Chapter Eighteen #2
and plucked on the spit, she started the cooking fire beneath it,
grinning as the smoke wafted toward the open window of the cabin.
The scent would eventually wake Talon, howling and ravenous from
his afternoon nap. She picked up her basket and headed for the
stream to gather greens for their supper, her own little herd of
horses following, the Black leading, with the other three chargers
and Gaea jostling in the middle, and Fulrad’s bay, which Lara had
taken to calling Shadow, trailing behind.
She’d been patiently gaining Shadow’s
trust, getting close enough to touch him one day, running her hands
over him the next, and relieving him of his gear yesterday, leaving
his bridle on when he spooked. Free of his cumbersome saddle, he’d
perked up quite a bit, and it was his whiskers sniffing over her
shoulder now as she picked handfuls of oily, pungent
mint.
Lara patted the gelding’s cheek and
grinned as he blew into her hair. Standing slowly, she ran her hand
up and down his neck, along the blaze on his nose, and under his
soft, prickly muzzle. “How about I take that nasty bit out of your
mouth?” she asked in a singsong voice. “Would you like that,
Shadow?” Slowly, gently, singing nonsense, she pulled the bridle up
over his ears and off his head, laughing as he practically spit the
bit out. “I know. Who wants a piece of metal in their mouth day and
night?” The horse gave a gentle nicker, the first such sound Lara
had heard from him. “You poor soul, to have had such a cruel
master.” She rubbed both his cheeks and his nose over the indents
left by the bridle. “You’re free of him now. All you have to do
here is laze about and graze to your heart’s content. How’s that
sound to you?”
The horse bobbed his head and gave a
loud whinny. Lara gathered the basket and bridle and set off for
the cabin, laughing as Shadow kicked up his heels and cantered into
the open yard between the barn and the cabin. She was still
laughing at the gelding’s antics when she saw Talon sitting on the
bench on the front porch wearing nothing but his breeches with a
blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
“What do you think you’re
doing out here half naked? It’s too cold and you should be resting
in a warm bed.”
“I’m tired of lying about
in bed,” he grumbled, then gave her a crooked grin. “Unless you’re
in it with me.”
“Aye, well.” She set the
basket down on the porch. “Someone has to feed us.”
He grabbed a handful of her skirt,
amazingly quick for a man so recently wounded. Lara tugged it away
from him and Talon grimaced. She stopped tugging, and he grinned
and pulled her in closer, knowing she wouldn’t want to strain or
tear his wounds open and using it against her every chance he
got.
“Come here, my beautiful,
thorny nursemaid.” His voice was low and husky. “I’ve need of your
medicine.” He pulled her to him so she was straddling his lap,
careful of his injured leg—then his mouth was on hers: hungry,
feasting, his tongue tracing delicious circles around hers as his
hands roamed the length of her back and cupped her backside. He
trailed kisses along her jaw, down her neck, the hollow of her
throat, and Lara figured it was a good time to remove herself from
his lap while she could still think. He growled low, holding her
tighter as she tried to push up off him. “Don't go, my wary
wildcat.”
“I don’t want to reopen
your wounds,” she panted, slapping at his hands as they encircled
her waist, impressed with the tenacity of their grip. Four days
ago, he could barely hold his own cup; now he was grabbing her
around the waist and holding tight. Too
tight, her head told her.
Not tight enough, her
body countered. He shifted beneath her, maybe more to ease his
growing hardness. “You heal too blessed fast.” She jumped off his
lap and smoothed her skirt.
He chuckled and stretched his legs
out. “Unless you plan on keeping me sedated with your teas, I’m
going to be all over you each and every chance I get.” He gave her
a lopsided grin. “I’m giving you fair warning, lady. Drug me, leave
me, or make love to me, those are your choices.”
“Fair warning, eh?” She
tsked and sat on the bench beside him. His hand covered hers and
she thrilled at his touch, at the heat and life in him.
“Aye.” He lifted her hand
and kissed her palm. “There’s something else I must give you fair
warning of,” he said, his voice, his gaze, suddenly serious. “You
know I’ll leave Oloron come winter?”
Lara nodded.
“I can’t promise you
anything after that.”
Lara shrugged. She knew soldiers
didn’t return to their sweethearts for many reasons. Death.
Crippling injuries. A change of heart. And she knew how Talon felt
about marriage. He’d made it clear on numerous
occasions.
“Christ, Lara.” He tapped
the back of his head against the wall, the muscle on the side of
his jaw ticking. “You do know what I’m asking of you?”
“To become what every
other person in the valley’s had me for months now. Your
mistress.”
“To the eyes of the world,
yes. But to me…” His gaze bored into hers. “You are the one person
I want and need more than any other in this world, or the next it
turns out.” He held both her hands in his. “Tell me, my prophetess.
What will we be to each other?”.”
Lara loved him, plain and simple. She
hadn’t meant to, and she’d certainly tried her hardest not to. Yet
her head had given way to her body and her heart had followed. She
was his, married or mistress. Sophie had been Orlando’s mistress
for five years, and swore she’d never regretted a moment of them.
Five days, five months, or five years, Lara would take whatever
time she could get with Talon, however she could. Plus, being
considered a witch had its advantages. People might talk about her
behind her back, but they weren’t going to say anything to her
face.
She stared into his somber gray eyes.
“We shall be what we are, m’lord.” He blinked once and let out a
heavy sigh. “Lovers.” He gave a slow smile. “As if I could refuse a
man whose vows to me are fair warning and no promises.”
Talon chuckled. “It must be that
thorny, troublesome streak in you.” He rubbed her fingers over his
scarred palm, then pressed his lips to her hand, her wrist, slowly
kissing his way up her arm.
Lara stood and pulled away. “I need to
tend the pheasant. Though I’m not sure feeding you meat is the
safest thing to do right now.”
She’d just given the pheasant one last
turn when Wolf, whom she’d sent off on his mission four days ago,
came loping out of the hedges with a happy bark.
“Wolf.” She laughed and
petted him from head to tail as he wagged circles around her legs.
Then she untied the kerchief from around his neck, unfolded it, and
handed Talon the parchment from inside the pocket.
Talon read it out loud. “All good
here. Tongues wagging. See you…” He held the message with a drawing
of a waxing half-moon up to Lara.