A large hand settled in her hair, gentler than she had imagined it could be. With words he tried to push her away, but with his body he drew her in.
After resting against him for a moment, glad for the relief of his skin against hers, she rose up slowly. “If I ever catch another woman in your bed, I will kill her.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“I’ll do it, Sebestyen. Like it or not, you are my husband, and my place is here.”
“Liane...”
She brushed her damp folds along his length but did not take him into her body. A fire of desire she knew well burned in his eyes.
“I’m not asking you to treat me like an empress, or to love me, or to behave as a normal husband might. You and I, we don’t even know what normal is, do we?”
“I suppose not.”
“I am asking you to fulfill my physical desires and let me fulfill yours. I am asking you to be faithful to me sexually.” She bent down and laid her lips over his as she fisted her hand in his hair. “I am asking you to be a proper husband and make me scream.”
She placed the tip of his erection to her center, but before she could plunge down and take him in, he rolled her onto her back. He was still right there, touching her, but he did not push inside. Instead, he slipped his hand between their bodies and rested it over her belly.
“The priests already fear your influence,” he whispered. “They cannot know.”
“They cannot know what?” That he loved her? That theirs was a real and true marriage?
“They cannot know,” he said again, his voice even softer than before.
“They need know nothing,” she said, “but that I come to you for the same pleasure we have shared for years. If anything between us is changed, they need not be aware of it.”
He did not say that he loved her, he didn’t even whisper that he cared. But he must. Why else hide what he felt from the priests?
His hand stroked her belly. “I do need you here, I want you more than I dare to confess. But I don’t want to hurt the baby. He is...very important to me.”
She saw something new amidst the lust. Fear.
“He is very small, yet.” She grinned widely. “And, my lord, you flatter yourself and all other men.”
For the first time in a very long time—a very long time—he returned her smile. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. I would not risk this child for anything in the—”
She did not get to finish her assurances. Sebestyen filled her achingly empty body, and there were no more words.
Chapter Eleven
Since Ryn had warned her of the viciousness of the Caradon, she had slept as closely as possible to him through the night, a situation which very often led to gloriously bright and interesting mornings. It was a lovely way to start the day, invigorated and glowing and happy. Until she’d come here, she had not realized that so few of her days had been spent in true happiness.
There were moments, hours, days, when she actually considered turning her back on her sisters and the life she had once led, and giving herself fully and completely to Ryn. She could be his wife, and live quite happily among the Anwyn. She could sleep with him at night, give him sons—or daughters—and she could give him comfort.
But she could not turn her back on her sisters. She would find her way back to them, and when she was sure that their conflicts were settled, then she would decide where and how to spend the rest of her life.
It even occurred to her, on occasion, that maybe Ryn could come home with her. The life waiting for him far away from these mountains would be as foreign to him as this place was to her, but she thought that they might make it work somehow.
There were worse fates than to be married to a shape-shifter, mated to a man who became wolf, linked forever to a man who understood her abilities better than she did...and accepted them without so much as a blink of an eye. She could be married to a man who would protect her from the linking she had feared all her adult life. They could enjoy physical pleasure without the mental link, because he knew how to keep himself separate from her even when they touched intimately, even when he was a part of her.
Today they raced across rocks that revealed no true path, and yet the way seemed very natural. Very easy. Juliet’s feet fell upon the rock with precision, and she did not feel even a moment’s trepidation when she walked quickly across a narrow precipice that looked down over a steep, rocky gorge. The new lightness in her heart, a joy that almost bubbled within her, made her want to sing as she came to the end of the narrow precipice. She did not know much music, but her mother had sung a few children’s songs to her, once upon a time. She and Sophie had sung this particular song together many times, first as children and then as a way to soothe Ariana.
The tune was simple, the rhyming words silly. The song was nonsense, about sunshine, cows, wildflowers, and the moon. Before she finished the first verse, Ryn turned to watch her, and to listen. Juliet left the precipice and stepped upon more solid ground, and she walked to Ryn and sang, even louder. He wrinkled his nose as she sang the final chorus.
“That was quite bad,” he said seriously. “I did not know you were unable to sing.”
“I am able to sing,” she argued. “Badly, perhaps, but I can sing.” Ryn waited for her, and when she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. “Does my poor singing ability make you think less of me?” she asked. “Does it make me a poor mate?”
“You have other qualities to make up for your disturbing singing voice,” he said.
“Such as?” She lifted her eyebrows slightly and awaited an answer.
“A fine and willing body,” he said.
“I suspected that was the first thing you’d think of,” she teased.
“It is difficult not to think of such things when you’re touching me.”
“Does anything else come to you, or are my only attributes physical in nature?”
He pushed away a strand of red hair that had fallen across her face. “You have courage, which is a virtue until it causes you to head down the mountain alone. Willfulness, which makes you deny what you know to be true, but which also makes you strong. And you have the heart of a wolf. You have a fearless heart that opens for the world and all the people in it, but which sometimes denies that which you need yourself. No man could ask for more from a wife than that which you have to give.”
The teasing had quickly turned serious. “Do you mean that?”
“Yes, vidara.”
“Vidara. Is that an Anwyn word?”
“Yes.”
“What does it mean?”
He hesitated, but not for long. “It means wife, only more. There is no word in your language to compare.”
“It’s an endearment.”
“Yes.”
“What is the word for husband, only...more?”
“Vanir.”
“A lovely word,” Juliet said softly. She traced his jaw with her finger. There were so many ways she could respond to Ryn’s words. He had many fine qualities himself. Bravery and gentleness. Stubbornness and courage of his own. And as for heart...she had never known a man with a bigger heart.
Something welled up inside her, and she did her best to push it away. She could not love Ryn; she could not let what she felt for him turn into anything more. She was already dancing too close to the edge of a danger she was not prepared to face.
He should tell her the truth. All of it. Juliet was Queen, or soon would be, and to keep that knowledge from her...
It was wrong perhaps, but also necessary. Juliet was beginning to accept that she was his mate. She was not ready to accept the fact that she also had Anwyn blood, that when they reached The City, she would become ruler by virtue of her blood, that once she took the vow that would make her Queen, she would also become wolf under a full moon.
She had not said so, not in many days, but a part of her hated the wolf.
There was also the l
egend to consider. Did he dare take to heart an old story told for hundreds of years? Could there be any truth to the fable? If Juliet was fated to be mated to a Caradon...
That was a fate he would change, no matter if it robbed the Anwyn of peace. No matter if it meant a hundred years of war. He would guard her, protect her. He would kill for her, and no Caradon would ever get close enough to her to fulfill the prophecy.
He could not prevent the displeasure that kept this time from perfection. It was the way of the Anwyn that households were ruled by the men. Women were important figures in the family, and in many cases they were held equal. But males were dominant, and that was a given, indisputable fact.
With the exception of the household of the Queen.
In all of Anwyn history, they had been ruled by women. By Queens. There was much power in the palace of the Anwyn, and the Queen’s word and wishes were indisputable. Even her mate bowed to her. He was bound by tradition to do as she asked, as were all others.
Juliet’s word would be law, and even he would be obligated to obey.
There was no traditional marriage for the Queen of the Anwyn. Her mate became consort, an unimportant figure set aside until the fertile time came upon her. It was important that the Queen bear sons. They held places of importance in the palace, until another girl child was born and came of age. Queens were rare creatures, and they were duty-bound to rule until another Anwyn female came to take the throne.
There was more to worry about than the prophecy of a Caradon lover. The pure-blooded sons of the Queen—those extraordinary men who were the offspring of an Anwyn father and an Anywn mother—displayed the strength and virility of the Anwyn. If a Queen’s chosen mate did not get her with child quickly, she was not only allowed to call another to her bed, but was obligated to do so. And if her consort did not satisfy the need of the heat that came upon her when she was fertile, she had the right to take any Anwyn male into her bed until she was satisfied. No man would refuse her if she asked. Even though it meant breaking the lifelong vow to a mate, it was not only acceptable—it was an honor.
The prophecy teased his mind. A red-haired Queen with powers beyond those of any other known to the Anwyn would guide her people into a greater, more peaceful time. She would bring prosperity. And through her union with a Caradon, she would bring an end to the long conflict between the two species.
Whenever the Caradon attacked, which had not been often during the past several years, the story was told to assure the people that this war would not continue forever. There would be peace when the red-haired Queen and her Caradon came to the palace.
Juliet was his, and he would kill any Caradon who came near her. Even if it meant conflict with the Caradon would continue forever, he would fight for his mate.
As they traveled and his anger grew, he tried to turn his mind to more agreeable thoughts. In Juliet’s body he had found pleasures much greater than those of a dream, and during the day there were times when all he had to do was look upon her and he wanted to be inside her again. She wanted him, too, more than she cared to admit. If he had given in to his passions and taken her in the middle of the day, on the path that led them toward The City, she would not have protested. When he had captured her, he had not known that she would be so passionate, but he was glad of it. She would make a good mate in all ways.
If only she were not Queen.
When they came upon the mountain lake, the sun hung low in the western sky. Juliet gasped. Not in fear, but in delight. Ryn looked at the body of water and tried to see it through her eyes. Such a sight was commonplace to him, and he had long taken for granted the beauty of mountains beyond his home.
But to Juliet, such majestic beauty was new and exciting. She stood by the lake and smiled as she focused her eyes out across the still waters. A breeze caught her hair and lifted it, pushing the copper red curls back and away from her face. Gone was the prim woman he had taken from the soldiers. In her place there stood a woman as powerful and wild as he, a beauty to rival any other.
A Queen.
“I suppose it’s too cold to swim,” she said, a touch of longing in her voice.
Juliet hadn’t yet realized that as they drew near The City, she instinctively awakened the Anwyn within herself, and that if she were to touch the water that would feel icy to human skin, she’d simply detect a refreshing coolness.
“It is not so cold.”
She laughed. “Not for you, perhaps.” But to test the waters, she squatted down and reached out to trail her fingers through the water. Her eyes widened, as she was pleasantly surprised that the lake did not feel like ice against her fingers. “You’re right! It feels very pleasant.” She lifted her face to the sun. “I thought it would be much colder as we climbed higher, but it’s actually quite mild for this time of year.”
“Yes, it is. Do you wish to make camp here for the night?”
She smiled at him this time, instead of at the lake she found so enticing. “Can we?”
“If you wish it.”
She began to eagerly strip off her clothes, unbuttoning the tattered dress with nimble fingers, pushing it down and off when that was done. Naked, as she had been as she lay beneath him last night, she stepped cautiously into the lake.
Ryn placed the bearskin bedroll on a flat portion of ground well away from the lake, then dropped his knife and kilt beside the bed he would share with his woman again tonight. By the time he had joined Juliet in the lake, she was standing in waist-high water, twirling about and creating ripples on the still water with her hands. Her smile dimmed when he joined her, but not in a bad way. The heat of passion flushed her cheeks pink and made the gold flecks in her brown eyes sparkle as she watched him walk into the lake.
She reached up and touched his face when he was close enough. “There’s something about me and my family that I haven’t told you,” she said. “I don’t want to tell you, because I don’t want anything to spoil this moment. But you need to know.” She took a moment to gather her courage. “No matter what happens between us, no matter how wonderful it is at times, I can’t love you.”
“I never asked for love.”
She flinched at that, a little, and he realized that even though she fought it, she wanted love very much. “I’m afraid that if we continue as we have, I will love you, and that can’t happen.”
“Why not?” Ryn was not disappointed. From what he had seen of his eldest brother’s marriage, romantic love was untidy and complicated, and he was a man who had always longed for an uncomplicated life. But he was curious as to why a woman who so obviously wanted love denied the very possibility.
Juliet licked her lips, and for the first time in days she looked nervous. “There is a curse, a very old and powerful curse. No Fyne witch shall know a true and lasting love. For the past three hundred years, many of the men who were loved by Fyne women have died before their thirtieth birthday.” She raked the back of her hand along his throat. “Others just...walked away. How old are you?”
“I was born on the same day that you were born," he answered.
Juliet blinked twice, very quickly. “How can you be sure?”
“We were sent into this world to be together, two halves of a whole, male and female, neither complete without the other. We came into the world when the leaves were new and the chill of spring filled the air. Next spring, it will be twenty-seven years.”
She shook her head in silent denial, and red curls danced around her shoulder. “Ryn, you must promise that you will never love me.”
“If that is what you wish.”
“It is. I’m afraid I don’t have the strength not to fall in love. Love is not complete if it’s not returned. Maybe that will protect you.”
“In many instances, love seems to be a complication. What we have is better.”
“What do we have?” she asked softly.
He would prefer to be inside her again, but if she insisted on talking, he supposed he could comply. For a short while. “We
have a bond that ties us to the earth and to one another, a shared desire to build a family and a home. And we have lust.”
“Lust is not a very pretty word,” she said softly.
“Many good things are not very pretty, vidara.” He could call her wife now. Once they reached the city and she learned of the ways of the Queen, everything would change. But for now she was his wife.
Juliet leaned forward and rested her head against his chest. The ends of her long hair were damp, and her skin almost matched his in heat. “Isadora, my sister you call the dark one, she loved her husband very much. When he died, it almost destroyed her. I’m not altogether sure it won’t still, someday. She’s never recovered.”
Ryn rested his hand in Juliet’s curls.
“Sophie found love with a man she did not expect to love, and so far things seem to be going well for them, but...”
“But?” Ryn prodded.
“This love of hers has caused all sorts of complications, and who knows what the years will bring? It will destroy her if she has to bury him.”
“What we have is better,” he insisted again.
“Yes, I suppose it is.” She did not sound entirely convinced. “But...”
Again she hesitated. Instead of prodding her on this time, Ryn placed his hands on her bare backside and pulled her closer to him. “Enough talk.” He bent down and placed his mouth on her bare shoulder.
She laughed. “So, sex is your answer to everything?”
“Yes,” he said, barely taking his mouth from her flesh.
“Will we never be able to conduct a serious conversation?”
“I hope not.”
Again she laughed, but she also offered her mouth to him, and he took it.
When they reached The City, everything would change. As Queen, she would have duties that took her away from him. There would be no simple home, no quiet nights in the house he had built for her. These days of travel would be the only days of his life in which he had his wife all to himself. Ryn wished deep in his heart that Juliet was not Anwyn, that she was not Queen.
The Moon Witch Page 18
