Kiss Across Swords (Kiss Across Time Series) (5 page)

Veris grew still, his gaze locked with the king’s.

“I am old,” the king said, still speaking softly. “But not old enough to forget faces, even though both fifteen years and the lad have gone and now a man stands in his place.”

Taylor stepped in front of Veris and faced the king. “My lord—” she said, also keeping her voice down.

“No, Tyra,” Veris protested and thrust her aside.

The king held up his hand. It was meant as a signal for peace, but the heel of his hand thumped into Veris’ chest. There was a collective gasp of surprise around them.

The king thrust his foot backward, trying to push Veris back. “Stop, you fool,” he hissed. “Do you really want to die tonight?”

“Veris, for heaven’s sake, please, think it through,” Taylor pleaded, tugging on his arm as he stood over the king. He was thrumming with tension. Had he forgotten he was mortal right now and surrounded by men wielding swords, men that were loyal to the king? Quite likely, yes.

“No one will come to my aid until I ask for it,” the king added. “Such is my reputation. To them I am utterly strong, invincible and need assistance from no man unless I choose it. At the moment, they simply watch me deal with you, believing only that you are angry because I desire your wife. It can remain that way…
Veris
. But if you insist on taking this path then it will no longer be a small matter of pride over a woman. Do you understand?”

After a moment Veris stepped back from the king. He was shaking.

Taylor realized she was, too.

Herleifr straightened his sleeves. “My queen dotes upon Marit. She is the daughter my wife never had. Marit would not be the woman she is today if someone had not intervened in her life fifteen years ago and changed her fortunes. Because my queen is grateful for that blessing, I am grateful.” He adjusted his cloak. “Enjoy your supper.” He walked away with a swirl of cloth.

Taylor threw her arms around Veris’ neck and clung to him, despite their public location. She was trembling badly enough that she had to clamp her jaws together to stop her teeth from chattering.

Veris’ lips pressed against the nape of her neck, then slid up to her ear. “I could have cheerfully killed the bastard for touching you. God, Taylor, I’m so full of emotions, I’m almost drunk with them.”

Taylor dropped back to her feet and tugged on his wrist. “Come and eat,” she said. “Come on. You need food and drink, and you need to relax. Your body is a chemical factory now. You’re not use to it anymore. Every emotional reaction you have is also a chemical reaction inside you. You’re chewing up juices and your metabolism probably just dropped dead over this.” She pushed him toward the table.

“I know that.” He frowned. “I
know
that,” he said softly, wondering. “Basic biology.”

“Dry academics,” she whispered back. “You learned it in a book. Long after you were made and long after you’d forgotten what it was like to be human.” She found a space at one of the long tables and pointed to it. “Will this do, my husband?” she said more loudly.

Some of the men at the table looked at Veris with alarm.

Veris sat down in the empty space and looked at the man closest to him. “Make room for my wife.”

The man shuffled over, making more than plenty of space for Taylor. Taylor sat down with a nod of thanks.

Veris picked up the cup of wine placed in front of him and stared at the golden liquid inside.

Taylor picked up her cup and touched it to Veris’. “To your good health, my husband.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes,” he muttered and brought the cup to his lips and slowly drank a mouthful.

The mead tasted watery yet strong to Taylor’s westernized and retail-and commercially-packed-food-trained palette. She waited for Veris to swallow. He lowered the cup to the table and looked at her. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I thought I had forgotten, but I find it’s all coming back. Like riding a bicycle.”

He turned to his plate eagerly.

* * * * *

There was no formal beginning to the music and dancing. It seemed that as soon as bellies began to fill, minds turned to other distractions. The first hint of entertainment was the thrumming of a drumbeat far in the background, as the diners were nearing the end of the long meal. Despite the plain, well-cooked fare, these people ate with gusto. The drumbeat in the background barely checked their enthusiastic chomping.

Then a pipe joined it in a merry tune as they nodded their heads or tapped their feet. A low horn came next.

Abruptly, a man sprang to his feet, a cup of mead in hand, to the cheers and calls of those around him. He grabbed the arm of a woman nearby and hauled her to her feet. He spun her in a series of looping, somewhat graceful circles that seemed to be more or less in time with the beat of the music. Everyone else clapped along with him, while the music settled down into a distinct dance tune.

Other couples joined him around the fire.

Veris grasped Taylor’s hand. “This, I’ve always known how to do.” He climbed from the bench and tugged on her arm. His face was flushed from the wine and food.

“You?” Taylor said, amazed. It was always Brody who danced with her. Veris occasionally partnered her when there was a Viennese waltz because he loved the graceful rhythm, but that was about all. She looked at the energetic swooping and whirling happening next to the fire with amazement. “Are you sure?” she asked Veris.

He picked her up around the waist and lifted her off the bench. “Stop arguing, woman.”

Taylor found herself laughing as he swept her into the rush of bodies swirling and tapping out the beat with their feet against the floorboards and their hands. Veris laughed, too. It was infectious.

She realized they weren’t the only ones laughing and smiling. Under the beat and sound of the music and the rap of the dancers’ feet on the floor she could hear everyone—dancers and the audience watching them—laughing, calling to each other, shouting encouragement and rude observations about each other which generated further laughter and comments. The mead and wine pitchers were being passed around with even more frequency now that the meal had all but finished.

Everyone knew everyone, despite the large number of people in the hall. It made for ease and familiarity. As two of the handful of strangers there, word had quickly passed as to Taylor and Veris’ public identities. Their acceptance had been smoothed by the king leading Taylor to dinner.

Now they were tacitly part of the village, even if the men were careful to give Veris plenty of elbow room and not jostle him even accidentally.

Between dances, they rested. Veris got his long conversation with Marit during one of them, when his sister settled on the bench beside him and the two sat with their heads almost together and drained a pot of mead between them, oblivious to the people around them.

Veris emerged from that conversation looking both grim and happy at once. But there was a contented air about him and Taylor knew Marit had impressed him—a difficult thing to do with Veris.

It was during one such rest, when Veris was studying Taylor with a brooding look in his eyes she knew well, that made her body warm and her nipples harden against the underdress, that the king appeared in front of them both, looking for his appointed dance with Taylor.

Veris’ jaw rippled as he reached for the mug of mead he had just drained and called for the pot boy. “Of course, my lord,” he told the king. “I am honored.”

Herleifr grinned, the wrinkles at the corners of his very pale blue eyes coming together. “I’m sure,” he said, holding his hand out to Taylor.

Taylor glanced at Veris. “Veris?”

“Go,” he said roughly, concentrating on the mead in his mug. “I’m fine.”

She sighed and let the king take her hand and pull her into the ring of dancers around the fire. Veris turned away, his profile to the fire, which bothered her.

Herleifr was a sedate dancer, using none of the lifting and tossing the younger dancers were doing to show off their vitality and strength. But he kept up with the beat and Taylor had already learned the quick steps and routines, so the vigorous dance left her mind free to worry over Veris’ mood. He wasn’t really jealous of the king, was he?

She glanced toward Veris again when she could and saw that he was watching when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Then he
was
jealous…or something like it. Taylor knew she couldn’t deal with it until Herleifr released her and let her return to Veris. Meantime, she had to entertain the king.

A few minutes later, much to Taylor’s deep relief, the musicians decided they needed a rest from their labors and put down their instruments. There was a lot of loud complaints and good natured booing. But the dancers returned to their seats to grab drinks, gulp down water and talk to their friends.

The king nodded his head at Taylor. “My thanks, Tyra, but I must return to the dour company I am forced to keep this night.”

“Thank you, my lord, for the dance.”

“You’re a diplomat. I can see why Marit enjoys your company so much. It has been a pleasure meeting you.” The King walked away with a nod to others as he skirted the fire, heading back to the small table sitting on the top tier by his big throne, where the big men sat with impatient scowls.

Taylor turned away, intending to hurry back to Veris.

His space on the bench was empty.

Her heart actually thudded against the inside of her chest, so hard did it leap in fright. She looked around frantically. He was nowhere in sight.

She looked for Marit. Perhaps he had sought his sister out, while waiting for Taylor to finish her dance with the king. But Marit was not in the main hall either. She was not sitting at the top tables with the king and queen and their exalted company. Nor could Taylor spot her long figure amongst the crowd on the main floor.

Taylor tried to keep her panic under control. There were a number of reasons why Veris wouldn’t be in the room, all of them perfect simple. She walked to the tier steps and climbed the first three, which gave her a higher perspective of the room. Then she began to quarter the big hall systematically, looking for Veris among the constantly shifting crowd. It would surely be simple to find him. He was a distinctive figure.

Taylor finally located Marit and realized why she had not noticed her at first. Marit was backed into a dark corner created by a thick wooden pillar and the body of a handsome man who pressed against her. His body was a tight bow and his hand, where it rested flat against the wall by Marit’s head, was braced with tension. He quivered as his lips hovered near the delicate flesh of her neck.

Marit’s mouth parted as she perhaps breathed in the man’s desperation. Then she saw Taylor watching her and she gave a small smile. Her hand lifted in a tiny wave. Acknowledgment.

Taylor smiled back. There was no mistaking who was in control, there. She turned away, giving them privacy. Instead, she looked one last time for Veris. She would have to consider what else to do now. Then she saw him.

Veris stood on the far side of the tables by the big entrance doors. He must have left for a moment or two and just stepped in. He had been watching her. He stood as he often did, with his feet apart and his arms crossed. He’d pushed the sleeves of the tunic up his arms, so that the already-building muscles of this younger Veris swelled by the positioning of his forearms.

Taylor’s heart lifted. Conversation around her faded. She found herself smiling at Veris again. Her feet in their felt slippers stepped back down the stairs and found a way through and around the people as she watched Veris studying her with his brooding, sensual gaze. She walked right up to him and Veris’ big hand settled on the back of her waist, hot and heavy. She shivered.

“Come with me,” he told her.

* * * * *

Veris threw a tied, heavy bundle over his shoulder and took Taylor’s hand. “There are roots and fir cones to trip over and break your ankle,” he said. “I may be just human, but I’m still a man and stronger than you, and I know the way.”

“You can take my hand any time you like. You don’t need an excuse.”

Veris glanced at her as he led her into the forest that started right behind the village. He grinned. “Do you think you’re pointing out a weakness, Tyra? You forget where and when you are. Here, a man keeps both hands free when he can because he might have need of them at any moment.”

The forest at night in high summer was softly warm, glowing with light from the moon overhead and dappled with deep shade. It was perfumed with a dozen scents, all of them delicious. Taylor was caught by the unexpected beauty of it and by the utter silence, so completely bereft of any modern noises. There were no nearby highways, no air traffic far above, or power lines, or campers in the distance. There was nothing but the sound of the wind against trees, far overhead, small animals underfoot and their own progress.