by Jackie Ivie
“About you!”
Averill looked to the top of the lean-to, where the poles connected. She’d never noticed it before, but they’d cut slots to put them together, so there wasn’t any way it could collapse on the sleepers below. She chewed on the meat until it could be swallowed. She had to keep her head up to do so, though.
“You’re not going to answer me, are you?”
Averill shut her eyes, sent every emotion away so he wouldn’t be able to spot it, and lowered her head to meet his gaze. Her heart fell, and she probably lost her color, but she kept her expression uninterested. Captain Tennison was gifted with lush eyelashes and such warm brown eyes that it really wasn’t fair. He was also very handsomely put together, despite what she’d first thought. She swallowed again and again and then she smiled.
“You didn’t say anything worth listening to. That’s why.”
He scrunched his eyes shut and his entire face tightened. That look went right into the deepest region of her. She was grateful he wasn’t watching. Averill bent her head and picked through the sup as if searching for a choice morsel. She was afraid she was going to have to try and eat another bite.
It was a small enough price to pay, she supposed.
“Thank you,” he said softly from his side of the pot.
“For what?” Averill answered the stew.
“You already know. And you’re very good at it, too.”
“I don’t understand, Captain. I’m tired of saying that. You asked me to pretend, didn’t you?”
“Not with me!”
His voice cracked, and Averill hadn’t any experience to draw on to avoid how that felt.
Because she loved him.
There. She admitted it. And it wasn’t a wonderful sensation. It was a torment beyond anything she’d known. The taste of the whip was nothing in comparison. She looked away, hardened her resolve, and answered the side of their shelter.
“Perhaps I’d best sleep beside Pegasus tonight. You’re in a temper, and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it. If I stay silent, it angers you. And if I answer, it annoys.”
“Averill. Look at me.”
What little she’d eaten of their sup was curdling in her belly. Look at him? She’d rather die, staked out with honey poured over her for the ants to feast on. She finally answered airily, and in a tone she didn’t know she possessed.
“I don’t know what bothers you, Captain. Perhaps you do regret taking me from Sen-Bib, but I don’t. The man was a thief. I’m well rid of him.”
“What of the future?”
“It’s not your issue. I’ll survive. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you or your gold. I didn’t before, did I?”
“You were starving,” he said softly and with such tenderness that Averill winced.
“Only to the untaught eyes of a foreigner.”
“Is that what I am to you?”
She raised her head and looked at him with as much disdain as she was capable of mustering. “You’re my patron, Captain, nothing more. I thank you for buying me supplies so I can paint for you, and for believing me at the Palace. I hope I have paid for my passage in this manner. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
He didn’t answer. He simply raised his eyebrows. Averill had to look away.
“I don’t feel especially hungry. Enjoy.”
She watched the spoon he’d dropped sink beneath the vegetables in the pot as he left her.
She’d been right about one thing.
It was killing her.
CHAPTER TEN
The dream had been so real she might as well as have been running all night.
Averill groaned from her position atop Pegasus. Her dream castle had been the same, but this time she hadn’t been the queen ruling her kingdom. She’d been on the parade grounds, running for her life from the knight that had come for her through the mists.
Averill was actually amazed she’d slept. Captain Tennison had returned late. She’d been pretending to sleep. She’d listened and waited for Captain Tennison to join her in slumber. That way, she could cry all she needed to, and no one would have been the wiser. She rubbed at her thighs mindlessly, almost wishing she had cried.
Captain Tennison had been in a brutal temper when she’d awakened. He’d shaken her awake at the same time he rose and pulled the blanket from her, too. He hadn’t said a word to her in greeting, either. He’d simply looked right through her and stalked off.
Averill was fatigued. Depressed. Emotionally drained. She wondered how much worse it would be before they reached Damascus. If last night had been a taste, she was in trouble.
“Oh, no,” she muttered as Captain Tennison broke rank and began riding toward her.
The string moved without his lead. Averill watched him approach with anxiety and a trace of fear. She knew he was coming to speak with her. She began preparing herself. It felt like a stone sat in the pit of her belly, and every time she swallowed, it got bigger.
His horse turned and he slowed his stride. Averill concentrated on controlling her trembling hands on the reins.
“Good morn, Averill.”
She returned the greeting, but it was mumbled. His eyes sharpened on her and she had to look away. Eye contact was much too dangerous.
“That isn’t much of a lover’s greeting. I will forgive it this once. I must think of a suitable present to give you, I suppose. What is it you desire?”
The words were lover-like, but his tone was crisp and harsh. Averill looked across at him before shying away. He needed to work on his acting, she decided. No one in listening distance would be fooled.
“I want nothing from you,” she replied to the leagues of sand on the other side of Pegasus.
“I didn’t ask if you wanted it, I asked what you desire.”
“You make no sense.”
“Lovers give tokens. Visual tokens. I have been lax.”
“I don’t wish a token from you, either.”
He sighed heavily. She heard it. “Tokens are also a mark of ownership. As I just mentioned, I’ve been lax. I shouldn’t need to have it pointed out by my own servant.”
“Oh.” Averill watched the sand shimmer with heat. It wasn’t helping, but she didn’t dare look to the man at her side.
“If you don’t look at me occasionally, we’re not going to be successful at our ploy, Averill.”
She forced herself to look over at him. He wasn’t smiling. He had his eyes narrowed, too.
“The men. Remember? You’re my woman. You’re not available to them. They’re not to look, let alone approach you.”
“If none had approached me, I wouldn’t have eaten.”
He frowned. “What?” he asked.
Averill stiffened. “If you speak of my punishment, you speak needlessly. It is over, is it not?”
“Punishment?”
Averill had clamped her own lips shut the moment she finished. It hadn’t been soon enough. She looked straight ahead at the column of horses and camels, and noted more than one man looking over his shoulder at them. She knew her color was high. She didn’t know how to change it.
“I asked you a question, Averill.”
He must have moved his horse closer to Pegasus, for the soft way he said the words felt like they were whispered at her ear.
“Your men have noticed your presence at my side. You can leave, I think.”
“And you avoid confrontation exactly as my aunt does. I’m going to repeat my question. You spoke of punishment. What would you have done to need such?”
Averill turned her head, met his look squarely and forced the words.
“I received your kiss. I may have listened when you spoke of feelings for me in a fever-induced state. I may have thought things…things that no half-bred bastard has a right to think. I am unfit to hear such. I understand perfectly, Captain Tennison. Perfectly.”
He was silent so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. “You still haven’t told me what token you’d like
,” he said finally.
“I need nothing from you, nor would I accept it.”
“Well, you’re going to get something. Perhaps a necklace?”
“I will not wear it.”
“Why not?”
Because wearing a lover’s token from you would be too heart-breaking! She shrugged. She didn’t think her throat would work.
“We play a dangerous game, Averill. I should have realized it the moment I suggested it.”
She waited for him to finish.
“Did you hear me?”
She nodded.
“And do you understand?”
“I already said I did. You are pretending to be my lover and protector for the length of this journey. You are doing it for misguided reasons about my welfare. I have no right to expect more than that. Therefore, I do not.”
“For God’s sake, will you cease speaking that drivel?”
Averill wrinkled her forehead into a frown as she looked over at him.
“That’s right. Puzzle it through. I expected more from you.”
He lifted the reins and kicked his horse into a trot before she could answer.
~ ~ ~
Averill dreaded the day’s end as much as she longed for it. Captain Tennison hadn’t approached her again, but he was standing in Pegasus’ spot. He had his arms folded across his chest and one leg cocked in front of the other as he stood there. His burnoose had a split in the front, which allowed him to ride horseback. Captain Tennison’s was gapped enough to show trousers that molded to him, outlining him easily. He must realize what a picture he presented. He almost looked posed. Averill wished she didn’t know that much, as she kept her eyes downcast and her hands tight on the reins. The camel shuffled its way into position and kneeled down.
“If you take much longer, our sup will be inedible,” the captain remarked.
“Where is…the other man?” she asked, although she had to clear her throat to ask it.
“I’ve been lax. And so, I am taking his place.”
Averill didn’t know how to answer, so she didn’t. She slid one leg over to join the other before she could stand. She knew he watched her do it. All of her knew it.
“Don’t you even wish to know why?”
“If you want me to know, you will tell me.” She stood.
“I think I liked your silence much better than this subservient manner. Why have you started using it now?”
He took a step closer to her, lowering his head as he did so. He might not realize it, but he was shutting out the evening behind him, and making his breath mingle with hers. Averill couldn’t answer. She was afraid to breathe.
“And I think, had you tried it earlier, you’d have Harvey right in your hand, along with the rest of us. As it is, he’s the only one not singing your praises. Why do you think I’m escorting you now?”
Averill looked up. “As I already asked, and you failed to answer it, I don’t see why I need ask again. You will tell me when you wish me to know.”
He groaned softly. If she hadn’t been standing where she had, she wouldn’t have heard it.
“I’m liking this about as much as you are, at present, Averill. Look at me.”
Averill slid her gaze to his, her head brushing his chin as she did so. She felt him tremble. It matched hers.
“Now pretend you’re in love with me. No. Don’t do that. Pretend you’re my lover. No. Forget that. Pretend you’re the woman that warms my bed. Oh…blast! That’s even worse.”
Averill’s eyes widened.
“We’ve an audience, Averill. Don’t look!”
This last was hissed as she made the motion to do so.
“Just gaze at me, pretend I’m the man of your dreams, and blow me a kiss or something. Not like that! Don’t do it like that!”
Averill didn’t know how to blow a kiss. She barely knew how to purse her lips, although that was the motion Captain Tennison was most adamant against. Then she knew why. His arms enfolded her, lifting her from the sand and bringing her against his chest, and then holding her there.
“Damn you, Averill,” he murmured against her forehead. “Damn you, and those eyes of yours.” He moved his lips along her hairline, and then buried his head against her shoulder. “I shouldn’t do this. I mustn’t. I can’t. This isn’t…”
Denials came with each movement of his lips as he slid them along her throat, and to the ridge of her chin. Averill was having a difficult time defining reality. He reached her mouth. Averill had hers open and panting and very nearly lunged to connect their lips just before he lifted his head from her.
She couldn’t define the look in his brown eyes. It looked like anger. And loathing. And something worse. Then he turned his head aside, shutting her out completely. Averill watched the cording of veins in his throat as he set his jaw. And he was shaking.
He set her back on her feet with a deliberate motion. He removed his arms from her with the same sense of exactitude. He took a step back from her with military precision. And then he looked down at her with absolutely no expression. Averill pulled her bottom lip into her mouth.
“Look. Averill. I’m proving ownership. Could you just help me?”
Averill’s eyes smarted. She blinked the sensation from existence. He was play-acting for his men? She should have known.
“No one owns me,” Averill replied.
“Oh. Yes. I do. During this trek, I not only own you, but I’ll make certain every man here knows it. You’re much too beautiful. You’re too blasted desirable. And you’re incapable of protecting yourself. Someone has to do it, and by God, since I took on the assignment, I’ll not fail. I will not allow you to be ravished.”
“No one has tried to ravish me, Captain.”
“Oh. I just did, sweet.”
Averill gasped, and went cold. And then hot.
“You’re not available to them. You’re under my protection. There’s to be no more fighting over it.”
“Fighting?”
Averill’s eyes widened. No one had dared…had they? Was that what the loud voices each evening had been?
“Well, don’t just stand there. Hold to my arm while I escort you to our shelter. But don’t hold too tightly. Or, if you do, prepare for the consequences.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Oh, I think you understand perfectly.”
“You can’t be saying these things to me, Captain.”
“Oh, can’t I? Come along, Averill. We’ve put on enough of a show. If any man still thinks you available, he’s a bloody fool.”
He led her through the middle of the camp, keeping her close to his side the entire time, his hand atop hers where it rested on his arm. It was too close, and they weren’t even at his lean-to, yet! If any of the men noticed them, or looked their way, she didn’t see it. She kept her eyes on the sand below them, highlighted by each fire as they passed. She skipped more than once to keep pace with the captain.
The tent was the same, both pallets closely placed to each other exactly like every other night, and yet it felt different. Averill didn’t know what had changed. She only knew it wasn’t good.
“Come along. It isn’t going to get easier if we avoid it.” He had the tent flap lifted up and gestured her inside with the motion of his arm.
“What isn’t?” she asked.
“Intimacy. I should think it readily apparent.”
He was on his knees right behind her. Averill sank onto her buttocks on the pallet.
“In...timacy?”
“Don’t try and tell me you feel nothing, all right? I believed it last eve. And I’ll tell you now. It wasn’t amusing.” His voice was muffled on the last as he pulled the burnoose over his head.
“But...”
Her voice stopped. She didn’t know what to say or do. She’d done the best acting she could, and he hadn’t believed it? He lay down on his pallet, rolled onto his back and put both hands beneath his head to look over and up at her.
“I have si
nce realized the truth, Averill. You playacted last night with me. And I have to tell you. You’re going to have to improve.”
Averill looked down at his reclining form. The shirt he wore wasn’t doing much to disguise him, she decided, uneasily eyeing the ripples of muscle evident everywhere. It was very warm in their lean-to, but she shed her cloak hesitantly, spending countless moments folding and then refolding it.
“Your sup, Captain. Ma’am.”
Captain Tennison winked at her. The cloak dropped at her knees. Averill didn’t pay much attention to the pot of stew they received, nor when a bowl of it was ladled out for her. She automatically put her hands out, held it, and felt the heat warm her fingers. She was only half-aware of tasting the broth, didn’t note when she sipped her fill, nor when she placed the bowl next to the pot.
All she was aware of was the captain.
She knew each bite he put into his mouth and how long it took. It didn’t surprise her that he had two helpings. He hadn’t reached his size by starvation. She also knew he hadn’t eaten much the night before. She should be hungrier. She wasn’t. She knew why – his certainty that last night was an act. How could he know? And what else could she do?
Captain Tennison put his empty bowl next to the stew pot, went on his knees and shoved it all out the door. Then, he pulled the door flaps down and tied them together, sealing them in. Averill watched it all happen. She still wasn’t prepared when he turned and sat astride his pallet, facing her. It probably showed on her face as she looked across at him.
“Well. You ready?” he asked.
Averill frowned.
“Lean toward me, Averill. And don’t worry so. We’ve got a little show to put on. I don’t think we’ll need more than a kiss.”
“A k-k-kiss?”
“All right. Maybe not.”
“But the light!”
“The light would bother you? Is that all?”
Averill didn’t answer.
“You want to know what gave you away?”
He went up on his knees and reached for her as he spoke. She didn’t have anything to fight with as his hands held beneath her arms, bringing her to her knees to face him. He spent long moments smoothing escaped tendrils of her hair from her cheeks, before cupping his hands about her face. Averill didn’t struggle as he pulled her closer, bending in order to reach her lips. He gave the slightest groan before his mouth reached hers.
