Bright red locks glinted in the sunlight, catching his attention. Ramona darted between the people, going from tent to tent with Breandra carrying Hope, and Miori following close behind. She inspected each stand, feeling several bolts of fabric. His breath caught when he noticed she wore female attire, though without a proper bodice to conceal the plain tunic beneath. Perhaps she shopped for a specific pattern to have one made to her liking?
The sun continued to cross the sky, its brilliance blinding his view. He shielded his eyes, searching for Ramona once more. He’d lost her in the moving crowd. It was his curse with the maiden. Always within sight, but never reaching her in time. Staring off into the direction she’d disappeared, he hoped for another glimpse. Miori traipsed toward the castle like a happy child skipping through a field, arms full of cloth, Breandra and baby a few steps behind. No Ramona. It wasn’t like her to stray too far from the children when outside. Maybe he’d missed her short stature among the people?
A hooded figure broke from the gathering and headed for the stables. He instinctively knew it to be Ramona. What in the name of the Vespa was the vixen doing? Anxiety tightened his chest. He’d given strict orders to all—no one in, and no one out. It came as no surprise she’d disregard his command. He watched as she paused and glanced over her shoulder before disappearing into the building. “What are you up to, my petite?”
Jalomar waved to Kald, who jogged the short distance across the wall. “You are in command while I am away.”
Kald bowed, his eyes following Jalomar’s line of sight. “Aye, milord. Shall I have a party assembled and standing by?”
“Nay. I can handle this fox hunt myself.”
He descended the parapet steps and crossed the courtyard with a steady pace, not wanting to alarm the people of his intended chase. The fire, and prospect of a traitor, had already caused enough tension amongst the peasantry and soldiers alike. Coupled with the ire expressed over Ramona’s disastrous attempt to help soothe the flames, it was best if anything involving the maiden remained hushed.
He called for Gus as he neared the stables.
Chipper as normal, the young lad appeared, a minute scar at his temple the only evidence of Sandread’s previous attack. “Lacaux, Lord Jalomar?”
“Depends. Did the Lady Ramona take a horse?”
Gus shook his head vigorously. “Nay, milord. And I do say she were most upset when I refused her one without your consent.” His nose twitched as he spoke in hushed tones. “She did take your secret path, however. I didn’t mean to show it to her.”
Jalomar sighed his irritation, but was glad to know the trail she traveled. “Mount up Lacaux. Be quick about it.”
Jalomar followed Ramona's fresh footprints down the dirt trail, confident she made her way to the nearby stream feeding into Dilseacht. Her tracks broke off of the main road, leading into the cover of the trees. He dismounted and tied Lacaux to a thick oak, and followed the sound of splashing water on foot. Red strands of hair bobbed up and down as Ramona emerged occasionally for a gulp of air. Her clothing lay in a pile near the bank.
He grumbled low in his throat. The woman was once again consorting naked where prying eyes could stalk her. Like mine. He considered leaving her to her privacy. She was causing no direct harm. But as he walked away, the splattering of the water reminded him of the assassin who had nearly killed her weeks before in the same stream less than a mile away. Nay, he would stay and watch—for her safety.
Chapter Thirty-one
Ramona splashed the rejuvenating water onto her face before diving below the surface for a short swim to the opposite bank. Having spent the morning with Miori and the girls trading for cloth to be taken to Linda, the seamstress, Ramona opted for a quick wash-up—and a minor break from her troubles. Troubles named Jalomar.
Miori’s early morning gossip about Greta and Jalomar had spurred on a bout of images of the dark headed beauty and the warrior, their bodies intertwined as they exchanged passionate kisses. Picturing them together infuriated Ramona beyond any reason she could comprehend. She’d hoped a swim in the cool stream would ease her misplaced ire. It’s not like she had any claim on him. He was a bodyguard. Nothing else. Just thinking about it again had her diving below to surface once more to clear her head.
Twigs snapping close by alerted her to another presence. Thanks, Gus. The little turd had probably went running straight to Jalomar the minute she left. Hunched beneath the surface, she waited for Jalomar to pop out. When he didn’t, she searched the tree line. Oh crap. What if it’s him? Sandread. The bad boy brother who made no excuses about wanting her. The bastard seemed to know every time she left the castle.
She swam for the bank where her clothes sat in a neat pile. She snatched up the dress, forgoing her undergarments, and slid it over her nudity before stepping from the water to gather the rest of her clothing. The bushes rustled. Sandread no doubt waited for her to try and run so he could give chase. It was his M.O.
Ramona squared her shoulders. Her last few encounters with Sandread had worked out in her favor. And now she had powers to back her up. If he tried anything stupid, she’d light his ass on fire. For real. “Sandread, I know you’re there. Watching me. Again.”
Heavy footsteps crunched the foliage. Jalomar emerged with a creased brow and narrowed lips. “Milady. Sorry to disappoint.”
Ramona exhaled hard, relieved. “I was so ready to light you up! Wait. Were you spying on me?”
“Nay. Aye. I was merely guarding you as my duty. But it appears my presence is not the one you desire.”
She rolled her eyes. “I desire no one’s presence. I actually wanted some alone time. Do you know what that is? Hmmm.”
His lips twisted into a nasty snarl. “Then why do you shout out for your lover?
The lover thing… again. Ramona was tired of hearing the same accusation. And what did it matter? He had Lulu, the busty dish maid. And now Greta, the epitome of innocence, at his beck and call. Not to mention a mistress she’d yet to meet. So what if she wanted to shack up with Bad Boy Sandread?
Other than the fact that I don’t?
Meh. Didn’t mean a thing. She was a free woman, and she’d sleep with whomever she dared. Her knees buckled beneath his intense observation. Anyone but him.
“Are you going to answer me, Ramona?”
“I’m not having this argument with you, Jalo.” She turned her back to him.
He slipped an arm around her waist and twirled her around. A gentle hand beneath her chin coaxed her to look up at him. “By the Vespa! I don’t want to argue with you any more than I would want to walk in the snow barefoot. Have you ever walked in the snow barefooted? It’s like walking on a mattress of pins and needles.”
Ramona tried to turn away, but he kept her head steady. “Wait…so talking to me is painful?”
A low growl rushed from his throat. “Do you enjoy being combative? Are you trying to push my limits?”
“You push mine.”
He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against hers as he whispered. “Nay. You imagine it all, woman. There’s only one thing I want to push, and it is not your limits.”
Her legs threatened to give out from beneath her. “No,” she whispered against the warmth coalescing in the pit of her stomach. The familiar burning spread up her arms to her hands. Panic constricted her throat. She sensed the power surge within, and feared it meant to target Jalomar. Despite their challenging history, she didn’t want to harm him. “Get away from me,” she warned. “You need to move away from me. I don’t want to hurt you!”
His features softened. “Ramona?
His heart beat against her palms, increasing in tempo. She shoved as hard as she could. “Please, I can’t control it! Move away!”
“Nay!” He wrapped his arms around her tighter. “You will not harm me, Maiden. I am your protector. Let me help you.”
The flames rushed through her fingertips and engulfed Jalomar. She threw her head back and screamed. He held o
nto her despite the vine of fire creeping up and down his body before igniting the ground to encircle them both. When the flames dispersed, they stood as before. She renewed the struggle against his grip. “Please. You have to let me go, before I hurt you. What if I start the damn forest on fire?”
“You will not hurt me,” he whispered into her ear. “I am your guardian. Your flames will never consume me.” He glanced around the smoke filled forest and grinned. “Of course, I’m not so certain about the forest.”
She fell into him, completely spent. She couldn’t stop her laughter. “I suppose burning down the forest is better than burning everyone’s clothes. Did I tell you Greselda banned me from the laundry room?”
He guided her to a nearby grassy knoll overlooking the water. Their eyes met in mutual understanding as he helped her sit down, and then positioned himself at her side. She snuggled into him. “Sorry for trying to barbeque you, Jalo.”
He pinched her side. “Why do you find it so hard to address me properly?”
She grinned up at him. “Why do you find that I must?”
Laughter shook his body. “Always quick with the wit, milady. I am beginning to question its use as a deterrent.”
“From what?”
“From everything that has happened, is happening, and is going to happen.”
She lie back and propped herself up on one elbow so she could still see his face. “And exactly what is happening, or going to happen?”
Dark brows furrowed. He raised a hesitant hand and cupped her chin. “I know what I have imagined.”
“Tell me.” His skin against hers summoned a rush of adrenaline. But it was more than mere excitement. The visions came again. Stronger, and all consuming. His gaze traversed the length of her flushed flesh. She saw the longing in his eyes. Or was it her own reflecting back?
He lowered his lips to hers, and his probing tongue sought entrance. When she opened to him, he deepened the strokes. Her arms slid around his neck, pulling him atop of her. He lie between her spread legs, the thin layer of clothing offering no padding against his protruding hardness. Fear stiffened her limbs, and she turned her head to the side. Every part of her wanted Jalomar. Craved his touch and desired to know what it would be like to be claimed by the boding warrior. Except her brain. The troublesome organ refuted her yearning as nothing more than mere hormones.
“Ramona?” He nuzzled her neck with his nose.
The five-o-clock shadow along his jawline rubbed against her cheek. She shivered as her resolve weakened. It's a bad idea...it's a bad idea...
Jalomar guided her mouth back to his, his lips brushing against hers in soft passes. “Do not push me away. Your body tells me you want this, too. Give in, even if it’s only this once. You can return to hating me tomorrow.”
Just this once…no strings.
Could she be that girl?
He gyrated his hips in circles, his arousal rubbing across her sensitive nub. The coarse fabric of her dress added to the tantalizing motion. She moaned as he increased the pressure. A rush of moisture met his efforts. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Hell yeah I can.
“This is a no hate zone,” she replied and initiated the next kiss.
He ripped her dress away with little more than a yank, exposing her fully to his view. She lay still, unsure and anxious. Jalomar stripped his clothing away with haste. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you standing in your underground prison,” he murmured against her mouth.
She giggled. “I looked like hell.”
“You smelled it, too.”
Ramona squealed and playfully swatted at him. “Well, if my stench is too much for you to handle—”
He cut her off with another kiss. “I fear you will never be too much for me, my petite.”
Jalomar’s confession stole any further words. Pulses of pleasure shot through her limbs as he massaged his way down the length of her torso. Thick fingers twirled through the soft patch of curls between her legs, occasionally dipping between her folds. Her legs jumped as his thumb brushed over her sensitive nub. Every few strokes he quickened the pace for a moment.
He rolled her over and easily lifted her weight so that she was now straddling him. She took him inside of her, sinking down slowly as she concentrated on staying relaxed, while anticipating the oncoming pain of consummation. She watched him watching her; his brow furrowed the deeper she accepted his length. She froze when he made contact with her hymen.
His hands shot out and steadied her hips, preventing full penetration. “You're untouched?” he breathed raggedly.
Ramona met his much surprised stare with reluctance and vulnerability. She nodded her acknowledgment. He lifted her from him and rolled her beneath him.
“I'm sorry. I should have told you before... before we...” She couldn't bring herself to finish.
Jalomar lifted her from him, and she sighed at the loss of his fullness. “Nay. Do not apologize. You are the most intoxicating vixen.” He carefully rolled the both of them over so he was now on top. He then lowered his head to her breasts, his tongue darting out to taste each hardened nipple. “And I intend to make sure you receive a pleasurable experience every time I claim you.”
She reached between their bodies and wrapped her hand around his hard length. He moaned his pleasure, spurring her bravery. She guided him to her opening. “Please, don’t stop now.”
Jalomar used his knees to support the majority of his weight before he fully thrust into her. He paused when she gasped as her hymen tore, adorning her with kisses before rocking his hips back and forth. Each thrust allowed her to accommodate his wide girth as he slowly increased the tempo. Once the initial sting of penetration ebbed, she wrapped her legs around his waist to draw him closer. Liquid fire raced through her body. She urged him deeper and faster, clinging to him in implicit abandon. Ramona cried out, her body trembling as Jalomar’s warm seed filled her moments later. Neither could move, their bodies spent.
He beamed with satisfaction. “I am now your complete and utterly smitten fool, milady.” He kissed her lips tenderly once more before rolling to the side.
“Naw, you’ve always been a fool,” she teased.
The overcast clouds rolled by, and distant thunder shattered the serenity of the scene. But she wasn’t in any hurry to get back to the castle. The seamstress would just have to wait until later. She was going to spend as much time wrapped in her warrior’s arms as possible.
Her warrior.
The thought made her smile. Oh, how she couldn’t wait to tell Meg everything…
Reality shoved its ugly ass face in hers. Megan was gone. And Jalomar wasn’t really hers. How could she be so stupid? Like a naïve teenager dreaming of...what the fuck ever. She had to get out of there before she cried. Or worse. He saw her crying. Without a word, she stood and redressed.
Jalomar came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, holding her close. “Please. Do not run. Talk to me, Ramona. You might find I’m not too bad a listener.”
She wiggled around until she was facing him. “What are we doing here?”
“We’re talking.” He winked and kissed her forehead.
“You know what I meant. What are we doing?”
Jalomar quirked his lips. “Is it not obvious?”
She looked up at him; uncertainty crossed her features for a fleeting moment. “I mean, this is a thing now, right?”
He slid his arms around her and drew her into a full embrace. Silent laughter lifted the corner of his lips into a beguiling smile. “Aye, this is a thing.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Ramona laughed, and it felt freaking fantastic. The last two weeks had created a growing bond between her and Jalomar as they slowly learned each other’s habits. Surprisingly, despite the vast differences in their respective societies, they had a lot more in common than Ramona would have ever guessed.
The mornings were filled with market and stable inspections, while the evenings brought a close to th
e day and with it, a zillion economic reports Jalomar had to take down in his ledger. But it wasn’t all work and no play. Jalomar made it his top priority to squeeze in a few moments here and there devoted to her and the kids. Most days, they splashed at the stream or held a quick picnic. When rain kept them inside, they played tag through the castle halls, much to Greselda’s chagrin.
Ramona closed the book she’d been reading about the failures of past political eras—her era, most specifically. Her comments about the text had spurred random debates between she and Jalomar as he worked on his ledger. "This book isn’t really all that accurate, for your information. For the most part, my world did enforce democracy—with the exception of the occasional dictator that had to be overthrown."
Jalomar lowered the reports onto his paper cluttered desk. Skepticism furrowed his brow. "I've read about this democracy implementation in the many books collected since the bombardment. Many written during your time. It was a terrible form of government."
"Being free and having a say for change is terrible? How do you figure that?"
"Aye. It can be. Your time is cursed with a long history of slavery, terrorism, and religious squalor. Democracy was not always democracy for some. It is why my forefathers established the system we use now after the bombardment."
Ramona rolled her eyes. "You do know your system is based off of my forefathers’ past? Ya know, when Queens and Kings and Guillotines ruled. Great song, by the way. You totally missed out on rock-n-roll."
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