with a virgin! The anticipated blush on her cheeks bloomed like clockwork, and Kade found more reason to pause and consider her convoluted past.

  She said she'd only known one man—her husband, but maybe they hadn't been together very long. But a woman looking like that with a wit to match making it entirely through her twenties (Kade had suspicions now that it wasn't just her history that had been fudged) before any man claimed his privilege to bed her? Preposterous. Her husband must have made her a woman long ago and just took his sweet time certifying it with a piece of paper.

  So why did she still behave like …? Something was definitely off.

  Sitting on a bucket overturned for a stool, Kade had Lyra retrieve the first ewe with a lead rope. It was such a convenient arrangement to enjoy watching her move while Kade administered spring inoculations via a large syringe. Soon, she ventured to ask about the livestock breed and stark coloring contrast between lamb and ewe, and Kade explained how each baby was born jet black, but gradually grew lighter in the first year. It was the trademark of the Huskin'k breed in which he specialized.

  The conversation evolved from there into wool quality and texture, then breed temperament, then seasonal care, which Kade couldn't help but enjoy. It wasn't often he got to speak intelligently to a woman about his living, or anything of import, really.

  Lyra began to tell him about the scrappy, more stubborn mountain breed she had had the misfortune to raise all of her life when, in mid-sentence, a particularly jumpy ewe panicked at the needle's touch. It reared up, knocking her clean over, then, losing its balance, landed on top of her with a loud thud.

  “Lyra!” Kade jumped up and shoved the two hundred and fifty pound, bleating, scrambling poof off her. It quickly regained its footing and trotted briskly away. “Are you all right?” As much the concern of a dangerously flailing hoof was the rib-cracking potential of that much weight landing on her chest.

  Lyra lay wide-eyed and motionless on the ground, the breath completely knocked out of her.

  “Lyra?” Kade hoped that was all.

  A welcome wheeze finally strained free. She began to cough some.

  “Are you okay?”

  A few more coughs and a weak “no” was spit out, along with some dirty wool caught in her mouth from her face being used as a cushion.

  Kade's concern rose. “Can you move? What hurts?”

  Turning her head, Lyra choked out more fuzz and grit. “The problem is,” (wheeze, cough) “that I've decided I don't like the taste of Huskin'k. Sorry, my lord.” Her weak laugh interfered with her gasping for more air and Kade chucked, relieved.

  “Well, I suppose that just means there will be more for me.” He helped her sit up, and as he did, a ripe smell stung his nose, squeezing a little water from his eyes.

  Lyra had landed in a sun-warmed pile of dung, now lovingly embracing a large portion of her back and back side.

  “Ew!” she lamented. Kade got her standing and she peered over her shoulder, but when she turned back, the sparkle in her eyes had only grown. Lyra raised her arms in a pose. “Well, maybe I should keep wearing this until you decide my rayblock cream isn't so bad.”

  In that instant, with her face lit up in laughter and a genuine smile freely exposing those pearly white teeth, Kade knew she had just sucked him in once again. He had to see more of it.

  He plucked her hat from the dirt and gave it a few slaps against his thigh. “You try wearing that into the house, young lady, and I will sling you over my shoulder and toss you into the pond.” Kade plopped the hat roguishly back on her frizzed head.

  “If my lord intends to threaten me,” Lyra returned, “he is going to have to come up with something better. I've worked up quite a sweat today and a little swim in some cool water doesn't sound too bad right now.”

  Kade thought a moment. Then he said, “Well, all right.”

  He made to grab her, but Lyra suddenly spun away, laughing. “No, no! I was just kidding. Don't do it!”

  “But what if I already have my heart set on it?” Kade asked, advancing. “I think I would like to see how big
a splash you would make.”

  “No!” she squealed again, bumping into startled sheep as she backed away. “Don't come any closer or I'll … I'll aim this for your nose.” A palm was presented with a threatening clump of dung smeared on it.

  That warranted a pause.

  Kade tsk-tsked as he raised his hands in surrender. “Oh, that is no' fair. Now my lady is just playing dirty.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Lyra started. Did he just call her a lady? The irony that he said it while she was dressed so masculinely with a putrid pile of sheep poop in her hand intended for smearing on his face was not lost on her, but she had no time for distractions. “Sometimes getting dirty is the only defense a woman has, my lord.”

  She shouldn't have glanced down, for in that moment, the sight of what she had slopped over her palm, combined with the lingering vertigo from her fall, brought on a sudden wave of nausea. Yuck! Yuck! She had to scrape it off. The fence post became Lyra's best friend.

  J'Kor laughed at her turning green. “How about a truce? You keep your odor to yourself and I let you go rinse yourself off in the brook over there.”

  Lyra straightened, as dignified as she could muster. “You have chosen wisely to compromise, my lord,” she said. She brushed her hand inconspicuously against her pant leg to continue ridding itself of smelly excrement. “Evidently, the effectiveness of my stench maneuver precedes me.”

  “Aye. I have no doubt you could lay low entire nations. Now get going before my generosity fails me.” J'Kor waved her off and Lyra climbed over the fence in retreat. Relieved.

  Good, good … Things were going better than she had dared hope. Her prayer this morning had been dedicated to making peace with her “owner,” because she well knew J'Kor wouldn't take another night like the last two.

  Now, Lyra wasn't about to strip down and drag him to the bed. If he took her, he would do it knowing it was his idea alone, but she could stand to be more friendly. She could also make herself a good working partner, and if—well, when—his patience ran out and he truly made her his slave mistress, at least the quiet raping would not be from a total stranger. Then the inevitable would finally be realized, the dread anticipation past, and Lyra could turn her full attention to more important things, like planning an escape.