PARADOX II

by Rosemary Laurey

  Oh! To feel his warm hard body beside hers was utter heaven. The sheer joy of his leg against hers...and the softness of his chest hair under her fingers as she rested her hand over his heart... He might not know her, but she knew him and her heart rejoiced at the touch. Worn out by watching, she slept, caressed by his warmth and her hope.

  The guard change before dawn woke her. She lay half-awake and listened to the sounds of boots on cobblestones, brisk commands and the clink of metal. There were more feet and shouts--perhaps another muster leaving or arriving--she did not stir to find out. As the sounds outside quieted, she brushed her lips on Mark's cheek. His flesh was cool! Not fever-heated, but the sweet soft cool of healthy skin. She ran her hand over his forehead and down his chest to his hip. The fever had eased! Rache be praised!

  As her fingertips brushed the curls at his groin, he muttered. Hoping to catch his words, she sat up and looked down at him, meeting his eyes. They were no longer as clear and confident as when they'd met first by the stream, but cloudy with illness and confusion. "Sweet lady," he whispered, his voice hoarse and weak, "are you an angel sent to heal me? My body is weak and my soul weary."

  "I am Adriana." She spoke with hope he might remember. "You have been sick."

  No light of recognition lit his face; there was only the same soul-weary gaze. "Sweet lady, mayhap you are sent from heaven to aid me. Not only has my body been ill, but my mind is uneasy."

  "How so?"

  "I have spaces, voids in my thoughts. I have lost what I loved, but cannot even remember what I lost. I pursued my duty, but fell into treacherous hands." His hand grasped hers. "You were one of those who saved me, were you not?" She nodded. "I thought so! That I have not forgotten and my page..." He sat up and looked around.

  "Pait left on an errand for the commander. He will return"

  "Aye, a noble lad. They tortured him you know...that I remember. But when I look back, much is missing. And most of all, I miss the one I loved."

  It was as Eadwyn said. Mark remembered loving, but not her. Could she make him remember her? "You have been fevered," she said, stroking his now-cool forehead. "Let me wash you."

  "I'm thirsty," he muttered.

  She gave him a cup of Rache's water. She had kept it for drinking, using the water carried in from the well for washing. But now she put the last of Rache's water on to heat. This, she sensed, was her only hope. Rache's sacred water--would it spring his memory?

  He smiled, but only in thanks, not recognition. "Lady, you are too good to me. Why spend you time with an ailing auditor?"

  "Why would I not? You are honorable and strive for the justice that we Baremes hunger for."

  He looked at her. "I had heard you Baremes hated us."

  "Once I did. Until I learned there was true honor among you Astrians."

  "Lady, if ever I leave this sick bed, I will right many of the wrongs your people suffered."

  "Lords Carne and Drave fight for that as we speak." She knew in her heart that bad news would have filtered up to the sick room.

  "My fellow auditors." He sighed. "You were with them when they rescued me from Merridale, were you not?"

  "I was."

  "Why?"

  She paused. "They had need of my skills and you have need of a wash. You have been fevered for days." She took up the cloth and bathed his face. She wrung the cloth out, then washed his chest.

  "Lady, is this seemly?"

  The very words he'd spoken by Rache's pool! Adriana's heart stilled a moment. Dear Goddess! How much she had stolen from him--and herself. "Sir, I have tended you the past several days. I mean no disrespect."

  "I had thought disrespect to you, lady."

  "You mean none, sir. There is none."

  He permitted her to wash his arms and chest, even rolling on his side to let her bathe his broad back with Rache's warm water. He still bore faint marks from the beating. After she dried his back, she spread soothing salve on his marks.

  He rolled back, grasping her hand and looking up at her. "I feel my past is bound up with you, lady. Something was between us. Was it more that just saving my life?" He laughed. It was weak and tired, but was still a laugh. "How can I say just to as great a service as saving my life!" He kissed her fingertips. "Lady, if you could just work the miracle to fill the voids in my mind, I would revere you the rest of my days."

  Her splayed hand rested on his chest, a fingertip brushing his pink-brown nipple. She glanced down at the covers, and as she watched the woven blanket tented over his groin.

  Ignoring his erection--for now--she stroked his chest, brushing her fingertips over his nipples until they hardened and stood proud. His sharp intake of breath made her question. Was this right? Was he too weak? Not if his upright cock was any indication! It was her chance--mayhap her only one. Once he was completely recovered he would return to his duties, but for now he was hers.

  She dropped a kiss on his forehead before pulling the bedclothes lower and washing his belly and drying his skin with soft linen.

  His erection was even more apparent, but she vowed not to let him be shamed by his body's evidence of his desire. And hers--for the sight of the hard flesh straining against the bedclothes aroused her.

  She was tempted to strip the covers away and feast her eyes on his wondrous cock. But on reflection she recovered his beautiful chest and raised the blankets off the bottom of the bed.

  Seating herself at the foot of his pallet, she washed his feet. They were callused and still carried a few scabs, but compared to poor little Pait's, Mark's feet were beautiful and almost unmarred. She washed and dried them, and bending over, brushed a soft kiss across his toes.

  "Lady!" Mark cried.

  "Sir, have you not heard of healing kisses?" She smiled at his mixed shock and obvious pleasure, and kissed his other foot.

  He did not protest further as she washed his shins and calves and rubbed a good quantity of salve into his grazed knees. Was he too injured to fuck? No, not by his body's evidence and, this time, he would lie back while she pleasured him--and herself-- utterly.

  She crossed back to the fire, warmed her basin of now-cooling water and washed his thighs. His muscles were softened from days of sickness but would soon firm up with riding and...She turned her face away as she remembered his thighs straddling her as they made love. She washed him, easing the covers upward, so they were bunched over his crotch--almost, but not quite--hiding his erection. With a little smile she drew them completely off and dropped them on the flagstones.

  Mark of Windhaw gasped, raising his head and shoulders off the pillow. But he did not protest. The only sound he gave was a sigh as she washed his cock, lifting it to stroke his balls with the cloth.

  "Lady," he whispered on an exhaled breath. "I know you not, but I know your touch. Your fingers are like petals on my skin. My desire should shame me, but..."

  "No! No shame between us!" She set the cloth back in the basin. "Remember my promise of a healing kiss?" Before he could reply, she bent her head and covered his cock with her lips. She heard his groan and a whispered, "Sweet memories!" and swallowed him deep. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the touch of his hard warm flesh on her tongue and the taste of sweetness from his body. She eased her mouth up and down his cock and reveled in the power between her lips. Her heart seemed to swell, filling her chest. She was his as surely as she was Rache's and no longer was revenge her goal, but love.

  His fingertips stroked her hair and her mind flooded with memories of the joy of their earlier coupling. If only she could share those memories with him.

  She lifted her mouth, looking into his eyes, searching for some light of recognition, some flickering of remembrance. There was none.

  Yet.

  "Mark of Windhaw, you are mine," she whispered as she straddled him and eased herself down on his cock.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Mark stared as if transfixed--or was it astounded?--at her claim. What matter when his cock filled her warmth and her hear
t sang at the joy of his power within her. Smiling, she lifted herself up and down. Up to the head of his sweet cock before lowering herself to take him deep. She sighed. He groaned. He reached out with his hands, placing them on her waist, holding her steady as she moved. His hips rocked, gently at first, before picking up the rhythm and moving with her.

  A light flickered in his blue eyes, she leaned forward, brushing the hair off his face and kissing his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his eyelids and his lips. As their mouths met, his lips opened and she welcomed his tongue, rubbing her herself against his chest and pressing into his body. Adriana wished she were naked too, but even more she knew she could not break this joining to strip off her clothes. Their futures depended on this physical union, on her power and his need, and the rekindling of the once-blossomed love she'd shattered.

  Now she would offer her soul, her heart and her love, and strive to recreate the link between them. Her hips rocked back and forth, stroking his cock against her moist flesh and brushing her most sensitive spot against the hard bone above his cock.

  His groans came louder as his need and passion peaked. She rode on and on as her desire rose. Hands now joined, they meshed fingers as she drew his passion to the heights. They were both gasping now. Adriana threw back her head and willed all power, all love and all her soul to Mark of Windhaw.

  With a great shout he came, his warmth flooding her as her heart snagged and caught before soaring with her mind. Mark cried out again and again. His eyes met hers and he screamed aloud, "Adriana! You are mine!"

  She was! Utterly and completely! With heart and soul and mind! "Yes, my love," she gasped, as she leaned forward on his sweet body. "Forever, if you so will."

  She felt his cock soften and ease out of her as she shifted to lie beside him.

  "I love you, Adriana," he said. "I lost you in the mists of my mind but now I have found you again. Never leave me."

  "Never," she promised and kissed him. She pulled up the covers and stayed by his side until he slept.

  * * *

  It was not until she stood up and straightened the covers that she realized dawn had broken and the clear light of morning flooded the room.

  While Mark slept she washed, cleaned and tidied the room, stoked the fire and demanded more than broth from the kitchen. "He is recovering now," she said. "He needs more than soup." But when she returned to the room, her arms full of stew, bread and fruit, he was gone.

  Her mind whirled. Was he dead? Carried away to lie in the stone chapel? Impossible!

  She set the pot of stew by the fire, the fruit and bread on the small table, and looked around. The bed was neatened, his tunic, breeches and boots missing. Had he left? Why? Surely not after saying he remembered and loved her?

  She spun around at a sound in the doorway.

  Mark of Windhaw stood watching her.

  She stood, trying to read the expression on his face. Was it hope? Worry? No!

  Love sparkled in his blue eyes.

  She raced across the room and flung her arms around him and lifted her face for his kiss. It was long, hard and branding and she gloried in his possession.

  "Dear heart, Adriana," he whispered against her mouth as she broke the kiss. "I pined for you and now I have found you. I should never have left you behind in the forest."

  "But by staying, I found Pait and learned of the treachery against you. And I met your fellow auditors. Without them, I could never have rescued you."

  "True. But now you are mine and will stay with me."

  "Yes," she replied. "Without you my soul was bereft."

  "Mine, too. My mind was not my own, but you came and restored us both."

  "There is much I have to tell you about that."

  "Later. This afternoon I must leave to present my report to the emperor." So soon, but it was his duty. She understood duty. She would not weep until he left. "You will come with me?"

  She only half-understood his question. "Go with you?"

  "To Astria, three days' ride from here. Now I am cured. I must go."

  She smiled up at him. "To the emperor?" She would cross the fabled deserts with Mark of Windhaw by her side. "I will come."

  * * *

  So Mark of Windhaw and Adriana the priestess of Rache were married that day in the stone chapel of Fort Dalban. Together they rode to the emperor and together they returned. Mark bore the emperor's commission to complete the audit, to establish justice across the conquered territories and to stamp out oppression. With the emperor's edict, Mark of Windhaw and Lady Adriana established a university where old and new lore were studied and the traditions of both Astrians and Baremes passed on. As years passed Adriana bore Mark four sons and four daughters, and after each birth they traveled together deep into the forest to the shrine of Rache. Each child was bathed in the warm springs and dedicated to the sweetest revenge of all: tolerance and love.

   

  ABOUT ROSEMARY LAUREY

  Rosemary Laurey is a retired special education teacher who now spends her days writing about vampires and dragons. It's a lot more fun than phonics. Visit her website: www.rosemarylaurey.com.

  NOVA

  BY J.C. WILDER

  DEDICATION

  FOR ANITA--YOU CONTINUE TO AMAZE ME, FRIEND.

  * * *

  CHAPTER ONE

  After this game she would be set for life.

  No more lying, cheating or stealing to ensure her belly remained full, to keep clothes on her back or to provide for a roof over her head. No more picking pockets to buy a bed for the night that was free of groping hands and liquor-soaked male breath. Best of all, no more dealing with men on their terms. From here on, she would be in charge of her own destiny.

  Nova shuffled her cards into an orderly pile on the table. Her coins, most of them gold, were lined in neat stacks before her. Her winnings had steadily increased, with few exceptions, while her partners' had shrunk. Her gaze assessed the money piled in the center of the table. This win, along with her cache in its hiding place near her home, would keep her for the rest of her life if she lived modestly. Never again would she have to whore her psyche for money.

  But first she had to win the hand.

  "You don't have a thing, Bran." Ginder, a wealthy merchant from Wryven, taunted the man across from him. "I'll see your bet of ten deuces and I raise you five." He puffed on a fat cigar as he tossed the required coins onto the pile.

  The clink of gold grated across Nova's nerves, setting her even further on edge. She ran her finger along the top of her cards. This time everything would work out--it had to.

  She reached for the fragrant glass of Shera, a non-alcoholic drink from the mountains in the west. The thick smoke from Ginder's cigar was making her queasy. One would think, after inhaling smoke almost every evening for the past year, it wouldn't have had any effect on her, but tonight she was in danger of gagging from the pungent fumes. Too many bad memories were associated with cigar smoke and the smell of cheap Climerian ale. She inhaled the sweet vanilla-scented fumes from her glass as she took a drink.

  "And I think you're bluffing, Master Merchant," Bran replied.

  Nova's gaze slid over Bran's handsome face, noting his flushed cheeks. Whether it was the effects of the wine or the agile hands of the beautiful half-naked prostitute in his lap, either one could spell disaster for Bran in a game with stakes as high as these. More money sat heaped on their gaming table than most moderately wealthy families would earn in a year.

  "I'll see your bet and raise you three more." Bran tossed his coins onto the pile with a careless gesture.

  She and Bran had known each other casually for several seasons. She'd judged him to be trustworthy--at least as much as a man could be trusted--and an excellent card player until he allowed his abundant alcohol consumption to cloud his judgment.

  "Indeed." Ginder studied his cards with the dedicated attention of a priest at mass as he carefully fanned them out, then made minute adjustments to line up the edges. It w
as the faint twitch in the corner of his eye that told Nova that Bran had been right. Ginder was bluffing.

  Willing herself to remain calm, she fanned her own cards to view her winning hand. Her palms grew slick and her heart thudded in her chest so hard she feared they'd be able to detect the frantic beat. Feigning a coolness she did not feel, she took another sip of her drink, hoping it wouldn't choke her.

  "I'm afraid I don't have the money to stay in the game." Evi, a slim young man with once-bulging pockets, sat across from Nova. With his red hair, narrow features and shifty gaze, he resembled a fox. He'd been a late addition to the game when one of Bran's friends had failed to show. She'd had serious misgivings about him from the moment he'd entered the room. There was something about Evi that told her not to turn her back on him. The others had harbored no such feelings as they'd been distracted by the size of his purse.

  In her mind, anyone who walked around with that much gold on their person deserved to be relieved of a goodly portion of it--and she was just the person to do it.

  "I'm afraid all I have left is seven gold deuces and a male servant." Evi shrugged his narrow shoulders beneath a tailored white silk shirt. Even though they'd been playing for almost eight hours, the man still looked refined and elegant in a bookish sort of way. "If you'll allow me, I'd like to use him as part of my wager."