The Barbarian (16 page)

****

Thankfully the
fall of snow grew lighter. It was deep around the horse's legs, but she was
still able to move forward, following various landmarks she remembered from her
trip with Stryker. The snow had not covered the granite tors and as the snow
eased, letting her see further ahead, they were recognizable by the strange
shapes they made against the bleak sky. There, at last, was the hut where he
said the Witch of Cynndyr once lived.

"Villette!"
she shouted breathlessly, her gaze searching the snow-capped stone ruin. If
there was any God, she thought desperately, let him help the maid find her way
to that shelter. If Villette was safe she—Amias—would be a better woman from
now on. She would not snap or snipe. She would say her prayers without sarcasm.
She would be grateful and optimistic. She would try to smile more often, and
not just when someone fell over or banged their head.

Just as she
thought this, her eyes found a flicker of green among the blast of white. Not
grasses surely. The snow was too thick for a large tuft of grass to show
through. "Villette!"

The blob raised a
hand and waved frantically. And then she heard the familiar humming and her
heart lifted.

God had answered
her prayers.

****

"My
lady," Villette sobbed on her shoulder. "I thought I was dead."
Despite her shaky humming, the girl collapsed in a weeping heap, the moment Ami
was close enough to catch her.

"Never mind.
I am here now."

She'd brought a
saddle bag with dry kindling and flint to make a fire in one corner of the
stone hovel. Soon they were huddled around it, the other woman sharing her
fur-lined cape. The horse sheltered nearby under an arch, nuzzling through the
snow, looking for grass.

"I hate this
place, my lady."

Startled she held
the girl tighter in her embrace, rubbing her arms to help her warm up faster.
"I thought you enjoyed it here, Villette." The girl was always
laughing and humming.

Ami had assumed
she was happy.

"I never do
anything right, my lady. I am the worst maid in the world."

"Nonsense.
You are merely cold and scared." She paused. "I was wrong to shout at
you today. I am sorry, Villette. It is not your fault you cannot count."

The maid gave a
loud sniff. "No, my lady."

"I shall
teach you at the first opportunity."

"Thank you,
my lady," Villette warbled uncertainly.

Ami took bread and
cheese from a knotted kerchief inside her mantle and the maid ate hungrily as
if she'd been stranded for days, not merely an hour or two. "Save some for
later, Villette. Who knows how long we'll be stuck." Or how long the
firewood will last, she thought. Looking up into the sky, she saw a fine needle
of light through the mass of white. She had shaken snow from her hood every few
minutes as she rode along, but now only a few flakes still stuck. At last the
blizzard was slowing down. Hope. It was a precious thing. Without it, where
were they?

"You should
know, Villette," she added softly, "that Ifyr came out to look for
you too. He was very, very worried."

The maid bent her
head back to study Ami's face. "Truly?"

She nodded.
"He said you were a sweet girl."

The color slowly
came back to Villette's round cheeks and she put her head down again on Ami's
shoulder. "He's alright, I suppose," she murmured with a sniff.

"Yes."
Her mistress sighed. "They can't help themselves. They're men."

****

The line of
torches led a flickering path up to the moor, a writhing snake of orange dots
that came and went with each slanted gust of blown snow. Stryker Bloodaxe,
riding at more speed than was safe under those conditions, soon felt his anger
dissipate, to be replaced by pure fear—an emotion he'd seldom known in his
adult life. If he lost Amias, what would he do? They had spent two days
together and for much of that time they'd fought. Yet, oddly enough, he could
not imagine spending another day without her in it. Was it possible to form a
connection that swiftly? With a woman who'd claimed not to want one? When he
thought all he wanted was her money?

Pushing through
that blowing snow, searching for sight of her, his heart tearing apart at the
thought of perhaps never finding her alive, he didn't care about one single
coin of her bridal purse. If she was poor, if her uncle reneged on their
agreement, he would still want her. It was a stunning revelation and for
several moments it brought him no joy because it made him weak, stupid even.
Had he not learned his lesson with love before?

But the feelings
he'd cherished for Elsinora, his friend from childhood, were different than
those he had now for Amias the Unsmiling. It went deeper than lust. He wanted
to know everything she thought about and that was most unusual for Stryker. He
wanted to study her, inside and out.

He could not
forget what she'd confessed today, in the yard—that she wanted to please him.
The idea warmed his soul now, lit the glow of passion in his heart. He could
not recall a woman ever saying that to him. Ever.

They were in sight
of the stone hovel, the old shepherd's hut. Ifyr, who had met them by the
stream in the valley, rode up to him. "My lord, she said she would wait
within."

He nodded. Ifyr
was plainly worried he would be punished for his part in this, but Stryker
could not be angry with the boy who had only tried to stop the woman from
putting herself in danger. Ifyr couldn't know what he was dealing with, just as
his wife couldn't know what she faced when she rode into the snow. Unless a person
had lived there all their life they could not know how quickly the weather
changed for worse, how soon they could be stranded, lost. His warning to her,
naturally, had been disregarded because she was too proud to admit there was
something she couldn't do alone. From now on he'd just have to make certain
there was nothing she
wanted
to do
alone.

****

Ami heard his
shout and blinked back tears.

"We are
rescued," Villette exclaimed, pushing her arms aside and leaping to her
feet with a new burst of strength. "I hope Ifyr has come."

Bemused, Ami
watched her maid fuss about her dirty gown and then she took the horse's bridle
and walked out. A few sorrow flakes still drifted out of the sky, but the mass
had fallen already, leaving the vast expanse of moor covered in a dimpled
fleece, thick in some spots, thin in others.

Stryker dismounted
and strode toward her, his face stern and pale.

"Forgive
me," she said as he drew near enough. Better get it over with before he
shouted at her. "I know it was foolhardy, but I couldn't leave Villette
out here alone."

He said nothing,
merely looked at her, his large hand tight around the bridle of his mount.

"I did not
think she would come out so far." She swallowed. "I was not afraid of
the snow and I knew my way here after yesterday."

Still naught. His
eyes were pinned to her lips.

"The girl is
my responsibility," she muttered.

Finally his feet
shifted in the snow. "You're lucky," he said quietly.

"Yes."
She nodded gravely.

"You're lucky
I think I'm in love with you, woman. Or I'd tan your hide."

She looked up,
astonished, thinking she might have misheard.

"No more
running off without me," he added. "I don't want to lose you."

"Oh."
She faltered, the breath caught in her throat. "You won't."

Still he waited,
staring down at her. There was just a little softening of his jaw, but he
wasn't going to make it easy for her.

Ami the
Unbreakable gathered her infamous courage and lifted one hand to his face. Her
fingers stroked his stubble. "Thank you for finding me. Thank you for
rescuing me."

She smiled shyly.

"I think
I...”
He leaned toward her, turning his head to give her his ear, as if she spoke too
softly.

Ami rose on tiptoe
and whispered, "I think I'm falling in love with you too. Don't tell
anyone, barbarian."

****

He swept her into
his arms and held her. Lord, she was ice cold. Looking beyond, into the hovel,
he saw the remnants of the fire she'd made. At least the woman had foresight
enough to bring supplies on her mad journey. Lifting her up onto his horse, he
instructed her to sit and wait, then he stomped out her fire and helped the
maid up onto his wife's mount. Villette sat awkwardly, unaccustomed to riding,
but she daren't complain. As he tersely reminded her, she was the reason they
were all out in that weather. After that she sat mutely, gripping the pommel of
her saddle and bouncing like a sack of apples as he led the mare behind his own
horse. Amias sat before him, sheltered in the curve of his chest and shoulders.
For once she let him see her vulnerability. Stryker suspected this would be a
rare treat, so he treated it respectfully.

She too was
unusually quiet. But what more was there to say?

Chapter Seven

They sat together
by the fire in their chamber, surrounded by furs.

"I fear
today's excursion has not helped your cold, my lady Amias," he said.

"I told you,
I have no cold. I am never sick." She sneezed.

He laughed, the
rhythm of it trembling through her as he held her tight in his embrace. "I
am eager to hear what you learned today."

She turned until her
cheek touched his lips. "I learned not to go out onto the moor in a snow
storm."

"I meant what
you learned from Morwenna the whore," he whispered, the tip of his tongue
caressing her cheek.

Ami gladly
obliged. She should have been tired after her adventure, but if anything she
was more awake than ever, her body yearning for life and experience. The
sadness and doubt that had hung over her like a dark cloud was gone. She saw
hope now in everything around her. Especially in him, the man brave enough to confess
he
might
be in love with her.

She'd just have to
make him certain.

Licking his chin,
she enjoyed the tickle of stubble. He tipped back, resting on his hands, giving
her access to the strong column of his throat and then down, over the warm,
lightly furred chest to his taut stomach. There, already risen, was his cock,
arching high out of the nest of pubic curls, his sac hanging at the wide root,
holding his seed for her harvesting.

Remembering
Morwenna's lesson, she gently licked his crest and then went directly down to
his balls, nuzzling them, kissing and playing with her tongue. Above her he
moaned and then he moved, parting his legs, leaning further back, on his elbows
now. With her hands she stroked his manhood, cupped his balls. She let her hair
fall over his torso and then her mouth closed around the head of his staff. He
tasted salty and yet sweet. She sucked lightly at first, swirling her tongue
around the broad, crimson cap and then she took more into her throat,
proceeding with great care not to touch him with her teeth, or choke on his
glorious length. When she felt his cock move and pulse in her mouth, Ami's own
arousal fluttered through her quim and settled into a steady torment. She
sucked harder then and moved her mouth up and down while his soft groans became
deeper, more like growls. Her tongue traced the thick veins of his rod, stroked
the warm ridges in his roused flesh and then nursed on the swollen head,
drinking up the bead of shining fluid that trembled there.

"Damn. I'll
spend," he warned, his hands resting on her head, following the up and
down motion as it resumed. His long fingers tangled in her hair and he made an
effort to pull her up.

Ami paused and
lifted her head, let his hard phallus slip from her lips with a loud pop. Her husband
was looking down at her through his eyelashes, his mouth slightly open, soft
quick little breaths escaping as he shuddered.

"I want to
milk you, my lord. I want to make you spill in my mouth."

"No," he
ground out through gritted teeth. "Not ladylike."

Ami chuckled and
let her tongue slide over his crest again, gathering a sticky thread of his
essence. "You cannot expect your wife always to be a lady," she
whispered, pressing her lips to his glans again. "Just as you are not
always a barbarian, my lord husband."

A thin sheen of
sweat gleamed on his chest as his breathing deepened.

"Now give me
what I want."

He sank down
again, giving in, his body making an effort to relax.

"Good
boy," she chuckled. "That was not so hard was it? Although..."
she eyed his magnificent cock and felt her insides melting with desire,
"...this definitely is."