Sword's Call (39 page)

“Oh . . .”

“Jorrin, is it too late?”

His heart surged.

Yanking her into her arms, Jorrin took a risk that was well worth it.

She sobbed against his chest and wrapped her arms around him, almost too tight.

Jorrin smoothed her hair and whispered everything would be all right. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling her scent and holding her tight against him, molding her to him, basking in the rightness of it.

He loved her so much. No matter what he said or did, what she said or did, that would never change. Jorrin smiled against her hair.

“It won’t be all right,” Cera whispered, looking up at him, her gray eyes still filled with tears.

“It won’t?” Jorrin barely resisted the urge to kiss the look off her face.

“No, not until you forgive me,
if
you’ll forgive me. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to. I was a fool, Jorrin. I didn’t mean anything I said and I
am
sorry. I love you so much . . . and I . . .”

Her babbling was adorable, but he needed to reassure her.

Tears coursed down her cheeks as she trailed off, and he kissed them away, reveling in the feel of her moist skin beneath his lips.

The salty taste of her tears only made him want her more.

“Shhh, love.”

Unable to resist her mouth, he kissed her.

Cera clung to him, opening, deepening the kiss and pressing her tongue against his. He sensed her desperation.

Jorrin wanted to reassure her before he lost the ability to think, but his body was already responding to her mouth moving against his and the light caresses she was spreading along the length of his back.

It’d been too long and he’d missed her touch. He was desperate for her, too.

He gripped the back of her neck to pull her closer, burying his fingers in her soft curls. Her arms shot around his neck, and she rubbed her tongue against his.

Taking control, he devoured her mouth, his tongue writhing with hers. He kissed her until neither of them could breathe.

She moaned into his mouth, and he answered with a groan.

Jorrin needed her, and he needed her now. His erection strained against his breeches. Their bodies melded from hip to hip, breast to chest, but he wanted her even closer.

Cera rubbed her breasts into his chest and he grunted, kissing her harder.

He stopped himself with the first tug on her jerkin.

They were outside, for the Blessed Spirit’s sake.

With willpower he didn’t know he possessed, Jorrin pulled away, struggling for breath and coherent thought.

Resting his forehead against hers, he flashed her a smile.

Cera’s breasts pushed unevenly against his chest, her cheeks rosy with desire, her gray eyes heavy-lidded.

Groaning again, he tore his eyes away from her kiss-swollen lips as his erection throbbed. He would never get enough of her.

“I love you, too,” Jorrin said.

Shooting a hand to her mouth, Cera cried out in relief, closing her eyes. She pressed a hard fast kiss to his lips. “Do you still want me?”

His blood ran hot and he wanted to throw her down and make love to her right there. With his manhood pressing into her, Cera had to ask?

“I never stopped wanting you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I should’ve explained things better, but the king put me on the spot . . .”

Cera placed a finger to his lips. “I’m the one who was in the wrong. I should’ve listened to you. What I accused you of . . . it’s so horrible. I know you never would’ve done that to me. I can’t believe what I said. I meant none of it.” Tears welled and spilled and she looked down.

“Shhh . . . I don’t care what you said, as long as you realize it’s not true. I love you.” He guided her face back up to his, and Jorrin’s heart danced in his chest when she smiled.

“You can forgive me, then?”

“You’re already forgiven, love.”

Her face lit up and she squeezed him tightly.

Jorrin laughed. “Easy, love, I’m fond of breathing.”

“Ask me again?” Cera whispered.

He felt a slow, tender smile spread across his lips. “Lady Ceralda Ryhan, will you be my wife?”

“Yes, Lord Jorrin Aldern, I will.”

His stomach did a somersault, although he’d known what her answer would be.

He’d never been happier in his life. Jorrin could feel Cera’s emotions radiating off of her, and his heart pounded.

They stared at each other.

“Aren’t you going to seal my yes with a kiss?” Cera flashed a grin.

He grinned back.

Their spell had been broken with her question, but it helped Jorrin clear his head. “I’m afraid if I kiss you, we’ll be naked in the dirt in a few minutes.”

She giggled and caressed his cheek, her eyes darkening with desire. “How about naked in my chambers, instead?”

Jorrin trembled as she ran the pad of her thumb along his bottom lip. “That . . . would be . . . better,” he stammered, struggling to maintain coherent thought.

Cera grinned pure mischief and took his hand.

He nodded and let her lead the way.

That was them, though wasn’t it?

She’d lead, he’d follow.

But Jorrin was fine with that.

No matter what happened, as long as they were together, they could do anything.

Being the Duke of Greenwald wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Epilogue

“My lady?”

They’d been back at Greenwald for over a month after spending a fortnight more in Terraquist, and things were going well.

There was so much to be happy about. Cera should be overjoyed, and she was for the most part, but her emotions had been erratic lately.

“Yes?” Cera looked up from staring out of one of the many windows in the great hall down into the courtyard.

Meeting Leargan’s dark eyes, she tried to smile, but the handsome new captain of Castle Ryhan’s personal guard was too perceptive.

He looked worried. Leargan disguised his expression and gave her a polite bow. “I wanted to give you a report.”

“Oh?”

“About the new men, training is going well.”

“Oh, good,” Cera said automatically. She shifted in the sky blue gown she was wearing, feeling restricted, as always.

Other than several she’d worn at court, Cera couldn’t remember the last time she’d donned a gown. She suddenly missed the simplicity of breeches, a soft linen tunic, and a leather jerkin. Missed time to herself and long rides through the countryside on Ash, Trikser running at his side.

“Is something wrong, my lady?” Leargan asked, after hesitating. “I don’t mean to overstep . . . ”

“No. Nothing’s wrong, Leargan. Don’t worry. You haven’t overstepped. I’m fine, honestly.” Cera forced a smile.

He’d seen it for what it was, but gave a curt nod. “I’ll return to the fighting yard, then. We are going to start archery shortly.”

“Archery?” She cocked her head to the side.

An amused look crossed his handsome face before he composed himself.

Cera gave a genuine smile.

“Yes, my lady. An interest of yours?” Leargan’s voice was nonchalant, but he was obviously trying to hide his amusement.

“Somewhat.” Cera grinned.

Her captain relaxed and gave a smile of his own. “Lords Aldern and Dagget thought you might want to know, milady.”

Had Jorrin sent Leargan to her?

Cera nodded at the knight. “I’ll change and be right out. Please have my horse readied.”

“Of course, but I suggest you hurry, my lady. I think I saw the new headwoman coming this way.” Leargan winked.

She groaned.

King Nathal was just trying to help by sending people to fill in all the missing positions, but the mother hen of a headwoman in charge of all the other female staff, Morag, was enough to drive her to drink.

The woman was constantly reminding Cera what was and wasn’t proper conduct of a young lady born of nobility.

A
married
one, to boot, Morag would say, lecturing in her nasal voice.

Unfortunately, Cera’s day to day activity was usually placed in the
not proper
category by the older woman.

“I’ll simply have to remind her who exactly is in charge around here.” Cera ignored Leargan’s hearty chuckle.

Racing past him out of the great hall, she grinned as she went, hurrying to her rooms. If Cera was seen, Morag would follow no matter what.

She’d brought Neomi from Tarvis to be her lady’s maid, but the girl was too afraid of the new headwoman to actually lock her out of the Duke and Duchess suite. Neomi probably wouldn’t do it even if Cera commanded her to.

Trikser caught up with her in the large corridor, wuffing curiously as he jogged beside her.

She grinned, glad to see her bond. Cera had let him out earlier to hunt. He didn’t mind prepared meats of course, but like her, sometimes Trik needed be free to run on his own.

Passing a few shocked staff members as she went down the corridor, she said nothing to them, and thankfully Cera didn’t come across Morag.

Running through Castle Ryhan was certainly
not
behavior becoming of a young married lady.

She didn’t spot Neomi as she made it to the rooms she shared with Jorrin, but wrenched the door open. Cera slipped inside and shut the door with a
thud
. She giggled and leaned on the door to catch her breath.

Trikser leapt onto the large bed and lay down. She could hear Jorrin’s usual growl in her mind. He wasn’t any fonder of the wolf’s place there than Morag was.

The headwoman of course, had been horrified the first time she’d seen Trikser in the middle of Cera and Jorrin’s bed.

Only the fact that he was a wolf, not a dog, had kept her from shooing him out of Castle Ryhan entirely.

Morag did not approve of any animals within the castle walls.

A wave of nausea hit as Cera bent over her trunk to pull out a pair of soft leather breeches, but she took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed until it passed.

She wouldn’t let her stomach’s objections change her plans, so she dressed and grabbed her bow and quiver.

Cera was the best archer, even better than any of Leargan’s selections for the personal guard, so she’d just have to convince Jorrin she was the one best qualified to teach them.

She wouldn’t tell him her secret until he’d promised she could.

It’d keep her busy and outside for a few months. She wouldn’t be able to do it for very long. And if she was out on the training grounds, Cera could keep Morag at bay . . . at least until she came back inside the castle.

She smiled and called Trikser to follow her.

Ash would be waiting for her in the courtyard.

Jorrin grinned when he saw Ash racing toward them, Trikser close on the stallion’s heels. He’d known Cera wouldn’t be able to resist trying her bow against their new recruits. He glanced at Tristan when the lord chuckled.

Things were going well.

He was settling in at Greenwald much better than he’d even expected.

Cera knew much more about running a Province than he’d been aware of, and he wasn’t embarrassed to have to learn things from his wife.

To her credit, she made it seem like
he
was in charge, and Jorrin admired her ability to do so with grace and humility. He didn’t mind that it was for show for the most part so everyone would not think him weak, but so far knights and servants alike had treated him with the utmost respect. He didn’t feel like a duke yet, but Jorrin would be more comfortable with time.

“You were right, my lord,” Leargan said in a low voice so only Jorrin and Tristan could hear. “I’d suspected you would be, so I suppose I was smart
not
to accept your wager.”

Jorrin chuckled.

Tristan laughed out loud, and the knight winked.

“Ah, Leargan, I wouldn’t have taken your coin.” Jorrin grinned at the disbelief in his captain’s dark eyes.

Also in the short time they had been in Greenwald, Jorrin, Tristan and Leargan had fallen into a comfortable rhythm.

They were rarely apart, getting to know each other well, and Jorrin already considered them good friends.

He’d never get used to
my lord
or
Lord Aldern
.

Hell, technically, Leargan had been higher born than Jorrin, yet he was calling him
my lord?

It still made him uncomfortable.

Jorrin had told Tristan under no circumstances was
he
to call him anything, but
Jorrin
, and the younger man had laughingly agreed, as long as the sentiment was mutual.

He’d been uncomfortable with that at first, because after all, Tristan
was
a lord, but he’d gotten used to calling him by his given name when he’d observed even Lucan had no qualms about it.

Leargan meant just as much to him, already. The knight was only a turn his junior, at two and twenty. He had a wicked sense of humor Jorrin was getting to know very well. He was a great deal more easy going than Jorrin had originally assessed and he could swordfight better than anyone he’d ever met.

His captain would protect Cera with his life if need be, and that made Jorrin feel better about being
in charge.

He had good men at his side and more than adequate backup, if need be.

The captain had handpicked the eleven other men that made up Jorrin and Cera’s personal guard, and Jorrin was enjoying getting to know them as well.

Before they’d left Terraquist, they’d been scoffed at by some courtiers because the eldest man of the guard was not yet thirty, but all of Leargan’s picks had been sanctioned and heartily approved by King Nathal. After all, he’d trained and knighted them all. Several of them had been raised at the palace as foster children, as Leargan had been, so he saw them as brothers. The kinship was something Jorrin was also starting to feel as he got to know them.

They were all assisting in training the new recruits—Castle Ryhan guards and men-at-arms—and Jorrin appreciated it to no end. He’d never trained anyone in his life.

Lucan was also finding his place in Greenwald though Jorrin’s parents hadn’t wanted to leave the boy with him and Cera.

The young mage had become fast attached to both of Jorrin’s parents and the feeling was mutual, but he was equally attached to Tristan, so he’d chosen Greenwald over Aramour when Jorrin’s parents had offered the boy a place with them.