The Lord of the Clans (15 page)

“Is it not a sin?”

“No, but I’m glad you enjoyed my tongue on your tight little cunt. I’d be more than willing to renew the episode.”

A low throb toyed with her drenched slit as his deep tone ignited a longing in her she shouldn’t acknowledge. The wild craving coursed through her, flashing along her limbs like a bolt of lightning striking a mountain rock. Although she meant to voice her qualms, he didn’t let her.

“Was it the first time?”

“Excuse me?”

His mischievous smile increased her awkwardness tenfold, and she pushed air out of her lungs when he leant forward.

“Last night, was it the first time you reached absolute pleasure?”

Chapter Twenty-One

How could she confess the devastating bliss she’d experienced under the beat of his cock? How, for the love of the Creators, could she admit that she had never felt anything like it before?

His pride or self-esteem wasn’t in the balance, but the urgent need to safeguard her heart against her own uncontrollable emotions arose. Whatever scheme he devised to get the truth out of her, she wouldn’t disclose the orgasm had ruled her for the first time. No, she would not.

“Yes.”

She brought her hands to her mouth. She pressed her fingers against her lips as if the admission came from someone else, and dropped her gaze to observe a splinter of wood sticking out of the table. Across from her, he chuckled, and his bare chest tickled the corners of her vision.

“There’s absolutely no reason to be ashamed, flower. Some women spend their entire lives without feeling any sexual gratification. If anything, consider yourself lucky.”

“Lucky I met you?”

She barely caught his swift movement. All of a sudden, he stood next to her, his hands already around hers. He pulled her up and slid his fingers along her arms, into her hair. His silver gaze cut through her soul, his erection pushed down on her belly. She gasped.

Streaks of memory invaded her mind.
The touch of his lips on her nipples, the sway of his tongue between her thighs, his hard body covering hers, his large cock penetrating her until she cried for release.
She could have it all again. A single sign from her, and he’d make her writhe on the pallet. She placed both her hands on his broad chest and gently pushed him back.

“I can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

Even as the question hung between them, he disentangled his fingers. Then he moved aside, the heat of his body leaving her.

“Because it’s best for us both.
Don’t you remember what I said about my pledge to my promised?”

“How could I not? That was some thunderbolt you dropped on me. Still, I don’t see the relevance.”

“You don’t?”

Her surprised tone prompted him to take another step back. He ran his hands through his hair, a sharp gleam lighting his eyes.

“No. Unless you’re about to tell me that mating with me once... sorry, twice... is perfectly fine with your ethics, but doing it three times becomes betrayal. If that’s the case, I’d suggest you keep quiet.”

Had he slapped her in the face she wouldn’t have felt worse. More than his words, his sudden harsh tone whipped up the harrowing guilt she'd been carrying for days. Tears blurred her sight, but she wasn’t sure if they were born from shame or anger.
At herself.

He didn’t deserve to be rejected out of indecisiveness. She should have drawn the line from the very first moment, or not at all. No, she had wavered. Torn between her duty to Kelton and her desire for the Lord of the Clans, she hadn’t made the decision.

She was the only offender here, the sole person who should be blamed for her actions, and punished. Cutting right to the heart of her reflection, she also realized that she was now betraying him.

A fragile silence settled over the little house. She watched him put his shirt on, sling his coat over his shoulder, grab his sword, and walk to the door. Had he resolved to leave her safe among his people and ride back to the Longrocks Mountains? The truth was
,
he’d be well-advised to do just that.

He opened the door. A blow of bitter wind ruffled her stray hair as he stepped into the night. Her skin puckered and the lump in her throat thickened. In spite of her mortification, she needed to know.

“Are you leaving me?”

He turned around. His impassive features showing neither sullenness nor disappointment, he looked her in the eye.

“I said I’d be your guide to Frahern, and I will. Good night, Ariana.”

The sound of the shutting door tightened her guts. Unlike her, he’d be true to his promise. The tears she'd managed to keep in check burned her eyes. She let them flow freely, wet her cheeks, drain out the horrible feelings reeling inside her. Alone, cold without him, she went to lie down on the pallet.

His strong embrace wouldn’t protect her this night. His warm, hard body pressed against hers wouldn’t chase away her fears and doubts. This was her punishment.

The bedcover didn’t dispel the coldness, the hole in her heart, or the painful tears. Without restraint, she cried. Unable to imagine tomorrow would bring her any form of consolation, she cried herself to sleep.

Encased in a frigid cast, she blinks. Ice bites at her skin, assaults her frozen limbs. Fear holds her prisoner. Surrounded by darkness, she tries to move, but her paralysed body doesn’t respond.

This isn’t the dead of night. This feels solid, like
a black
, iron armour containing her. Utter silence reigns over utter nothingness. She wants to strike at the indestructible wall around her, but she can’t even lift a finger. The sinister threat has trapped her. Now it will kill her.

Such painful frost doesn’t exist. Yet it seems so real that she feels her muscles solidify, her blood freezes in her veins.
The end of her life, the end of her world.
Panic grips her guts. Long past is the time for tears, for hope.

She has failed. She hasn’t been strong enough to vanquish the darkness, and the light has gone out.
Too late for regrets.
The claws of death sink into her and she screams her terror.

The agonising shout wrenching her throat jerked her out of the nightmare. A layer of sweat coating her body, heart about to burst, she hugged the bed cover. She clung to it, eyes enlarged, raspy breaths wheezing out of her lungs, whimpers resonating through her gritted teeth.

She clenched the fabric with desperate fingers until the horrid vision began to lose vividness, and her brain kicked in. Although night still held onto its waning magnitude, she perceived the hopeful beginnings of a new dawn.
With light, with blessed brightness.

Slowly the tension wringing her muscles slackened. The frantic beat of her pulse decreased, and she was able to loosen her hooked fists. Pushing the cover away, she sat on the edge of the pallet as thirst claimed her.

The feeble glow of dying candles showed her the way to the goatskin. She drank as if she'd just crossed a desert, water streaming down her parched mouth, flowing over her cheeks to land on the dry floor. The pure liquid quenched her dire craving and roused her energy. The darkness hadn’t killed her after all. She was alive and free.

She spun around when a blast of chilly air hit the back of her head.
Instantly propelled back into the nightmarish images, she let out a cry before realising the black wall existed only in her mind.
No opaque gloom here, just the door opening.

“What is it? Why are you scared?”

Although he didn’t rush to her, she read the concern on his face. Dear Gods, she must look a fright for him to observe her with such disquietude. Warmed by his attitude, she nonetheless had to swallow.

“It’s nothing. I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

“That happens.”

Not to him. She bet he’d happily snored the night away beside Alban’s hearth while she had almost died of terror, cold and alone in a stranger’s pallet, but she wouldn’t complain. Instead, she gathered her belongings when she saw he remained standing by the door.

“Since you’re up, I’d rather leave before first light.”

“Of course.
We wouldn’t want anyone to spot you.”

Why did she feel the need to be bitter? She had rejected him, not the other way round. As he ignored her inappropriate comment, she put her cloak on, and followed him through the straw fence. The horses shook their manes in greetings, obviously eager to gallop toward a new day.

Everybody seemed happy but her. A lingering aftertaste still clotted her mouth, although the freakish nightmare receded to the back of her mind. Dismissing the acid tang, she hopped on her mount.

The drizzle began to fall a short while later. This wet spring sapping her
spirits,
she wished they’d ride through a forest so the canopy of trees might shelter them from the rain. They, however, kept
to open
grounds, which must have been the reason why he urged the horses ever faster.

The kingdom of Borgom also had suffered from the war. In the distance, fields had been left unattended, and rotten fruit littered neglected orchards. Where were the people? The countryside appeared devoid of human life, though it was hard to tell with the steady rain tumbling down from the skies.

She’d have to ask him. Up to now, she hadn’t given much thought to the war because she lived in a secluded area where invasion and battles seemed like a far off concept. They all knew a war raged between the kingdoms but, sheltered by the Longrocks Mountains, they’d never seen a trace of it. If believing wasn’t seeing, nobody cared much.

She cared now. The sight of the devastated territory pinched her heart as she wondered where the farmers and their families had taken refuge. What did they eat? Who protected them?

At some point, he called a halt. They refilled their goatskins in the river running along a massive cliff. The rain didn’t relent, curtains of water flooding the ground. As they huddled under an overhanging rock to share cold meat provided by Doireann, she shook water off her cloak.

“What happened around here?”

“The king of Borgom confiscated all properties when the war ended. People have either fled or been captured.”

“Why did he do that? If nobody works the land, everybody starves.”

“It’s a very good point. Unfortunately, the king doesn’t view the equation in the same light. I’m sure he plans on invading Moonstill as soon as he can.
Plenty of goods to be plundered over there.”

She pondered his assessment of the situation. Although the king’s tactics didn’t make much sense to her, she wasn’t in his place. Her craft being her life, she healed wounds and helped those in need. Besides, she'd never been greedy for power and domination.

“What of the people? Isn’t anyone giving them assistance?”

“The resistance hides and feeds them. They’ve been able to set up refugee camps in Palance and Moonstill, as well as provide those in need with a new life. Although people have been torn from their homes, at least they have a roof over their heads and their children eat.”

“Is this why you trust the leader of the resistance?”

“It’s one of the reasons, but I also happen to think that there’s more to him than meets the eye. And if you must know everything, most of the tribes have offered shelter to refugees.”

“Really?
On whose orders?”

His sharp gaze fell on her. All of a sudden, she had the impression the overhanging rock pressed down on her, prompting her to cower and stop asking stupid questions. She repressed the urge as she ingested her meat, and stared at the straight set of his lips.

“Whose do you think, Ariana?”

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. You told me you didn’t want to choose sides in this war, but it seems to me that if you help refugees from Palance and Moonstill, well, you have already involved the clans.”

“Involving isn’t fighting. I said I wouldn’t send my men to be slaughtered in battle, and I won’t. We live in the Four Kingdoms, yet no king rules us. The warrior clans will fight every time the tribes are under attack, but we won’t go looking for retribution or revenge. Can’t you see the difference?”

“Sure. You picked a side.”

Although she had muttered, he must have caught her ironic remark, because he glowered at her.

“Since when are you into strategies of war?”

“Since you left me alone last night.”

Where did that come from? Embarrassment flaring up her brow, she dropped her head to stare at the flowing river. Water churned and swirled, carrying away leaves and chunks of wood. A whirlpool sucked clumps of grass into its depths while the silence between them stretched.

Unable to face him, she put the last strip of meat in her mouth before chewing with care. Could she spend the rest of the day avoiding his disturbing gaze? Beside her, his heavy coat brushed against her cloak.