22 Nights (13 page)

“I promise to be quick about it, but please allow me to talk. If you find you cannot bear it, tell me to stop, and I will. I promise.”

“Fine.” How much worse could it be?

“Last night you taught me something,” she said, wonder in her smooth voice. “You showed me a pleasure I had never before imagined.”

“Stop,” he said, pain in his voice.

Bela obeyed him. She stopped speaking, but her wide smile said too much.

“Proceed,” he said grudgingly.

“You introduced me to sexual pleasures without risking the possibility of a child, which was considerate of you, especially as I’m quite sure I would’ve agreed to just about anything at one point or another. When you had your mouth on my breast and your hand . . .”

He was wrong; she
could
make it worse. “Stop,” he said again.

“Sorry,” she said, wise enough to realize what she was doing. “To put it simply, I wondered if it was possible for me to do the same for you.”

Merin was so stunned, he said nothing.

“I know you are frustrated,” she said. “I see it in you, in your eyes and the set of your shoulders”—she grinned—“and in your trousers. Sorry to be blunt, but it is true, and I am not afraid to learn how I might take away that frustration without condemning us both to a red and black marriage. Pleasure shared without the risk of a child. It’s possible for me, but is it possible for you?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“We could approach Odella Bydeen about obtaining a potion to keep me from conceiving, but I hear it takes some days for the potion to be effective, and besides, Odella talks too much and everyone would know we’d asked. It’s hardly in the spirit of ending a marriage, and I don’t think my brothers would agree, so that potential solution is not feasible. That leaves one other possibility. So, tonight will you show me what I can do?”

There was no other like Bela, that was certain. She was not shy; she did not hesitate to grab life and all it offered. “Tonight? ”

“If you would prefer to wait . . .”

Merin pulled Bela close and led her hand to his strained trousers. “Here. Now. In the name of all that is good . . .”

She laughed and stroked, and Merin closed his eyes. Bela had hands that were gentle but not shy, a stroke that was tentative but not afraid, and when she moved her hands to the laces that held his trousers closed, his hand found her breast and he caressed her there as he bent his head to kiss the side of her neck. Sweating, dirty, she still tasted good. She smelled like heaven. His own personal heaven.

He took her face in his hands and looked into her moss-green eyes, eyes which were alive with passion and curiosity and life. Bela did not hesitate to look fully into his eyes, even though her fingers closed around his erect penis, even though she stroked him slowly, up and down the length. Maybe it was the light, maybe it was the way she stroked, but at this moment she was beautiful, beautiful like no other woman he had ever seen.

That was as far as they got before they heard hoofbeats approaching at a fast rate of speed.

Merin cursed. So did Bela, as she dropped her hands and backed away. He did his best to straighten his trousers, not an easy task at the moment.

They rushed for the creek bank and Bela pulled on her shirt. Merin stepped into his boots just as Tyman crested the hill. Good God, how could he have known? And how had he gotten here so quickly? Judging by the expression on his face, Bela’s brother was not happy.

“Trouble’s come calling,” Tyman said. “You two get dressed and get back to the village. We need every sword.” He gave his sister an annoyed and brotherly look. “You’re becoming more trouble than you’re worth, Bela.”

 

THEY’D
been traveling for days and had weeks left to journey, and already Leyla was bone weary. She could bear the bumps of the carriage and the stifling heat and the less than adequate food and the unpleasant company of a disapproving relative by marriage and crude sentinels. She could bear sleeping on the ground—or more often lying awake on the hard ground, trying to claim a bit of sleep.

What she could not stand was Savyn’s presence. If he were not here, she would be able to forget, at least to some degree. If he had stayed behind in Childers, he might already be courting a proper young girl by now. At the very least, she could imagine it was so. Instead, he was ever present, silent and distant and achingly handsome, and a constant reminder of what she could never have again.

Perhaps she deserved to be tortured.

Blessedly, Hilde was taking a late afternoon nap. The old woman’s snores filled the confines of the carriage, but the snorting and sawing were preferable to her constant words of criticism. How would she bear the remaining days of this journey without touching her companion’s head and convincing her she was mute?

The carriage jerked to a stop, waking Hilde, who snorted and slurped and grabbed about for something to hold on to. At first Leyla was not concerned. They might’ve come to an obstacle in the road, or perhaps there was a problem with the horses.

And then one of the sentinels screamed, and the hairs on the back of Leyla’s neck rose up and tingled.

Bravely, she poked her head out of the window to her left, to see what was going on. From this vantage point she could see all. A silver-haired man dressed all in black rode among the others with a sword in one hand and a hatchet in the other. Two men had already fallen and lay dead: one sentinel as well as the carriage driver, who had obviously jumped from his post to do battle. The attacker was fighting the other two sentinels while Deputy Bragg hung back, placing himself between the battle and the carriage. He would likely be fighting the attacker soon, since the man in black was a superior swordsman to the sentinels. In fact, he moved like no other she had ever seen, with speed and accuracy which should not have been possible. Long silver hair, unnatural in its brightness, danced in the wind, and the way his weapons moved was uncanny. Another sentinel fell, the victim of a single swipe of the silver-haired man’s sword.

The door to her right opened, startling Leyla, and she snapped her head about as Savyn offered his hand. “This way, M’Lady,” he said in a low but insistent voice.

She did not hesitate, but jumped across the carriage and took the hand he offered. The attacker would not be able to see them from here, at this particular moment. If he moved closer or more to the side, however, he might witness their escape.

Tempting as it was to leave her unpleasant chaperone where she sat, she could not. “Come, Hilde. Hurry!”

The woman shook her head. “I won’t put my life in the hands of an untrained boy who knows nothing of warfare. Don’t be foolish. The sentinels will save us. Get back in this carriage, where it’s safe!”

Leyla shook her head. She knew in the pit of her soul that this carriage was no longer safe, and she trusted Savyn with her life much more than she’d trust an army of sentinels. And they did not have an army of sentinels. All that remained was one sentinel and one diplomat, and soon there would be no one to protect them. “Come with us,” Leyla insisted. This time Hilde simply shook her head.

“We cannot wait for her,” Savyn insisted. “We must make our escape.”

“We cannot leave her here.” She had seen the silver-haired attacker move. Even though he was outnumbered, he would not lose. Would he show mercy to an old, helpless woman?

Savyn did not ask again. He lifted Leyla from her feet and tossed her over his shoulder, and then he ran away from the carriage, away from the fighting. He carried her into the woods lining the rough road.

He did not pause, did not seem to be burdened by her weight as he rushed into the deepest part of the woodland. He ducked often, and still low-lying limbs sometimes brushed their heads or Savyn’s arms. Low growth occasionally slowed his progress, but he fought through, staying in the thickest part of the wood, where they would be well hidden from a horseman. In the distance, they heard a woman’s bloodcurdling scream, and Savyn’s step faltered.

Leyla’s heart almost stopped. That could’ve been her scream, if Savyn had not rescued her. “Put me down,” she said.

“We cannot go back,” Savyn said without pausing.

“I know,” Leyla conceded. They would be able to move faster if he did not have her weight.

Savyn whipped her down and set her on her feet. He took her hand, and they began to run side by side.

TYMAN
had not thought to bring an extra horse with him—not that mounting while bound to Merin wouldn’t have been a challenge—so Bela and Merin ran toward the village. It wasn’t far, yet Bela felt as if she couldn’t move fast enough. She and Merin ran at a steady and comfortable pace. Neither had to slow or shorten their stride for the other.

Her sometimes irritable brother had not waited for them. What had he meant by that comment about her being too much trouble? How could a crisis that would put an expression like the one on Tyman’s face be
her
fault?

Once the village was in sight, she and Merin cut sharply to the side and headed for their cottage to retrieve their weapons. There was no question, no
Should we?
or
Might we?
They both needed to be armed before facing whatever trouble had come to the Turis. Once they were safely inside the cottage, Bela called for Kitty, and Kitty came. Merin strapped on a sheath and sword with the ease and speed of one who had done just that many times. He was efficient but not panicked, ready for whatever might be waiting. They briefly looked one another in the eye before heading out of the cottage to see what kind of trouble had arrived.

Their movements were cautious and quick as they headed for the village square. They did not have to go quite that far to find the trouble. It was easy enough to spot the crowd of villagers that had gathered at her father’s house.

As soon as Bela could see through the crowd well enough to recognize the spotted horse and the red-haired man standing beside it, she groaned. Nobel Andyrs was Turi himself, or once had been, but Bela’s father—acting as chieftain—had banished the brash man from the village months ago. Nobel had gotten into a dispute over a mine claim more than once, and on the last occasion he had killed the other party. He was greedy and unpleasant and unrelenting.

Nobel was also one of the foolish men who had pursued her at one time, even though he knew very well she was no maid and had no desire to be anyone’s wife. She’d refused his attentions vehemently, and when he’d finally realized she was not being coy, he’d been angry—not heartbroken. He’d wanted an alliance with the chieftain, not a bride. Their last encounter had not ended well for Nobel.

As she and Merin approached, making their way through the crowd of women and children and older Turis—most of the younger men of the village were working in the fields or in the mountains—the red-haired outcast turned his head to look at her. Perhaps he had heard their approach or seen the wave of the crowd that made way. He smiled and then, as Bela and Merin made their way to the front of the crowd, Nobel’s gaze fell to Kitty. That was when she saw the flash of lust in his pale eyes.

When Merin revealed that kind of deep desire in a glance, at least he was looking at
her
.

“Here to sacrifice more fingers?” she asked, her grip on Kitty tightening very slightly.

Nobel raised his left hand, displaying the three fingers which remained there. “If that thing you carry dares to so much as scratch me again, my man will gut your mother.”

It was then that Bela saw the other men, those who stood beyond Nobel and his spotted horse. They looked as rough as their leader and were all well armed, and one of them clasped Gayene Haythorne too closely to his filthy body. He also held a very large knife that touched her slender throat.

“What do you want?” Bela snapped, trying not to show her fear—and failing. That was her
mother
.

“What I have always wanted, Belavalari Haythorne. You as my wife, of course.” He glanced pointedly at the telling rope which bound her to Merin. “I understand you will be available in a short while.”

“She will not be available for you,” Merin said calmly, his voice deep and even. How could he stay so calm when a madman held a knife to her mother’s throat?

A few weeks ago she’d been blissfully unattached—for all intents and purposes. Now an emperor wanted to inspect her for bridal consideration; she’d had to reveal the secret marriage to Merin in order to save his neck; and now Nobel was back. This was just too much for any woman to bear. And others wondered why she shunned marriage!

Nobel looked at Merin, unafraid. “I would make her a widow and have the deed done now, but I’m not foolish enough to kill a general of your standing and suffer the consequences. My bride and I will not wish to spend our lives running from an army.”

“In that case, I demand that you release the Lady Gayene,” Merin said. He added a curt “Now,” when his order was not immediately obeyed.