The Battle Lord's Lady (39 page)

“Well, I distinctly recall another one of
your conditions was that I not put you in the same position as any
of my past mistresses. That was a fortunate call on your part,
coincidentally.”

“Oh? How?”

“I’ve never loved any of my mistresses.” He
glanced at her from the corner of his eye to see the flood of
emotion filling her face.

“Okay. Spit it out, Yulen. Quit toying with
me.”

He could tell she was on the verge of tears.
“All I really want to know is, will you wear a gown at our wedding,
so I can at least know what you look like in a dress?”

“A gown?” she whispered.

“I think you still deserve to wear a white
one,” he grinned. “If Madigan cracks her whip, we might even have
everything prepared in two days’ time.”

This time when he looked over at her, her
head was bowed and tears were freely falling. Leaning over in his
saddle, he reached over to cup her chin with his fingers, careful
of her still-healing face. “Why the tears, my Atrilan?” he tenderly
asked. “Please tell me they’re happy ones.”

She made a small sound in her throat, gave
him another undecipherable look, then wheeled her horse around and
made for the back of the line. Suddenly, she jerked so hard on the
reins, the mare reared on its hind legs.

Yulen started, prepared to follow her, when
she turned back around and began galloping at full speed toward
him. She passed everyone at a breakneck pace, bent low over the
neck of her mount, and continued down the road, disappearing around
the next bend in a cloud of dust.

MaGrath and Madigan hurried to join him.
“What’s wrong, Yulen?” the physician demanded in a stern voice.

Shaking his head, Yulen replied, “All I did
was remind her we had a wedding to plan when we got back to Alta
Novis.”

“What did she say?” Madigan asked.

“Not much. In fact, very little. I think she
thought I was playing a cruel trick on her at first.”

“She didn’t take you seriously?” his mother
said.

Yulen looked at her. “I don’t think she
believes me.”

The caravan continued at a brisk pace. When
they rounded the bend, the road extended before then for a good
distance, but Atty was nowhere in sight. Another mile went by, and
still there was no sign of her.

“Maybe she’s in the woods,” MaGrath
suggested.

“As long as she’s okay, I don’t care if she’s
in Far Troit by now,” Yulen stated.

“She’s wanting some time alone,” Madigan
spoke up. “Let her think about it. Remember what you told me, Yul?
That she had been pre-ordained never to be wed? That she was never
to allow a man to have her, or have control of her, or be able to
dominate her? Well, she’s having to face the fact now that all of
that no longer pertains to her. She’s allowed you to take her and
dominate her because of your love for one another. Maybe she’s
having a difficult time coming to grips with how much her life has
changed, and the fact that something she’d thought she’d never be
able to have is now possible.”

Yulen leaned over in his saddle and gave his
mother a quick kiss on the cheek. “Spoken like a mother who never
had a daughter of her own.”

Madigan’s cheeks turned rosy. “You may
have to spend the next few days telling her over and over that,
yes, there’s going to be a wedding. And, yes, you are taking her to
wife. You have met her terms, and now it’s time she met yours. And,
yes, it
is
going to happen,
and very soon. Oh!” She perked up as a thought came to her. “Should
I have her fitted for a gown? Or do you think she’ll insist on
wearing pants to her own ceremony?”

Yulen burst out laughing. “I asked her the
same thing.”

“What did she say?”

He shook his head. “She didn’t. That’s when
she took off. But, Mother, when you do call in the tailors, don’t
go for anything elaborate. This is Atty we’re talking about.”

“Right,” Madigan nodded, and a little smile
curled in the corner of her mouth. “I’ll see if he can fit a
weapons belt onto it.”

Even MaGrath had to laugh at the
suggestion.

By Yulen’s estimation, they’d advanced
another forty miles before he called a halt for the evening and
ordered camp to be set up. There had still been no sight of Atty or
her horse, and although Yulen was beginning to get worried, MaGrath
assured him that she was the one person who could take care of
herself.

Madigan took possession of the brace of
turkeys, and the birds were cooked for the benefit of the
soldiers.

Darkness fell, and for once the entire
fragmented moon was visible in the sky, shining like a broken
lantern light. Yulen stood watching the road for some sign of her
to come into view, when he felt a hand on his arm.

“Would you like to use my tent again
tonight?” his mother inquired.

He shook his head. “No, thank you. You go
ahead.” He glanced over his shoulder to where MaGrath was sitting
by his campfire, taking inventory of his medicinal pouch. “It was a
generous gesture last night, when we needed it the most. But it
still felt like I was spending the night in my mother’s bedroom,”
he admitted.

“Not to mention
what
you were doing in your mother’s bedroom,”
she teased him, smiling, and was delighted to see him
blush.

“You’re cruel,” he chuckled softly.

“I’m realistic. Very well, then. In
that case, I think I shall entertain a certain gentleman friend in
there tonight,
if
you don’t
mind.”

“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow at her.
“
Now
who’s insinuating love
play in the bedroom?”

She laughed lightly. “Will you be all right
tonight?”

He nodded. “I think I’ll stay up a while
longer.”

“And wait for her,” Madigan stated. She knew
he would wait up the entire night if he needed to.

Grabbing her hand, he kissed her
knuckles. “I promise to get some rest, however short. I’ll have the
guard on duty awaken me the moment she appears...that is,
if
he happens to see her. Don’t worry
about me, Mother. We’re going to be okay.”

She kissed his cheek again, wished him a good
night, then strolled over to sit beside MaGrath. Yulen knew
eventually she would propose to him, and the physician would follow
her into the tent, but it was no longer any of his concern.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and
wandered over to where his horse was being wiped down by one of the
soldiers. “Are my things laid out?” he asked.

The soldier gave him a puzzled look. “I
thought
you
had taken them,
sir.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your bedroll, Sir. And your saddlebags. They
weren’t on your saddle when I stripped the horse.”

Yulen hesitated a moment before giving the
soldier a quick smile. “Forgive me. It’s been a long and trying
day. Thanks again for taking care of my things.”

The soldier nodded, and Yulen turned to head
back toward MaGrath’s campfire. As he passed a strand of birch that
marked the edge of the encampment, a low trilling sound came from
the other side of the grove. Yulen paused to listen. The trilling
came again, low but audible.

He glanced behind him to see if anyone else
had noticed, but the soldiers showed no sign of hearing it.
Cautiously, Yulen stepped through the underbrush.

It was a trail, very faint but distinct, even
in the moonlight. Possibly made by some of the wild animals, Yulen
surmised as he stepped through a patch of wild blueberries. He
hadn’t heard the trilling sound again since he’d begun to advance
further into the forest, but he knew that if he somehow managed to
get off the path, she’d guide him back to it.

A little more than two hundred yards deep
into the forest he began to see a faint light in the distance,
leading him into a tiny clearing. Pausing on the outskirts of the
wooded area, he studied the fire cheerfully dancing amid a ring of
rocks. A rabbit was cooking on a spit. Beyond the fire lay two
bedrolls, placed side by side. He recognized his immediately, and
knew the other to be hers. He let out a huge sigh of relief. “I’ve
been worried about you,” he spoke aloud.

She emerged from his right and walked
directly into his waiting arms where he crushed her to his chest.
Burying his face in her neck, he could feel his fear and
trepidation slowly drain out of him, and her warmth filled the
emptiness left behind.

“Atrilan...”

“No, Yul. Make love to me first, then we can
talk.”

“Are you certain? I mean, you’re not too
sore—”

“I
need
you!”

Sweeping her up into his arms, he first
kissed her as he pressed her tightly to him, reassuring himself she
really had returned, really had come back safely. Then he carried
her over to the bedrolls where he knelt down and laid her in front
of him.

“Where were you?” he whispered and kissed her
again. His hands grasped the hem of her tunic and drew it over her
head, seeking her mouth over and over once he tossed the shirt to
one side.

“Nowhere. Everywhere. Hold me, Yul. Touch me.
Love me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her
breasts against his chest. Yulen moaned softly when her tight
little nipples, like beads, rode roughly over his own.

She broke away from his loving long enough to
unbuckle his weapons belt, dropping it beside the fire. Then she
helped him to pull his tunic over his head, remembering how she’d
watched him dress in it that morning. However, she had a little
difficulty managing the buttons on the front of his pants. “Good
heavens, they’re tight,” she exclaimed softly, frowning.

Yulen laughed softly and leaned her back onto
the bedroll. “They’re tight because a certain part of my body is
aggressively responding to your request,” he chuckled. He managed
to undo and shed them, and Atty discovered what he meant. As the
only female hunter among a caste of males, she had seen, quite by
accident, their penises when they thought they were relieving
themselves privately in the woods. Some had been flaccid. A few
somewhat odd-looking. Many turgid. At first she had been
embarrassed, then intrigued. But looking at her husband, she was
hard pressed to remember if any man had filled out to the same
proportions as he did. She blushed a pretty pink while he helped
her to undo her pants and slide them over her hips. Quickly he
pulled the covering over them as they slipped into his larger
bedroll.

It was as if their loving of that morning had
only occurred an hour before. Resuming where they had left off was
as easy as breathing. His worry for her had fueled his need to have
her back. And now that he had her back, he had to have her in her
entirety—her kisses and her heart, as much as her body.

Their pulses quickened until their blood
began to rush like raging rivers of heat through their veins. Lying
on their sides, Yulen pulled her legs around his waist, and Atty
realized she had as much control as he did. In this position, they
found they had free access to each other, without the worry of
having him crush her with his weight.

She guided him inside her, squeezing him with
her thighs until he filled her completely. Even then she still
couldn’t take him all. “I’m sorry,” she managed to whisper as the
first arrows of soul-wrenching heat fired through her body. She
felt as if she were being impaled on a satin-coated pike.

“Don’t. Don’t be sorry, my love. You’re
tight. God...so tight. It will take a while. But we have a lifetime
together to have you learn to accept all of me.”

She sucked in a breath between her teeth.
Yulen eased her backwards, away from him, until he could caress her
body, her breasts, and her belly with his fingertips. He found her
nub within the folds of her woman’s flesh, and mercilessly attacked
it until she keened like a wild, untamed animal. Writhing under his
touch, she closed her eyes and grabbed his hips so she could begin
to slide herself back and forth over him.

He whispered her name and shivered. They were
caught up in their frenetic need to fling their sanity to the wind.
Tossing aside the covers, the coolness of the evening was welcome
on their sweaty skin. Yulen pulled her back against his chest,
rolled on top of her, and captured her lips, diving his tongue into
her mouth as deeply as he dove his erection into her body. She
screamed once, lost in the pounding and pressure of his assault,
unable to take any more as much as she knew she never wanted him to
stop.

Headlong they crashed into their overpowering
climax. Atty’s cry caught in her throat as every muscle contracted
and each nerve ending flared white hot. As her body lifted off the
ground, Yulen found his release, locked himself inside her heady
depths, and followed her into sweet, temporary oblivion.

It was some time later when Atty lifted her
head from Yulen’s chest and glanced around the clearing. “What?” He
reluctantly opened his eyes, feeling her move.

“I’m starving. Can we eat now?”

Laughter rumbled in his chest. Her appetite
for sex was quickly becoming as insatiable as her appetite for
food. Almost, but not yet. “You’re incredible, you know that?” He
sat up to watch her slip her tunic over her head before checking on
the rabbit she had roasting on the spit. His expression then turned
serious as she began to tear apart the meat and handed him a piece
speared on the tip of her dagger. “Don’t ever do that to me again,”
he told her.

She paused, and listened to what his heart
was telling hers.

He
told
her. Not
asked
her.
Don’t ever to that
to me
again. Not “don’t do that again”, but “don’t make me have to
go through that again”. The torture of worry and fear.