Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2) (14 page)

Sorsha surveyed the big, as-of-yet empty wooden tub in
the center of the pavilion. Rows of candles flanked the bathing tub, filling
the air with the sweet scents of bees’ wax and sun-warmed grass. She curled her
bare toes in the thick carpeting underfoot and sighed. Off to one side was
another alcove, curtained off by plush drapes. “This is too much work. Let me
just bathe in the river.”

“It is a Herd Mistress’s due,” Shadowdancer remarked
in a bland tone.

Sorsha merely looked over her shoulder at Shadowdancer
without comment, too tired to argue. He waited with a hip leaning against the
small dining table, his expression set in an emotionless mask. She’d attempted
to catch his eye all through dinner, but he’d focused on his food with a
determination that shunned any other distraction. It hadn’t fooled her for a
moment. He’d been avoiding her. Actually, if the way he was starting to gather
up the dishes and tidy the table with a single minded determination was an
indication, he was planning on ignoring her for the rest of the evening, too.

A third Santhyrian entered the tent and she stepped
out of the way. The three-year-old colt trotted past with his load.

Shadowdancer made his way to the tub and muttered
something to the colt. Once the young Santhyrian was in position, Shadowdancer
twisted the valve at the bottom of a heavy water sack suspended from the colt’s
harness. Water gushed into the wooden tub with a loud splashing sound, but not
so much as a drop of water hit the carpets surrounding the tub. When the sack
was empty, the colt turned, offering his other side. They repeated the same
procedure and by the time the second was empty, another youngster had entered
the tent and taken up position behind the colt.

Feeling guilty, Sorsha came to stand next to the
bathing tub. “Really, the river would have been fine.”

“If you’re worried about feeling indebted, don’t. As a
Herd Mistress, you will have many responsibilities. You’ll soon find those with
hands will have many duties to keep those hands moving.” Shadowdancer chuckled.
“The Herd can be very demanding at times.”

“I’m glad. I hate being indebted.”

“Just wait until burr season,” Shadowdancer muttered,
then cleared his throat. “For now, Mistress Neveyah has forbidden any of the
herd to pester you until you’ve had a chance to rest. After that,” Shadowdancer
shrugged, “you’ll likely have a lineup of eager Santhyrians outside you’re tent
each morning. We love our daily grooming sessions.”

Seeing no other option, Sorsha bowed to his wishes.
Besides, it was difficult to argue against something she secretly wanted. The
privacy of the tent offered the perfect opportunity to talk about the Twelve
and if they might be able to fix what was broken. And the forced intimacy of
sharing a tent might shrink the growing distance between her and Shadowdancer.

“Your bath is almost ready.” Shadowdancer’s voice
jolted Sorsha back to the present.

“Thank you.” Fantasies of how she and Shadowdancer
might go about shrinking the distance between them would just have to wait. She
needed to talk about more pressing matters than their personal relationship.

“I’ll leave you to bathe in privacy,” Shadowdancer
said and started for the door.

“You promised to talk later. It’s later.” She couldn’t
fight off a yawn. “Besides, if you leave I’ll probably fall asleep in the tub
and drown.”

“I can have one of the mares stay with you if you
wish,” Shadowdancer said with a straight face.

Was he serious?

“A mare? Not exactly what I had in mind. We need a
battle plan regarding our missing family members and the Twelve Talismans.”

Her words had the desired effect; he halted and turned
back to her with a raised brow. “That’s hardly a talk to have when we’re both
swaying with exhaustion. Better we leave that until morning.”

He’d have to be stubborn. Well, Sorsha grinned, she
was a Stonemantle. Besides being stubborn, they also possessed the gift of
bluntness.

Sorsha stepped up to him, her fingers coming to rest
on his shoulders. She stretched up onto her toes and brushed her lips against
his in a brief kiss. “After the talk, I was rather hoping to continue what we’d
started at the river.” She nuzzled the underside of his jaw.

“That isn’t possible.” Shadowdancer’s voice rasped out
against her skin, warm and moist. He held himself rigid, nearly unmoving under
her hands. He broke away with a look of undisguised anguish on his face. Other
emotions rolled across his features too fast for her to assimilate. “I’m no longer
a Mage. I’m no longer what you need.”

Sorsha frowned at him, her hands coming to rest on her
hips. “I think I’m capable of deciding what I need, and who I love.”

“One day you’ll need a Stallion Mage….and I won’t be
able to step aside if we do this.”

A finger to his lips stopped further words, but Sorsha
sensed his turmoil. She had her own inner turmoil to deal with.
Later
,
she told herself. For now she would not think beyond the moment. Her lips
replaced her finger.

The heat of his fingers brushed her cheek a moment
before he returned her kiss. Sorsha closed her eyes, seeking other senses. He
smelled of male and wild places, of green grass and leather. Her hands molded
against his bare chest, learning him. Skimming her fingers in a light caress
down his sides made him chuckle. When she idly played her fingertips along his
hipbones, he reached down and grabbed her hands, guiding them back up around
his neck.

“You’re so soft.” He mumbled into her hair as he
rubbed his cheek against hers. His hands glided along her sides and then
stilled. The hesitation betrayed his indecision. Sorsha began placing gentle
kisses along his shoulder. Bringing her hands from behind his neck, she rested them
on his shoulders for a moment before sliding down until her hands caught his.
She guided him to the laces on her vest.

“Beautiful,” he rumbled. “But your bath water is
getting cold.” Then, in less time than it took to blink, his arms were around
her. One arm snaked under her legs and the other across her back. She’d barely
registered the feel of his body heat against her before he had lifted her and
deposited her into the steaming water. Clothes and all.

“Shadowdancer!”

He pulled his hand free of her grip. Studying her from
arm’s length, he sighed out a long bitter sound. “And as much as I want you, I
can’t have you.” His frown deepened, taking on a hint of sorrow.

“Why, by the goddess of your prairies, not?” Sorsha’s
words came out sharper than she’d intended, but didn’t care. He had just
unceremoniously dumped her in the bathtub fully dressed.

“In the eyes of my people I’m….”

Sorsha scrambled to her feet, water pouring off her
hair and clothing in sheets. “I don’t care what your people think. Our love is
between us and no one else.”

“But they are correct. I’m no more use to you than a
gelding is to a mare. You need a mage to strengthen your power. You’ll be a
Herd Mistress again one day. I’ll never be anything more than I am now. Not in
this lifetime.”

“We’ve been over this.” Sorsha despaired of ever
making Shadowdancer see reason. “I don’t care if your Larnkin ever heals enough
to form the link between Herd Mistress and Stallion Mage. I chose you
regardless. Nothing will change my mind. I’m a Stonemantle and I’m going to be
stubborn about this.”

“Your Larnkin may have other ideas.”

“Then she’s going to have a fight on her hands, the
scope and duration of which she’s never seen before. I will not be a slave.”

Shadowdancer retreated toward the tent flap. If she
didn’t do something, she was going to lose him. The noble idiot was going to
put the herd above his own happiness. And Sorsha didn’t know how to change his
mind, or even if she had the right.

“I don’t want to fight about this,” Sorsha whispered
as she dropped down on the tub’s edge in defeat, her chin resting in her hands.
“And I can’t lose you.” The words tumbled from her lips too quickly to stop
them. Unshed tears collected in the corners of her eyes and her throat
tightened. Damn it, she wasn’t going to cry again.

Shadowdancer returned to her side so fast, she was
caught off guard by his sudden reversal and fierce expression. His arms
embraced her and he was suddenly holding her to his chest like all else in the
world was gone.

“You will never lose me. I denied death itself to
remain with you. I am your friend now and always.” He held her against his
chest with one arm while his free hand stroked her damp hair back from her
face. He stilled his gentle caresses and placed a lingering kiss on her
forehead. “You are my soulmate always, and even if we are not bondmates in this
life, one day in some future life, our Larnkins will regain their strength and
forge the bond anew. I await that time with whatever patience I can master.”

“Thank you,” Sorsha whispered. His words renewed her
hope. Somehow they would find a way and come together like her heart said they
were supposed to.

“I do love you, please know that, but you need to
finish your bath alone or whatever noble intensions I have will experience a
quick death.” He gripped her shoulders and then held her out to arm’s length.
Sorsha didn’t try to cling to him even though she wanted to; she needed to
retain a little dignity.

“I’ll get a quick bath, and you can use the water
while it’s still warm.” She tried for playful and unaffected, but failed miserable
even to her own ears.

He pressed another kiss to the top of her head. “That
sounds good, little one. I’ll go find some clean clothing for you.”

After he left, Sorsha stripped quickly and then bathed
while deep in thought. There had to be a way to heal Shadowdancer. She sighed
in defeat. He was grieving deeply and she didn’t know how to help, how to make
him see he still had value.

Frustrated with her inability to come up with a
solution, Sorsha dunked under the water and rinsed the soap from her hair,
scrubbing with enough vigor to pull some strands out by the roots. When she
came back up, she combed her fingers through her wet hair, squeezing the
majority of the water out.

She was still mulling over the situation when
Shadowdancer returned with an arm load of clothing and towels. He ignored her
as he made his way over to the two sleeping areas tucked away in a cordoned off
alcove at the rear of the tent.

She waited until he had fussed with the bedding longer
than needed and then cleared her throat. “I’m finished and the water will be
getting cold if you don’t use it soon.”

Shadowdancer didn’t respond, though he was fluffing
one poor pillow with particular violence. And she didn’t miss how he glanced
out of the corner of his eye from time to time. A smile tugged at her lips.

“Could you hand me a towel. I don’t want to drip all
over the carpets.”

Unashamed, she stood with her arms relaxed at her
sides. Shadowdancer looked up at last. While his expression held a hint of
appreciation for several moments, in the end his eyes brightened with humor.

Then he chuckled and did as she asked, carrying over
two towels. One he tossed over her head and the other he wrapped around her shoulders.
“I love you, but you’re the most trying female I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a
few.”

“You love a good challenge.”

“Indeed I do. And I always win.” He lifted her out of
the tub and spun her around, laughing along with her. He deposited her on the
ground and proceeded to rub her down with a towel. Sorsha basked in the
pampering. When she was dry, he swatted the towel across her rump. “Go get
dressed, little temptress. There’s a robe and nightdress next to your sleeping
area.”

Wordlessly, Sorsha did as told. After she dressed, she
watched him strip out of his own clothes. He hadn’t ordered her not to look,
after all. The whole time Shadowdancer bathed, he never once looked in her
direction or struck up conversation.

Sitting wrapped in her bedding, she wished it was
Shadowdancer’s arms around her and not the impersonal warmth of a blanket.

“Hmmm, I think I’ve lost my cloth, could you bring me
another?”

Sorsha jumped at the sound of his voice, still not
used to Shadowdancer voicing his thoughts aloud. Then she started to laugh.
“Try something more creative next time and I might offer you some aid.”

Shadowdancer’s eyes held a merry light at her words.
With a supreme act of will, she broke eye contact and stared at the small
central fire. It flickered in a slow dance and she imagined what the light
would look like contrasting his body in its warm glow. Her fingers tingled. She
fisted them and told her mind to stop conjuring sinful images.

Water sloshing against the tub captured her attention
and she instinctively looked in the direction of the sound. A soft breathy sigh
escaped her. Gods, he was gorgeous, a satisfying balance of toned muscle and
masculine grace.

Naked and still dripping water, he stalked across the
carpet to the neat pile of towels at the foot of his sleeping area. He turned
his lean flanks toward her as he bent to retrieve the first towel. He dried
himself with no show of modesty. So close, she could reach out and touch
him—and earlier he’d rejected her advances. Now this. What game did he play?