Way of The WOlf: The Northlanders Book I

by Shelby Morgan

  But she wasn't a woman at all. Hardly more than a child, by the looks of her. She wouldn't be much more than chest high against him. How had one so young acquired such an incredible voice?

  He rearranged his thinking. A child deserved some forbearance. Seanen buried his disappointment as he stared down at the little imp. "Who said I was a thief?"

  "I'm a Ranger. I know things."

  Sassy little bit of spunk she was. And that voice was going to drive him crazy. He gauged her to be no more than fourteen. Any moment now she'd be dancing off to join the children out playing in the grassy compound under the watchful eyes of the guards. In the mean time, she was more entertaining that waiting for the wedding to start. "You might be a Ranger. Someday."

  She raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing else.

  Child or not, he wanted to hear her speak. She was too young for him to even fantasize about without breaking every rule he'd ever set for himself, but he could still enjoy the sound of her voice. "Who said I was thinking about anyone?"

  "Your face said so."

  Nothing showed on his face. Ever. He snapped his mouth shut to avoid saying something he'd regret. Sexy voice or not, the child was beginning to bother him.

  She giggled. Damn it, she was laughing at him! He hated to be laughed at. But if he said so, she'd know she'd gotten to him. Seanen had learned years ago that the best way to deal with those who ridiculed him was to ignore them. Give in, pay attention, and your tormentors never quit.

  He'd learned the lesson on his own, just like everything else. He thought of the small stone hut where he'd spent the first seven years of his life and smoothed his face out into a flat plain of unreadable dirt, just like the dirt floor in that tiny hut. When you lived in a hut with a dirt floor, dirt got into your food. Dirt turned into grit between your teeth. The image steadied him, reminded him of who he was, where he'd come from. Reminded him too just how much his temper could cost him if he unleashed it here.

  So much for listening to her voice. "Be quiet," Seanen warned. "The wedding's about to start."

  The imp smirked up at him, but said nothing else.

  It wasn't a lie, after all. The huge wooden doors at the end of the hall creaked open. Lady Cassadara glided in, looking as if she might actually have mastered the art of levitation at last, though he suspected she hadn't. Perhaps it was the fact that, for the first time in years, he was seeing her in something other than a full set of mail.

  Tranorva would look like a goddess in that dress. He would spend at least ten minutes working his way down through the layers of fine, sheer lace. Maybe more. By the time he had her undressed–

  "You're wasting your time, I tell you. She has no use for men."

  It wasn't his imagination. The child sounded a little jealous. Damn it, this wasn't just his over active libido responding to a sexy voice. She was flirting with him, and he old enough to be her father. His patience snapped. "Be quiet, little one!"

  His irritation brought a note of humor to her voice. "Even if she had any interest in men, which I assure you she does not, she's the next Lady Lochinvar. If you get caught looking at her like that, you'll be out of the Royal Guard so fast you'll get a nosebleed."

  Guilt washed over him. Damn it, his fantasies should have been his own private property. It wasn't as if he'd ever act on those fantasies. "I am looking at no one. What would a child like you know of such things anyway? 'Tis none of your business."

  Yes, indeed. Her humor was back in full force now. "You know, lusting after things you can't have isn't good for you. Makes you forget how fortunate you are."

  The child knew how to get past his defenses. She'd gone way past annoying. There was real anger here now, much too close to the surface–closer than it had been in a long time. He actually had to work to keep his tone light . "And just how fortunate am I, pray tell?"

  She shrugged, her eyes glittering with laughter now. "You're a trusted member of Lady Lochinvar's household and a member of the Royal Guard, instead of being locked in a dungeon, where most thieves who get caught end up. Not bad for the bastard son of a bastard house. And you still have both of your hands. I'd call that fortunate."

  Seanen told himself he wasn't going to argue with the child. He wasn't. After all, she was right. He laughed instead, until he found the humor in the situation himself. He tried his most charming smile. "How come you to know so much about me, little Ranger?"

  She shrugged again. A slight movement of small, delicate little bones set so close to the surface that he could see them pull against her skin through the fine material of her tunic. Silk, he was sure. Fine silk of a costly sort. Though perhaps silk would not be so costly wherever she was from. Silk had to be imported back home. That added greatly to the price.

  "Part of my job." She slipped to her feet so gracefully she hardly seemed to have moved.

  His smile softened, becoming more natural. She really was a cute little kid. Soft and delicate with a small, narrow face that came to a point at her chin. "I know," he humored her. "You're a Ranger."

  She shrugged again. He was almost disappointed. He'd lost her attention. Her eyes wandered the room, playing over faces and bodies, reading the crowd even as he did. She was much taller than he'd expected. She came even with his shoulder. It was the legs that had fooled him. All of her height was in long, long legs that had been folded up underneath of her while she sat. He had a weakness for legs, and hers were a thing of beauty. If she'd been a little older…not that she was that young. She was slight, but not quite the child she'd first appeared.

  Still, he wasn't about to look at her that way. There was no one particular type of woman that caught his attention any more than another, but he did have his standards. He liked women, not girls. Once he was off duty, he enjoyed spending time with women from his own part of the city. He usually looked for older women.

  Women with enough experience not to get attached. Women who expected nothing from him and wouldn't be disappointed when he moved on. It was one of his rules. Rules were important. If everyone knew the rules going into a relationship, no one got hurt. Entertain, enjoy, but don't get involved.

  The priest was speaking. Seanen made an effort to pay attention. Ella and the girls at the tavern would expect a full report on the wedding later.

  "Marriage is a contract to be entered into only after a great deal of consideration."

  Right. From two people who'd known each other less than a fortnight. No one would catch Seanen entering into such a ridiculous contract. Why spend the rest of your life listening to one woman grow tired of you when there were so many others waiting to be entertained?

  "What a fool. She just sold herself into slavery."

  Seanen glanced down at the imp by his side. It annoyed him that she parroted his thoughts. Annoyed, and perhaps intrigued. "What makes you say that, little one? I thought women desired to have the lifetime devotion of a man."

  She snorted. A most unladylike sound. "Trade my freedom for a lifetime of washing smelly socks and cooking meat and potato stew? I don't think so."

  He found himself wanting to disagree with the little bit of a thing. "And freedom, that is more important to you than a home and a family?"

  "What would I know about families? About as much as you do. I don't intend to find out, either. That's not part of my plan."

  He detected a trace of bitterness in her words. She sounded so much like he had in his younger days. For a moment the years washed over him and he felt so old…

  It was the child. Compared to her he was old. What did children know? When you were a child, thirty was old. "You have a plan, little one?"

  One eyebrow raised in that peculiar way again. "I'm a Ranger. I always have a plan."

  Seanen tried to concentrate on the priest, but it wasn't doing much good. The tiny woman-child at his elbow was too fascinating.

  Lord Yarishet raised Cassadara's hand to his lips, kissing it once before he slipped the family crest onto her little finger. The prie
st knotted a white ribbon across their joined hands. "You have pledged your love and devotion before the gods. We who stand with you today are witness to this pledge. You are now husband and wife. May your love endure as a guiding light to those around you. May your houses prosper even as your love. Mâkakao, you may kiss your bride."

  A cheer rose from the crowd. Lord Yarishet turned them both to face the crowd, raising their hands high together. "Friends, I present to you Lady Yarishet!"

  Another cheer shook the grand hall. The musicians began to play a traditional wedding ballad. The guests moved aside to clear the center of the marble floor.

  Lord Mâkakao swept Cassadara into his arms. Now they were supposed to dance. Seanen winced. It was hopeless. Cassadara had been his worst student ever. He couldn't watch this.

  "Can you dance passably?"

  Seanen blinked down at the tiny woman-child. She sounded worried. "I thought you knew all there was to know about me."

  It was her turn to look annoyed. "I know you're big enough to break every bone in my foot if you tromp on me."

  He should have been personally affronted, but she was an amusing little thing. "I shall endeavor to keep your toes safe should you decide to do me the honor of dancing with me, M'Lady."

  "Was that an invitation?"

  "'Tis not, M'Lady. For that I would need to know your name, and we have not been introduced."

  "My name is Yarwyn. That's all the introduction you're going to get."

  "Well, then, Lady Yarwyn, would you grant me this dance?"

  "I'm no Lady, I can assure you of that. Just plain Yarwyn."

  "My pardon, Mistress Yarwyn. Shall we dance?"

  She bowed slightly from the waist as she offered Seanen her hand. A very small, delicate hand it was at that. Seanen thought briefly to ask if she had been schooled in the art of dancing yet, but decided against it. No matter. He could make the worst dancer look reasonably good. Except Cassadara. He sighed at the thought.

  "What?"

  Seanen blinked, turning his attention back to the tiny thing before him. He smiled again. "I thought you could read my mind. Did that thought escape you?"

  She grimaced. "I never said I could read your mind. May the gods protect me from being able to read your or anyone else's mind. There's enough noise in the world already."

  Seanen didn't say so aloud, but he couldn't help but agree.

  Across the wide expanse of marble, Lord Yarishet seemed to have the situation in hand. Cassadara hadn't tripped and fallen head first through the large stained glass windows, at any rate. In fact, she managed to look almost graceful.

  The steward gave his signal, and the guests surged forward onto the dance floor. Seanen turned his attention once more to Yarwyn. She moved into his arms. With the first turn his spirits lifted. She had the liquid grace of a natural dancer. As he pulled her against his chest for a turn, he discovered she had something else, too. She had breasts. The soft silk tunic hid them well within its flowing folds, but she definitely had breasts. When she moved against him he could feel them, high and soft and womanly, teasing his chest with thoughts that a man should never have for one of her age.

  The music swept them along, creating a magical universe where beauty and grace blended, where the dancers all moved in harmony, and nothing of the world he had known could intrude. In this world, and in this world alone, he forgot who he was and where he had come from.

  "Isn't this the part of the evening where you attempt to seduce me?"

  Her attempt at humor broke his reverie, dragging him back to the ancient stone hall and the scattered rushes and torch light. He found himself scowling down at the tiny imp in his arms. She was laughing at him again. And looking older as the sinking sun gave way to the soft light of torches burning in the wall scones. "I beg your pardon?"

  "Well, you do have quite a reputation, you know."

  Surely it was humor he heard in her voice and nothing more. Seanen let his face relax again. "I admit, I do often enjoy the company of ladies. But there is the–ah–difference in our ages."

  Violet eyes laughed up at him, sparkled like precious gems, tempting him to forget the rules. "I am a great deal older than you, but it's a liability I forgive you for."

  Chapter Two

  Yarwyn let her head fall back as she turned in his arms, and Seanen caught what he should have realized so much sooner. Her ears had been hidden by her silver, short cropped hair. Small, delicately sculptured ears rose to long, tapering points. The magic hadn't come from the music, after all. Not this time. The woman in his arms was the magic.

  Yarwyn. Even her name was magic. She was supple and lithe and so in tune to the rhythm that her body seemed to pulse with the beat as the orchestra sent the couples whirling off into a waltz. His heart beat a faster cadence, until his racing blood blended with the music, much as she did, becoming part of the spinning magic.

  An Elf. He held an Elf in his arms. How could he have missed that? What had happened to his famous sense of observation? Not a High Elf. She hadn't the alabaster skin they were known for. A Wood Elf, then? But no. That didn't seem quite right, either.

  Though Yarwyn appeared tiny next to him, she reached nearly to his shoulder, which would make her close to six foot tall. No Wood Elf he'd ever heard of made it to that height. A Half-Elf perhaps. He'd never seen one before, but that was the only explanation that worked. He'd taken her for a Human. Perhaps he wasn't so far off, after all.

  At any rate, she was a grown woman. Certainly old enough for him to think anything he wanted to about her. Her claim to be a Ranger even seemed plausible now. And just what was an Elvin Ranger doing at a wedding on the edge of the Tundra? And why had she bothered to learn so much about him? Maybe it was time he got to know this little Elf a whole lot better. She was up to something, and he wanted to find out what.

  Her very presence here was unsettling. He needed to find out why she was here. It was his duty, after all. He maintained his position as head of security in Lady Lochinvar's household because things like this didn't happen. No matter that they were not currently at House Lochinvar. He hadn't been doing his job, or Yarwyn wouldn't have gotten so close to the wedding party without his knowing who she was and why she was here.

  Seanen favored the little Elf with his most charming professional smile. "You are a rare pleasure, little Ranger. I am honored that you chose to dance with me."

  One eyebrow cocked slightly up at him again. "Does that bother you, Seanen? That I asked you, rather than waiting for you to ask me?"

  His most professional smile split into a much more honest grin. "I'm the bastard son of a bastard house, remember? I'm pleased when I get asked instead of ordered. And how could I object to dancing with such a truly gifted partner?"

  A tension he hadn't realized she'd been holding went out of her.

  "Good. I hate functions like these. I tend to–that is, people often…"

  She sighed. "My mouth gets me in trouble. I say the wrong thing to the wrong person and next thing you know I'm carrying messages between guild halls like a first year Ranger."

  She was such an odd mixture of sex-appeal and self-doubt. Somewhere in his years of studying women Seanen had learned that it was advisable to neither agree nor argue with a woman at such a point. Rather than answering her with words, he did what he'd wanted to do from the moment he'd first heard the sound of her voice. He bent his head to cover her lips with his own. A strange custom he'd picked up from the Human women…oddly satisfying, with many variations.

  Yarwyn's eyes opened wider in surprise for just a moment before they fluttered closed. Her lips parted beneath his, perhaps because of her sharply indrawn breath. The tip of his tongue danced across her pallet.

  How could he have ever taken her for a child? Seanen let his hand slip down her back a little farther, resting the tips of his fingers on the curve of one soft, rounded hip, moving her breasts a little tighter against his chest as he pulled her closer. If he had any doubts about her willingne
ss, they were dispelled when her free hand found its way to tangle in his hair, pulling his head down for another, deeper kiss.

  He could feel the outline of her nipples, hard and ready, pressing against his thin linen shirt. A surge of pure lust fired his blood, hitting him hard, the way it had when he was a boy. He wanted to slide his hand under her silk tunic, to caress and stroke, until he could get her somewhere more private, where he could provide them both the ease their bodies coveted. He pushed his hips against her, knowing she could feel the heat of his engorged desire. She caught his bottom lip in her teeth, biting none too gently, demanding more when he tried to pull away.

  Seanen shook his head. It was her Elvin magic, working like an intoxicant, washing all the years of ingrained caution from his mind until he would have taken her here, on the dance floor, while hundreds of people looked on.

  The logical side of his brain screamed in outrage, reminding him that he was too close, that he was losing his objectivity, that he was on the job, and he had responsibilities. Reluctantly he broke the kiss, holding her at arm's length while he tried to regain his focus. She faltered, nearly missing a step as he spun her in his arms. A foolish grin settled on his face. She looked a bit dazed, her violet eyes wide as she stared up at him.

  Seanen risked a quick touch of his lips to her pretty little nose. "I should like to get to know you much better little Ranger but right now I am on duty, and I fear another such kiss would have me forgetting who I am and why I am here."

  A light tap on his shoulder interrupted whatever reply she might have made. Seanen turned, a scowl darkening his countenance, ready to dismiss the interloper who was fool enough to try to cut in on him. But he recognized that suspicious little pointed face that looked up at him, knew those shrewd midnight blue eyes, and knew immediately how close he'd come to being caught with something much less than duty on his mind. Still, he tucked Yarwyn's hard through his arm as he moved them all as unobtrusively as possible off the dance floor.