Akira Rises (17 page)

A dog was just as warm, faithful, and a lot less complicated she told herself. The man's smell was musky, not unpleasant. Would a dog smell better? Yes, a dog could smell good if bathed and groomed, she decided. She calmed herself. If he did her no harm by morning, she would allow him to escort her up the mountain. Had she already not decided to travel up the mountain with him and his contingent of men? Before he started ordering her about? She would allow him to believe she was grateful for his protection. He hadn't won the argument. Slowly she drifted back into slumber. She dreamed of being a warrior. She dreamed of her mother and her mother's people. Unconsciously, she snuggled into the man pressed against her backside.

Waking up to a heavy arm across her hips and something unfamiliar, a warmth pressing against her bottom was disconcerting. As her memory instantly refreshed her of the recent predicament she found herself in, she tried edging away from Dimitri. Never having slept with a man, she was not sure what part of his body was touching hers and she did not want to know. Her movements woke him, and he too, although reluctantly, moved to put a respectable distance between them, at least a respectable distance under the circumstances. He could hear scraping sounds in the next room. Crow was moving about in his room. He yawned. The night had been too short. He heard footsteps thumping down the stairs. It was time to pack up and head up the mountain.

Akira sat up, wondering if she should be the first to break the silence. His breathing had changed. He was awake. She looked at her bound hands. “Am I a prisoner?” She asked in a quiet voice. Her back was still towards him.

“No, you are not a prisoner.” Dimitri stretched. He had wondered what mood the little hell cat would be in when she woke. His shoulder reminded him of her ability to cause injury when threatened. Not that he could blame her.

“Then kindly untie me.” Akira chose her tone of voice carefully. No malice, no anger, no fear. She was glad her voice behaved. She hid her false bravado well.

Dimitri sat up and swung his legs across the bed to sit beside her. He eyed her suspiciously as he quietly unbound her hands. She was too calm, too compliant sounding. Her mood was in sharp contrast to the night before. It was almost a relief, but he could not put a finger on what was wrong. She had come to her senses. Was that not what he had hoped for?

Akira rubbed her wrists. They did not hurt, but if he thought they did, he would perhaps feel guilty. She made a point of rubbing them again. “How soon before we leave?” She turned her back and started rolling her stained clothes inside her fur robe as she looked at the bindings.
No more. No more hiding who or what I am . To hide behind boy's clothing means I fear. I’ve come this far. I’ve escaped Rolfe on my own. I crossed the plains on my own. I shall bide my time and use the protection of Dimitri. For an overbearing man he seems true to his word. He did not harm
me. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
I may have had my hands bound for the night but he got the bucket.
Straightening her shoulders, she unrolled the robe, discarded the unneeded soiled clothes. She did not want to see them again. It was a symbolic action. She pulled her skirt out of her bundle and pulled it up over her breeches. No! She changed her mind and removed the skirt. She remembered how her father had commanded her to dress. Another surge of defiance flowed through her veins. Her irritation of sleeping with her hands bound had not yet dissipated.

“As soon as the men have a belly full of porridge, we will load the mules and make our way up the mountain.”

“I'll be down in few minutes. I need to freshen up for the long ride.”

Dimitri hesitated, “ah...dress warm.” Definitely she was a woman, changing her mind in seconds. A skirt on, a skirt off. He liked the skirt off. Although the skirt on without breeches underneath was a tantalizing thought.

“On your way... unless you need the chamber pot first.” Akira said so very sweetly. Honey bees would have had a hard time competing with the sweetness she forced into her voice.

He removed the chair from the broken door, and entered the dimly lit hallway. He started banging on the doors his men were sleeping behind. Alas, no one came out of their rooms, and when he descended the stairs and entered the dining area there were grins and guffaws.

“Sounds like you had a good work out last night.” Nels stated dryly then joined the laughter in the room. “Lot a banging going on.”

“Did that little maid finally bed ye?” Crow, howled like a wolf.

Dimitri raised his eyebrows. “A gentleman never speaks of conquests.” He sighed. Knowing he was in for a lot of ribbing, he smiled. And then there was the matter of Suraj to explain. He pushed Crow over on the bench and sat beside him.

“The boss needs some fixings for breakfast!” shouted Dimitri's cook, enjoying his reprieve from his usual cooking duties.

A servant girl backed through the swinging doors leading to the kitchen with a hot bowl of porridge. When she turned Dimitri's eyes narrowed. It was the trouble making wench. She looked smug. She looked as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. As she placed the bowl of porridge and a pitcher of cream in front of Dimitri she never saw Akira descend the stairs. Nor did the men who were all watching to see the interaction between the maid and Dimitri.

The maid said not so discreetly “Worked up an appetite did ya? Tupping the lad? Would not have guessed your appetites liked that flavor.”

Dimitri's usually controlled temper was about to get the better of him. Her waspish tongue needed to be silenced. A hush fell over the dining room. Eyes widened. Dimitri’s eyes widened. A very angry looking Suraj was purposefully coming up behind the mealy mean mouthed wench.

“You bitch! You trouble making bitch!” Akira’s angry voice broke the hush.

The mouthy maid did not see the beautiful young woman coming up behind her scowling. A well-aimed kick to the maid's backside sent her sprawling to the floor with a squawk of shock. Akira, realizing the maid was the reason for her less than happy sleeping arrangements had let her temper fly. Her hands were on her hips. The shocked maid stood up ready for a scratching match, but the look on Akira's face, stopped her. The maid’s jaw had dropped, leaving her open mouthed. Her mouth snapped shut. The maid started bawling and scrambled away.

Dimitri's men were wide eyed. More than one wondered where the beautiful dark haired young woman came from. They looked at Dimitri, then Akira. Akira was wearing soft wool breeches, supple leather boots that hugged her long legs up to her knees. Her chamois shirt, laced modesty up to her collarbone was provocatively feminine by the shape beneath it. To their surprise she had Suraj's hooded cape over one arm, and Suraj's familiar bundle was at the bottom of the stairs where she dropped it when the maid’s comments lit a fuse.

Dimitri smiled. The hellcat was back. Now it was his turn to laugh, and laugh he did despite the warning look in Akira's eyes. The jaws dropping around the room appeased him from feeling not quite so stupid for not detecting that Suraj, the quiet messenger, was very much female. He remembered how deliciously female she was.

Crow started another wolf howl but cut it short when Akira turned her icy stare on him. He looked contrite stood up and bowed. He turned and said to his confused companions, “May I reintroduce,” he paused as if to give her time to admit to another name, “Suraj?”

“Suraj is what I answer to.” Akira made a point of looking at Dimitri. She was suspicious that he was suspicious about her identity.

Crow chuckled. “gentlemen... I present Lady Suraj”

“Saints preserve us! If' n Suraj turns back into a boy, I'll be so damned disappointed,” exclaimed Cronus.

Akira, blushed when she saw the winks and knowing looks. The devious maid had all but painted a lewd picture for them. It was a pity it cleared their leader, Dimitri, from the suspicion of having tupped a boy, not that she cared one way or another about his sexual practices.

“I'm hungry.” she simply stated. “I suppose it would be foolish to ask the maid for some breakfast.” Akira had gathered her wits quickly.

A roar of laughter broke the tension in the room. Nels offered to procure some porridge for Akira and Dimitri. Dimitri's porridge had spilled when the female fight almost started. Nels had just vacated a spot across the plank table from Dimitri. Akira sat down avoiding looking at her pillow partner of the night before. She frowned. Her bottom was reminding her that it had been pierced by a cruel splinter.

Dimitri smiled. He saw the brief frown before she hid her annoyance. He guessed the girl across from him was secretly seething that he did not dispel the assumption they had spent the night together, as in carnally together, tupping the night away. His shoulder was sore, so it only seemed fair she too could partake of some measure of discomfort.
Who would believe that I did not enjoy the pillow of the spitfire in front of me in an intimate fashion? Tis better to say nothing.

“See'ins you two are late for breakfast we'll finish packing the mules while you two eat and make up for your energetic night.” Nels could not resist some fun at Dimitri's expense. Very seldom did they catch him enjoying the favors or company of the fairer sex. Always discreet, always private, their leader was not one to come down from a bedchamber with a tavern wench in tow, or a lovely young woman. Nels looked at them suspiciously. They did not deny sleeping together, nor did they confirm it, but they certainly did not act like lovers. A mystery it was, he decided. Nels loved a mystery. For a gruff looking old hunter-warrior and mountain scout, one would never guess he was a romantic old soul.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T
he chill in the air and the threat of snow hurried the men. Akira was pleasantly surprised to find Pegasus groomed thoroughly, brushed clean, almost back to his light dapple grey color. She ran her hand over his body and looked at her hand. No black or gray color transferred to her hand. She slipped the stable boy an extra coin and thanked him for the extra attention given to her horse. The sleepy looking lad still in his night shirt covered by his short jacket, beamed a one tooth missing smile at her. Only when he returned to bed and pushed his way under the bed covers beside his little brother did he wonder why it was that a boy rode in and a lady rode out on that particular horse.

Leading Pegasus out of the barn, Akira counted fifteen pack mules ready to carry their heavy loads up the mountain. It appeared to Akira the men had stopped at the village for more than lodging. Some kind of trading or business transactions had to have been prearranged. Much had been done early in the morn while she slept. She looked at the sky that was just starting to lighten. The quaint village looked asleep. There was a smell of wood smoke in the air, testimony that the imminent winter's chill was creeping down the mountain and fire hearths were warming huts and cottages. Fireplaces were being filled trying to keep the chill at bay. She shivered and was glad of Pegasus's warmth against her legs. She pulled the hood of her cape up and fastened it tightly under her chin. The cape made a tent around her. Her warm breath was visible in the early morning air.

Nels rode up beside her. “You'll be needing these.” He handed her a pair of leather rabbit fur lined mittens.

“Thank you.” Akira smiled. It was an unexpected kindness. “You are very kind.”

“You can thank Dimitri. I just get to deliver the goods to ye. Does ya think yu'll be warm enough?”

“I hope so. I’ve a fur robe to wrap myself in if need be.”

“We have extra blankets and warm robes on the second mule if we need 'em. So don't be too proud to ask for one if you take a chill.”

Akira thanked Nels again. Kindness from men was not something she was accustomed to. She wondered if, as Suraj the boy, she would have given the same considerations given to her comfort. Perhaps in the company of half decent men being of the fairer sex was not all that bad, if one did not mind being treated as weaker. She had little reason to trust any man’s good will. For often, good will had an ulterior motive.

She wiggled in the saddle, and cursed the tavern wench and the man named Dimitri for the sore spot on her butt cheek. Suddenly a pang of remorse came over her. Akira, under normal circumstances would have felt sympathy for the servant girl working under the control of men, conditioned to, and forced to use her body to survive under the harsh rule of men. A struggle with her conscience, ended up with a truce between remorse and justification for sending the wench sprawling across the floor.

A part of Akira admired how the scheming wench pitted men against men, honing in on their lustful nature, and pride. It was a dangerous thing to do. The weapons to use against men were not made with steel blades only. A cunning mind was a woman's best weapon, and for many, their attractiveness was a not so subtle tool for manipulating men. Akira had not been awakened to the powerful nature of sexual desire. She thought of herself as almost plain and the idea of using her body to manipulate men repulsed her. That sex could be pleasurable for women was a foreign concept. She had heard the maids moaning under the weight of her brothers. It sounded painful. She knew some of the servant girls under her father's roof used their bodies willingly for personal gain, and sadly for self-preservation. Listening to the boasting of her brothers and their friends, she knew that it was the same under other roofs.

She leaned forward and whispered, “Well Pegasus, I think I’m going to know how a saddle sore feels today.” Making soft clucking sounds, she signaled her mount to follow in behind Nels. Akira sighed. No matter how much she wanted to forget her humiliation of the night before, the tender spot on her lower right ass cheek was not going to allow her to forget. That Dimitri did not force himself upon her was a relief. Was he a man of his word or was she so average, she did not stir his loins? She told herself the unfamiliar pressure against her backside early in the morning was not what she feared. It had to have been a figment of her overactive imagination. Inwardly, she laughed at her vanity. Far better to be unattractive and not draw the kind of attention she wanted nothing to do with attracting the wrong kind of attention.