by Nesa Miller
She let out a nervous laugh. “Seriously? Me, too.”
“You seem rather…accomplished with kissing.”
A grin came to her lips. “Even virgins get kissed.”
Dar laughed. “Aye, I suppose they do.” He took in the rolling landscape around them. “Tell me about this place while we walk. Do you know its history?”
Etain pointed out different landmarks, telling their stories as she’d been told them. Of the push and pull between the Welsh and the English in the human realm. Dar listened, rapt in her presence. In return, he entertained her with stories of past conquests, sometimes acting out a particular part for emphasis. His talk moved to his dreams of their future. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. Their history had been as tumultuous as any had by a Welshman and their English nemesis.
Once in town, they found a market fair in full swing. Moving stall to stall, they tasted various cheeses and breads, sipped wines of red, white, and rosé, and sampled local beers. There were cakes, pies, and pasties for sale. Farmers had brought their best produce to market and appeared to be doing well. Music and the aroma of roasting meat filled the air.
Dar came across a stall with a variety of weapons on display, succumbing to its irresistible siren song. It was a virtual treasure trove. He moved from one sword to the next. Etain, temporarily forgotten, watched his reverent caress of the blades, lifting each one, testing its weight and balance. Showing special interest in a matching sword and dirk, he called the owner over. They shared a short conversation before the man nodded toward the back. Dar grinned, weapons in hand, and set off in the direction indicated. Curious, Etain followed him to a roped off section behind the stall.
Dar moved to the center, sliding the dirk into his belt. With a seasoned eye, he inspected the blade of the sword, gazing down its length to confirm the workmanship. He extended it out, twisting and turning his wrist to get familiar with the weight of the blade. Tucking the same arm to his body, he lunged. The warrior appeared pleased as he sliced the blade through the air. Increasing the span, he whipped the sword down to his left. With a graceful twist of his wrist, he slashed down to the right, bringing it around, clasping the hilt with both hands at waist height. He rolled his shoulders and stretched to each side, testing his ribs. Stepping forward, he pivoted to the left, brandishing the sword overhead, bringing it down into the same double-handed clasp. The grace he exuded throughout his routine held Etain mesmerized. It had never occurred to her how much swordplay resembled a dance.
Sword in his right hand, he removed the dirk from his belt with his left and extended the sword at an angle, keeping the dirk close. His body twisted, ducked, and weaved, slicing his blade through the air. With a turn, the sword flew from his hand, as though forced by an unseen foe. Dar ducked his head and rolled over in a tumble, coming up on a knee. The dirk came up in a swift, savage jab, stopping just short of Etain’s abdomen. She stepped back.
“Etain.”
“Dar.”
“Your reaction is not one I would expect from an Alamir.” He twirled the dirk, slipping it back in his belt as he stood.
“What exactly did you expect?”
“Anything other than what I just witnessed. What if I had followed through with my move?”
She shifted beneath his blue-eyed gaze like a schoolgirl caught not paying attention to the lesson. A feeling she did not like. She cleared her throat, tossing her hair back. “Then I guess I would be left in a rather compromised position.”
He cocked an authoritative brow. “Dead, most likely.”
“Well, possibly. Had it been so, it would have proven rather inopportune for me…and you.”
His other brow joined the first. “Inopportune for me?”
“Oh, aye.” She nodded. “Not only would you have to deal with an incensed Inferno and his clan, I’m pretty sure Master G and his crew would not be too happy to hear of my demise. By a Krymerian, no less.”
He stroked his chin. “Aye, well, good fighters they are, all of them, but not enough to make me shake in my boots.”
“Then, of course, there’s Spirit.”
His eyes widened and he shivered. “Tartarus, I had not thought of that one. It’s the small ones who will get you every time.” He winked, flashing a grin.
It made her weak in the knees and stirred those blasted butterflies in her belly.
“You're very good,” she breathed. “Who taught you how to fight?”
His expression took on a melancholy air. “My father taught me most, but I've learned a thing or two along the way.” He picked up the sword. “I do what I can to stay sharp.” Arm in arm, they walked back to the stall.
“I find it rather interesting how easily you move after all that’s happened to you over the past few days,” she said, watching as he reverently wiped down both weapons before laying them on the table.
“Did I see a pub down the road? I'm thirsty.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the hubbub of the fair. “I think it’s this way,” he said, dragging her down the road to a set of heavy oak doors. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim interior, he headed to the bar, ordered two pints, and dragged her to a secluded booth.
Etain dropped onto the cushioned seat. “Beer. Yum.”
“Does it not suit you, mo chuisle?”
His innocent confusion made her smile. “There’s nothing better than a cold beer after a workout, aye?”
He grinned. “Aye!” Returning to the bar, he paid the bartender and whisked away both mugs.
“It does feel good to sit. I hadn’t realized how late it was. Watching you was captivating.” A bluesy ballad began to play on the jukebox.
“I could work with the blades for days.” Dar downed half his pint. “Ah, that's better.”
She relaxed back. “You are a marvel.”
“Am I?” he said, basking in her attention. “What makes you say that?”
“All the things you've suffered, the heartache and broken promises. Yet you still find wonder in this world.” She took his hands, turned them palms up, and ran her fingers out to his fingertips. He shivered from the intimate touch. Eyes on his face, she lifted his hands to her lips, kissing each one.
The Krymerian lord was speechless. He held his breath, waiting for the words he longed to hear from her lips. Her touch, her actions told him of her affections, but he needed her to say the words, wash away all doubt. Here was his future, bright and full of promise. Her eyes brightened.
“Come dance with me.”
“Beg pardon?” Not what he expected. “I'm no dancer,” he said, shaking his head.
“Don't give me that,” she laughed, sliding out of the booth, his hands still in hers. “After the way you moved with those swords? Not only can you dance, you have made a miraculous recovery, too.” He begrudgingly obliged, letting her lead him to the small dance floor. “I love this song,” she said, placing his arms around her waist.
The sensuous music amplified her charms. He found himself hypnotized by her scent as she moved against him. In a flash of inspiration, Dar spun her around, bringing her in close again. His hands firm on her waist, he pulled her in as close as he could. Etain snaked her arms around his neck.
She arched her back, following the rhythm of the song. He liked how this newly awakened passion seemed to have set her free. He yearned to run his hand down her bare midriff, but was afraid he may break the spell. Her moves drove him to the edge. His hand slid up her back, guiding her up to him. Dar dipped his head, catching her lip gently in his teeth and breathing in her gasp.
Sliding his tongue against her lips, he whispered, “Mo chuisle, sing for me.”
She pulled back. “I’m no singer,” she said, giving him a look that clearly questioned his sanity.
“I’m no dancer, yet here I am, dancing with my beautiful lady. You sang to me our first night.” His hips moved against hers. “Please.”
“That was different.”
Another familiar song played on the jukeb
ox. With a growl of satisfaction, he brought her even closer, their bodies moving as one, her voice soft in his ear.
“Perfect,” he whispered.
Breaking their embrace, they realized everyone in the bar had turned to watch their seduction. Etain cleared her throat, grabbed Dar's hand, and pulled him off the dance floor.
Boyish grin in place, he waved to the onlookers. “We're here every other Friday night.”
Etain giggled, collapsing into her seat. “Except this isn’t Friday.”
Dar slid in next to her. Her laugh and smile warmed his heart. If only it could always be this way. Not happy with the distance between them, he pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“What's wrong?” she asked, stroking his hair.
“You were too far away.” He nuzzled into her warmth, soothed by the steady beat of her heart. “I cannot lose you.”
“I'm not going anywhere, darlin’.” She tipped his head back and kissed him sweetly. “Let's go home. I want you all to myself.”
In a moment, they were gone in a blue shimmer.
At the castle, they ignored the looks from the clan, practically running up the stairs to Dar’s room. The door closed and the lock turned, Dar pulled her hips to his, leaning in for a kiss.
She placed her hands on his chest. “I want you to rest. I know you're feeling better, but we don't need a relapse now.”
“I thought you wanted me all to yourself.”
“I'm going to take a quick shower.” She ran her fingers through his soft hair. “I won't be long.”
“I could shower with you. Then you wouldn't be deprived of my inspirational company.”
“You’ve already done more than you should. Let’s not push it.” She wriggled from his grasp and dashed into the bathroom.
Dar leaned against the closed door. “I’m beginning to wonder about your obsession with bathing. Is there something I should know?”
He heard her laugh. “I guess it comes from my days with Darth. Bathing was a luxury we couldn’t afford.”
Dar chuckled, turning from the door. “How can I deny you such a simple pleasure?” Sitting on the bed, he removed his boots and sighed, wiggling his toes. Content to wait for his lady fair, he noticed the bathroom door slowly creep open. Curiosity winning over conscience, he was drawn to the widening gap.
Preoccupied with setting the shower temperature, Etain was obviously not aware of Dar’s perfect view of her in the mirror. The rhythm of his heart challenged the throb in his loins as he watched the water run through her silver hair, down the soft curves of her body, flowing over rounded hips, and down long, shapely legs. Beguiled by her unconscious sensuality, he removed his shirt, dropping it on the floor. His pants soon followed.
Etain turned, washing the shampoo from her hair. He held his breath, admiring how the movement emphasized the fullness of her beautiful breasts. Her hair rinsed, she reached for the bottle of conditioner, just missing it. One eye opened. She yelped, sputtering in the rush of water.
“Dar!”
He waited. He knew her heart was ready, but what of her mind?
“It's only me, mo chuisle.”
What was she getting herself into? She barely knew this man. The pronounced pounding of her heart, accompanied by flutters in her belly, told her he would demand more from her. More than she had ever given before. Perhaps more than she was willing to give.
Having jarred the bottle of conditioner with her fingertips, it fell onto the floor, breaking her trance. She looked away for a split second. When her eyes came back to him, she wondered why she’d never consciously appreciated the beauty of this man, the curve of well-defined muscles flowing from shoulder and chest to a flat belly and powerful thighs. Her heart skipped, noting the soft brown thatch around his well-endowed maleness. His brows lifted at her curious scrutiny. Her gaze traveling to his face, she blinked the water from her eyes and opened the shower door.
“Etain, I must tell you one thing-”
“Shhh.” She took his mouth, her teeth tugging gently on his bottom lip as her arms slid around his neck, pulling him into the shower. “Spirit is a very good friend.” Curious hands explored, as though checking the balance of a new sword…shoulders, breasts, bellies, down to those parts yearning for discovery. Tensions of one sort evaporated while others escalated beneath the falling water. He growled in response to her hot mouth on his skin. She reveled in the freedom of letting go, the scratch of stubble against her flesh, and the delicious intensity of his teeth as they raked sensitive peaks.
An overwhelming passion fed an unfamiliar hunger. She looked into his eyes, panting with the need to feel him inside, and froze.
“Etain?”
She began to shake. “I’m sorry. I can’t…” What is wrong with me? She pushed past him, leaving him alone in the shower. “I’m sorry, Dar.”
Etain felt embarrassed about letting things go that far, then running away to her room across the hall. How could she look him in the eye? But she did, opening the door to his knock. Not surprisingly, he didn’t smile.
“Come in,” she said, clutching the towel around her.
Dar stepped in, her clothes in his hand. “I thought you may need these.”
She closed the door quietly. “Thank you.” Turning, she didn’t know what to say. Her stomach churned, wishing she could shrug it off and move on. It would be so much easier if she didn’t care. She looked at him and found him watching her. “Dar-”
“Etain, I am sorry.”
“You’re sorry? For what?”
“I lost control. It’s obvious you are not ready. I should not have pushed myself on you.”
“You think what happened was your fault?”
“I took advantage of your inexperience. What I thought was burning passion-”
“Was burning passion.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m bloody well ready. Holy hell, am I ready,” she muttered, taking a deep breath, pacing back and forth in front of him. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long, long time. Granted, it’s taken some time to admit it to myself. But once I got past that, I was ready.”
Dar opened his mouth to speak, but she kept talking. “I was excited when you summoned us. I thought it would be my chance to find out if you felt the same.” She stopped long enough to catch his eye. “When you chose Faux…” She continued pacing, “I figured I had miscalculated. It didn’t make sense to me, given our history. But, as you say, I’m inexperienced.” She came to a standstill before him. “It’s my conscience. That’s the problem.”
“You’re worried about Faux?”
She shrugged. “Of course, you’d think of her.” Dar clenched his jaw, holding her gaze. “Inferno is like a father to me. This is his house and he wouldn’t approve of this. As much as I want to be with you, crazy as that sounds given our recent history, I will not take advantage of his trust. I cannot betray him under his own roof.”
His face fell. “You see making love with me as a betrayal?”
With those few words, he managed to knock the steam from her engines. It made her realize she had as much power over him as he did her. Seeing him this way, vulnerable and unsure, softened her heart, and made him sexy as hell.
“No, I do not.” She felt the air lift between them. “You have to remember we’re talking about Inferno here. You and me are still on shaky ground where he’s concerned. I want his blessing, but he won’t give it if he thinks he’s been betrayed. Can you see it from his point of view?”
He put his hands together and bowed his head, looking as though he were deep in prayer. Etain stayed patient, chewing the inside of her bottom lip, hoping he would be able to give in return. Several minutes passed before he raised his head, a somber expression on his face.
Please be the man I think you are.
“Inferno is an honorable man who deserves to be treated with respect in his own house. Thank you for saving us both from making a critical error.” His formality threw her a curve. Had s
he pushed him too far? “It is up to me to prove myself worthy of his trust.” He shrugged. “I have no idea how I’m going to achieve this massive task, but…” He gave her a grin, “I will find a way.”
She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth, losing her towel in the process. “You are a saint!”
He groaned. “I won’t be for long if we stay like this.” He retrieved the towel and wrapped it around her. “I know I said I would not be without you by my side, but I think it would be best if you stayed here tonight. Get your sleep. Tomorrow, we will re-evaluate your swordsmanship and work with your new blade.”
After leaving Etain, Dar went to Faux’s room, not yet ready to retire. Finding her alone, he pulled the chair close to the bed, then gently smoothed the hair from her face. She opened one eye. He placed a finger over her lips. “I wanted to say thank you again for saving my life.”
The door creaked, announcing Spirit’s arrival for the evening ritual. “What are you doing in here?” She was quick to inspect her charge, then turned a sharp eye on Dar, further inspecting his arms, turning each one over for any telltale sign of interference.
“I didn’t,” he said, submitting to her investigations. “I merely wanted to check on her.”
Satisfied, she released him and went about her business. “Provided that’s all you do. Let the lass heal on her own.”
“Aye, milady.” He lingered, watching the mage at work.
“Was there something else?” she asked.
“I have forged a new blade for Etain. Tomorrow will be a day of training, teaching her how to wield it in concert with the magic she now possesses.” Compelled by the protective nature of the woman, he gave her fair warning. “It won’t be easy for her to do, or you to watch.”
She stopped what she was doing, considering him for a few uneasy seconds. “I’m not sure how it is you’re able to move, let alone train anyone, even for a Krymerian.” With an authoritative finger in his face, she gave her two pence worth. “You make sure whatever knocks she gets are lessons well-learned. I know what you speak of, and yes, she has much to learn, but…” Her finger became more of a menace, “I see or hear of any unneeded brutality, I’ll not only put Inferno after your arse, I’ll make sure his powers are enhanced three times over and he makes a barbeque of your bloody carcass.”
