Chapter Forty-Three
L iadan lay with her cheek on Ardahl’s bare chest, limp with contentment. How long had they been here this way? She needed to get up and dress herself. Leave the sleeping bench so he might rest after his long night. Go about her day.
But for the life of her, she could not move. Could not deny this precious feeling of stunning rightness. Of completion. Her world falling from chaos to a place she could understand.
All she could hear was Ardahl’s heartbeat. All she knew was him.
She’d unbraided his hair when first they lay down on the bench together. After they’d removed their clothing. Before she’d kissed him all over with a ravenous hunger that shocked her. She wanted the scent of him. The salt and taste of soap on his skin. The pearls of moisture her tongue found when she took him in her mouth.
She’d half wanted to end it there, to steal the wild, transforming taste of him. But she needed him inside her still more.
Now she could feel the softness of his hair beneath her fingers, and the hairs of his chest. Could smell him, a scent both satisfying and arousing.
This man. This one above all others. No man would ever exist for her besides him. Not even if she were born and died a thousand times.
“Liadan?” He cradled her head, but strained beneath her. “We had best—”
“One more moment.”
“Ah, darling—”
Despite the uncertainty, the fear and dread, she smiled. “Call me that again.”
“Darling. Alanna . Love.”
Her breath caught impossibly in her chest. Tipping up her face, she looked at him. He lay on his back like a man slain. Had she killed him? His uncertainty, his doubt? Had she, even though it was he who had pierced her to the very spirit?
“Am I?” His love.
“Ye know that ye are. Now and forever.”
She let out a sigh and put her cheek back against his warm skin.
“But if I am to look after ye—we must arise.”
“Go back to behaving as if we mean naught to one another.”
“Aye.”
“Mayhap ye should talk about how annoying I am, when ye be with the other men.”
“What makes ye think I do no’?” He ran his hands through her hair. “Ah, no. No one could ever believe ye annoying.”
“Ardahl, I have something to ask ye.”
“Then ask me when we are up and dressed, while ye give me my breakfast.”
“Aye.” She rolled atop him and scooted up his body even as he framed her face between his palms. “But first gi’ me my blessing.”
“Eh?”
“Ye know how ye do it. Kiss me.”
A smile appeared in his eyes, twin sparks of light. He bestowed the kisses, one in each palm, at each corner of her mouth, each cheek, the center of her forehead. “There.”
“Now I may live. Till next time.”
They dressed, and she opened the door curtain so that anyone passing could see they but sat by the fire. That she gave him breakfast. As a sister might.
“What did ye wish to ask o’ me?” he inquired.
“First, promise ye will no’ say nay.”
He laughed, a sound so rare it sent a spur of delight up her spine. “How can I do that?”
“By trusting me. Ye do trust me?”
Their eyes met in a long look. “Wi’ my life. And beyond.”
“Well, then.” She drew a breath. “I want ye to teach me to fight. I ha’ your sword. I need to know how to use it. Should another attack come—”
“Ye did use my sword last time.”
“Not properly. Might I ha’ been able to save Mam, had I been trained? Ardahl, I never want to feel that helpless again.”
“Liadan—no one can know whether you might ha’ saved her.”
“But my heart wonders over it, time after time.”
He eyed her with compassion and caution. “It takes years to train wi’ the sword, as well ye do know. Conall and I started by the age o’ thirteen.”
“Aye, but ye be the best among Fearghal’s warriors. Deny it if ye will,” she challenged him when he began to sputter. “Why d’ye think he keeps ye near to him? And ye and I have—a special connection, aye?”
“Aye.”
“Who better to teach me than ye?”
“’Twill cause a stir. Ye know fine it will.”
“Ye can drill me in secret.”
“Lass, there is no place in the settlement to keep that a secret. Everything is under a watchful eye.”
“Well, but—we will tak’ it out o’ the way. Ye think about it while ye sleep. Ye do need some sleep.” She added in a whisper, “Alone.”
He nodded.
“When ye wake, I’ll braid your hair again.” It would give her another chance to touch him. She would take any chance that came her way.
Pure pleasure for her fingers. Pure joy for her heart.
*
Ardahl did think about Liadan’s request between bouts of fitful sleep. He rarely slept well anymore, having always one ear open. Listening for Liadan’s voice if she were in the hut and speaking with Mam.
Imagining what might lie ahead for them.
Another attack would come. No one could say when, which did not make for good sleep. He supposed he would feel better if he thought Liadan knew how to react when it happened.
He could not train her properly in but a few days, nay. But he might be able to impart a measure of guidance, a skill or two.
He arose around noon to find the hut empty, the door curtain tied wide open. He gathered his weapons and went out to the training field, but aye, he had made up his mind.
He ducked back to the hut early that evening before reporting for guard duty, while Mam and Liadan were at their supper.
“Aye,” he said into Liadan’s ear as he passed her by.
“Eh?” She turned up her face to him, almost close enough to kiss.
“I will gi’ ye some training. We will start about this time tomorrow, before I report to the guard.”
Her face lit up.
“What’s all this, then?” Mam asked.
“Ardahl is going to teach me to fight. Properly, I mean. So if—if there is another attack, I will no’ be caught out again. I have his sword,” Liadan added tightly, while Mam stared. “His own. So there alone, is that no’ like magical protection?”
Mam did not look certain. But Ardahl understood what Liadan meant. A part of him with her even when he could not be.
If naught else, training would give him a few more moments with her before—
Before, for better or worse, their world came apart around them.