Love's Call

by C. A. Szarek

  Ansley rubbed her tongue against his, whimpering. She gave and took as much as he did, sucking, nibbling, tongues dancing and dueling.

  Leargan pushed her against the corridor wall, mapping every inch of her tall slender form. His fingertips brushed her bare neck, following the V of her tunic, and he wanted to dip his hand inside, but he cupped her breasts on the outside of the soft fabric instead.

  Ansley arched against him, moaning.

  His erection pulsed in his breeches while he struggled for control. Need was burning him from the inside out.

  She snaked her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his hair.

  He lifted her leg, slipping his hand to the underside of her thigh, and nestling his pelvis against hers.

  The feel of her leather breeches made him pause. Too bad she wasn’t wearing a skirt. He would’ve been touching her skin then. But it wouldn’t be long. He had to touch her.

  She pressed even closer, gasping from the intimate contact.

  Leargan groaned and rocked his hips. He reached for her belt. Her hot bare skin was only inches from his fingertips.

  “Leargan,” Ansley breathed against his lips.

  Her voice snapped him out of the passionate fog.

  His name on her lips...Innocent.

  What are you doing?

  This was Ansley Fraser, not some whore or willing maid. He had her against the wall of a lit corridor in the middle of the day where anyone could have seen them.

  Leargan had been about to take her, for Blessed Spirit’s sake.

  She was no doubt a virgin.

  Disgust shot his desire to hell and his gut roiled.

  He never lost control, let alone with a woman. Leargan needed to get away from her before he did something that couldn’t be reversed, something they’d both regret.

  Releasing her, he stifled a groan when his gaze raked her face.

  Ansley’s eyes were hazy and confused, her lips swollen from their kisses and cheeks flushed. Her red hair was pleasantly mussed, and it took all he was made of not to draw her back into his arms and kiss her again.

  His neck tingled from her touch and his whole body throbbed. “I’m sorry,” Leargan panted.

  Her brow knitted and she straightened against the wall.

  He tore his gaze away.

  Coward.

  “I need to see to some…duties.”

  One boot in front of the other, Leargan forced himself to walk away while he still could.

  Chapter Six

  Ansley put her fingertips to her lips. She could still feel him there, taste him.

  The corridor blurred, and tears scalded her cheeks before she could stop them.

  He’d apologized.

  For kissing her. Walked away.

  Her chest ached. Had she just been stabbed in the heart?

  Leargan’s apology ruined what they’d shared.

  She’d been thinking about him when they’d collided in the corridor.

  Wide enough that two warhorses could walk it abreast, yet she’d run into him. Her cheek had smarted, but she’d been fine.

  Was it fate?

  Ansley ignored the notion. Just because he finally knew who she was didn’t mean he was for her. A man as handsome as Sir Leargan Tegran could have any woman he wanted. Why would he even consider freckle-faced Ansley Fraser?

  But he’d kissed her. Twice.

  She’d never experienced longing like she had at the first touch of Leargan’s lips. The feel of his hard body pressed against hers. Protected, but consumed at the same time. It was an odd contradiction that left her wanting to get even closer to him. She’d had to hold onto him to remain on her feet, but Leargan hadn’t seemed to mind—at least at the time.

  When he’d lifted her leg and pushed himself into her, something had shouted for her to stop him, but she couldn’t. She’d waited too long for him.

  Ansley wanted Leargan, and the evidence pressed against her told her the feeling was mutual.

  Could she have been so wrong?

  Tears cascaded and she sniffled, swiping at her nose with the back of her hand.

  No. Don’t think about it.

  Ansley made a fist. She’d enjoy the rest of her visit and head back to Terraquist as planned.

  She regretted officially meeting Leargan. It was easier to accept that he didn’t know she was alive than be crushed by knowing he didn’t want her.

  Especially now that she’d been introduced to the joy of being held in his arms, have his mouth moving over hers.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the hurt away.

  “Ansley?”

  She wiped her eyes again and plastered a smile on before she turned to Aimil. “Hello. Just came from visiting Avril. Was on my way to check on Cera. Want to come with?” Words rushed, she fought for control. Her cheeks flushed.

  Aimil studied her and cocked her head to one side. “Is Avril all right? Did something happen?”

  Ansley met her friend’s dark eyes and shook her head. “No, no. We shared a meal and spoke with Meara. Avril didn’t say much, but she looks well. She even smiled. I think she misses Sir Roduch. He’s on the fighting yard today.” She forced her smile wider, trying not to squirm under Aimil’s appraising gaze.

  Please believe me.

  She’d never admitted her feelings for Leargan to Cera or Aimil, despite how close they were.

  The whole story would probably come out eventually, but Ansley didn’t want to talk about it now.

  Too fresh. Hurts too much.

  “I suppose you’ll tell me when you want to.” Aimil gave a curt nod, slipping her arm in Ansley’s and looked up at her. “But I’m glad you’ve spent time with Avril. I don’t think she’s comfortable around me.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. She’s been through a lot. She’s not comfortable around anyone.”

  “Right. These things take time. I shall visit if she’ll have me. Let her know we can be friends?”

  “Good idea.”

  Aimil smiled. She was petite, and her friend really did have to look up at her. Her raven hair hung loose to her waist in waves that shone blue in the sunlight streaming in through the corridor windows. It framed her beautiful face. Her gown was dark gray and simple, belying her rank.

  Cera called for them to enter her rooms at Aimil’s knock.

  Ansley reveled at the time she’d been given to visit with Cera and Aimil. It was as if growing up, moving on, had never happened. She’d missed her friends. Much more than she’d realized.

  The duchess had changed, since the death of her family, but her husband seemed to have helped her heal, and Ansley was already fond of Lord Aldern.

  She’d been on a message run to the Netian Valley when Cera and Jorrin had married, so she’d missed it, but she was grateful for the chance to get to know him now.

  As soon as she’d seen the two of them together, it’d been obvious that Jorrin was perfect for Cera.

  He was half-human and half-elfin, the most handsome man she’d ever seen, with sapphire eyes and hair as dark as Leargan’s. Taller than the captain, but just as broad and muscled.

  Tristan, too, was perfect for Aimil, but she’d known Lord Dagget for several turns, and Aimil had loved him for much of that time. He was on the quiet side, but there was no doubt the lord loved her friend.

  Their wedding had been moved up, but when she’d seen the slight rounding of Aimil’s tummy, Ansley had guessed the reason. Despite the apparent secrecy, she was happy that both her dear friends would soon be mothers.

  Aimil and Tristan’s baby wouldn’t arrive for several months.

  Cera and Jorrin’s, on the other hand, would be here any day.

  She was excited to be able to witness the joyous occasion.

  “How are you today, Mama?” Aimil asked as they entered Cera and Jorrin’s vast sleeping room.

  Cera rested in the center of the large bed, her white wolf lying beside her. Brow furrowed, the disgruntled look on the duchess’s beauti
ful face lightened when she saw Aimil and Ansley. She smiled, and Trikser’s tail thumped. “I’d be better if your husband didn’t worry mine,” she grumbled.

  Aimil laughed and Ansley shook her head, biting back a grin.

  “I’m sure Tristan is just concerned about you and the baby.” Aimil stepped on the stool and sat up on the high bed.

  Cera smiled sweetly, her gray eyes twinkling, and apparently ignoring Aimil. “Hello, Ansley.” She tucked a lock of dark red hair behind an ear and patted the bed. “Come sit with us.”

  Ansley grinned, climbing onto the large bed. She leaned over and patted Trikser’s head. The white wolf rewarded her with a lick to her hand.

  Cera laid a hand on her belly and glanced at her bondmate. “Where are the girls?” the duchess asked of her friends’ wolves.

  “Hunting, I think,” Aimil said, glancing at Ansley.

  “They left together?” Cera asked.

  “Aye.” Ansley nodded.

  Their bondmates were often inseparable at Rider Headquarters and being in Greenwald wasn’t proving any different.

  “I was surprised Trik didn’t go with them,” Ansley said.

  “He won’t leave me when Jorrin’s gone during the day. He goes out at night to handle his needs and eat, then comes right back. Either he or Jorrin is with me at all times. It’s like they’ve teamed up.” Cera’s voice was half-amused, half-annoyed.

  “He must know your time is soon,” Aimil said.

  “Sooner than later, I hope. But I still don’t need to be confined.” Cera scrunched her nose.

  “I’m sure Tristan is convinced it’s best.” Aimil said.

  “Hah. I’ll have no problem reminding you of that when your time is near,” Cera said, grinning.

  Aimil groaned, but grinned back.

  Ansley chuckled, then met her friend’s dark gaze. “I had noticed that,” she whispered, “but no one said anything.”

  One corner of Aimil’s mouth lifted. “Sorry I didn’t tell you; it wasn’t for any particular reason. It’s not really a secret.” She put her hand over her womb and looked down. “We weren’t supposed to get married for two more turns. I thought my father and brothers were going to kill him…” Her cheeks shone bright red.

  “Well, you’re married now, it matters not,” Ansley said, taking one of Aimil’s hands. “But I had no idea you and Tristan…”

  Prior to their marriage only a few months before, Aimil had been living in Terraquist at Rider Barracks, like any other Senior Rider.

  Cera had also been a Senior Rider before she’d married and made her husband a duke, taking her place as the Duchess of Greenwald.

  “Oh, we hadn’t before. Honestly, we’d both been content with kisses for the most part. We hadn’t seen each other in a while. He came to Terraquist to see me…it just happened.” She giggled. “Effectively, obviously.” She patted her stomach with her free hand.

  “The first time?” Ansley asked. She ignored the voice that reminded her of what could have happened in the corridor with Leargan.

  “Aye.” Aimil dropped her voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell him I told you, but it was his first time, too.” She winked.

  Cera laughed and shook her head. “I can’t say the same for Jorrin, but the same thing happened to me, too.”

  “Wow.” Ansley should thank Leargan for walking away from her, no matter how it hurt. How much worse would it have been if she’d given herself to him and then had him walk away? Even more so if he’d left her with child.

  What are you thinking?

  They’d shared a few kisses.

  Nothing more.

  He hadn’t even wanted that. Ansley sighed.

  “Something wrong, Ansley?” Cera asked.

  “No, why?”

  Cera and Aimil exchanged a glance that didn’t escape her notice.

  “You look upset,” Aimil said.

  “No. Not at all. I’m so happy for you two, and I like your husbands very much.” Ansley tried for a diversion.

  “They both like you very much, as well,” Cera said.

  “Are you happy?” The whisper fell from her lips, unintended. Ansley tried to imagine herself married and expecting a child. She didn’t want anyone but Leargan, so she probably wouldn’t marry.

  How could she settle for someone else now that she’d had a taste of him?

  And isn’t that just pathetic.

  “I’m very happy with Jorrin. The baby was a pleasant surprise. Now, I can’t wait to meet him,” Cera said, rubbing her distended tummy in wide circles.

  “I’m also very happy with Tristan. And I always knew I would be. I don’t regret our inability to wait until we were married or the result,” Aimil said, eyes shining.

  Ansley forced a smile and her friends exchanged another look of obvious worry. Questions were written plainly on both their faces. She silently begged them to drop it.

  Why do I always have to be so obvious?

  Cera took one of her hands, and Aimil reached for the other.

  Ansley was doomed. Tears hovered; she didn’t have a free hand to wipe them away.

  “What happened, Ansley?” Cera whispered.

  Soon the whole story poured out, starting with the fact that she’d had an affinity for Leargan for turns. Cera didn’t look surprised at all and Aimil had nodded.

  Typical that she’d been transparent to the both of them.

  The compassion in their gazes when Ansley admitted she loved him caused more tears. She finished the story with their kisses in the corridor. Sobs took over when she relayed his apology.

  Aimil wrapped her in a hug and Ansley crushed her eyes shut.

  “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.” Aimil smoothed wisps of hair that’d escaped her braid.

  Ansley wiped her tears away and sat up.

  “I haven’t known Leargan for a full turn yet, but I can tell you one thing,” Cera said, head cocked to one side. “He doesn’t easily show emotion beyond a smile here and a laugh there. He’s always in control. When he kissed you, he lost it. I’ve never seen him like that.”

  “What does that mean?” Ansley met her gray eyes.

  “That he probably feels like he insulted you,” Aimil finished.

  “Men don’t like to lose control,” Cera continued, “and when a woman is the cause of it, look out. I know him well enough to assure you, he didn’t hurt you on purpose. Leargan’s not like that. He’s one of the most honorable men I know.”

  “That’s how I think of him as well.” Ansley sniffed and dabbed her nose with the square of linen Aimil offered.

  “So much so, that the fact he kissed you may lead to a proposal,” Aimil said, tapping her bottom lip as if she was thinking.

  “No…” Ansley gasped.

  “You’re a wellborn lady, he just might,” Aimil said.

  Ansley glanced at Cera, who shrugged.

  “I only kissed him. I won’t marry him because he feels he insulted me, which he didn’t. It’d be trapping him into something he doesn’t want. I couldn’t do that…” Ansley swallowed.

  No matter how he made me feel, he doesn’t want me.

  Foolish girl.

  Her heart thumped and pain spread from the hole in her chest, threatening to choke her.

  “But you just told us you love him.” Aimil’s dark eyes widened.

  “Exactly. I wouldn’t want to marry him unless he wanted me.”

  “I understand.” Cera’s expression was somber, thoughtful. “One more thing about men, in general.”

  “What’s that?” Ansley asked.

  “They are usually pretty oblivious to feelings.” She paused, flashing a lopsided grin. “Unless they possess empathic magic.”

  “Leargan has no magic,” Ansley said.

  “Which makes him pretty daft.” Aimil flashed a grin, too.

  The three women shared a laugh, and Ansley’s spirits lifted…a little.

  Chapter Seven

  The sword slammed into his, knoc
king Leargan off balance. Hard ground slamming his back, took the breath from his lungs. He heard some gasps and several comments from his men.

  Leargan was never caught off guard in a sparring match, let alone in a real fight. Even Roduch, who he’d been training with, had frozen, then reached a hand down to help him to his feet.

  “Captain?” Roduch’s face was a mask of concern.

  Leargan cursed and grabbed the large blond man’s arm with a bit too much vigor, but Roduch wasn’t caught off balance. His friend pulled him to his feet with little effort.

  He restrained himself from stomping his foot like a spoiled child.

  His mind had been on Ansley.

  Had the fight been real, he would be dead.

  She would be the death of him.

  “It’s all right. Spar with Niall,” Leargan told the big knight, sheathing his sword and brushing himself off. His back and arse ached as much as his pride.

  With a glare to each of the men who’d stopped to gape, he jogged to the edge of the training grounds. His men busied themselves with their previous tasks.

  Smart of them.

  He nodded at his Second, who hopped the wooden fence that surrounded the training grounds. Niall wasted no time rushing Roduch, and Leargan heard the clash of metal on metal before he’d even reached the place Niall had been standing.

  Leaning on the top rung of the fence, he lifted his foot and rested it on the bottom, studying his men.

  At first glance, one would think Roduch would be the winner. The warrior was almost as tall as King Nathal’s six-feet-seven-inches. Just as broad shouldered and muscular.

  Dark-haired Niall on the other hand, wasn’t quite six feet tall but he was equally muscular, yet graceful. Niall was quick on his feet and skilled with his weapon.

  Roduch was also very good with a sword. All his men were, or they wouldn’t have been selected to be a part of the Aldern personal guard.

  He watched them for a moment, then allowed his eyes to sweep the rest of the fighting yard. Some of the men were sparring with swords like Niall and Roduch, others with spears, and even a few practiced with bow and arrow.

  Lord Aldern strode over, sheathing his sword before wiping the sweat from his brow. He too, had been sparring with the men. He leaned against the fence next to him, saying nothing as he passed a skin of water.