VirtualDesire (26 page)

“No, Father, please.”

Ruonail lifted his stick, and his daughter fell silent. “Do
not fear the truth, daughter. I face possible beheading—banishment, at the very
least.” He turned again to Vad. “If you take my daughter as your lifemate, no
man would dare harm her when she is alone here at the fortress, prey to unscrupulous
men. We both know that the sun-rising after I am gone, hordes of men who seek
to possess all I have will descend. Ardra will need a strong man such as you.”

Vad smiled. It twisted his scar with wry amusement. “I see
Ardra did not tell you of my own predicament.”

“Aye. She did, and Narfrom had other thoughts on your lack
of sword. I need no display of weapons. A man either demonstrates honor or he
does not. It is not necessary that you give your answer now. I will hold Ardra
bound to you by my promise until you have accomplished your quest. Perhaps the
knowledge that you will have my blessing to rule my fortress will compensate
you for what Narfrom took from you. Return when you have dealt with the
council, and we will sever or seal a pact of mating at your wish.”

“And should you be gone ere I return from the Tolemac
capital?”

“Then I beg that you will look kindly on my precious
daughter and offer yourself as her protector and lifemate.”

With a sweep of his robes, Ruonail returned to his place at
the top of the steps. There, framed by a stone arch and his men, Ruonail raised
a hand.

“A woman alone is prey in this world. A woman between the
coveted ice and the men of power is not only prey, but also a prize. Think of
the power you will have as her mate. Think of how you will be able to influence
the use of the ice.”

Gwen’s body went numb. It was as if the intense heat from
Vad’s body was only a distant memory. Wind scoured her cheeks and cut straight
through her short cloak.

“I send Ardra with you to the Tolemac councilors. They are
not so very far,” Ruonail continued. “The council is camped at the border. The
negotiations for Samoht must be very close to being signed. If you take Ardra
to them, she will help plead your case as you attempt the restoration of your
sword. Take what help she may offer you, be it only the comfort of her
companionship.” With those words, Ruonail left them.

“Vad, my father makes great sense when he says I should
accompany you.” Ardra slipped her hands into her cloak. She paced along the
pier before him. “As a woman, I can escort the maidens without suspicion, see
their fathers, intercede—”

“I do not need intercession.” Vad began to herd the maidens
into the boat. Despite his words, he made no objection as Ardra climbed aboard.

Gwen put out her hands to each girl and helped her to a
seat. Several guards, the designated sailors, jumped in behind them.

Vad put Liah in last, hoisting her high overhead before
settling her on a cushion. The gesture was playful, but Gwen doubted he was in
a playful mood. The maidens each clamored for his attention, for a place at his
side.

Gwen took advantage of the noise to challenge Ardra. “You
knew what your father was going to propose, didn’t you?”

“I suspected.”

Gwen hated the pity in Ardra’s eyes. “Since when? Before we
rescued the maidens? Or even before that? At Nilrem’s cave? Did you know what
reward your father had set for freeing him from Narfrom’s influence?”

“Nay. You go too far. I sought only Nilrem’s wisdom, or a
means of breaking a spell. How could I know Vad would be there?”

It was almost impossible for Gwen to reply. Despite the
obvious truth of Ardra’s words, Gwen felt betrayed.

“Last night, my father and I spoke for long hours of my
challenge to him over the testing. It was then he hinted at his plan.” Ardra
glanced at Vad, who was swamped in maidenly hugs. “You were not about last
evening. I could not tell you what I suspected.”

Not about last evening. Of course not
. She had been
making love by the waterfall. While overhead, Ruonail was planning Vad’s
marriage—to someone else.

“But you don’t object to the match, do you? After all, Enec
is dead, isn’t he?”

“That was unworthy of you.” Ardra swung around. She took her
place in the bow, the perfect consort for the perfect man.

Unworthy
. Yes, old Gwen was unworthy of a man like
Vad. He was husband material for a politically connected wife—like Ardra.

Gwen looked at him, surrounded by his seven new friends.
Liah had curled up in his lap and lay fast asleep, her face tucked into the
crook of his arm. The others were no longer in their designated spots on the
boxes of bribes. They were clustered around his boots and leaning on his arms,
also sound asleep.

He’d do well with children
, she thought.
Lots of
them, following him about like the Pied Piper.

I was right to avoid entanglements,
she thought.
They
lead to heartache.
She took in a long, shuddering breath, but it did
nothing to ease the sharp pain that lodged in her chest.

With a low command from Ardra, one of the Selaw escorts
picked up an oar and began to shove the boat away from the pier. Gwen knew it
was now or never. She jumped from the boat.

“By the sword!” Vad burst from the gaggle of females and
snatched the back of Gwen’s tunic. He held her dangling over the water, half
inclined to drop her in. “Have you lost your senses?”

“Put me down,” she said with all the heat he loved.

Gone was her sad demeanor, her almost skittish, colt-like
behavior. Fire snapped in her eyes. He swung her back into the boat and dropped
her onto the blanket-covered deck. He stood over her, his hands on his hips,
and offered her his most menacing glare. “You are foolish, woman.”

She struggled to her knees and jerked her tunic back in
place. The men were staring at her bare stomach, exposed by his rough handling.

“So what? And don’t call me woman. I have a name, damn it.
How dare you…I have every right to leave if I want.” Her little chin jutted
forward; then her face altered, shifted, her eyes widening, her mouth dropping
open. “Your sword.”

“It is a knife,” he began, but then saw what she did.
Although not close to its once-vibrant color, the knife handle was clearly more
blue-green than gray. He felt an easing, a loosening within him.

“You’re better,” Gwen said with a smile so sweet, he wanted
to somehow capture it forever.

She was swamped by maidens who climbed over her to surround
him. The boat rocked dangerously, and Ardra snapped a terse command, which was
instantly obeyed, to everyone’s amazement. The maidens took a seat, one to a box,
knees primly together, hands folded, but eyes still avidly on his knife—or his
groin. He could not tell which.

“Aye,” he said. “‘Tis a wonder.” He touched his brow.

Ardra nodded and gave him a smile, but somehow it did not
light up his insides as Gwen’s had.

“You must have done something, eaten something healing,”
Ardra said.

He had eaten nothing save an apple Gwen had fed him in the
darkness. He had done naught to restore his health, unless one could believe
that the power of her embrace was healing.

Red swept over Gwen’s cheeks.

She was thinking as he was. The seven maidens, the escort,
and Ardra were all staring in fascination at her face. He must divert their
attention.

“You have not explained yourself. Why were you leaving the
boat?” The instant he opened his mouth, the maidens, at least, snapped their
attention in his direction.

“Ardra promised me her father would see I was returned to
Nilrem’s mountain.” She mirrored his stance, hands on her hips.

“I will see you to Nilrem’s mountain.” The maidens’ heads
swiveled back and forth. He did not relish the public expression of her anger.

“When? After your quest is over? After your sword-restoring
ceremony? Or maybe after your lifemating ceremony?”

“You are impertinent,” Ardra said with a gasp. But when he
raised his hand, she held her tongue.

“The ‘when’ will wait. It is only the ‘why’ you need know.
You are my duty. My responsibility. I take my responsibilities seriously. I
brought you to this place, and I will return you.”

“Marvelous.” Gwen sat cross-legged on the blankets, arms
folded over her chest, her face turned away.

Ardra resumed her place and renewed her orders to push off.

“Do not think to try such behavior again, do you
understand?” he said. “It is important we have use of your ability to sail this
vessel, should these men prove more oarsmen than sailmen.”

“It’s sailor, not sailmen,” she corrected.

Let her think he needed only her sailing ability. If it kept
her off guard, so be it. He needed time to think of what she meant to him and
how to communicate with her so Ardra could not hear his words.

When he settled back in his place, an icy wind in his face,
the maidens once again clustered about him. Their scents and little muttered
sounds interfered with his thinking.

Gwen sat with her back to him, her chin on her fist, staring
straight ahead.

Would he ever lie again in the dark and not feel the silk of
her cheek pressed to the back of his hand, or the warmth of her tongue down his
belly, or the scalding heat of her tears as emotion overpowered her?

With a glance, he looked at his chest, where his tunic gaped
open. No, he could not see red welts from the burn of her emotion, but inside
it still flamed.

The heat of her passion had taken the place of the heat of
his fever. In other circumstances, he would lifemate with her, for the idea of
any man, even her perfeet Bob, touching her with intimacy, lapping her nectar,
sheathing himself in her silk, made him want to draw his sword and…

His sword.

A warrior without his sword was unworthy of any woman. When
he regained his sword, his fortunes would turn. Of course, he had no idea how
he would exchange a worthless dagger for a warrior’s sword. Perhaps Gwen would
think of some plan.

He must concentrate on the upcoming confrontation with the
council, when he would present the empty dagger. The time drew near. He put his
hand to his waist. The jeweled dagger was not in its sheath.

Searching among the folds of Liah’s cloak, he found her
little hand wrapped around her purloined treasure. He eased it from her palm,
cleaned the sticky handle, and sheathed it.

Ruonail knew his gifts would not placate any father, and
that the councilors could not hide their daughters’ kidnapping for long. To
save their heads, the councilors would heap the blame on the Selaw, fuel another
war, turn all attention away from themselves.

The sound of the dipping oars and creaking wood was
hypnotic, his fatigue deep, but his anxiety about the upcoming meeting kept him
wide awake.

The terrain gradually grew less rocky and greener. The wind
no longer harrowed the cheeks, and sweat began to run down the faces of the
oarsmen. When Ardra ordered the men to put ashore, he gave Gwen no opportunity
to sneak away.

Instead he snagged her arm and marched her into the bushes.

“I could use a little privacy,” she said coldly.

“I will give you a few moments, but you must give me your
word you will return to this spot. We must speak privately.”

Her stormy look boded ill for her return. “Swear it,” he
repeated.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll be back.” She disappeared into the
greenery, her garments helping her to blend with the foliage. It was a Selaw
trait, this garbing oneself like one’s surroundings. Ardra’s cloak would make
her nearly invisible on the ice, and he supposed one of the boxes contained
green gowns and cloaks.

True to her word, Gwen returned to the small clearing where
he stood. “What’s wrong with your hair?” he asked as sun pierced the glade in a
sudden and final farewell to day.

“My hair?” She smoothed the short strands from her forehead.

“Aye.” He moved closer, and despite an inner warning that he
should not touch her, he stroked back the silky tresses. “It is turning dark
near your scalp. Are you ill?” He touched her cheeks and forehead, which were
mercifully cool.

“Oh, dear.” She frowned, and he had to resist a need to
smooth the furrow between her brows with his thumb. He dropped his hands and
stepped away from temptation. “I suppose my roots need a touch-up.”

“Roots?”

“Yes. This is really hard to explain. By roots I mean where
my hair grows from my head. The color needs…to be painted on again.”

“Painted on? You have gone too long without proper
sustenance. I shall tell Ardra to delay the journey until I may prepare a meal.
Fish, I think. I know some root vegetables that will amply supply not only
flavor, but have healing—”

“Vad. Stop. I’m not hungry.” She gave a long sigh and
dropped to the ground. “Sit. This is going to disillusion you.”

“Disillusion me? How could your hair offer me
disillusionment?” But he sat beside her.

“I’m not really blonde.” She stroked her fingers through the
soft cushion of dead pine needles and exposed the rich soil beneath. “My hair’s
really this color, maybe a little lighter. I was a blonde when I was a baby,
but the color changed over the years, which is not uncommon in
my
world.”

“Why would you not be content with what you are?”

She looked up, and a smile, one of sadness, crept over her
face. “Blondes have more fun?”

He gently sifted his fingers through her hair, examining the
dark roots. “You are discontent with your life? Your circumstances? You drought
that if you were blonde, your life would be more pleasing?”

“Well, put like that it sounds pretty pathetic.” She leaped
to her feet—away from his touch? “It’s not discontentment. It’s fashion.
Everyone does it, even happy people. Just think about women’s clothing. Do they
ever change the design here? Make the sleeves wider? Or narrower?”

“Constantly.”

“Then you can understand this. Women in my place change
their hair color as often as they change the designs of their clothing.”

He shrugged. “Despite your words, I think you are
discontented with your life there.”

Her little chin stabbed the air again. “I’m sure there are a
few Selaw who wish their eyes were blue, and maybe someone, somewhere, might
even want brown ones like mine.” Then she lowered her gaze and jabbed the toe
of her soft boot into the dirt. “I’m sure you didn’t drag me out here to
analyze my life. What do you want?”

The muscles of his legs and back protested as he stood up.
He stretched and wished he had had the time to soak in the steaming pool. “I
wanted to explain why I could not let you stay at the fortress.”

“Is that all? You were quite clear, you needed a sailor. And
how dare you prevent me from going to Nilrem’s mountain? Who do you think you
are?” Tears glistened in her eyes.

He gathered her stiff form into his embrace. She smelled so
sweet, felt so warm. “I could not allow you to remain at the fortress. Ruonail
would not have been there.”

“What are you talking about?” The tears slid down her
cheeks. He skimmed one away with his thumb.

“Had you remained behind, you would have found no Ruonail to
help you, for he would have been long gone, onto the ice to face his end in his
own way, or perhaps to an ally in another chiefdom who would give him shelter.

“Ruonail’s meaning was veiled to protect Ardra, but clear to
me. He intends to leave immediately. He does not plan to be at the fortress
when a Tolemac legion comes to deal his fate.”

“Poor Ardra,” she said softly, and leaned into his body.

“Aye. Even now I imagine he is gone. A man capable of
kidnapping, and more, will not spare his able warriors to escort a slave to
Nilrem’s mountain. You are safe only with me.”

She nodded against his chest, her nose rubbing on the cloth
and sending darts of desire into his loins. Carefully he set her away from him.

“When these matters are decided, I want you to lifemate with
me.”

Her mouth fell open; she staggered. Lest she fall, he put
out his hand, which she grabbed and clutched. “I don’t understand.”

“And why do you not understand? Did I not tell you that the
next woman I lay with would be my intended lifemate? Did you think I just
tossed my vows over the abyss with Enec and took you for a night’s pleasure?”

“I don’t know what I thought.” She pulled away and tucked
her fingers under her arms. She paced the small clearing, agitated, glancing
everywhere but at him.

“I saw you standing there at the edge of the abyss and knew
I could not bear to see you die. I knew in that instant that we were tied
together. I said as much as I joined myself to you.”

“I thought they were just…words spoken in passion.”

“You insult me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t mean to insult you. But you
can’t lifemate with me, not here.”

“I will find a way.”

“I’m not a virgin. And what of Ardra? Ruonail offered you
everything he had. A beautiful daughter to be your lifemate. Political power to
influence peace. A treat of a fortress with its own hot tub. Warriors to
protect it all.”

“That is why we must talk. I felt something like this might
occur. I cannot insult Ruonail by rejecting his offer, and yet I cannot join
myself to Ardra—or any other woman—when you are everything to me.”

“I-I-I am?” Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks.

“Aye.” He embraced her, and this time her body was pliant,
molding willingly to his. A shudder of need for her ran through him.

“But I’m not a virgin.”

“As to that, neither am I.” He kissed her brow, her lips,
lingering there, tasting her sweetness. “I do not understand it. Perhaps it is
magic, but you are part of me now. That only makes my predicament worse. You
must face it, Gwen, my life is uncertain. The council may strip me of my arm
rings.”

She whispered against his lips, sending a hum of sensation
to his heart. “So what? We’ll leave then, go to Nilrem’s mountain together and
go to Ocean City—”

A man’s voice called for all to board the boat. Time was
slipping away.

He set her aside. “If the council still wishes to consider
me a traitor, they will not simply strip me of my arm rings and set me free to
pursue my own path. At the worst, I am a dead man; at the least, they will sell
me into slavery. And even if they allow me to keep my status, I cannot just put
aside Ruonail’s offer and say, No, I want this woman here, this slave, instead
of a lifemating with an important Selaw heiress.”

“I thought the mixing of Selaw and Tolemac was a bad thing.”

“If the mix is between slaves or the lesser free folk. But
who will not honor the offspring of rank, duly joined in a ceremony sanctioned
by both chiefdoms? As you said, rank has its privileges.”

Another shout drew his attention. “We must go. Think of some
way to turn this empty dagger to our advantage. Think of what I have said;
think of some plan that will allow us to be together and yet not injure Ardra.
For she is blameless in all of this. She will be a woman alone when she returns
to the fortress. And as Ruonail stated, a woman alone is prey.”