The Twelve Kingdoms: The Mark of the Tala (19 page)

I did. I clutched his muscled chest, digging in my nails, and found my rhythm, working him while he bucked under me. His face transformed with pleasure that looked like a dying man’s agony. The waves of spearing delight echoed through me, arching my back. He claimed my breasts, thumbing the nipples, and I cried out, a cry that abruptly became a shattering scream as the climax took me by surprise, and Rayfe seized my hips, working me up and down his shaft until he convulsed and I draped myself over him, like a blanket.

I woke in the bright light of a snow-filled morning, in the fluffy white bed. The events of the afternoon and evening before rushed back, flooding me with hot embarrassment. And desire, yet again.

I’ve created a monster.
Apparently so.

I vaguely recalled waking to him stroking my hair and murmuring my name, then urging me to bed, where we’d be warmer as the fire died. I’d been perfectly comfortable, on my bed of him, but I let him tuck me under the blankets and wrap himself around me. It seems I slept that way all night, because now I felt stiff and sore in all sorts of unaccustomed places.

The covers next to me were pushed back, but there was no sign of Rayfe.

Which was just as well, because it gave me time to assimilate what had happened. I stretched, long and lazily. I felt replete in a way that was difficult to put a finger on, as if I’d been hungry all my life for some food that I’d finally been fed. That restless animal in my heart purred now, my blood surging quietly. I felt quite deliciously used.

And, oh, Moranu, what would Ursula and Amelia think if I told them? Here they were likely worrying themselves sick over my dreadful fate at Rayfe’s hands, and I’d not only enjoyed his hands—I’d begged for more. Hugh, thinking I wouldn’t be treated gently. He’d been spot-on. Rayfe hadn’t treated me like china—and I’d loved it.

The cabin door opened with a whuff and sparkle of snow. I sat up fast, clutching the covers to my naked breasts. Rayfe latched the door behind him and raised an eyebrow at me. He’d tied his hair back again and wore his black leathers, snow melting on his dark wool cloak.

“At last, she awakes.”

“I didn’t sleep much the night before last—it must have caught up with me. You should have awakened me.”

“I was coming in to do just that. We have a great deal of ground to cover today.” He strode briskly across the room and began packing food into saddlebags. Perhaps I’d missed breakfast. He glanced at me, looking surprised I was still in bed. “We should really get going.”

“Well, then. You promised me clothes?” The shredded silver gown lay tossed on the floor nearby, a sullied reminder of how willingly I’d gone to him.

“I left them in the washroom, next to the privy. There’s water there, too, so you can wash, if you like. If it’s grown too cold, I can warm it again.”

“I know how to warm water.” My reply had a bit more snap than I’d intended. I busied myself with extracting a sheet to wrap myself with, struggling out of the high, soft bed. Then Rayfe was next to me, taking my hand to help me down.

“You weren’t shy with me last night.” He studied me. “What’s wrong—are you sore?”

“No.” I pulled my hand back so I could hold up the sheet. “It’s different in the bright light of morning, okay? And I never did eat yesterday, so I’m hungry. I’d like to have a cup of tea.” I stopped my fretful litany. Somehow I’d gone from feeling deliciously lazy to cranky. Had I hoped for Hugh-variety protestations of affection? “Just—give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready.”

Gratefully, I closed the washroom door between us. The water was too cool, but no way would I go back out there to warm it up now. I dropped the sheet and wiped myself down as quickly as possible, teeth chattering. At least the chill made it easier not to think about Rayfe’s touch as he’d washed me. The soap smelled of a flower I didn’t know, reminding me that I’d be riding farther away from my own realm, into a place I wouldn’t understand, married to a man still a stranger to me. I yanked on my fighting leathers, sending a silent thank-you to Dafne for thinking of them.

He’d left a wooden brush for me, made with bristles from some animal. I grimaced at myself in the mirror, pulling the brush through the snarls and tangles. Nothing like loose hair in a windstorm plus rolling around on the floor. I pulled the mass over my shoulder to work the underside and saw the imprint of his teeth in my neck, crimson dark, edged with blue bruising. Bastard.

Briskly I braided my hair, tying it off. I had no pins, though, so I left it dangling in a long tail down my back.

I packed my things together. There. I was ready to ride out. If he thought I was the sort of princess to linger over her toilette, he was mistaken.

I bundled up the sheet, grabbed my bag, and headed back into the cabin. Rayfe sat at the little kitchen table, with an array of food set out and a steaming pot of tea. When he saw me, he poured it into a cup and patted the bench.

“I’m an idiot. Please forgive me.” He propped his chin on folded hands. “Come sit. Drink your tea.”

Part of me wanted to refuse, stubbornly insist that we leave right away since he was in such an all-fired hurry. But the gesture softened me. And I really wanted that tea.

I sat and sipped it, cradling the cup in my chilled fingers. Rayfe watched me, appearing all patience now. “Are you always grumpy when you wake up?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered into my tea. “I’m not usually around anyone when I wake up.”

He smiled at that, a rueful twist of his lips. “And I’m usually around men.”

“You bit me,” I told him, tilting my head so he could see.

“Are you asking me to apologize?”

Was I? I didn’t know what I wanted.

Solemnly he unfastened his leathers, peeling them back to show me the long, furrowed scratches in his chest, some so deep they’d bled. “You marked me, too.”

Blood rushed to my cheeks. I studied my tea. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Rayfe pulled the cup from my grasp and set it on the table, wrapping his fingers around mine, dark-blue eyes somber, holding my gaze. Our knees bumped under the table. “The morning after is always difficult. You and I—we still have much to learn about each other and little time to do it in. I apologize for being clumsy with you.”

I found myself smiling. “But not for anything else?”

He didn’t smile back, but that feral light gleamed in his eyes. “What passed between us last night, Andromeda, is a memory I will hold close until my dying breath. I regret not one whit of it and I won’t pretend to. No matter what else happens, being with you was an unexpected gift.”

“You make it sound like your dying breath is around the corner.”

His eyes flicked away. “Enjoy your tea. Eat something. It will be a long day.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, deliberately nonchalant, but he still wouldn’t look at me. I sighed and began carving up an apple with a little silver paring knife. It might have been the same one we’d used last night. The fruit tasted bright and sweet, and I chewed it as I watched him try to avoid my gaze. The patience was a sham; that was clear now. His anxiety to leave leaked out of his pores. I took a pastry. Poured some more tea. Sipped slowly.

He glanced out the window. Tried to relax.

“Is Hugh looking for us?”

He frowned. “Of course his troops are running patrols. Making it seem like they don’t search for you while they do. Hugh does not concern me.”

I didn’t roll my eyes at his arrogance. “Then, what? You might as well tell me now, because if it’s something more than Avonlidgh coming after us, I’m likely to find out sooner or later.”

He dropped the chair onto all four legs again and scrubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t suppose I could persuade you just to ride out with me and we can discuss it once we’re closer to the border?”

“No. Especially not now. Tell me.”

He dropped his hands and glared at me. “You’re a stubborn woman.”

“Yes. I would have warned you ahead of time, but I figured that much was obvious. Tell me.”

He laced his fingers together, jaw tense. “Your sister, Uorsin’s heir, leads an army to relieve the siege at Windroven. They apparently left several days ago and her scouts should reach the area soon. If we wish to avoid a confrontation, we must leave.”

The blood drained out of me. If I’d just waited a few more days, I wouldn’t have had to marry Rayfe. He observed my reaction with grim satisfaction. He wasn’t surprised.

“So we ride out immediately,” he informed me. “It’s imperative we cross into Annfwn as soon as possible.”

Was he more concerned that I’d be rescued or that I’d make a run for it?

“I made a vow to you, Rayfe. We’re bound together. I do have my own sense of honor.” Never mind that it had turned out to be remarkably flexible lately.

“Be sure to remember that, for I won’t let you go. No matter what regrets you may harbor.” His eyes flicked to the bruising on my neck and met mine in bold, sensual challenge. Even annoyed with him, I responded, my breasts tightening.

“How did you hear this?”

“My men await us outside. They brought the news.”

Ah, a troop of however many soldiers impatiently waiting in the cold for him to roust his ravished bride from her lazy lie-in.

“Well.” I drank down my tea. “Let’s go, then.”

T
hey’d brought an extra horse for me, so at least I didn’t have to ride on Rayfe’s lap. This turned out to be a comfort to my confused heart, but not to my well-used body. My sore nether tissues bounced against the unfamiliar saddle, a painful reminder of how I’d passed the night. The mare, a docile short-legged thing who preferred to bury her nose in the next horse’s tail, spoke volumes about how they regarded me: pampered foreign princess.

Rayfe, of course, rode far ahead, deep in conversation with his men. They kept me buried in the center, well protected. Or guarded. On my shorter steed, all I could see around me were soldiers. I’d simply moved from one kind of prison to another, it seemed.

Terin reined up beside me, giving me his ironic half bow. “How fares my lady this morning?” he inquired, all politeness, though his eyes flicked to the bite mark on my neck, the glance followed by a sly grin. The fur collar of my cloak didn’t quite cover it. I’d nearly rearranged my hair so it wouldn’t show, but Moranu take me if I’d have all those men wait while I fussed with my hair.

And I’d done what I needed to do. Never mind that I liked it. I refused to be ashamed.

So I gave Terin my best steely-Ursula look, not easy when I had to look up to do it. “I’m quite well. Though I fear this child’s learning-pony will have difficulty keeping up with the pace my lord husband plans to set.”

Terin raised his eyebrows at me in mock concern. “Well, we couldn’t have our foreign princess tumbling off her mount in an untidy heap, could we?”

“Why don’t you like me, Terin?”

“I neither like nor dislike you, my lady.” His gaze fastened again on the bite mark. “You belong to my liege; therefore, you have my loyalty. I don’t believe I’m required to form an opinion about you.”

“And yet, you have.”

He shrugged, an echo of Rayfe’s.

“Are you Rayfe’s brother?”

Terin tipped his head back, observing a circling hawk overhead. “A distant cousin, but you’ll find most Tala can find mutual ancestors somewhere in the tree. In truth, you and I are more closely related than I am to Rayfe.”

He’d startled me with that and he knew it, with his sly smile. Of course I would have relatives among the Tala. How had this not occurred to me?

“At any rate, Princess”—he managed to make the honorific sound like a joke—“I came to inform you that your things have been sent ahead and await you at Annfwn.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

He cocked a head at me. “In the meanwhile, you might find yourself lacking in the usual comforts.”

I was silent, refusing to rise to his bait.

“Well, then,” he finally huffed. “My message is delivered. Good day.”

“Good day, Cousin.”

He glanced back, wily eyes sharp, considering. “Uncle. Ex-uncle, truly. Make of that what you will.”

I remember my mother’s hair had red in it. Dark red, like dying embers. In some lights her hair looked black, but when she let me brush it for her, by the fire at night, all the reds came out. Like Terin’s. Was he her brother? But why “ex”?

We rode hard through the day, keeping to the back roads, winding through the hills. Clouds gathered in the afternoon, promising more snow, yet we pressed on. I fingered my dark braid from time to time, seeing all the auburn in it now.
Salena’s stamp
.

Rayfe stayed clear of me, and besides Terin’s odd visit—I didn’t believe for a moment he’d stopped only to discuss my luggage—no one else spoke to me. The soldiers sometimes spoke among themselves in a language I didn’t know. Not the common language of the Twelve Kingdoms. Of course, Uorsin had decreed the language of Duranor—and thus Mohraya—the official common language only after the Great War. The Tala sequestered away in Annfwn would not have been subject to such a decree.

The light faded and fat snowflakes began to fall. Tiredness crept in around the edges of my vision. Even though I’d slept longer than Rayfe, it hadn’t been enough to catch up. Still, I wouldn’t complain, no matter what.

We rode on. And ever on. Hours into the night.

I’d never spent much time out at night. Princesses were usually expected to be tucked up inside the castle by twilight. So, other than gazing out my window, and my sojourn to Moranu’s chapel to sell out my people, I didn’t have much experience with the dark. That night I’d been preoccupied with my mission and my guilt. Now boredom led me to pay more attention.

I could see better than I’d thought I could. As I had on that night, too. On the rare occasions I caught a glimpse of something besides the flanks of the horses around me, I could clearly make out my surroundings. The overcast sky hid the moon, but the branches overhead stood in stark relief anyway. The men’s faces were shadows and shades of gray. They felt the press of the pace also, their profiles growing severe with exhaustion.

Finally, sometime in the small hours, at the bottom of a steep and winding road, we came upon a cabin. Lights shone from it and I dared hope we might stop to rest. We did. One of my guards swung down and without a word offered a hand to help me off my horse. At every other stop, I’d dismounted on my own. This time the stiffness was enough that I accepted the hand, creaking down like an old lady might.

“Thank you,” I told him, and he smiled at me, a surprisingly cheerful grin.

He took my little horse and I let him, content to be served this time. Rayfe and Terin stood deep in conversation on the threshold of the house.

“. . . cannot afford to have our people pinned against the border if she fails . . .” Terin’s angry words floated on the air. They fell silent as I walked up. I tamped down my surging irritation.

“You’ll find your things upstairs,” Rayfe told me. “That room is yours. Go ahead and sleep as long as you like. I’ll wake you—in plenty of time to eat before we leave.” His lips twitched with amusement.

“Thank you.”
Here’s me, grateful for the smallest crumbs anyone tosses my way.
They waited, clearly unwilling to resume their conversation until I left. I moved past them into the house and they bowed to me. A narrow stairway led to a second floor, and I started up. Turned back. “Am I the enemy?” I asked Rayfe, giving him a hard stare.

Terin looked away, possibly muffling a laugh. Rayfe blinked at me.

“That’s what I thought.” The bloodred ring he’d given me gleamed on the hand I rested on the plain wooden banister. “I’ve had occasion to train horses. They become what you expect them to be. You might keep that in mind, my king.”

I continued up the stairs, stripped off my clothes—I still had no night things and I hardly cared at that point—and fell gratefully into a deep sleep. Rayfe could go hang himself, for all I cared.

Cold morning light touched my face and I stirred, my heart thumping to think I’d overslept again, but Rayfe, warm and naked, cuddled me close again, murmuring soothing noises. I fell back asleep, obscurely comforted by the touch of his skin, trying to remember why I’d been angry at him.

When I woke again, the light slanted toward afternoon. I’d thought my mother had been calling my name, down haunting memories, but no, it was Rayfe. He leaned over me on one elbow, stroking my cheek and calling me Andromeda, the way he turned the syllables sounding like her. His black hair spilled around him and his skin gleamed golden in the light, shining with a masculine beauty all his own. He murmured my name once more and lowered lips to mine in a slow, burning kiss.

It flowed through me, gold as the afternoon sunshine, and I dampened for him, desire spiraling sticky and sweet. He drew back the down covers and caressed my breast, brushing the already peaked nipple with his thumb. I groaned, arching my back to fit myself better into his roughened palm. A swordsman’s hand.

He broke our kiss, trailing firm lips down my throat. The sharp stubble from his sleep pricked the soft skin there, sparking through me. Taking my nipple in his mouth, he sucked on it, hard, so sharply it nearly hurt, fanning the little sparks into flames that burst into fires throughout my body, like campsites of an invading army. He moved to my other breast, laving the nipple, then sucking and nipping on it, holding my rib cage in his large hands. I wound my fingers in his trailing hair, so silky, and held him there, whimpering my pleasure.

With a wicked smile, he pulled his hair from my grip and continued down my fluttering belly, spreading my thighs and positioning himself between them. I thought he’d kneel up now and plunge into me as before, and I braced for the brilliant flash of that penetration. But he slipped lower, nuzzling my furry mound and kissing the sensitive hollows that flanked my womanhood.

Tension rode me, though I was uncertain why. Then his tongue touched my inner folds and lightning struck. I cried out at the shock of it. Then again at the unbearable intensity of the pleasure. As he’d done to my nipples, he sucked on the pearl of my womanhood, then nipped at it, holding my thighs spread wide, though my hips threatened to leap from the bed.

In a roaring rush, the climax took me and I cried out a long call of pleasure. As I rode the wave of it, Rayfe climbed up my body, sliding into the hot glove of my sheath and thrusting, urging the wave onward. His skin stroked mine and I gloried in it. He wove his fingers through mine, pressing the backs of my hands against the bed, while he kissed me, long and deep, and I wrapped my legs around his hips, savoring the fading of the fire.

I opened my eyes to find him staring at me, the deep blue intent and serious. Wary.

“No, Andromeda, you are not the enemy.” He kissed me again, then withdrew from my body and my bed. He fetched a washbasin and cloths, apologizing that the water, again, was too cold. I cleaned myself, feeling awkward now, while he dressed in his fighting leathers with quick efficiency. Outside, the sun declined into late afternoon.

“Do we ride out, then?” I asked.

He looked over his shoulder at me, some of that dark suspicion still in his gaze, despite his words. “Yes. We cannot afford to be caught out with such a small company. You must understand this.”

“I
do
.” I took a deep breath. “I only ask because you’ve left it until so late in the day.”

“From now on we ride at night. The darkness is a friend to the Tala.”

I climbed out of the bed and began brushing my hair, standing naked in the center of the room. His eyes stayed on me, hunger warming them again. “You might have said,” I informed him mildly.

Surprised, he met my eyes again. “What’s that?”

Totally lost his train of thought, then. Useful to know.

“I’m not a child or an idiot, Rayfe. You assure me I’m not a prisoner. You could tell me your plan instead of expecting me to obediently trot along.” I began yanking on my clothes.

“You are angry again.”

“Still!” I snapped.

“You weren’t angry a moment ago.” He pointed at the empty and disheveled bed, as if it had somehow turned on him.

I sighed. “That appears to be different. You said we don’t know each other well. For some reason, that part works.”

He strode over to me and took my upper arms in his grasp, searching my face. With a hint of urgency, he kissed me, and my body hummed to life again. Oh, yes—this part certainly worked. His lips twisted in that half smile. “The animals in us know. Perhaps we just have to find a way for our minds to know, as well.”

“Is that how the shape-shifting works—the animal inside somehow comes out?”

“Once we reach Annfwn, I will teach you. Just, please, bear with me until then.”

His tone carried a note of apology, and I sighed, nodding my agreement.

“Come downstairs when you’re ready. I asked them to have a meal and hot tea waiting.” He cupped my cheek and kissed me softly, leaving me then to finish preparing. It occurred to me that already we had come to know each other, the little habits. He paid attention to what I liked, and I imagined many men would not.

Small things, then, could say a great deal.

As promised, tea awaited me, though the room was empty. Also an apple and another pastry like the one I’d eaten yesterday sat on a plate. The man had his moments, whatever his high-handed ways.