Wintertide (11 page)

“Wounded in battle,” she teased and he grinned back at her, holding his finger in her direction.

“This is your calling.”

She rose from her bed clad in nothing but her camisole and underpinnings, and grasped his wrist, holding his palm upward. She inspected the minor puncture and sighed.

“Well, we probably should contact a surgeon and have him amputate, but in the meantime…” She retrieved her braided belt of pouches and removed one dyed a deep dark red. “Hold still.” She released his wrist and placed some balm on her fingertip. Gently, she touched the small wound.

“There. All better.”

He wriggled his fingers in her face. “Good as new.”

“Now, what were you trying to do?” She reached for the shirt he dropped onto the bed but he caught hold of her arm.

“It’s done, now. Just minor mending.” His eyes searched her face. “I have to leave this afternoon, Khamsin. I have some business to attend to in the northern section of the city. Then I have to leave Noviiya for a week or two, maybe more.”

Leave? She tensed at his words.

“Come with me.” The plea was uttered quickly, as if he already knew she would refuse.

She thought of her divinations of the previous night. There was so much ahead of her. So much to learn. Yet her heart still sank.

“Rylan, I can’t.”

“Why?”

She dropped her gaze. “There’s someone here I have to find. We spoke of it yesterday. You know I have to find a Healer.”

He thought for a moment. “My business could wait until the morrow. And there are many Healers. Not just in Noviiya.”

“No.” What she needed to learn couldn’t be grasped in mere hours. “I must stay in Noviiya. Perhaps, if you return…”

“If you come with me, I won’t have to return. We could search together for these answers you want.” His hand tightened on her wrist. “Please come with me.”

She shook her head, the ache in his voice matching the one growing in her chest.

“I belong here, right now. If you come back…”

“I promise you. I’ll be back.”

But would he? She looked up at him. Why would he return? For her, for Khamsin, for a mere slip of a girl that looked more like a young farm lad than the Lady she was supposed to be? She thought of the Princesses they saw only the day before; their elegance, their carefully tended beauty. She knew she could never be anything like them.

Oh, she could weave spells, she supposed, to make herself as elegant. But they’d be false and somehow Rylan would know. Besides, why return for her when Noviiya was full of reasons for him to stay? Perhaps that’s where he was headed now. An attractive man such as Rylan the Tinker no doubt had more than one lovely tucked away in the City. As he did, she surmised, in Browner’s Grove. She was just little Kammi, the young girl he rescued from the Hill Raiders. He no doubt felt compassion for her, but little more.

She pulled out of his grasp. “Leave word at the stables. I’ll check there when I can.” There was a sudden chill to her voice. “We can meet here for supper, if you like.”

He frowned slightly. “You’ll stay here. The room is paid for, for as long as you need it.”

“I’ve availed myself of your charity far too long. There’s no reason for you…”

“No?” He hesitated, then reached for her hand, pulling her back to him, twining his fingers into her own. His voice was soft, almost apologetic. “There’s a very good reason. One I’ve been afraid to tell you. Tried to tell you last night. It’s why I asked how you felt about your husband. I had to know if you still loved him. Before I could tell you what I feel. How much I love you.”

It took several moments for his words to sink in, for the thousand bubbles that just exploded inside her to settle down into a mere fluttering of her heart.

“Me? That’s not possible!”

He drew her hand to his lips. “Why?” He kissed her fingers lightly. “Khamsin, you’re a beautiful woman. Kindly, gentle but strong. You have a deep loyalty. A true intelligence. You’re all I’ve sought for years, and more so.

“And this is the truth, with no falseness on my part. For if I were here only to seduce you, I could’ve done so in Cirrus Cove, the day you healed my horse. But I wasn’t seeking seductions. Nor love, if truth be known. So if my feelings surprise you, understand they surprise me doubly more.”

“You don’t know me, haven’t known me long enough,” she countered lamely.

“Haven’t I?” His eyes glistened playfully now. “And what determines the proper time for love, little one? Is it written in one of your books?”

Khamsin started to speak, but he continued. “I’m no stranger to Cirrus. I’ve watched you for years. Watched you grow from a mischievous child to a lovely young woman. No, perhaps you weren’t aware of me, as my passings through your village were oft-times infrequent. But, nevertheless, I’ve for a long time been aware of you.”

Khamsin closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of the night the Tinker sat across the dining room table from her. There was an unsettling sensation, an attraction she could not explain at the time.

A shiver ran up her spine. “Rylan, I…”

“Could you love me, Khamsin?”

She stared at the man whose lips brushed against her fingers; whose eyes stared into hers with an intensity that made her knees weak. She wished she could give him the answer he sought. But she couldn’t.

She knew nothing about love, had never been interested in love. Her only thoughts were on her magic and her Healing. Those were the only important things. For love, for a man to love to come into her life now…no. Not now.

The stark reality of Rina’s and Tavis’s death grazed her conscience.
She steeled herself. Now was not the time. There was too much she had to do. She knew when she was with Rylan, her thoughts were anywhere but her divinations. What she found herself feeling for Rylan she forced herself to dismiss as just a physical attraction, a remembrance from the past. A response to her loneliness. That was why she was unwilling to accept his departure.

“I wish I could but…”

He silenced her protestations by drawing her against him. He placed his mouth on hers. Khamsin found his lips warm, his kisses gentle and for now, undemanding. She struggled briefly, unconvincingly until his hands caressed her face, his thumb traced her lips. She shivered in anticipation and leaned into his touch.

He kissed her lightly on the cheek where the bruise had been, only days before. His lips brushed her ear.

“Khamsin,” he whispered and the voice she heard wove itself inside her mind, mesmerizing her. She sighed raggedly and rested her head against his shoulder. He trailed kisses down her neck.

“Rylan, Rylan, please.”

“Do you want me to let you go? Do you want me to leave?”

She fought at the turmoil within herself. And damned her own weaknesses when she answered him. “No, I don’t want you to leave.” She buried her face in his shoulder. “But, I shouldn’t. I can’t.”

“Can’t what, little one?”

She dug her face further into his neck as if to hide from the truth.

He stroked her hair, then nudged her face with his own until their lips met again. She could feel his breath, warm against her face, the roughness of his beard on her skin. Suddenly something inside her ached as if she were empty and he was the only one who could fill the void. Ignoring all the warnings in her mind she pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her fingers locked into the thickness of his hair.

His hands explored the softness of her through the thin camisole. She felt his touch like fire inside her; a fire that trembled, shivered. Tavis had never done this. No one had ever touched her like this, so softly, yet so demandingly. Tavis had rarely held her, except in their marriage bed. And then it was to hold onto her shoulders or her waist, kissing her hard, only at the height of his passion.

But this…this was something she never experienced. This yearning, this desire to be touched. To caress in return.

She leaned her head back. His mouth found the base of her throat, then the swell of her breasts where her camisole unbuttoned. The rest of the buttons he attended to with gentle fingers and moist, warm kisses. He lifted her up and carried her onto the bed.

He stroked her, touching and tracing the lines of her body until she cried out in pleasure and reached for him, bringing him down on top of her. She kissed him with unrestrained passion this time, suddenly needing the taste of his mouth, the scent of his skin.

“Khamsin.” He whispered her name in her ear. Whispered his longing, his love for her. His loneliness.

Her hands answered, for words for her were now impossible. Her fingers traveled down the length of his back, finding the hollow at the base of his spine. She splayed her hands, pressing the hardness of him against her.

But he had other ideas and pulled back slowly. His mouth retraced the trail his hands had burned earlier on her skin. Gently, his tongue teased the peaks of her nipples, then trailed kisses down her stomach. When he reached the softness between her thighs, her gasps of surprise turned into moans of pleasure.

When she could bear no more, when her breathing was rushed and ragged, he took her slowly, lovingly. Her passion built with his until it was only one heart beating, one touch knowing pleasure. One soul knowing love.

And then his arms closed around her once more, and he held her small body curled against his. He teased her eyelids with kisses.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. She opened her eyes. “Look at the one who loves you more than you can ever understand, loves you more than you can ever know…”

And she brought her fingers to his lips, silencing the words she felt she did not deserve.

*

It was after midday when they untangled themselves from the covers and rose from the large bed to dress. Rylan touched her as he gathered his belongings from around the room, as if he needed the warm contact of her skin. He adjusted her shirt, his fingers first smoothing her collar. His mouth planted kisses where his fingers had been.

He insisted on lacing her vest. She blushed, knowing what his inquisitive fingers would do there. But she let him, reveling in sensations just as sweet as they’d been hours before.

Then he combed her short hair with a tenderness she’d not experienced since she was a small child, in Tanta Bron’s lap.

“You’re spoiling me. I shall have to hire you as a lady’s maid.”

“I enjoy fussing over you.” In words and actions he made sure she knew that, in spite of her farm-lad’s attire, she was very much a woman to him.

Finally, he fastened his own cloak and slung his satchel over his shoulder.

Khamsin’s heart was torn between pain and pleasure.

“Lady,” he said, tracing jaw. “There is a matter I must handle before sunset.”

“I remember.” She remembered also he said he would leave, for a week or more. But that part she found she couldn’t voice.

“I thought to head north immediately after that. But now I find myself very reluctant…”

Khamsin took a quick breath of anticipation.

“…and if you’re perhaps willing to share a late dinner with me, tonight? Will you wait up?”

“Yes, yes, of course!” The words tumbled from her lips.

He pulled her face towards his and kissed her softly, teasingly. Then suddenly he crushed her tightly against him. Khamsin felt a hot wave of passion surge through her.

He abruptly stepped back, though one hand still caressed her face.

“Tonight. Just after first moonrise.”

“I’ll be here.”

She listened to the sound of his boots fade down the stairs. Nixa was perched on the edge of the small night table and Khamsin reached for the gray cat, gathering her into her arms. She buried her face into the cat’s soft fur.

Tonight. Though tomorrow he would depart, she still had Rylan for tonight. It was a small parcel of happiness, but she grabbed it willingly. It would be all she would have for awhile.

Nixa had much less forbearance. Her plaintive meow drew Khamsin out of her reverie.

“Hungry?” She released the cat then grabbed her tan cloak. Nixa waited by the door, tail swishing.

“There’s the baker next door. Or we could find a tea shop. Some cream, perhaps?”

Nixa’s titled her head with interest at the word ‘cream.’

“Cream and tea it is, then. And perhaps something more.” She found she was hungry all of a sudden. Rylan’s departure wasn’t the only emptiness inside her.

Khamsin caught no glimpse of the innkeeper in the large main room. A thin barmaid scrubbed at the long table by the hearth.

“Aye, there’s a few shops what have somethin’ tasty near here.” The barmaid wiped her hands on her checkered apron. “Take a right out the door, then three blocks. Short ones, not far. Copper Kettle’s on the right. Across from that’s the Silver Cow. But I’d be glad to make a pot here, if you like.”

“Thanks, but no. I’ve not been to Noviiya before. I’d like to look around.” She needed to walk, to feel the fresh air on her face, and fill her mind with new sights and sounds. She needed to think of anything other than two weeks without Rylan.

Nixa chose the Silver Cow. The shop was set farther back from the cobblestoned street and had several tables on a small front porch. Thick vines with red and orange flowers covered the porch railing. Nixa finished her cream quickly then darted in and out of the foliage. She disrupted a nest of crickets and caught two for a snack.

Khamsin sipped her tea and watched the bustle of passersby. The tea shop was located on a busy corner not far from the entrance to the market. A stout woman hurried by, a squawking goose under one arm. Two small boys trotted after her, each carrying a basket laden with bright green and yellow vegetables. They almost collided with a bearded man pushing a red cart loaded with bolts of patterned cloth.

In her mind’s eye she saw Rylan the Tinker, sitting on the high bench of his red cart, his night-black hair ruffled by the soft breezes of Cirrus Cove. She remembered the children chasing after his cart, snatching for the brightly colored ribbons trailing from the overstuffed baskets.