The Maiden and the Mercenary

by Nicole Locke

  Would she accept him in return? She said she didn’t want a husband, but maybe she just needed more time to trust him. He cupped her head between his palms, kept her pressed against him. ‘Bied, I will never aba—’

  Quick jagged pain to his chest, his body spasmed, and she shoved him away before he realised that she’d bitten him.

  With a murderous expression, she pushed past him, but he stood before the door.

  ‘Let me out of here,’ she said.

  If she’d had a goblet in her hand, she would have used it on him. Instead, he had her ire. He deserved her hatred for not telling her everything, but that didn’t stop him wanting her, especially now, in this brief moment. In this room.

  Full breasts, flushed cheeks accentuating plump red lips. Her hands were on those hips he’d dreamt about since the kitchens when she’d gained balance from the floor to the chair. Just that image shot anticipation through him, tightening everything inside him, pooling any thoughts towards only one direction: her.

  Something of his thoughts must have registered for her eyes flared, one hand slipped off her hip. But she didn’t say anything and he was suddenly incapable of it.

  Their eyes locked, his fear facing her hot anger. Anger morphing to something else. Something just as feral, wild...just as uncontained as the insistence in him. To take. To give. To claim.

  ‘I can’t let you leave here,’ he said. ‘It’s dangerous, they’d kill you as soon as greet you.’ Louve’s entire body shuddered. ‘Back down, Bied.’

  Eyes narrowing, she snatched a linen and chucked it at his face. It hit him. The next one she threw, he batted away.

  ‘What do you think that will do?’ he scoffed.

  ‘Move you!’ she shouted.

  He shoved her body against the wall. Now he felt the heat of her breath, the pounding of her heartbeat. ‘This is the only direction I want to go.’

  Her arms were trapped, but she still tried to shove him away. Did she know what that did to him? The snap of his hips against hers stopped her.

  She gasped. He growled, ‘If you had gone up there alone, carrying that little tray, they would have made you taste the food to see if it was poisoned.’

  ‘It wasn’t!’

  She gaped at him as though he was possessed, and he was right now. It was why he held her closer, his hips seemingly unable to release from the cradle of hers, reminding him that she was alive. They were alive and alone.

  ‘We know that, but they wouldn’t,’ Louve said. Her eyes were mesmerising with only a flared darkness he was fast losing himself in. ‘When they found that it wasn’t poisoned, they’d start questioning you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t tell them anything and there would be no need to. I am a servant here and am simply delivering food.’

  She didn’t understand and he was loath to tell her. He’d been that innocent of the Warstone malevolence once as well. ‘You were not assigned to that room. They would have questioned you with cuts from their daggers, with broken fingers, with whatever means they were given.’

  She shook her head. ‘But Ian isn’t up there, it was just her. There would be no need for such measures.’

  ‘It’s his private chambers and he’ll invoke whatever protective measures he wants. This is ours.’

  ‘Ours? What are you—’

  His hands slipped down, his fingers dug into the side of her hips, her flesh gave way under his rough touch. He groaned. ‘Ours. In this fortress, I claim this storage room for us.’

  ‘I’m angry at you. You’re angry at me and you...jest?’

  He was, he did, but that wasn’t what he thought of now. ‘The softness of your skin. The way your body yields to mine. It drives me mad. You drive me to madness. I almost lost you, after the night we spent on that unforgiving kitchen floor. Without a chance to rectify what we could be.’

  ‘Now you’re protective? I don’t understand. There’s nothing we can be. You say you want—oh! I am not talking of this here. Move, I need to get to my—’

  He leaned in, suckled the skin along her neck, revelled in her gasp. ‘They’ve returned, are spreading around the courtyard and soon will be in this fortress. If we leave right now, you’ll put your sister in more danger.’

  She jolted. ‘Damn you.’

  He stilled at the sound of anguish in her tone. He wanted this room, this moment, but if it brought her pain...he’d stop.

  ‘We shouldn’t leave just yet, but I’ll move if you need me to.’ He pulled up, reverently cupped her cheeks, took her mouth, once, twice. ‘You can leave if it’s what you want.’

  ‘I want answers,’ she said against his lips.

  She stayed and he was incapable of withdrawing from her. He pulled in her lower lip and nipped it gently between his teeth. ‘Answers. Those are what you want?’ Just a bit longer, if she’d allow it. Just a... His kiss deepened as he lashed his tongue against hers, pressed a little more into her before pulling away.

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Yes!’

  Could he give words to her now? His body rejecting the answer before it could be formed, he clamped his hands on the shelf far above their heads, pushing away until nothing between them touched except their breaths. Hers were short pants. His had gone ragged. It might kill him, but she deserved answers. If she wanted them now, he’d try.

  Her eyes widened, but her shock was all he dared register. If he contemplated her lips glistening from their kisses, to the flush of her cheeks that was part anger, part need, he’d never make it through. He’d stutter, become that madman she thought he was.

  Her brows drew in, her eyes roaming his features, already looking for answers, and he knew he’d choose the right path for them. He kept his expression open, allowing her to see everything he couldn’t say just yet. What he would tell her later, when his body caught up to the fact they’d survived. She was alive and he needed to kiss her and never stop. Ever. For years.

  She fisted her fingers into his tunic and yanked him to her. ‘Who are you, truly?’ she said, the words battering against the most vulnerable part of his throat.

  His arms were shuddering. ‘Louve. I am, truly. Am simply...’

  She kissed the arc of his neck, right where he was silently begging for her to touch. Over and over, soothing caresses of her tongue, feverish nips of her teeth until he was shaking with his lust.

  ‘Bied,’ he said, attempting to keep some reasoning, just for this moment, nothing else. But it was lost before it began. Right now, Bied was his. If nothing else, they could have this time, in this room. He had to make certain that was what she wanted because...because... ‘Do you want this?’

  She stroked her long fingers up his chest and sank her nails into his shoulders. Words gone, his lips latched on to hers.

  Louve’s kisses were heady sips of wine. His low growl deep in his chest was her surrender.

  Inside beat the questions she needed to ask—what they were doing, where were they going?—but Bied needed more of this man who had gained her trust the moment he pushed himself away from her. His ravenous gaze was fierce because he was fighting against himself and he allowed her to be witness to it all.

  The battle was there in the flush across his cheekbones, the wet seam of his lips, in the bulging of his forearms as he clenched the shelf above her. It was there in the pulse throbbing at the centre of his throat, its uneven pace telling her more than any words he might have said.

  He held himself away, so she’d trust him. And she answered that frantic pulse by pressing her kiss, her own need, against the battle he fought.

  And he answered. Slick slides of his tongue before they broke apart and he latched his lips on to her throat, down her collarbone to her gown that loosened enough to allow a few of his kisses there, too. She wanted more.

  Thrusting her hands through his hair, the scent, the coarse feel of it through her
fingers as heady as the weight of him against her. She couldn’t stop there and slid her hands down his sides. Traced just under his tunic and above his breeches, feeling the shiver of sinew under his heated skin.

  He clutched her hand against his stomach. ‘Bied.’

  A warning that had her eyes raising to his. ‘You’re always grabbing my hands.’

  ‘Because they undo me.’

  She smiled. ‘I was trying to undo you.’

  His eyes lit up, a curve to his lips. He released his other hand from the shelf, ripped off the ties on his breeches and shoved down his braies enough to free him. He still clutched her hand, but her other was free.

  His eyes widened when he guessed her intent. ‘No, you don’t.’

  Wrapping his arm around her waist, he fisted her gown and chemise up to her waist. The voluminous folds barred her sight, but she felt his hair-roughened thighs between hers, his hand cupping under her knee. The gentle pressure to lift her up.

  Her hands went to his shoulders for balance. His thumb caressed the tender crease on the back of her knee, as he lowered his head to capture her lips.

  More rasping kisses, more welcoming weight, but he was holding back. ‘Louve, please.’

  When he didn’t move she grasped his hips, yanking herself towards him, and she felt the smooth slide between her thighs, but not where she needed it.

  ‘Now you decide not to hunch,’ she huffed. ‘You’re too tall.’

  His smile was smug. ‘Maybe I wanted to feel you climbing on me. Do you know what your curves do to me?’

  Now it was her turn to give him a knowing look. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tilt your hips,’ he ordered, his gaze promising to meet her challenge. She did.

  He lifted her leg that bit more. ‘Do you want me, Bied? Is this what you want? You know—’

  ‘You’re repeating. You do that, you know, and I, yes—’ She couldn’t finish that sentence. ‘And I—’

  He chuckled, groaned and slid his palm up the back of her thigh and, with a strength she didn’t want to ever end, he shunted forward.

  Pleasure. Desire. Her hands grasping one point of him, then another. Never finding purchase, her thoughts lost to reason, to anything but Louve and what was happening between them. Her entire body trembling.

  His harsh breath against her neck, he pulled away, his head going back, his eyes clenching. ‘Maddening,’ he whispered as he moved. ‘Wild. Reckless. Brave. Cour—’

  She pressed her lips, her body, her very heart against any part of him she could reach, until they surrendered to the place where words were unnecessary. Until it was only them.

  * * *

  It was moments with both their heartbeats easing before she realised where they were again.

  ‘Are you...?’ he said. She felt him swallow. ‘Are you well?’

  More than she could say. ‘I need answers.’

  Chuckling, he kissed her temple. ‘You do.’

  Straightening, he arranged her clothing, folding and binding the poorly woven cloth as if it was the finest of linens. When he raised his eyes to hers, he caught her bewildered gaze.

  He brushed his thumb against her chin. ‘Later. I want to spend time with you that doesn’t involve walls or floors. When there’s time I could properly undress and explore all of you.’

  ‘There’s a lot of me to explore.’

  He clenched his eyes. ‘Don’t tempt me, I’m barely restraining myself now.’

  ‘That was restraint?’ she teased.

  ‘If I have a chance to kiss and touch all the parts of you I desire, what lies after that will show you that, yes, what we just shared was restrained.’

  More humour from this man, more smiles. Did he know what those dimples of his—a dull thump, and the sound of footsteps outside the door, made her jump.

  Louve whispered in her ear, ‘Do they not know this is our room?’

  She wanted to laugh, but there was a sadness in his eyes that stopped her. It was just there along the edges of the humour and she wanted to soothe it. It was easy to believe in this man even before she should have, but she needed to know what they faced outside their room. Their room.

  Ridiculous man. She wanted his teasing, his jokes, she wanted to share whatever burden he bore because she could see it was a heavy one.

  Which was frightening given her own mistrust, her own experience with men, with families. But her concern was lessened by the warmth of his touch along her arms, by the joy of what they shared. That would be enough to get them through whatever it was outside this room.

  ‘Now tell me,’ she demanded. ‘What were those questions you asked my sister? Why did we truly leave her there?’

  Louve rubbed the outside of her arms, waiting. There were no other sounds, no other moments he could comfort and hold this remarkable woman.

  After he told her what she needed to hear, she might not even allow this touch. Maybe the Warstone conflicts would keep them apart. Those guards. He’d seen that look before. If anything had been just a bit different than what Ian had allowed, both he and Bied would be dead.

  He didn’t want to give her up. Didn’t know how he could. But...she didn’t want a husband, might never want one. Might not even want a man by her side. He’d told her he was a mercenary, but did she know what that truly meant? Probably not and he was no simple hired sword.

  And that came all the more crashing down when he walked into Ian’s private chambers and realised he’d been manipulated. Warstones and their games which might never end. Ian talked about how he liked the games, but the truth was...he simply understood them. That’s all; he could give them up. If she wanted him to, he would.

  After eyeing those guards, knowing that more flanked them, he knew he couldn’t risk her like that again. He didn’t want to give her up, but the realisation was he might have to. Everyone was back from the hunt and, once they left this room, nothing would be the same. Still, he’d try to get the sisters to safety if she’d let him.

  Giving her the truth at least gave her a choice. He released her arms and stepped back. Was grateful she remained and that her expression was only curious. No, there was more there, it was in the sheen of her pale skin, her reddened cheeks and lips because of the roughness of his jaw, the pressure of their kisses. What they had just shared.

  In the past it was easier to avoid such questions of who he was, what he did. He’d flash a grin, make some sort of comment to distract. Perhaps he would ask questions instead, anything to avoid talking about himself.

  Except this was Biedeluue and, for him, she was the distraction. And one he wanted to keep.

  ‘You wouldn’t have made it up those stairs and to her room.’ The thought of what would have happened if she’d gone up there alone shook through him again. How close he came to losing her before they’d had this stolen moment. He wanted more of them.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she said.

  ‘Reaching for your hand.’

  ‘Every time you hold my hand...something happens.’

  He lowered his chin. ‘I promise you it will be only answers this time.’

  ‘Answers are good, but I want my sister,’ she said.

  ‘I know you do, but we can’t get her now. We couldn’t be up there one more moment.’

  If she was frightened, he’d let her out of here and forget the consequences of getting caught. But she hadn’t been frightened, not so far, and her determination he could negotiate with.

  He just needed to make her understand something that he was only beginning to. That he needed her more than this mission, but now might be all they had. Even if the sisters escaped and he did, too, he couldn’t go after them without jeopardising their safety. All this before they could get through their own desires in life.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she said.

  ‘You were there. She won�
�t leave without Evrart.’

  ‘Margery loves her family. I am her family and she asked for me.’

  ‘She asked for a sword arm.’

  Bied looked away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said immediately. ‘I’m going about this wrong.’

  Her eyes wandered from the crown of his head to the tips of his fingers and back again. He’d have to explain. He enclosed her hand between both of his. Feeling the warmth, the tiny slide of her fingers against his. She was alive, she was alive and he could tell her.

  ‘I was an usher at one point in my life,’ Louve said.

  ‘You already spoke of this, then you became a mercenary. Now you’re here playing some game with Ian of Warstone,’ Bied said. ‘I don’t want to talk about what happened between us or my demanding to know you, I need to understand why you dragged me away from my sister, why we can’t get to her!’

  He couldn’t help but feel lightened by her impatience. It was her. ‘This is important, though. After I left that life as an usher, I became a mercenary...for Reynold, one of the four brothers of Warstone.’

  ‘No.’ She snatched her hand and he let it go. ‘No. We just escaped—’

  ‘I’m still me,’ Louve said, knowing what she meant. They had just touched, shared themselves, and he was friends with a Warstone. ‘I haven’t changed.’

  ‘Only you have been paid by these monsters.’

  ‘He’s good, Bied. Out of all of them, he’s good. And the youngest, Balthus, might be as well. Ian...is complicated.’

  ‘Ian needs to be killed.’

  Fierce. Courageous. What other woman would have charged into this Warstone fortress to help break a sister free? ‘Most likely true, but Reynold sent Balthus and me—’

  ‘Stop,’ she interrupted. Bied’s expression was one of confusion, of doubt and then understanding. None of it took her long, he didn’t expect it to. ‘You’re here for that parchment. One brother sent you here to steal from the other. How does this affect my sister and why is this dangerous?’

  ‘For what that parchment represents—even I don’t completely understand it. Do you believe in legends?’