The Battle Lord's Lady

by Linda Mooney

  Atty stared at him intently, aware of his appearance and the fact that his sadness was like an dark aura around him. “You look like crap,” she replied softly, letting him know she empathized with him.

  “Fine, comforting words coming from you, when you’ve had a few hours of sleep.” Although his words were scathing, his tone was anything but. Yulen reached out with a finger and ran it over a trail of juice covering her chin. He stuck the finger in his mouth and smiled. “Peaches?”

  “I’ve never had one before,” she told him. Before she could say another word, he had pulled her into his arms. His mouth descended over hers. Atty shivered as his tongue tasted her lips and started a path of fire over her chin and down her neck, following the sweetness with his hot breath.

  Her own breath quickened as she melted against his hard body, unable to resist the ache inside her that was quickly becoming more intense. She could hear him moan as he tried to devour her, tried to lose himself in her and in her body.

  Atty ceased struggling and wrapped her arms around his neck. She knew that a part of him was seeking surcease from what was one of the most difficult burdens a Battle Lord had to bear—the cremation of one of his soldiers. Except, this time, there were sixteen today he had to send to the flames.

  She said nothing as his hands grew rougher, and his tongue and mouth grew hotter. He had shifted her over into one arm, holding her tightly so he could lift her under her knees, and press her closer to him with the other. Closing her eyes, Atty let his overwhelming need seize her. She was drowning in his desire, fighting her own raw lust that engulfed her in blankets of heat. She prayed for him not to stop.

  She felt him rip open the shirt she’d put on the night before, one of his shirts she’d found in the second bureau drawer, the white shirt she’d used as a nightgown to help keep her warm until he returned. The white shirt he now shredded from her body so he could devour her breasts. His tongue sucked and licked, until she wanted him to place all of her in his mouth and consume her. Her nipples were like puckered berries, ripe and tantalizing. When his teeth closed over them, she lifted her hips and cried out as little knives of desire sliced into her woman’s core.

  Her breath caught in her throat as his free arm lifted her almost perpendicular to him, allowing him unrestricted access to her exposed body. She was unable to help herself from arching her back. His mouth on her bare skin was an experience she’d prayed she would experience after their night in Foster City, and she found herself lost in the storm that was flooding her senses with indescribable need. This was nothing like the other night. Nothing.

  He tasted her belly, tonguing the goosefleshed expanse of warmth and softness before finding and assaulting the small, dimpled navel. It wasn’t until he reached the fragrant valley of indigo curls that he finally lifted his face and shuddered.

  “Oh, God, Atrilan...”

  She whimpered, melting under his ministrations as he parted her thighs with his tongue, his arms holding her body to where she couldn’t move, couldn’t escape, couldn’t do anything but let him take total possession of her. He raised her hips and dove for her clit, taking the stiff nub between his teeth and tongue, and teasing them until she could feel herself rising on that same storm cloud of emotions she’d felt last night.

  Then, to her utter shock, he suddenly released her, dropping her to her feet before he strode over to the window, placed his hands on the sill, and lowered his head as he breathed in huge gulps of fresh air.

  There was a hesitant knock on the door. Atty then understood why he’d released her. Gathering the remnants of her shirt about her, she went over to the bed and sat at the head, tucking one foot beneath her. Her nerves were still on fire. Her thighs were wet, and her skin tingled were his mouth had left a burning trail. Her heart was beating so fast she was nearly light-headed.

  The knock came again.

  “Come,” Yulen ordered in a tight voice, keeping his stance at the window.

  It was Berta with another small army of servants bearing more buckets on poles. Atty watched as they trooped into the bathroom to refill the huge brass tub with warm water. Before they had a chance to leave, Yulen tore off his stained tunic, tossing it onto the floor, and quickly went into the bathroom. As she exited the room, the servant woman picked up the shirt as Atty assumed she had countless times in the past.

  When the woman caught sight of her over on the bed, Atty gave her a small smile. “Thank you,” she told the servant again. This time, Berta nodded in response before shooing the rest of the staff out of the room, closing the door behind her as she also left.

  Atty hurried to the bathroom, pausing at the door. Yulen was in the tub. His pants were thrown onto the floor nearby, and his weapons belt hung from the back of the chair by the window. She watched as he submerged himself under the water, staying there for several seconds before coming back up for air. Smoothing his hair over his scalp, he blinked water from his eyes to see her watching him from the other side of the room.

  “This tub can hold two,” he commented.

  “I know.”

  “Come join me.”

  “I had my bath last night,” she told him, feeling the sensations he’d initiated deep within her slowly heating back up and tightening in her belly.

  “Join me, Atrilan. I want you.”

  She tried to breathe, but her throat had closed up. Biting her lower lip to hold back the tears that wanted to fill her eyes, she shook her head. “You don’t want me,” she finally managed to whisper. “You want a mistress.”

  Her mouth dropped open as Yulen rose from the tub, stepped out of it, and walked over to her. Water sluiced down his naked body, and she was unable to stop her eyes from taking in his hard, muscular arms and chest, his flat stomach, and his quickly swelling erection. It jutted outward, a thick, muscular pole.

  Spit stuck in her throat and her eyes widened, unable to tear her gaze from his length. She took a step back as he advanced, unknowingly pinning herself against the door. Yulen slammed both hands to the wood, caging her with his body, and looked down at her with his nose mere inches away from hers. Despite the iciness in his eyes, there was a hint of sadness in his voice.

  “I am risking everything to have you. I am risking it all so that one day you can walk among my people with your head held high. So that you and I can declare ourselves as husband and wife. But until the day you take your vows with me, and that time will come, Atrilan, I promise you, let me have the liberty of you. I want your kisses. I want your body. I’m wanting you. Not a mistress. You. Now.”

  He turned and strode back into the tub, easing himself down again as his aching muscles protested against the hot water. Glancing back up at her, he waited to see what she would say. What she would do.

  There was no way her heart could deny him.

  Throwing off the torn shirt, she hurried over and stepped into the tub. The shock of hot water couldn’t stop her from throwing herself into his arms, or from pressing herself against his strong, lean body. As she met the ferocity of his kisses with her own, she was dimly aware of his hands spreading her legs across his lap, to straddle him where he sat beneath her. Unconsciously she rose up on her knees, sliding her body along his, as the terrible ache below her belly traveled downward and grew hotter than the water surrounding them.

  His mouth found her neck once more. His hands cupped her breasts, teasing them with calloused thumbs until she moaned from the sensations overwhelming her.

  “Yul!”

  His hands grabbed her hips and started to lower her slowly over himself. As his erection began to penetrate her, Yulen again felt the subtle resistance of her virginity. He paused, taking a shaky breath that turned into a deep groan. Hands trembling, he shook his head and lifted her.

  “No...no...”

  “Please!” she sobbed softly in his ear. Her own hands reached down to touch him, to grasp him, to guide him back to where he could open her final portal. In her hands he was thicker than a pole, but covered i
n the softest skin.

  “No!” He shifted, grasping her hands that still held him, and moving them to where he could safely rest within her without penetration.

  Atty trembled in his arms. She cried softly, begging him. Wanting him. Knowing that it no longer made any difference to her because at this moment she needed him more than he was needing her. She had to have him inside her to erase this burning, debilitating clenching in her womb. Yulen held her tightly, drawing up his knees beneath her so that there was no danger of him accidentally breaking her.

  “No,” he whispered again through his own tears. “I am honoring your terms with my own, Atrilan. On the day you take your vows with me, I’ll take your virginity, and then there will be no stopping my making love to you all day, every day, and all night, if we so desire.”

  “Yul...”

  “Those are my terms, my beloved,” he murmured in her ear. In the water her wet hair was a curtain of silk strands that tickled and caressed their skin as it flowed back and forth between their bodies.

  “That’s blackmail,” she gasped. Her hands were still trapped between their thighs. Teasingly, provocatively, she squeezed his steel-like length with her fingers. It took both hands to hold him. He reacted as every muscle in his body stiffened.

  “Atrilan, I have enough guilt on my conscience right now. If you lose your ability when I take you completely, I want us to have no regrets. I never want you to look back on that moment with despair.” Pulling her back gently, he gazed into her eyes. “I love you.”

  “Then show me,” she begged throatily. “Show me.”

  Reaching between them, Yulen took her hands away from where they held him, and slid down further into the tub until the water covered his shoulders and she was resting almost on top of him. Carefully, he took himself in one hand and began to rub within her, finding that part of her that responded without penetration. Atty gasped; her body convulsed as he used the head of his penis to masturbate her, provoking and coaxing her orgasm.

  Slowly she began to slide the length of her body up and down his as he continued to build her passion with himself. Water sloshed over the sides of the tubs, unheeded as their rhythm grew steadily faster and wilder. He kept her pressed to his groin with his free hand, and Atty clutched his shoulders, using her knees to help her seesaw her breasts over his chest, scraping his skin with her hard, tight nipples.

  Their mutual release came without warning, catching them unprepared for the power it contained. Their bodies spasmed, and Yulen cried out as his fingers dug into Atty’s hips. A bright, sharp pain arched through his neck, and he realized she had bitten him inadvertently when she’d climaxed.

  As they both drifted, semi-conscious in the aftermath, Yulen wrapped his arms around her to hold her tighter against him. Atty settled her forehead in the crook of his shoulder and closed her eyes. The warm water enveloped them as it settled back in the tub.

  She knew he would have to get up soon and get dressed to begin the emotionally grueling ordeal of standing over and lighting sixteen funeral pyres. Lifting her head, she kissed the golden stubble on his cheek. “I’ll be with you,” she told him softly. He nodded silently, eyes closed.

  While he was out there she would be with him in spirit and soul, if not in body. She prayed it wouldn’t be long before she could stand next to him and before his people without trepidation. Because once that day came, all terms of their conditions would be met, and they could finally have their first night of true, unrestricted passion.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Enemies

  Atty stood by the window all day and watched Yulen as he personally tended to every family, spoke solemn words over each wrapped body, and helped to light the wood below the pyre. There was another man dressed in dark robes who remained with him throughout each ceremony. She guessed he had to be their man of faith for the compound.

  At one point she caught Yulen glancing in her direction. He must have known she would be watching from that particular window. And although he made no gesture or motion that he’d seen her, she knew he was aware of her.

  The wind was blowing in from the northwest, keeping the smoke from enveloping the compound. Still, the odor of the burning bodies was inescapable. As midday approached, nine of her victims had been sent to their eternal rest. The remainder would be taken care of that afternoon. In the distance she could hear a bell toll nine times, then seven more times.

  Berta came with another tray. The amount of food on it was tremendous, making Atty venture to ask the woman, “Why do you bring so much?”

  “The Battle Lord specifically asked me to,” the servant replied. “Especially the milk. I was ordered never to forget the mug of milk.” For the first time she paused and dared to ask a question back. “What are we supposed to call you?”

  Atty managed a sad smile. “What are they calling me downstairs? Or do I want to know?”

  Berta gave a little grunt. “They say your name is Atty, but I thought I heard the Battle Lord refer to you by another name once.”

  She took a shaky breath. “My full name is Atrilan Ferran. He’s the only one to call me Atrilan. Everyone else calls me Atty...when they’re not using other choice words.” She gave the woman a wary smile.

  The servant woman nodded. She hadn’t missed the wide swath of water overflowed from the tub onto the floor, nor the shredded shirt when she’d come up to clean earlier.

  “Atty,” the woman softly said to herself, as if she were tasting it to see if it was palatable. “I’ll be back this evening with your dinner tray.” Giving her a curt nod, the woman left.

  In the afternoon the wind shifted, but the change in the weather had been anticipated. The remainder of the funerals were on the opposite side of the compound where Atty couldn’t watch, even though she could still hear the sounds of crying and the crackling of flames. When the sun had passed over the roof to the other side of the main lodge, she decided to lie down for an hour. The sun was beginning its descent when she awoke and saw the woman standing at the foot of the bed, watching her.

  Shaking the sleep from her eyes, Atty sat up and scrambled back toward the wall. Her ears could catch no sound other than the soft echoes of the dying fires in the distance. The funerals were over. Tomorrow would be a fresh day.

  “All I have thought about today is what our people would do to you if I had you dragged out into the courtyard and left you there for them,” the woman began darkly.

  “Yulen would never allow you to do that,” Atty returned. The woman couldn’t hurt her physically, and they both knew it. The Battle Lord’s protection was absolute.

  Madigan nodded. “True, but I can still have my dreams, can’t I?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I had to see you. I had to see for myself, and witness for myself.” The woman walked across the room to peer through the door and saw the damp floor still drying in the bath. She took a ragged breath. “Knowing you’re here in his rooms, that’s hard enough for me to have to swallow. But knowing he’s been having you in his bed...” She bowed her head and placed a hand to her face.

  “You know Yulen never came to bed last night,” Atty reminded her in a tight voice.

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Madigan whirled on her. “What about the night before that? What about tonight? And tomorrow night? And the night after that?” She held up one balled-up fist and shook it at her. “Does he really expect me to look the other way when he’s copulating with a Mutah under this roof?”

  Atty crawled off the bed but remained at a safe distance. “Yulen hasn’t done that with me,” she informed the woman.

  The look of disgust that passed over the woman’s face was like a blow to the stomach. “Don’t even start with your lies!”

  “I’ve never had a man,” Atty told her, trying to keep from breaking down. The woman’s hatred was so thick, it was choking. “I’m still a virgin. Yulen told you that!”

  Madigan reacted by grabbing one of the
dishes off the tray and hurling it toward her. “Liar!” Her aim was poor. Dish and food went sliding across the floor.

  “Go on!” Atty yelled at her. “Ask Liam! Have him come up this minute and have him examine me! He’ll tell you. Then will you believe me?”

  Mentioning the physician had an impact on the woman. She took a couple of steps back but remained staring at her for a long moment. “Why?” she finally asked. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

  “Oh, yes, there is,” Madigan chuckled. “There has to be. Or else Yulen would have already made you one of his women. Oh, yes, I know my son. You’re too beautiful not to have caught his eye, even with your morning glory hair.”

  Atty cast her eyes downward as she shook her head. How could she explain to the woman that how she looked had nothing to do with Yulen’s decision to bring her to Alta Novis? How could she make his mother understand the self-imposed torment they were putting themselves through?

  “Please. Listen to me,” she asked the older woman. “I have this skill—”

  “With a longbow,” Madigan interrupted. “Yes, I know. I’ve heard nothing but stories about what you did since Yul returned. I know I also owe you a thank you for saving his life from that ferret. Well...you have my thanks,” she grudgingly allowed.

  “I saved his life because I fell in love with him,” Atty told her softly.

  “Oh, spare me your platitudes! You’re here because he wants you to teach the men how to use the longbow. He wants you to spill your secrets.”

  Atty nodded. “Initially, yes. I didn’t plan on falling in love with him. He never planned on loving me, either. It just happened. And now we’re paying the price for it.”

  “Really!” Madigan laughed, although her face still showed her bitterness toward the Mutah girl. “How are you paying a price?”

  “If I lose my virginity, I will lose all my ability with the longbow. My people have told me that all my life,” Atty confessed, her fists clenched by her side. “Yulen has asked me to be his wife, which would mean my giving up my skills, and I am more than willing to sacrifice them for him. But I placed a condition on his offer.”