Chapter Twenty #3
time they made love, every time they kissed or held hands or even
met each other’s gazes across the yard or the hall, but last night
had been different. Last night their lovemaking had been almost
desperate, as hard and hot and fast at first as it had been slow
and soft and tender before they’d drifted off to sleep in each
other’s embrace in the dark before dawn. A desperate tenderness
that swelled in his chest and constricted his throat
now.
He sat on the bed beside her and
brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, memorizing the line of her
chin, the fullness of her lips, her pert nose, sooty lashes, and
the high arc of her auburn brows. He swiped at the hot tears
welling in his eyes and grit his jaw. Riding away from Lara would
be the hardest thing he’d ever done, next to burying his mother,
but he was damned if he was going to cry, even if it felt as if his
heart was being ripped from his chest. Besides, Lara had made him
promise not to shed a single tear as they said their farewells in
front of his men, or she would cry too.
She’d cried lying in his arms several
nights ago when she’d thought him asleep, softly, silently, her
shaking shoulders and smothered sniffles giving her away. And he’d
noticed her red-rimmed eyes and peaked cheeks more than once when
he’d shown up at her property unexpectedly. The open, carefree
lover he’d known at the Hollow had disappeared, and his old friend,
the wary wildcat, had returned. Still, he’d take his wary wildcat
over the hole in his chest that’d grown every day, every moment his
departure neared.
A departure he could no longer
delay.
“Lara, my love,” he
whispered into her ear. “Time to wake up.”
Hazel eyes blinked open and met his.
She smiled up at him, as bright and warm as the summer sun shining
down on him, then her eyes clouded over, and her smile
dimmed.
“Time to say good-bye,”
she whispered hoarsely.
“Aye, love.”
She tilted her head at his endearment
and wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him down and kissing
him with such sweet passion that Talon was hard-pressed to keep his
promise not to cry. He scooped her up in his arms and reveled in
the sensuous warmth of her body as she slid her bare legs down the
length of his and stood skin to skin in his embrace.
“God’s blood, Lara,” he
rasped. “How am I to let you go?”
“It’s you who are going,”
she said, her voice as strained as his.
He tucked her head beneath his chin
and nodded. “So it is.” He held her close, her full breasts pressed
against his chest, his ever-eager cock growing hard against the
soft swell of her belly. “So I must,” he rumbled, and stepped away
from her. Away from the greatest pleasure he’d ever known. He
coughed and cleared his throat, his mind. “We should get dressed
and go down to breakfast.”
“As you say, m’lord,” she
said with a dainty dip of her knee.
“Ha,” Talon barked with
laughter. “It’s a little late to be playing the good
lidi, my
lady.”
She gave him a saucy shrug, and Talon
grinned as she turned her shapely backside to him, greedily
watching as she donned her under shift and long tunic of mossy
green. He dressed himself by rote, never taking his eyes from her
as she splashed water on her face and combed out her wild mass of
curls. Talon sat on the edge of their bed and pulled his boots on
as Lara opened the chest by her cot and reached in for
something.
She walked over to him and held out
her hand. A braid of auburn hair tied off with green ribbons at
both ends dangled between her fingers. “I want you to have this. To
keep it, and me, close to your heart.”
Talon took the braid and tucked it
into the inside pocket of his jerkin. He coughed to clear the lump
from his throat. “Neither it nor you shall ever be far from my
heart, lady.” He patted his jerkin over the pocket. “It will now
and forever be my talisman.”
Long, doleful faces met them as they
took their seats at the table, and poor Berta was red-eyed and
sniffing as she and Enid and Marta served the company their last
meal at the keep for what would likely be a very long time. For
some of them, forever.
Lara picked at her feast
of eggs, sausage, and flat cakes with cream and the last of the
autumn’s blackberries, pushing more food around her trencher than
she actually ate, reminding Talon of their supper at Count
Nithard’s house the night of Mallus. The night he’d been saddled
with a troublesome lidi, who’d turned out to be the best thing that had ever
happened to him.
He forced himself to eat the entirety
of the overflowing trencher Berta set down in front of him, not
because he had any real appetite, but because he didn’t want to
insult Berta, and he knew he’d need a full belly for the road
ahead.
When they were finished and the entire
troop had thanked Berta and the others for the months of delicious
meals, Anglbert disappeared into the kitchens with Berta. Talon led
Lara back to their chamber, where they gathered her sack of
belongings. His had already been taken down and packed onto the
roan and the sorrel.
He carried her belongings to where the
troop’s mounts and pack horses stood at the ready outside the
stables, tied the sack to Shadow’s saddle, and helped Lara up onto
the gelding’s back. He gave her booted ankle a gentle squeeze, much
as he’d done the day she’d raced off to help birth Wilric, then he
swung up onto the Black’s saddle, took one last, long look around
the keep’s courtyard, and gave the order to ride out.
Lara rode beside him as they made
their way east, her jaw tight, her gaze fixed forward. Too soon,
they were at the cart path to her property, where they stopped and
she sat astride Shadow as his men rode past, each of them saying
their good-byes to her. Phillipe was the last to say his farewells,
and the only one forward enough to brave Talon’s scowl as he leaned
over and gave Lara a long hug, whispering into her ear. Talon
shifted on his saddle as Lara teared up and nodded. He knew how she
felt about him, she’d shown him with her words and actions daily,
and that she considered Phillipe a good friend. She’d never
purposely done anything to rile his jealousy, other than let him
think Ranulf had been her lover, and yet…
“Leave off, Lieutenant.”
His grumble grew to a low growl as Phillipe let go only to plant a
kiss on Lara’s cheek and grin at Talon. “I’ll catch up with the
company after I’ve said my good-byes.”
“Aye, Captain.” Phillipe
gave Talon a cocky salute, Lara one last, serious look, then he
turned his mount’s head east and rode off with the rest of the
troop.
Lara met Talon’s gaze, her own veiled,
and turned Shadow toward her house, Wolf loping ahead and Talon
trailing behind. Denys came out of the barn as they rode into the
yard and took Shadow’s reins as Lara dismounted. Talon dismounted
from the Black and offered his hand to Denys.
“Thank you,” Talon told
the lad, who’d agreed to stay on and help Lara with the livestock
and the property for the price of his room and board and the chance
to become her aide and apprentice in the healing arts. “I feel
better knowing you’ll be here.”
“Thank you, Captain. For
giving me this chance. I won’t let you down.”
Talon clasped the lad’s shoulder,
which had grown thicker with the steady work and meals here. “I
know you won’t.”
Denys led Shadow off to the barn and
Talon turned to Lara, who stood with tears in her eyes, chin up and
trembling. He laid an arm around her shoulder and tucked her close
as he walked her into the house. As soon as the door shut behind
them, he enveloped her in his embrace and buried his nose into her
hair, breathing in the spicy sweet scent of rose soap and earthy
woman. Of her.
“I love you, Lara,” he
whispered roughly. “I have since the first moment you smiled at me
fourteen years ago.” She lifted her head and met his gaze, hazel
eyes swimming with tears. “I’ve wanted you as a man wants a woman
from the moment I saw you standing bare-legged in the river, your
damp clothes clinging to your lovely body, and I’ve only wanted you
more, loved you more, every moment since.” He cupped her chin and
lifted it up, running his thumb along her smiling lips, wet with
her tears. “I will come back to you, my rose. I swear
it.”