"No patronymic or distaff name, Lady Adriana?"
She shook her head. "I have no family, and...," she smiled, letting her mouth curve just enough to set the dimple in her left cheek, "in the woods, we lay no claim to titles." She took, with both hands, the trencher he offered. The ham was pink and moist, no doubt fresh-cured this past winter. Her mouth watered at the thought of the taste of salt and rich meat. Never before had a victim offered her food, and she half-hesitated, but the smell of fresh ham was too much to resist. "I have nothing this rich to offer. Here in the woods we live on berries in the summer, nuts in the autumn and stored roots through the winter."
"Lady, in this glade, and with such company, all is a banquet." The corners of his blue eyes crinkled as he smiled and reached for a roasted parsnip. A pretty enemy in looks and words.
As he bit into the dark roasted root, Adriana tasted the ham. It was as she remembered: salty, moist, and needing chewing. The taste evoked memories and times long gone: of winter festivals, spring plantings, harvest homes and sacred feasts--a world long bled away under the invaders' swords.
Her victim was hungry, that was clear, but he ate with grace and skill, closing his mouth as he chewed and cutting food into small portions before spearing them with the point of his knife. Even his beard stayed clean as he ate. A gracious and dainty invader who smiled as he sliced her parsnips and took the treen jug himself to the stream to refill it.
It would be no hardship to seduce Mark of Windhaw.
Adriana watched as he bent to dip the wooden jug in the sparkling waters. He'd discarded his cloak to reveal his dark shirt and riding breeches, which only served to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders and the strength in his legs. Invaders never had bowed legs from famine and disease. Although invaders seldom acted with such courtesy, or walked with such grace. She made herself watch the afternoon sun glitter on the ripples of Rache's stream, not on the handsome Astrian picking purple water daisies. As he bent, the leather of his breeches strained against the muscles of his thighs. As he stood, she tore a crust of sweet dark bread and chewed. Hunger assuaged, soon it would be time to tempt other appetites.
Her Astrian prey offered her the posy of daisies with a bow. "Little enough thanks, Lady Adriana, for your graciousness...but I travel on the emperor's charge, and I fear am unprepared for such hospitality as yours."
How truly right. "The emperor sent you alone into his conquered territories?" Or was Mark of Windhaw the herald of another invasion?
He sat down gracefully, tucking one booted foot under and stretching out his other leg. "I didn't set out alone on my commission. Misfortune befell us. I'm one of the emperor's auditors. I had a recorder and a page when I set out." He told her of their misadventures.
"What will you do without them? It's unsafe in wild parts for lone travelers." Most unsafe! They fell into Rache's clutches.
His broad shoulders rose and fell as his wide mouth curled at the corners. "I carry the emperor's sigil. Few would risk his anger. I left Karrel under that protection at an inn, to rest until he can ride, and I hope to meet Pait and new mounts when I reach Merridale."
Merridale--the nearest market town, where her uncles had once sold lambs and pigs, and her mother had traded eggs and honey fruit. In those distant times, market days had been like festivals. "And from Merridale you travel farther?"
"Perhaps. I will stay there as long as necessary to fulfill the emperor's orders. If there is time before winter descends, I go on to Stoneholm and Holmhaven, but I will not leave Merridale until satisfied."
"Why did he send you?" Was she asking too much? It was of no consequence why this invader was here.
"He has heard stories of misuse and abuse since he annexed these lands." Mark shook his head. "I am sent to ascertain the truth, and ensure peace and law."
Indeed! "It has been many years. Why wait this long? Is he not satisfied with his appointed masters?" They'd compelled the emperor's law with horrendous zeal.
"Lady, here in this sylvan paradise I doubt the affairs of state intrude." Was he foolish or merely ignorant? "The last years have been hard on the empire." Harder still on the vanquished! "Now that all is stable in the realm and the threats to the throne removed, the emperor wishes to ensure peace and justice throughout the empire."
"He believes there is injustice?"
"There are tales. I come to ascertain the truth."
And she could tell him hard ones, but what would it matter? Did he really believe his emperor cared about mere peasants? She'd seen otherwise. It was time to appease Rache.
Adriana took a sip of water and let the cool liquid play on her tongue. She then focused her power to weave a spell of weariness. Mark of Windhaw yawned, covering his wide mouth with the back of his callused hand.
"Your pardon, Lady Adriana, I fear weariness overcomes me."
"Small surprise, sir, if you have ridden since sun up and through the mist. If you will, you may rest in my shelter."
"Lady, you are ever gracious. To stay would be a pleasure, but my duty to my emperor calls."
Forest magick called louder. At his next yawn, his eyes closed, his long honey- colored lashes brushed his cheeks before he forced his eyes open again. "I must..." He stood, feet unsteady and eyelids heavy with her spell.
Adriana sprung up beside him, grasping his upper arm with both hands. His muscles warmed under her fingers, as she led him into her cave. Guiding his stumbling steps toward the sleeping pallet in the corner, she eased him to the ground. He was deep asleep as she covered him with sleeping furs.
Adriana stood up and glanced down at the sleeping warrior--or auditor as he called himself. His chin bore a scar that had surely been acquired in battle, and his body was strong as a fighter's. He was pretty though, his hair golden against the dark furs, and his skin weather-tanned to the color of ripened waynuts. A fine sacrifice to Rache.
CHAPTER TWO
Adriana lingered just a little, watching the flutter of his honey-colored eyelashes and listening to the soft brush of his breath between his full lips. In repose, a gentleness settled on his features. Awake, he'd shown a courtesy and courtliness she'd not expected. Strange for an Astrian to seem so...civilized. The others had been rough or arrogant. Seducing and ensnaring them had been a duty. With Mark of Windhaw it would be no hardship.
An impatient whinny brought her back to her task. While they ate, his horse had roamed loose, but now it seemed she had wandered uphill and was pawing the rocks and sparse turf outside the cave.
The beast was not easy to calm, as if she sensed the magick around her, but under Adriana's hands and voice she let herself be unsaddled and led into the forest. Returning to the shrine, Adriana sorted through Mark of Windhaw's belongings. Aside from clean linen, and necessities for travel across the country, he carried a quantity of paper and pens and a large bundle of notes in scrolls and packets. It seemed he had spoken truthfully about being an auditor. He had a little gold in his pockets, but in the pouch on his saddle she found two large leather bags holding more gold that she'd seen in her entire life. She debated throwing them in the river, but put them aside. Here in the forest she had no use for Astrian gold, but who knew, one day? Buried in the earth at the back of her cavern it would not go to enrich her family's killers.
Later she would sort his belongings into those of use, and those to be useful as fuel or to trade. She moved everything out of sight and climbed behind the rocks to wash in the warm spring, carrying with her enough furs and drying cloths for later.
* * *
Mark of Windhaw was still deep in Adriana's enchanted sleep when she returned. She stood in the mouth of her cave and watched his chest rise and fall under the fur covers. He was so handsome in repose, it seemed almost a shame to ensnare him. What! Was she wavering in mind and mission? Mark of Windhaw was Astrian: Enemy, Destroyer and Rapist. Physical beauty concealing the human rot within.
She would not falter. Her oath and her dedication would shore up her will. He was fa
ir to the eyes. What matter? Duty, welcome or unwelcome, was still duty, and she would not fail. She stepped into the cave, knelt by Mark of Windhaw's sleeping body and pulled back the sleeping furs.
She'd be as blind as old Meg from back in her long-destroyed village to miss the strength of his body beneath the leather breeches and black woolen tunic. The lacing of his tunic had come undone, revealing the white linen shirt beneath and a glimpse of male chest. His breeches fit like a second skin, accentuating the strength in his thighs and the length of his legs. One arm was stretched out toward the wall, the other rested on his chest. His fingers were long and the nails neatly trimmed, his hands hard. Not callused as a carpenter or a farmer, but neither soft like one of the invading priests. She rested her hand on his, the tips of her fingers only reaching to his knuckles. Yes! Mark of Windhaw was a large man--would his cock be in proportion to the rest of him?
Soon she'd find out.
But first she had to wake him.
She walked over to the cool spring and took a deep drink of water, cooling her lips and mouth before returning to where Mark of Windhaw still slumbered. Brushing the dark gold hair off his forehead, she looked down at his face, handsome and relaxed, a slight smile curving his wide mouth. He smelled of fresh air, and man and the slight trace of horse. He was indeed a finely built male: lean and firm of body, and most pleasing to the eye. Truly, a worthy sacrifice.
Smiling, Adriana kissed him on his eyelids. As she sat back on her heels, her hand on his shoulder, he opened his eyes. Surprise, confusion and sudden awareness all flickered in his deep blue eyes.
"Lady," he said, looking around the cave. "I thought I was dreaming."
"Not dreaming, Mark of Windhaw. You are my guest. And I offer you the hospitality of Rache." The hand on his shoulder eased toward his open shirt. "Seldom do I have company, and I would welcome you in Rache's name."
"Is this seemly, lady?" he asked, his hand coming as if to move hers, but instead covering her fingers with his.
"Why not, sir? Would you refuse me this courtesy?" As she spoke, her free hand traced the open neck of his shirt, loosed the lacings a little more and brushed the golden curls on his chest. "I am much alone, sir. Your company honors me, and I crave your generosity."
"Lady...," he began, but her lips stopped his objection with a slow and measured kiss.
Mark of Windhaw was a strong man, but not made of iron. She watched with satisfaction as his breath caught and his chest rose and fell. "Will you not stay awhile, sir? Is it not unchivalrous to refuse a lady's request?"
"Indeed, lady, it is. I must not so offend." He pulled her to him and kissed her full on the mouth.
He was the epitome of gentleness--his mouth warm against her cool one. His touch soft as he gently pressed his lips on hers, making no effort to push or hasten--just satisfied, it seemed, to caress her lips with his. Sweet short kisses that stirred her mind but never forced. Light brushes of skin as he kissed her upper and lower lips alternately, as his hands tunneled through her hair, his fingertips stroking her scalp with the lightest of touches. Her heart fluttered against her ribs, her breath caught in tempo with his soft touch. There was no haste, no push, no demand, just a gentle possession that had her yearning for more.
No! She led! She seduced! He was usurping her role. It was wrong! It was wonderful! It was not as it should be!
She had to regain control, but his lips brushed her chin, the curve of her cheeks and edge of her mouth before coming back to claim her lips with his. Her mind buzzed with desire. Why fight it? Was this not what she wanted? Mark of Windhaw willing and aroused? She joined in the kiss, brushing her lips to his, working his mouth with hers, welcoming his tongue as her hands eased inside his shirt to stroke the warm flesh and to feel the flutter of his heart under her fingertips.
At last he broke the kiss, lifting his mouth off hers. "Sweet Lady Adriana. I know not who you are, but the Five Gods were good when they guided my steps to your abode."
"Mayhap 'twas the Goddess who led you here," she suggested.
He stared. "Lady, you follow the pagan ways?"
"Why would I not? In the woods we have little use for your harsh religion. Many years ago I dedicated myself to Rache. I am her priestess, and this," she indicated the cave around, and the stream and grass beyond the opening, "is her shrine. Do you think ill of it...or me?" She watched as conflicting thoughts battered each other behind his blue eyes.
"I think," he said, "you are the most beautiful creature in this world. I have found you and would make you mine."
Precisely what she planned. He'd never forget her--no matter how much he willed it. "Let us become each other's inspiration."
"Dear lady! They told me strange things awaited within the New Territories. They knew not half the truth."
"You find me strange?"
"Magnificently so! To discover such beauty in the deep forest far exceeds anything I expected. But to find such beauty in the guise of pagan priestess..." He shook his head.
"Did they tell you we were crones and hags?" The look on his face answered that. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, brushing her hand over his chest. She left her hand on his chest as she drew back from the kiss, but his hand cupped the back of her head and drew her close. She let him turn her face to take her mouth with his--she expected this. How many times had it been now? Each one the same to the end. Mark of Windhaw was falling into place as her next prize, but as he pressed forward, his mouth possessing hers, his hands stroking her hair, a strange awareness filled her mind. She leaned close, wanting, needing to feel his strength and presence. He kissed slowly, as if tasting her lips, his hands smoothing her head and shoulders. Her mind stirred at this touch and the sweet seduction of his kisses. With gentle insistence he pulled her against him, drawing her alongside him. She nestled close, as much to feel his tenderness and strength as to familiarize herself with the body she'd soon possess. Her hand stroked the strength of his thigh under the leather breeches and slowly she inched her fingers toward the tented leather at his groin. He needed her, and soon she'd take his power and his mind. Meanwhile, his kisses and embrace delighted her.
His hand trailed over her neck and shoulder to cup her breast. She heard a little whimper in a space beyond her head. Not his, but surely not hers? She shivered with anticipation as he moved to caress her other breast, her mind racing along with her pulse and her heart. This was all wrong, but all wonderful. She pressed closer. Never had she felt this heat, this need, this distraction. She pulled back, gently, so as not to anger or alert him.
They watched each other. Was her skin as flushed as his? Her eyes as dark? Her breath as ragged? Impossible! She drew her strength from Rache. Adriana always controlled, and now, as the heat of his kisses abated, she regained her composure. That embrace was an aberration, nothing more.
"Sweet Adriana, for a kiss such as yours, I would have crossed the three deserts and scaled every mountain in the empire. You are a man's dream, come to life in the wild lands."
"I was waiting here until you came," she replied, her self-command restored now that she had put distance between him. Rache's waters would calm her and help her focus her mind. Adriana had seen many times what warm water and sweet magick did to men. She stood and held out her hand. "Sweet traveler, you have fed and rested--why not bathe?"
He stood, running his hands through his golden hair and flexing his broad shoulders. "Lady, you are gracious beyond words. And cool water will refresh." He took a step toward the cavern's opening.
"No, Mark of Windhaw. Rache has two springs--one for drinking and one for bathing." She closed her hand over his. "Come with me."
* * *
"You've questioned the urchin?" Quel of Woldene, acting commander of Fort Antin, looked across the table at his major.
"We have, sir. Thoroughly."
Quel nodded. He knew exactly how thorough Den Morton could be-- that was why he'd picked him for the work. "You're certain he's not lying?"
"No
one lies after my questioning."
True. "Bring him in." Though, drag him in was more probable-- scarce likelihood the lad could still stand. But he'd served his purpose, and, if what Den said were true, it had been fortuitous beyond words that the boy had chosen this fort to beg for succor. And begging he'd been, ever since he'd shown them the emperor's sigil.
The lad staggered in and collapsed at Quel's feet as the guards released him. Den had been thorough. Two swollen and bloodied eyes looked up at Quel. The bleeding mouth rasped, "Sir, I came for succor in the emperor's name. Why have your men used me thus?"
Silly fool, had he not yet realized? Quel had to smile. "Foolish lad, in these wild parts we are far from the emperor's hand." And his weakness. They hadn't subdued these wild lands with philosophy and education, and if this sniveling boy were a product of the emperor's enlightenment, he, Quel, would fight to preserve the ways he knew. "We do not take kindly to interference on the frontier."
"I come in the emperor's name, bearing his sigil."
He still didn't understand. "Yes, and now I hold that sigil." Shock flickered in one almost-open eye. "Thanks to your assistance, we know where and how to detain his auditor. Your injured companion died in his bed in the Inn at Four Cross and soon there will be none to carry tales back to Astria.
Fear, shock and horror registered across the battered face. The lad really had loved his master. How pathetically foolish! Look where loyalty got him. If he'd given the information when first demanded he'd have died swiftly. For his intransigence he now lay in agony from ripped-out toenails, burned feet and crippled hands.
"What shall we do with him?" Den asked. "Throw him down the cistern?"
Quel looked down at the crumpled lad. Even now the battered face and swollen eyes begged for mercy. "Sir, have pity...," he mumbled from his swollen jaw.
"No, Den." The boy looked up in hope. Foolish child. "I want to say the lad came and I sent him on his way accompanied by soldiers." Den grinned, the lad looked merely perplexed. "Make up a party of volunteers, have them take him into the forest and leave him." He smiled down at the now panic-stricken eyes. "The forest animals will finish your job for you, and leave no trace and no witness."
PARADOX II Page 2
