22 Nights (18 page)

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Authors: Linda Winstead Jones

BOOK: 22 Nights
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“Do you think I should become the village prostitute?”
“Good heavens, no!” His patience was gone. “I don’t understand you at all, Bela. I can never entirely grasp what you want and what you don’t want. You shun all things womanly, but by God, you are acting very much like a woman tonight. Why can’t you just tell me what you want? Why can’t you just be straightforward?”
“Fine.” The word was a sharp, stinging snap. “I want love,” she said honestly and without stammering. “Until you returned to us, I did not think I desired love at all, but you have taught me differently and it is quite maddening. I’m not sure I can forgive you for that, for turning my life upside down and inside out and making me want what I never before cared about.” Her eyes met his, and he saw the anger and confusion there. “I am a straightforward person in all matters,” she said. “I do not keep secrets and dwell upon my thoughts in private.”
Merin laughed bitterly. “
You
do not keep secrets?”
Her expression was contrite, even sheepish. The anger seemed to fly away, leaving her more confused. “Long ago I did what was necessary, but I did not enjoy lying to you and my family. I merely did what I believed had to be done. Six years ago I had the body of a woman, but my mind was still very much that of a child.”
“A spoiled child willing to do anything to get what she wanted.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
There had been nothing childlike about the woman he remembered, and seventeen was a marriageable age for many. But she was right—her thinking at that time had not been right. Merin found it wise not to recall too clearly that night when she’d thrown herself at him. It wasn’t just the unpleasant finish that dismayed him, but the memory of her bare body pressed to his, all too briefly.
“My thinking is no longer muddled by childish desires and stubborn plans of defiance and deception,” she continued. “I leave all that behind me now, Tearlach Merin, and speak only the truth. I think I might love you. No, that is a cowardly way to say what’s in my heart. I
do
love you. I’m certain of it.”
Again, she surprised him. “You say that only because I’m the first man to make you . . .”
“That’s not why,” she interrupted without anger. “You are handsome and gallant and strong, and you’re a powerful man in many ways. You have a fine body and a pretty face. I would be lying if I said that I do not admire all that in you, and I do not wish another lie to come between us. There is more than power to admire, of course. You care about people and you’re willing to sacrifice much of yourself for others.” She cocked her head and studied his face too closely. “But more than that, I am drawn to you in a way I cannot entirely explain, as if something inside me craves you to the pit of my soul. That was true six years ago, though I did not recognize it at the time, and it’s true now. I might tell others and myself that I chose you because I thought you would die in battle and leave me a convenient widow, but I was inexplicably drawn to you even then. I might’ve said that any man would do, but that’s not the truth. Only you would do, then and now.”
No other woman would share her feelings so openly, so evenly, and without demand. He could only do the same. “You are intended for the emperor.”
“Do you never defy your Emperor Jahn?”
“Never.”
She sighed. “Do you love me, even a little?”
He hesitated, and in the moment of absolute silence he wished for an interruption of some kind. The caw of a bird or the howl of an animal would suffice, in this place where there was neither. There was only the crackle of the fire, which accentuated the deep silence between them. Finally he said, “I do care for you, Bela.”
“That’s not the same as love,” she responded quickly. “I care for many people, but I love very few. My family. My friend Jocylen. And you. My love for you is different from all the rest. I’m not sure I can explain it.”
“You should not love me.”
“I know,” she whispered. “You have not answered my question properly, Merin. Do you love me?”
In truth he didn’t know, but the answer had to be no.
Bela looked a little disappointed, but she was not surprised, and she did not cry or rail against him. “I hope that one day you might, because until you do, I can’t allow you to lie with me as a husband lies with his wife. It would be wrong.”
He had just told Bela that they could not touch in that way, so why was his first instinct to argue with her?
She did not flirt or plead or bat her eyelashes, as other women might’ve. There was not a single tear, not a sniffle. Bela wasn’t playing with him. No, she was deadly serious. “I’m going to get some sleep,” she said, grabbing a nearby blanket and placing it on the hard ground between them. “It’s been a long day, and we have much to do tomorrow.”
Bela remained close, thanks to the braided rope that bound them, and Merin found himself watching her as she closed her eyes and seemed to find sleep quickly.
No, he did not, could not, love Bela, but he had to admit she was like no other woman in the world, and he wanted her to distraction.
SAVYN
returned to Leyla as quickly as he could, but in his absence she’d been crying. Her eyes were red and her face was puffy. She was probably worried about what would happen if she found herself on her own, without his protection.
“I have bread,” he said, smiling and ignoring the fact that she was upset. “And a small amount of fatty meat. I also have a tin cup of water. I think it’ll taste better than what we drank from the creek this morning.” He had tried so hard not to spill even a drop. “It isn’t much, but it’ll do for now. According to the farmer’s wife, there’s a village only a day and a half walk from here. We will head in that direction in the morning. I can find a job there and earn enough to buy some real food, and then we will decide what to do.” It was almost dark, so it made sense for them to remain here, in this thick copse of trees, for the night.
As he’d walked back from the farmhouse, Savyn had been trying to think of the fastest way to get Lady Leyla to safety. Since she was destined for the emperor, emperor’s men would be best. But how, and who could he trust? He only knew he had to get rid of her as soon as possible.
He had started having vivid fantasies about the woman in his care. Realistic, bone-shattering, mouth-watering sexual fantasies, as if he knew what it felt like to hold her naked body against his. As if he knew what she sounded like when she whispered his name with passion. As if he knew what it was like to push into her wet heat and find a pleasure like no other.
She was so glad to see him that she threw her arms around his neck, which caused him to spill a few drops of the water. But she quickly realized the impropriety of her reaction and pulled away, dropping her arms to her sides. Everything in him wanted to drop what he carried and pull her back to him, but he did not. They weren’t right, these fantasies. She was intended for another, and was of a class he could not dream of touching.
They ate in silence, and then, as darkness fell, he made a bed of sorts from the large leaves of a pollux tree. The leaves would not be soft, but they would keep the dirt from the lady’s back. When the bed was prepared, she lay upon the ground and pulled her knees up to her chest, drawing herself into a tight ball of terror.
Painful as it was, he lay down beside her and comforted her as best he could, without going too far, without revealing how he felt. Why did the words
I love you
play at his lips? He barely knew Lady Leyla. Perhaps he had admired her from afar for many years, but that did not mean he had the right to dream of loving her.
The image of her smiling at him flashed in his mind, and he shook it away. She was a kind woman, that was all. She smiled at many people, those she knew well and those she did not know at all.
He rubbed a hand along her arm and whispered to her that all would be well. Leyla did not agree, but neither did she argue. She eventually fell asleep, and when she did, she unwound slowly and drifted toward him. Soon her body was resting against his, and Savyn was so hard and needful that the pain kept him from sleep.
Her arm circled his waist and she sighed. Her head fell against his shoulder, and a mass of black curls tickled his cheek. Soon one of her fine legs was draped over his, and they were entangled as lovers might be.
While she slept, he kissed her pale and perfect cheek, being very careful not to wake her. His arms wrapped around her. His swollen cock was so close to her entrance that with a shift of clothing and a swaying of his body, he could be inside her.
But fantasies or no, he could not even dream of such a joy. And yet, when he did finally sleep, that is exactly where his dreams took him.
TRINITY
came across the sleeping couple not long after the sun rose. They’d left a trail a child could follow, and he had not been a child for a very long time.
The two slept entangled, clinging to one another, no doubt in search of safety and comfort. The woman was, as he had imagined, beautiful. Even though he could see only a mass of black hair and the curve of a pale cheek, he could tell. She was fine, in that way wealthy and pampered women were, but she also had an earthy and real beauty which would’ve shone through no matter what her class.
The man who held her was more common in his manner of dress. It was easy to judge a person’s station by their shoes, he had found. The lady wore finely crafted boots which were adorned with fancy stitching. The man wore sturdy but plain boots which marked him as a craftsman or a shopkeeper. He was not a poor beggar, but neither was he a lordly gentleman.
And yet they held on to one another as if they were very well acquainted. Fear did strange things to people.
He could kill them both while they slept. It would be quick and easy, and with his speed and accuracy they would never suffer. They would never know what had happened, if he dispatched them in that way. But Trinity had gone far beyond quick and easy where this job was concerned. The next few days could be very entertaining.
He cared nothing about the man, and would be glad to kill him outright and take the woman for himself, but if he killed the man now, Lady Leyla would know and despise him for it, and that was not the game Trinity had planned.
When the couple woke, they might be startled to see him here, but they would not recognize him. Trinity wore a fine suit of clothes very much unlike his normal simple attire, and thanks to a strong batch of black tea brewed with the leaves of a yar bush and carefully applied, his long hair was now more brown than gray. Most of his weapons were concealed in his saddlebags, one of which was a long, sturdy case capable of carrying and concealing his sword. He wore a small dagger at his waist, something any well-to-do traveler might carry. He had plastered a smile on his face miles back and practiced a vapid expression until it felt natural to him.
If they had seen him at all during the attack, it had been at a distance, and he had been moving very quickly. His gray hair was his most memorable feature, except for his pale eyes, and neither of them had been close enough to see his eyes.
“Hello,” Trinity called in a friendly voice as he approached the sleeping couple. He led his horse behind him, and together they made much noise. If he had wished to do so, he could’ve moved toward the sleeping couple without making a sound, but that was not the game.
Trinity loved the game.
The couple on the ground came awake quickly and as one, remaining entwined as they sat up and turned to the intruder. Trinity took a deep breath. Yes, this was her, and she was more attractive awake than sleeping. Her eyes were a remarkable blue, and she had the even and perfect features of a woman who had always been, and would always be, exquisitely beautiful. Men had fought for such beautiful women for centuries.
The man scrambled to his feet, placing himself protectively in front of Lady Leyla. “Who are you, and what do you want?” Now that he got a good look at the man, Trinity realized the lady’s protector was not much more than a boy, scruffy beard aside. Surely he had not seen his thirtieth birthday.
Nor would he.
“I’m just a traveler, like yourselves,” Trinity said, his smile remaining in place. “Trinity. Cayse Trinity is the name.” He might’ve give them a false name, but for what purpose? They would both soon be dead, and he rather longed to hear a pretty woman speak his name again. It had been a long time. When they did not offer names, he continued. “And you are?”
The boy offered a hand to Lady Leyla and assisted her to her feet. “My name is Savyn Leone, and this is my wife, Leyla.”
Even if he had not known who they were, he would’ve known this simple boy was not married to the fine woman who stood beside and behind him. They were not of a class, for one thing. She outshone him. Still, it would not be wise to reveal his knowledge. “Pleasure to meet you,” Trinity said with an outstretched hand to show that he wielded no weapon. “Where are you headed?”
Savyn offered his own hand, but the woman did not. She cowered. “We travel to a village to the east,” he said. “We have family there.”
“I am headed in that direction myself,” Trinity said, as if he were pleasantly surprised. “I do not see a horse nearby. Are you afoot?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Perhaps your wife would like to ride.”
Lady Leyla shook her head. She had not recognized him, but neither did she trust him. The boy was less certain.
Savyn turned to her. “You should ride while you can. The trip will be much easier for you.”
She was easy enough to convince. Of course she was. Lady Leyla was not accustomed to walking for hours on end, or running from danger.
Trinity allowed Savyn to assist Leyla onto the horse. Gano accepted the unfamiliar rider with ease. The glance the two who had run from him exchanged made him wonder if there wasn’t more going on here than was obvious. The boy was infatuated, that was certain. But what of Lady Leyla? Why did she look at the boy so? She was frightened and this boy was her protector, the one she relied on to keep her safe. That was it, surely.

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