Men of Anderas II: Dak the Protector (25 page)

What the hell am I going to do if she won’t
believe me?

Dak paced in front of the Comm Center
willing the clock above the door to move faster. Back and forth he
walked while his doubts battled with his excitement. When he saw
the clerk approaching he drew in a deep, cleansing breath.
Everything would be fine. Everything would be fine. Everything
would be fine.

Twenty minutes later his message to JarDan
was zipping toward Anderas and he was mounting his horse.

I’m on my way, baby. Ten days, maybe twelve
and I’ll be home.

Chapter Twenty-One

Hunger and a full bladder finally drove
Kierin out of the vault room. Her shields would keep her sane if
she could control this relentless need to
touch
Dak. She
knew what a remarkable experience it was to be in his bed. She
absolutely
would not--
c
ould not
--experience his
joining with another woman. Self-preservation was a strong
motivator.

After taking care of her body’s immediate
needs, she sat near the fire while her soup simmered. Dreams and
reality rarely coexisted in the real world. All the wishing in the
universe wouldn’t make Dak care enough to stay with her. She knew
he would leave from the beginning. Her heart obviously didn’t
listen to her head. Even before she put the stone around his neck,
she saw in Dak something good and strong and decent.

Her mother didn’t live long enough to
explain the full effects of her birthstone. The increased passion
she accepted from her knowledge of crystals and what properties
each contained. The binding--that wasn’t expected, but Kierin
couldn’t regret her choices. She might not have Dak and the love
that
may
have grown between them in time, but she had his
child--and a small measure of hope for the future. As long as she
kept Dak blocked, he couldn’t cause her further pain. Maybe not the
best life but it was the only one she had to deal with--the one she
fully intended to embrace.

Suddenly ravenous, Kierin devoured every
drop of the vegetable soup and a healthy chunk of the bread. It was
the first full meal she’d manage to keep down in weeks and it
tasted like the finest fare in the land.

It was a good day to sit near the fire and
study the special orders she needed to fill before leaving for the
villages. Gathering her order sheets, a current inventory of what
she had on hand and a fresh cup of clover tea, Kierin settled into
the over-stuffed, comfortable chair beside the fireplace. A
grateful farmer gave her the chair as payment for preventing his
wife’s miscarriage. It wasn’t new but he paid with what he had. If
his gratitude was an indication of his presentation of this chair,
it was a well-loved part of his home. The bright pattern of summer
flowers had long since faded to muted shadows with mere hints of
color. A small smile played around her lips when she wondered what
would happen if she told him his wife was carrying twin sons. Maybe
she’d get a soft blanket to cover the threadbare spots or a
footstool.
Oh, a footstool would be perfect
.

Shaking off her foolishness, Kierin pulled
the first order sheet. Time to get her priorities in order. The
first priorities in any life--a roof overhead, clothing, and food
for the body. She had a secure home, clothes to keep her warm
through the winter, and profits from the market sales would cover
food. She also had to plan for the baby. While she didn’t relish
giving birth alone, she had no doubt she could handle whatever
happened.

An hour later Kierin stretched, arching her
back to ease the tight muscles. “This is what you get for not
sitting at the table like you had normal intelligence.” The list
she held indicated she’d have a good trip. Her workroom already
held the majority of what she needed to cover her orders since they
were for simple remedies. Something for monthly pain and to ease
labor for the women; congestion, coughs and sore throats from the
cold; sore muscles and minor cuts and scrapes. These were farmers
and miners. They took care of the basic tribulations life dealt
them and asked nothing from life they weren’t willing to give
themselves.

She had a few orders for sexual enhancements
and love potions. These she didn’t keep on-hand. Kierin giggled at
her solution to those requests. The most common answer to both
ailments
was self-confidence. For the man who doubted his
stamina, she gave small orange and black crystals in a braided
leather band for his wrist and as long as he
believed
the
crystal worked--it usually did. For women looking for love it was a
calming tea with a hint of spice. With her anxiety level lowered,
she no longer worried about finding a husband and allowed her
natural feminine essence to reveal itself. Kierin’s father insisted
there was nothing sexier than a confident woman.

Sadly, barren women were the hardest to deal
with. Their loss of fertility ate at their souls. Her very nature
demanded she help any living creature in need but her herbs and
crystals didn’t always repair the root of the problem. Sometimes
there was nothing that could be done.

The one special order that gave her pause
was to prevent conception. It wasn’t the first time someone asked
for birth control but he was the first
man
who requested it.
His new wife was a young widow who inherited her late husband’s
copper mine. The last time Kierin attended market day in that
village, the bride was excited about the prospect of her new life
and asked if Kierin had something to aid in fertility since she
never conceived with her first husband. A belt braided with red and
black crystals fulfilled her request. Since the two were together
when the belt was purchased, Kierin was surprised when the new
husband placed his order at the last village on her route instead
of his home market. Her internal warning system was screaming that
something was wrong but she didn’t know what to do about it. She
had a little time to come up with a solution since his village was
the second on her schedule.

The next market day in the village nearest
to her fortress was in two weeks and the other villages in
consecutive weeks. By the end of the month she would be stocked and
ready for the snow. She wouldn’t have to worry about Draagon or his
Phantom Riders until after the baby was born.

* * * *

Tomorrow. He’d be home tomorrow.

Dak stared into the dancing flames of his
fire pit, sipping the last of his tea. A year ago he couldn’t
imagine willingly consuming anything as tame as
tea
. Other
than Jamison’s rot-gut liquor, he’d not had anything but one form
of tea or another since leaving the
Destiny
. Who knew there
were so many flavors of one beverage?

Bone deep fatigue forced him to stop for the
night. Only the concern for the pack animals kept him from pushing
toward Kierin. They were heavily loaded and this pace was showing
on them. Of the four horses, only the one he rode showed any sign
of spirit. The other three followed because he kept them tethered
together and tied to his saddle. All he could do was promise them a
warm barn and all the food and water they could handle. If they
understood his whispered assurances they gave no indication.

He managed to cut this trip down to eight
days by traveling well into the night, every night, and rising
before the sun broke the horizon. Sheer force of will held him
upright even now. The wind that never ceased its relentless drive
across the desert carried a distinct chill of winter. Grateful for
the foresight of bringing fire-gel, Dak opened another canister and
settled into his sleeping bag. The wind-whipped fire didn’t warm as
much as soothe. The shifting reds and oranges and yellows held him
in thrall as surely as any well-trained conjurer.

Are you there, Little Witch? I don’t feel
you in my head anymore and I miss that more than I ever thought
possible. Please, baby, talk to me. I never meant to hurt you. This
silence is killing me, Kierin. Please, baby.

Dak waited, as he’d waited every night, but
no answering touch eased his loneliness. Every night, just before
he closed his eyes, he sent the same pleading message and every
night his heart stuttered at what he’d carelessly tossed aside.
Pulling his blanket around his ears, he closed his eyes and slipped
into the welcoming arms of his dreams.

The bright, early morning sun finally
penetrated Dak’s slumber. Scrambling from the bag, he cursed his
fatigue. His normal night consisted of a few hours of restless
sleep and more hours of staring at the stars and counting all the
ways he vowed to prove to Kierin how much he needed her. He wanted
to be on the road at first light but that was hours ago. It took
another hour to load the supplies and break camp. If he road hard,
he would be home by mid-afternoon. One look at his exhausted
animals and he knew he’d be lucky to be there before dark. He
couldn’t kill the horses because he was an idiot.

“It’s okay, ladies.” He whispered softly as
he stroked each soft neck in turn. “You’ve done better than I
deserve. Today, we take it slow and easy. Tonight we’ll all have a
warm bed.”
I hope.

As the miles slowly passed beneath him, Dak
constantly scanned the desert around him. Something didn’t feel
right
. There’s not a speck of any living thing as far as he
can see, but that itchy feeling along his spine told him something
or someone was watching him--tracking him. Whenever he stopped to
rest the horses, he searched the area with a spyglass but couldn’t
see so much as an anthill to break the flatness. His head told him
it was impossible--his gut told him to watch his back.

The setting sun was a memory when Dak pulled
his horse to a stop outside Kierin’s fortress. He gripped the
crystal key in his hand. How many times over the past weeks did he
threaten to toss the piece of rock into the nearest hole? He
couldn’t do it. He couldn’t get rid of this one connection to this
place--to Kierin.

Drawing a deep breath, Dak aimed the key at
the door, smiling when he remembered his first attempt at opening
the fortress and how Kierin’s laughter warmed his heart. Holding
the memory of her laugh in his head, Dak willed the door to open
and walked toward his future.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dak wanted to rush into the cave and
confront Kierin but he knew the horses had to come first. He pushed
them way past their limits and they gave him everything he asked of
them. Without a little special treatment he just might come out
tomorrow and find them dead. Unloading the supplies in the barn, he
led each horse to a stall.

“Bet you’re glad I added more room to this
barn.” He spoke softly to Kierin’s mare. “You’ve got company.”

It took longer than he thought to brush,
feed and water his animals. Part of him wanted to hurry. Another
part feared what would happen when Kierin realized he was here. The
part between his legs hoped he wouldn’t be sleeping alone
tonight.

Dinner will be on the table in about five
minutes.

Kierin’s voice in his head, after so long
without hearing her, dropped him to his knees in the middle of the
barn floor.
By the Beard of the Prophet, she’s back.
Tears
burned behind his eyes and Dak swallowed hard around the lump in
his throat. He didn’t know how long he squatted in the dirt before
a nanny goat gently butted him in the chest.

“Don’t push. I’m going. She just took me by
surprise.” Stumbling to his feet, he made a quick survey of the
barn, making sure all the occupants were down for the night before
closing the door and heading for the cave. He knew he had a lot of
talking and begging and apologizing to do--but she hadn’t
zapped
him. He’d take any scrap of encouragement he could
get.

* * * *

Oh, I can’t believe I opened up to him! Why?
Why? Why did I do that?

Between the vault room and her mental wall,
Kierin never knew he left Cypriana and headed back to her. Until,
he opened the gate and stepped through the security field. She
didn’t have to deliberately make the connection. His intense
emotions swamped her, destroying the fragile wall she worked so
hard to maintain. Wild, insane hope battled her insecurities and
fear of more heartache. Why did he come back? What did he want? Why
did her heart beat hard enough to explode? How could she sit and
talk when all she wanted was to drag him to bed?

“Enough.” She mumbled. “Feed him. Talk to
him. And if you don’t like what he has to say, send him away.” She
ignored the voice in her head that snorted at that last comment. It
wouldn’t take long for him to reach her and she had to find a way
to stay strong against him. The tremors in her hands were
not
a good sign. “Dinner first. Bowls for stew,
spoons--done. Goddess, help me through the next few minutes.”
Smoothing her hands down the front of her skirt she wished she had
something pretty to wear just for him. She turned as Dak walked
through the doorway.

Now that he was here, he was afraid to move.
She was so beautiful. The heat from the fire made her face glow.
Damn! He wanted to touch her so bad he ached but if he did they
would end up in bed with nothing settled between them. This was
more important than physical gratification despite what his dick
thought.

“May I come in, Little Witch?” He asked
softly, smiling when she wrinkled her nose at his pet name for
her.

“Dinner is ready--if you’re hungry?” She
fidgeted, twisting the fabric of her skirt, barely looking at
him.

I’m hungry for you, baby.
He knew she
heard him when she gasped and turned toward the fire.

“I’m starving.” He answered, keeping his
voice soft and soothing. “Nine days on the trail eating dried meat
and stale bread leaves a man craving something … hot, soft and
fragrant.”