by Amy Sumida
“You’ll be damned if you don’t remove your hand,” Ayla said calmly.
Rannulf let go of her like he'd just been burned. He searched her face for some trace of the Ayla he knew but it seemed that the sorceress had taken over. She was different here, with her own tribe, she was no longer his captive. The power was hers now.
“Do you love him?” He asked quietly.
“I've known him since childhood, he's a tribesman, he’s patient and caring…”
“But do you love him?” Rannulf cut her off and took her hands in his.
“No,” she admitted in a small voice.
Rannulf’s heart soared and he pulled her against him. Ayla’s body went rigid and she pushed him away gently.
“I can't do this, Rannulf,” she held up her hand when he moved to come forward. “I need time to think about things. You may stay here and be a father to Akara. I can't deny you that but I’m not willing to let you have me yet. You can sleep in my father’s yurt.”
“And where do you sleep,” Rannulf’s eyes began to twinkle, now that he knew he'd not completely lost her.
“My pallet is back there,” she pointed toward the dividing curtain. “Don't think to seduce me, Christian. I need to think this through without passion involved.”
“But passion is a part of this,” he spoke softly and his voice seemed to flow over her like a caress. “Passion is and always will be between us.”
“Maybe,” she struggled for control over her rapidly spinning emotions, “but I can't make this decision based on it. There's passion between me and Durukan as well. Shall I go from your arms to his to decide who the better lover is?”
Rannulf’s face went white, then red with rage. He actually began to shake with the fury, the image of Ayla bedding another man caused in him.
“You will not,” he ground out.
“I'm not your captive anymore, Rannulf” she knew she was hurting him but she wouldn't back down. He deserved to suffer a little as well. “You can't command me anymore.”
“You're my woman,” he cried and pulled her against him, “and the mother of my child. You're my life and the keeper of my heart. I will not allow another man to touch you.”
He covered her lips with his and they were both immediately caught up in a fiery kiss that let loose all the pent-up desire of the last five months. She clung to him wildly, roaming her hands all over his body and losing herself in the power of their love. Rannulf pulled her higher up his body, till her legs dangled in the air and then wrapped around him.
Ayla’s lips were kissing every inch of skin she could reveal and her deft fingers were revealing more and more each moment. Rannulf groaned and brought them to the floor so he could strip the garments from her as well. Soon she laid before him in nothing but bracelets and thick anklets. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, with only a light trace of scars across her stomach to betray her recent pregnancy.
He leaned down and kissed the scars, then rubbed his cheek against her belly and hugged her roughly to him. She reached down and stroked his hair back, amazed at the amount of love he could so easily pull out of her. He smiled at her briefly before lowering his head to taste her.
Ayla felt the familiar ecstasy begin to wash over her and she laid her head back to let it consume her. She would forget, for a small moment, the decision she had to make. She would forget, for just a little while, how he'd hurt her and destroyed her faith in him. She would forget, for now, about Durukan and his undying love…and then she did forget.
Chapter Fifty-Three
It was late evening when Ayla awoke to a pounding on her door. Beneath her cheek was the steady rise and fall of Rannulf’s chest and it felt so good to be pressed up against him, that she began to drift back into the pleasure until the next rapid knocking came.
“I think we have a visitor,” Rannulf’s voice was sleepy but confident and a little cocky.
He thought that he'd won. He actually thought that all he had to do to get her forgiveness was seduce her. She sat up angrily.
“Get dressed,” she hissed and began to climb out of bed.
His hand shot out and stopped her.
“What is this?” He looked very confused and a little angry.
“You can't win me back with sex, Rannulf,” she slapped his hand away and got to her feet.
Rannulf watched in amazement as she pulled on her clothes. She was so upset, he couldn’t understand this sudden change. The pounding on the door began again but this time it was accompanied by a voice.
“Ayla, I've waited long enough,” Durukan said through the wood. “I demand to know what's going on. I have a right to know.”
Ayla was thankful Rannulf didn’t speak her language yet. She called out to Durukan that she'd be out in a moment and then held up her hand when Rannulf got up and started toward the door.
“You're the stranger here,” she pushed him back; “if you truly want to marry me and stay here with me, then you must become a part of the tribe as well. There are rules, traditions. I'm allowed a certain amount of freedom as their priestess but I refuse to disrespect Durukan again. You will sleep in my father’s tent and you will not touch me until I've made a decision about the two of you. Do you understand?”
“I don’t like it,” Rannulf sighed deeply, “but I understand. Go smooth the boy’s feathers. I'll wait for you here.”
Ayla breathed a sigh of relief and left the tent. Outside, Durukan was pacing like a caged tiger. He looked up sharply when Ayla emerged.
“Ayla,” he rushed forward and pulled her into his arms. “I've been so worried. How can you leave me waiting so long? You know how I love you and yet you shame me before the tribe.”
“I didn't mean to shame you,” she sighed and pulled Durukan away from the tent and toward the trees. “Let’s go someplace quiet. I need to talk to you.”
Durukan followed her to the trees like a man on his way to the gallows. He knew that tone could not bode well for him, neither did the fact that she stayed in the yurt for four hours with the Christian. When she got to a soft patch of grass, she sat down and Durukan sat wearily beside her.
“Please don't tell me you've welcomed him back,” Durukan looked at her with his heart in his eyes.
“He's the father of my child,” she began.
“No, Ayla,” Durukan leaned forward with a force she'd never seen in him before. “He's the one who hurt and enslaved you. I will give you more children. I will raise Akara and love him as my own.”
“You can't,” Ayla said sadly. “Rannulf has claimed his rights as a father.”
“Ayla,” Durukan hung his head. “I love you more than the blood in my veins. I would spill every drop for you.”
“Don’t say that, please,” Ayla leaned forward and took his hand. “I've made no decisions yet. I can't accept him back so quickly, not after what he did to me. Yet I can't deny him either, he's sacrificed so much to find me. I need to think things over. That's unfair to you, I know. You deserve so much better than this. You deserve a woman who will love you and only you. So I understand if you want to give up on me.”
“I will never give up on you,” he vowed determinedly.
“I don’t know how long it will take me to think this through,” she squeezed his hand. “I'm so confused. I don’t want to make this decision but it must be done, so until I've decided, I've vowed that neither of you will have me. Rannulf will sleep in my father’s yurt. I will not shame you again.”
“Very well, Ayla,” he sighed, “I will wait.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
“So how’d the boy take it?” Rannulf was now the one who paced and Ayla looked down at her lovely carpet in concern, as she closed the door behind her.
“Stop it,” she said.
“I can’t help being jealous, Ayla,” Rannulf spread out his hands but kept up the pace, “I’m a jealous man.”
“No,” Ayla sighed, “I mean the pacing. Stop it or you’ll wear my carpet thin.”
“Oh,” he said and grinned at her sheepishly, “my apologies.”
“And he’s not a boy,” she said as she sat down. “He’s older than I am.”
“And you’re such an old maid,” he teased her and sat next to her.
He could relax now that she was back.
“Well, I’m not a child,” Ayla rubbed her temples.
“No, you’re not,” Rannulf agreed and reached over to massage her.
“Rannulf,” Ayla admonished.
“I know,” he pulled back, “no touching.”
“Durukan is being honorable about this,” she looked over at the man she loved, “even though I've shamed him in front of the tribe by welcoming you into my tent. Oh, I can't think anymore tonight,” she jumped up. “Come with me, I’ll take you to my father’s yurt.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Rannulf came awake suddenly and thrashed about for his sword. His men needed him, they were dying before his eyes! He sat upright and the remainders of his nightmare fell away as he looked about him. A large Turk sat on the floor a few feet away from him, pouring coffee into a little cup.
“Would you like some coffee?” Faruk ignored the Christian’s unusual awakening.
“Yes, thank you,” Rannulf got up slowly and joined Ayla’s father.
Faruk was still an impressive man at the age of forty seven. His eyes were full of intelligence and his body was still fit and thickly muscled. Add to that his magical expertise and Rannulf realized that this was not a man to trifle with.
“So you were the one to teach Ayla French?” Rannulf decided to start with an obvious comment.
“Yes,” Faruk smiled as he handed Rannulf the little cup, “and most everything else. She's always had a quick mind and wisdom beyond her years.”
“Yes,” Rannulf smiled and accepted a piece of date bread that Faruk offered him. “It's one of the things I love about her.”
“Getting her back shall not be easy,” Faruk mused. “Her pride has suffered as much as her heart. She will want recompense.”
“I will do whatever it takes,” Rannulf vowed.
“Good,” Faruk slapped him on the shoulder, almost spilling Rannulf’s coffee and completely surprising him. “I'll help you then.”
“You will help me?” Rannulf asked in confusion. “You'd not prefer she wed Durukan?”
“Why would I prefer Durukan?” Faruk’s lips twitched suspiciously.
“He is Seljuk for one,” Rannulf couldn't believe he was listing his competitor’s attributes. “He hasn’t hurt her, for two. I’m sure there are other reasons but I don’t care to think about them at the moment.”
Faruk couldn’t hold back anymore. He laughed and slapped his thigh in delight.
“She has made you jealous with that young whelp, eh?” Faruk poured himself more coffee.
“You don’t like her new suitor?” Rannulf was smiling now.
Faruk was an unexpected supporter that Rannulf was immensely grateful for. Who better to help him win back Ayla than her beloved father?
“I do like Durukan,” Faruk amended. “He's a good warrior who would take care of my daughter. But Ayla doesn't need a man to take care of her. She needs a man to share her life with, a man that will love her just as passionately as she loves him. She needs you.”
Rannulf smiled and clapped his hand on Faruk’s shoulder appreciatively. He was relieved and delighted to find someone on his side in this mess.
“Thank you,” Rannulf said solemnly. “Now tell me, how can I change her opinion to be more like yours?”
Chapter Fifty-Six
“You bad for Ayla,” Durukan spoke in halting French.
Rannulf turned away from his horse and eyed the tribesman. He knew Durukan would seek him out for some big confrontation and he'd been looking forward to it. He was the stranger here, so he didn’t want to be the man to start the fight but he would sure take great pleasure in ending it.
“That’s your opinion,” Rannulf walked up to Durukan, his legs already settling in a fighting stance.
Durukan frowned, trying to understand the foreign words. He turned his head and looked Rannulf up and down. He may not have understood the words but he could interpret Rannulf’s body language just fine.
“What? Did you only learn enough to tell me I’m bad for her?” Rannulf taunted. “You should've thought a little further ahead. No matter, I’ll make this real clear for you…Ayla is mine!” Rannulf emphasized his words by pointing at his own chest.
The effect was immediate and exactly what Rannulf had hoped for. Durukan threw the first punch. He was too young to understand that Rannulf had been baiting him and deliberately provoking his rage. Rannulf easily side-stepped the punch and landed one on Durukan’s back, sending the tribesman sprawling.
The small crowd that had been standing around grew considerably. The men especially wanted to see the Norman’s skill against one of their own. Rannulf eyed them, wondering if they would step in to help their man but they just stood by observing. He breathed a sigh of relief and gave his attention back to Durukan.
Durukan recovered quickly and easily adopted his own battle stance. He looked Rannulf over with a new appreciation. He should've known the warrior would be tough, he made it through Seljuk territory alive after all. Durukan wouldn't underestimate him again. He leaped at Rannulf’s throat suddenly, like a lion, and both men fell to the ground in a heap.
“Ayla,” a mass of young children came running up to Ayla and she smiled at them indulgently. She loved her tribe’s children, they hadn’t grown to fear her yet.
“Yes, yes,” she said as she bounced Akara on one hip. “Calm down, what's all this fuss about?”
“Durukan and your son's father are fighting,” one little boy finally got out.
“What?” She frowned and looked around. “Where are they?”
The children pointed back in the direction they had come. Ayla took a deep breath, then picked up the jug of water next to her. She began to follow the children back as she shook her head in disgust. She should have known it would come to fists between them, she just hadn’t expected it so soon.
When she reached the fight she was shocked to see the men rolling around at the feet of a huge crowd. She could make out patches of blood here and there but with the tangle of violent limbs, she couldn’t be sure whose blood it was.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered to herself then threw the entire jug of water over the two of them.
The men sputtered and drew back from each other to look up at her in shock.
“Fools,” she spat at them. “Buffoons. I need a man not a child. Start behaving like adults or I'll have neither of you!” She threw the jug between them. “Now go and fetch me more water…both of you!” She repeated her command in Turkish for Durukan, then stormed away.
The men looked at the jug between them, then back at each other. Rannulf was the first to start laughing and stand up. He held out his hand to Durukan and shrugged his shoulders. Durukan began to smile and laugh a little before he took the offered hand and got to his feet.
The crowd dissipated as the two men walked off to fetch Ayla her water. They shook their heads and looked at each other in wonder. There would be stories to tell tonight.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Durukan was waiting for Ayla as she emerged from her yurt the next morning, with Akara.
“Good morning, my love,” he said brightly and took the baby from her. “May I walk with you?”
“Of course,” Ayla said immediately but she secretly wondered if this was how it was going to be with her two men. Was she going to be stalked and hunted like prey?
She looked over Durukan, he had a horrible bruise over one eye and a badly cut lip. Rannulf hadn’t faired much better. The two men were equally matched on the fighting field.
Suddenly Akara started to wail and thrash in Durukan’s arms. His face began to turn red with the force of his sc
reams. Durukan looked down at him in shock and tried to comfort the baby to no avail. Ayla, also surprised by her son’s outburst, started to reach for him when the boy was deftly removed from Durukan’s arms by another.
“I’ll take my son, thank you,” Rannulf said as he lifted Akara high and smiled at him. The boy instantly stilled and then began to giggle. “We’ll be with your father, come by when you’re done,” he called to Ayla.
Rannulf turned and walked away, bouncing the laughing baby before him as he went. Ayla and Durukan just stared after him in amazement. Ayla was the first to recover.
“I’m so sorry, Durukan,” she said as she began walking again. “I've never seen Akara behave like that before.”
“It’s of no consequence,” Durukan said but he looked over his shoulder quickly to see if the Christian was still in sight. He couldn’t believe the man would just take the baby and leave, what a fool! “Since you're alone now, would you like to join me for a ride? We could pick some figs and dates for you.”
“That sounds lovely but I don’t think I should leave Akara for so long.” She glanced back at the retreating village.
“He's with his father and yours,” Durukan waved in dismissal. “He'll be fine.”
“So now you don’t mind Rannulf raising Akara?” Ayla didn’t like the way Durukan seemed to be becoming an opportunist.
“I never minded before, Ayla,” he reassured her. “I just wanted you to know I would raise Akara if you wished it.”
“So you didn’t really want Akara, he was just something you were willing to accept so you could have me?” Ayla stopped walking and turned to face Durukan.
“Of course I wanted Akara,” Durukan had no idea how this conversation had taken a bad turn. “I just want you more. He's Rannulf’s son after all, I can't help but want to have my own sons with you.”
“You'd prefer I send Akara away with Rannulf, wouldn’t you?” Ayla accused.