She smiled at him. “That’s a start.”
A thoughtful look crossed his features a moment before he looked back up, his gaze steady and intense. “I lack the words to describe your beauty.”
“No lies,” she said with a laugh, suddenly nervous.
He tilted her chin up to look at him. “None. Never between us.”
Heat climbed her face, but she kept her chin up.
Shadowdancer looked down at her, his eyes full of gratitude. Heat radiated off his body, and Sorsha fought the urge to touch him. It was probably a good thing they weren’t alone. If they were, things might escalate rather too quickly.
An impish smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Mild doubt assaulted her. “Are you sure you can’t read minds?”
He laughed. “That I was never able to do, my little mane ornament.” A moment later another emotion swept across his face and sadness glittered in his eyes. He shook it off and continued. “Even when I was at full strength, I couldn’t read minds. I could sense emotions and intent. During mind speech both participants can hear what the other says and sometimes thinks, but that isn’t the same as reading minds.”
“Close enough.” Sorsha relaxed another degree. He was beginning to sound like the Santhyrian she knew. While it might not last long, at least it was a start. Clearly, this particular battle was far from over, but she’d fight for Shadowdancer as long as required.
A throat being cleared made Sorsha turn toward the sound. Neveyah smiled at them in such a way Sorsha wondered how sappy they must have appeared to earn such an expression.
Shadowdancer stiffened, and then gave the Herd Mistress an elegant bow. “Many thanks, Lady Neveyah.”
“You are most welcome.” The Herd Mistress shared a look with Sorsha. “If either of you have questions or otherwise need guidance at any time, simply come to me.”
“Thank you.” Sorsha bowed to the Herd Mistress, copying Shadowdancer’s earlier gesture. “We will.”
“One final thing, and then I’ll let both of you rest. I’m not sure how much Shadowdancer has told you, but this camp,” the Herd Mistress gestured with a wide swing of her arm, “is one of our temporary camps, midway between our summer and winter homes. We have very limited accommodations and supplies until we reach our summer territory.”
Shadowdancer interrupted the Herd Mistress. “I can sleep with the herd. Sorsha can stay here with you.”
“No need. As I was going to say, one of the Lupwyn healer’s apprentices offered you the use of his tent. It’s only right that the new Herd Mistress have her own place.”
Sorsha frowned. “But I’m not a Herd Mistress, not anymore.”
“I can feel your Larnkin’s power again. She is weak, but growing stronger. She didn’t burn herself out saving Shadowdancer.”
Exhaling sharply, Sorsha jerked her gaze to Shadowdancer before she could think better of it. His eyes widened. This was news to him as well. He covered his shock with a wan smile then nodded to Sorsha.
“It is good we will have another Herd Mistress. The gods have been merciful.” His tone was carefully guarded but Sorsha detected the pain behind the words.
At first she didn’t understand it. Shouldn’t he be happy for her? If she could heal, he might too. Then she realized something else. If he didn’t heal and she did, one day her Larnkin would choose a Stallion Mage to compliment her power, and that was a role Shadowdancer could no longer fill.
Sorsha frowned, not liking the idea, but they would worry about that later.
“I am tired,” Sorsha took Shadowdancer’s hand before he could stop her. “Show me where I’ll be staying, and then maybe we can find some food.”
The Herd Mistress didn’t give Shadowdancer a chance to baulk. “Forgive me. I’ll have food sent to your quarters at once. And a bath as well.”
“Thank you.” Sorsha nodded to Mistress Neveyah, then sent Shadowdancer a bright smile she hoped looked reassuring.
Chapter Seventeen
Sorsha surveyed the big, as-of-yet empty wooden tub in the center of the pavilion. Rows of candles flanked the bathing tub, filling the air with the sweet scents of bees’ wax and sun-warmed grass. She curled her bare toes in the thick carpeting underfoot and sighed. Off to one side was another alcove, curtained off by plush drapes. “This is too much work. Let me just bathe in the river.”
“It is a Herd Mistress’s due,” Shadowdancer remarked in a bland tone.
Sorsha merely looked over her shoulder at Shadowdancer without comment, too tired to argue. He waited with a hip leaning against the small dining table, his expression set in an emotionless mask. She’d attempted to catch his eye all through dinner, but he’d focused on his food with a determination that shunned any other distraction. It hadn’t fooled her for a moment. He’d been avoiding her. Actually, if the way he was starting to gather up the dishes and tidy the table with a single minded determination was an indication, he was planning on ignoring her for the rest of the evening, too.
A third Santhyrian entered the tent and she stepped out of the way. The three-year-old colt trotted past with his load.
Shadowdancer made his way to the tub and muttered something to the colt. Once the young Santhyrian was in position, Shadowdancer twisted the valve at the bottom of a heavy water sack suspended from the colt’s harness. Water gushed into the wooden tub with a loud splashing sound, but not so much as a drop of water hit the carpets surrounding the tub. When the sack was empty, the colt turned, offering his other side. They repeated the same procedure and by the time the second was empty, another youngster had entered the tent and taken up position behind the colt.
Feeling guilty, Sorsha came to stand next to the bathing tub. “Really, the river would have been fine.”
“If you’re worried about feeling indebted, don’t. As a Herd Mistress, you will have many responsibilities. You’ll soon find those with hands will have many duties to keep those hands moving.” Shadowdancer chuckled. “The Herd can be very demanding at times.”
“I’m glad. I hate being indebted.”
“Just wait until burr season,” Shadowdancer muttered, then cleared his throat. “For now, Mistress Neveyah has forbidden any of the herd to pester you until you’ve had a chance to rest. After that,” Shadowdancer shrugged, “you’ll likely have a lineup of eager Santhyrians outside you’re tent each morning. We love our daily grooming sessions.”
Seeing no other option, Sorsha bowed to his wishes. Besides, it was difficult to argue against something she secretly wanted. The privacy of the tent offered the perfect opportunity to talk about the Twelve and if they might be able to fix what was broken. And the forced intimacy of sharing a tent might shrink the growing distance between her and Shadowdancer.
“Your bath is almost ready.” Shadowdancer’s voice jolted Sorsha back to the present.
“Thank you.” Fantasies of how she and Shadowdancer might go about shrinking the distance between them would just have to wait. She needed to talk about more pressing matters than their personal relationship.
“I’ll leave you to bathe in privacy,” Shadowdancer said and started for the door.
“You promised to talk later. It’s later.” She couldn’t fight off a yawn. “Besides, if you leave I’ll probably fall asleep in the tub and drown.”
“I can have one of the mares stay with you if you wish,” Shadowdancer said with a straight face.
Was he serious?
“A mare? Not exactly what I had in mind. We need a battle plan regarding our missing family members and the Twelve Talismans.”
Her words had the desired effect; he halted and turned back to her with a raised brow. “That’s hardly a talk to have when we’re both swaying with exhaustion. Better we leave that until morning.”
He’d have to be stubborn. Well, Sorsha grinned, she was a Stonemantle. Besides being stubborn, they also possessed the gift of bluntness.
Sorsha stepped up to him, her fingers coming to rest on his shoulde
rs. She stretched up onto her toes and brushed her lips against his in a brief kiss. “After the talk, I was rather hoping to continue what we’d started at the river.” She nuzzled the underside of his jaw.
“That isn’t possible.” Shadowdancer’s voice rasped out against her skin, warm and moist. He held himself rigid, nearly unmoving under her hands. He broke away with a look of undisguised anguish on his face. Other emotions rolled across his features too fast for her to assimilate. “I’m no longer a Mage. I’m no longer what you need.”
Sorsha frowned at him, her hands coming to rest on her hips. “I think I’m capable of deciding what I need, and who I love.”
“One day you’ll need a Stallion Mage….and I won’t be able to step aside if we do this.”
A finger to his lips stopped further words, but Sorsha sensed his turmoil. She had her own inner turmoil to deal with. Later, she told herself. For now she would not think beyond the moment. Her lips replaced her finger.
The heat of his fingers brushed her cheek a moment before he returned her kiss. Sorsha closed her eyes, seeking other senses. He smelled of male and wild places, of green grass and leather. Her hands molded against his bare chest, learning him. Skimming her fingers in a light caress down his sides made him chuckle. When she idly played her fingertips along his hipbones, he reached down and grabbed her hands, guiding them back up around his neck.
“You’re so soft.” He mumbled into her hair as he rubbed his cheek against hers. His hands glided along her sides and then stilled. The hesitation betrayed his indecision. Sorsha began placing gentle kisses along his shoulder. Bringing her hands from behind his neck, she rested them on his shoulders for a moment before sliding down until her hands caught his. She guided him to the laces on her vest.
“Beautiful,” he rumbled. “But your bath water is getting cold.” Then, in less time than it took to blink, his arms were around her. One arm snaked under her legs and the other across her back. She’d barely registered the feel of his body heat against her before he had lifted her and deposited her into the steaming water. Clothes and all.
“Shadowdancer!”
He pulled his hand free of her grip. Studying her from arm’s length, he sighed out a long bitter sound. “And as much as I want you, I can’t have you.” His frown deepened, taking on a hint of sorrow.
“Why, by the goddess of your prairies, not?” Sorsha’s words came out sharper than she’d intended, but didn’t care. He had just unceremoniously dumped her in the bathtub fully dressed.
“In the eyes of my people I’m….”
Sorsha scrambled to her feet, water pouring off her hair and clothing in sheets. “I don’t care what your people think. Our love is between us and no one else.”
“But they are correct. I’m no more use to you than a gelding is to a mare. You need a mage to strengthen your power. You’ll be a Herd Mistress again one day. I’ll never be anything more than I am now. Not in this lifetime.”
“We’ve been over this.” Sorsha despaired of ever making Shadowdancer see reason. “I don’t care if your Larnkin ever heals enough to form the link between Herd Mistress and Stallion Mage. I chose you regardless. Nothing will change my mind. I’m a Stonemantle and I’m going to be stubborn about this.”
“Your Larnkin may have other ideas.”
“Then she’s going to have a fight on her hands, the scope and duration of which she’s never seen before. I will not be a slave.”
Shadowdancer retreated toward the tent flap. If she didn’t do something, she was going to lose him. The noble idiot was going to put the herd above his own happiness. And Sorsha didn’t know how to change his mind, or even if she had the right.
“I don’t want to fight about this,” Sorsha whispered as she dropped down on the tub’s edge in defeat, her chin resting in her hands. “And I can’t lose you.” The words tumbled from her lips too quickly to stop them. Unshed tears collected in the corners of her eyes and her throat tightened. Damn it, she wasn’t going to cry again.
Shadowdancer returned to her side so fast, she was caught off guard by his sudden reversal and fierce expression. His arms embraced her and he was suddenly holding her to his chest like all else in the world was gone.
“You will never lose me. I denied death itself to remain with you. I am your friend now and always.” He held her against his chest with one arm while his free hand stroked her damp hair back from her face. He stilled his gentle caresses and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. “You are my soulmate always, and even if we are not bondmates in this life, one day in some future life, our Larnkins will regain their strength and forge the bond anew. I await that time with whatever patience I can master.”
“Thank you,” Sorsha whispered. His words renewed her hope. Somehow they would find a way and come together like her heart said they were supposed to.
“I do love you, please know that, but you need to finish your bath alone or whatever noble intensions I have will experience a quick death.” He gripped her shoulders and then held her out to arm’s length. Sorsha didn’t try to cling to him even though she wanted to; she needed to retain a little dignity.
“I’ll get a quick bath, and you can use the water while it’s still warm.” She tried for playful and unaffected, but failed miserable even to her own ears.
He pressed another kiss to the top of her head. “That sounds good, little one. I’ll go find some clean clothing for you.”
After he left, Sorsha stripped quickly and then bathed while deep in thought. There had to be a way to heal Shadowdancer. She sighed in defeat. He was grieving deeply and she didn’t know how to help, how to make him see he still had value.
Frustrated with her inability to come up with a solution, Sorsha dunked under the water and rinsed the soap from her hair, scrubbing with enough vigor to pull some strands out by the roots. When she came back up, she combed her fingers through her wet hair, squeezing the majority of the water out.
She was still mulling over the situation when Shadowdancer returned with an arm load of clothing and towels. He ignored her as he made his way over to the two sleeping areas tucked away in a cordoned off alcove at the rear of the tent.
She waited until he had fussed with the bedding longer than needed and then cleared her throat. “I’m finished and the water will be getting cold if you don’t use it soon.”
Shadowdancer didn’t respond, though he was fluffing one poor pillow with particular violence. And she didn’t miss how he glanced out of the corner of his eye from time to time. A smile tugged at her lips.
“Could you hand me a towel. I don’t want to drip all over the carpets.”
Unashamed, she stood with her arms relaxed at her sides. Shadowdancer looked up at last. While his expression held a hint of appreciation for several moments, in the end his eyes brightened with humor.
Then he chuckled and did as she asked, carrying over two towels. One he tossed over her head and the other he wrapped around her shoulders. “I love you, but you’re the most trying female I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a few.”
“You love a good challenge.”
“Indeed I do. And I always win.” He lifted her out of the tub and spun her around, laughing along with her. He deposited her on the ground and proceeded to rub her down with a towel. Sorsha basked in the pampering. When she was dry, he swatted the towel across her rump. “Go get dressed, little temptress. There’s a robe and nightdress next to your sleeping area.”
Wordlessly, Sorsha did as told. After she dressed, she watched him strip out of his own clothes. He hadn’t ordered her not to look, after all. The whole time Shadowdancer bathed, he never once looked in her direction or struck up conversation.
Sitting wrapped in her bedding, she wished it was Shadowdancer’s arms around her and not the impersonal warmth of a blanket.
“Hmmm, I think I’ve lost my cloth, could you bring me another?”
Sorsha jumped at the sound of his voice, still not used to Shadowdancer voicing his tho
ughts aloud. Then she started to laugh. “Try something more creative next time and I might offer you some aid.”
Shadowdancer’s eyes held a merry light at her words. With a supreme act of will, she broke eye contact and stared at the small central fire. It flickered in a slow dance and she imagined what the light would look like contrasting his body in its warm glow. Her fingers tingled. She fisted them and told her mind to stop conjuring sinful images.
Water sloshing against the tub captured her attention and she instinctively looked in the direction of the sound. A soft breathy sigh escaped her. Gods, he was gorgeous, a satisfying balance of toned muscle and masculine grace.
Naked and still dripping water, he stalked across the carpet to the neat pile of towels at the foot of his sleeping area. He turned his lean flanks toward her as he bent to retrieve the first towel. He dried himself with no show of modesty. So close, she could reach out and touch him—and earlier he’d rejected her advances. Now this. What game did he play?
Never mind, she told herself, I’m not playing.
Sorsha picked up the damp towel she’d been using on her hair. She balled it up and flung it at Shadowdancer’s naked ass. He made a most satisfying grunt of surprise. She didn’t look up at him even though she could feel his intent stare like a caress against her skin—she knew he was studying her expression by the intense feel of his scrutiny. Sorsha smoothed the bedding and crawled under, feeling for the first time the soft, tight knit weave against her skin.
The sound of soft foot falls against the carpet reached her ears. Still, she jerked in surprised reaction when he gathered the corner of her coverlet and tugged it up around her neck. His hands settled on either side of her shoulders as he leaned closer. Her stomach fluttered with nervous energy as possibilities played out in her mind. Warm lips, bordering on fire, pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Sleep well, Herd Mistress. Dream of me.”
With that he returned to his own bed and burrowed under the blankets without a backward glance at her. He tugged and pulled at the coverings until he had it the way he wanted. After a moment his breathing eased into sleep.
Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2) Page 14
