Savage Page 3

  Tamlohn looked at Cryessa and then moved forward. “Siara, allow me to help you mount.”

  Without a word, Anleeh stepped forward, blocking the King. Putting his hands on Siara’s waist, he lifted her onto her horse, helping her to swing her leg over and situate her skirts once she’d settled. He eased each foot into its stirrup, his hands holding her calves over the deerskin leggings she wore beneath her skirts.

  Reaching up, he corrected her grip on the reins, threading them through her fingers.

  Neither said a word.

  Turning away, Anleeh vaulted onto his own horse and then looked at the King and Queen, touching his hand to his heart, forehead, throat and lips.

  Cryessa stepped forward. “May the Goddess bless and protect you.”

  The gates swung open, the Great City revealed in its panoramic glory, the gold and brown of the buildings framed by the green mountains that protected it and sheltered by the blue sky above. Anleeh led the way, a more recognizable figure than Siara. As his horse stepped out from the shadow of the wall, cheers rose, blanketing the City, spreading a dull roar across the land, rolling over the rows of houses and businesses, seeping into the stones of the street.

  Anleeh reared his horse, displaying the horsemanship Tamlohn had taught them and the crowd roared louder. The first expedition of the new reign had begun.

  Chapter Two

  Siara had never been so cold in her life.

  Heavy rain slowed their progress so that now, on the 20th day of their journey, they had finally reached the border of Den. Bundled in a cloak, the muscles of her thighs aching from so many hours in the saddle, Siara sunk into herself, unable to do anything more than focus on the mane of her horse.

  When the caravan stopped, Siara looked up, her eyes struggling to focus. Around her the men were a flurry of action. Numb and exhausted, she waited for someone to instruct her. At the beginning of their journey she’d helped set up camp each night and organized the equipment in the morning. By the tenth day she’d been too weary and sore to do more than listlessly eat what was put in front of her. The storm and reports of trouble in the outlying areas they passed through had consumed Anleeh’s time. At night he sat with the lead guard, plotting their route, leaving her alone in her misery.

  Now that she was no longer moving, the aches and pains of her body rose up to make themselves known. Siara hunched her shoulders and pitifully wondered what would happen if they all forgot about her. Would she freeze atop her horse?

  “Come on, lover, time to get off.”

  Siara turned blankly to the speaker. “Hmmm?”

  “Damn. Siara, can you see me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who am I?”

  “Sounds like Anleeh, but I have not seen him in so long.”

  “This has not gone exactly to plan, has it?”

  A single pitiful tear slipped down Siara’s cheek. “I hate it when things don’t go according to plan.”

  “I know, lover.” Strong hands lifted each boot out of the stirrup in turn, then moved to her waist and pulled her off the mare. Siara cried out as her numb limbs were forced into new positions.

  “Shhh, lover, I know it stings.”

  “My legs!” Strong arms swung her up, pulled her tight to his chest. The world swirled dizzily, and, had she eaten anything, it would have come up.

  “Hold still, precious.” Siara was laid down on strong thighs. Her ice-encrusted skirts were raised, exposing her leggings, and large warm hands began to massage her legs. Siara whimpered and then cried out as needles pricked up and down her skin.

  “I know it hurts. I’m sorry, lover, I didn’t realize what bad shape you were in.”

  “Anleeh?” she whimpered. He pulled Siara upright and wrapped one hand around her back, the other still working the muscles in her legs.

  “Yes, lover. How are you feeling?”

  “Cold. Hurts.” Speaking was too much effort. The world spinning around her, Siara dropped her head onto his shoulder.

  “Siara?” Anleeh jiggled her. “Siara, sit up and talk to me.”

  “Too cold, tired.”

  “What did you have to eat today?”

  “Too cold to eat.”

  “Siara! You didn’t eat?” Anleeh called out to one of the men to bring warm water and bread. “You should know better.”

  “Didn’t know, didn’t understand, so cold.”

  “Have you lived your whole life in the warmth of the Great City?”

  “Mmhmm.” Siara gave up the fight with consciousness and slipped into the inviting dark.

  Damned foolish woman.

  Suppressing his worry, Anleeh soaked the chunk of bread in warm water and held it to Siara’s lips. “Open up, lover.” He jiggled her shoulder to get her attention and when her lips parted he slipped the chunk of bread between her teeth. He stroked her throat and then sighed in relief when she chewed and swallowed.

  “Will she be alright, Lord?”

  “She will. Did she eat nothing when we stopped earlier?” During the middle of the day, their outriders had spotted a group of bandits. Anleeh had ridden out to scout their options while the rest of the group stopped to rest and hide.

  “I know not, Lord.”

  “Very well. Bring me a bit of cheese if we have any.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  “Siara, lover, wake up, you need to eat; your body cannot fight the cold with no food.” Rather than wake, she slid her face into the crook of his neck. On a sigh, Anleeh laid his cheek against her hair, holding her close.

  He knew she must be truly ill to behave this way. He imagined that a well Siara would not allow herself to be held and cared for, independent creature that she was.

  “There is a bit of cheese left, Lord.” The guard handed him a piece of cloth-wrapped goat cheese.

  “Thank you. Have the horses been taken care of?”

  “Yes, Lord. A few are hurting from the cold.”

  “Are any in danger?”

  “No, Lord. We are prepared to leave tomorrow. Are you sure you would not like us to ride with you the rest of the way?”

  “You would not be welcome. Concentrate on getting home safely.”

  “Yes, Lord. We have Lady Siara’s bedroll. Where would you like it?”

  “Bring it to me.”

  When the guard returned with the extra bedroll Anleeh had him roll out both. He held Siara as her frigid stillness turned to shivers, which faded as her body warmed. Anleeh unlaced the bodice of her traveling dress, easing it down and off her shoulders exposing the deerskin shirt that matched her leggings. As she muttered in her sleep about the cold, he stripped off the shapeless brown dress and threw it behind a log. She would not wear it again.

  Lifting her, he quickly slipped her beneath the fur lined covers and then stripped off his own outer garments, popping bites of cheese and bread into his mouth as he did. When he was stripped down to leggings and shirt, Anleeh slipped in beside her, wrapping his arms around her.

  He’d never slept with a woman in his arms and it took him time to figure the best way of it. Anleeh rolled onto his back and pulled Siara across his chest, protecting her from the frozen ground and heaping the blankets of their doubled bedroll on her to protect her back from the wind. Her legs tangled with his and her head rested on his chest. Wrapping the blankets tightly around them Anleeh willed himself to sleep.

  He dreamed of her.

  Blinding white light woke Siara. Blearily she looked around, her movement lifting the blanket enough to allow a blast of the early morning air to sneak into the warm cocoon. On a yelp Siara lay back down, snuggling into the warm body beneath her.

  Warm body?

  Careful not to allow heat to escape, Siara turned her head to visually confirm on whom it was she slept. In the brightening dawn light, Anleeh’s hair shimmered with highlights and his dark lashes and brows were a starling contrast against his pale skin.

  Breathing carefully so as not to wake him, Siara tried to remember how th
ey had ended up like this. Her memories of yesterday were distorted by numbing cold. Shifting beneath the covers, Siara could feel a stiffness in her legs. She wiggled her toes.

  “How do you feel?”

  Siara jerked, startled by his voice, and Anleeh yelped, grabbing her hips beneath the covers.

  “Watch it, woman, you almost did me an injury.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not to worry. How do your legs feel?”

  “A little sore and achy.”

  “Can you move your toes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you feel all your toes?”

  “I-I think so.”

  “You should be fine, but when we rise I will check.”

  “How did we come to be like this?”

  Anleeh rubbed his hands up and down her back. “You mean how did you come to be sleeping in my arms?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember much of yesterday?”

  “I was just thinking on it and I do not remember much.”

  “You had eaten nothing, so your body went into a numb state because you did not have the strength to fight the cold.”

  “I-I wasn’t hungry.”

  “You should know better.”

  “I have never known cold like this before.” Siara protested.

  “When our journey started out I asked you if you were prepared for the cold.”

  “I’d read about it, but the books didn’t explain how even breathing would hurt.”

  “I wish you’d told me you were suffering so.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Can you?” At his mocking tone, Siara threw off the covers and rose, breath hissing out as the cold hit her like a wall, pressing down on her.

  “Siara.”

  “Where is my dress?”

  “Siara.”

  She scanned the ground around their bedroll, the surface of her skin gone to gooseflesh beneath her clothes. They were situated in a tight stand of trees, the doubled bedroll lying atop a cushioning layer of moss. Ducking under a low hanging branch, Siara looked out into a clearing. The forest floor showed signs of human occupation: blackened fire pits, discarded fruit rinds and chunks of stale bread.

  Siara made her way out into the clearing. It was obvious the soldiers had made camp there last night, but where were they? It was barely dawn.

  Four horses, including her grey mare, were tethered on the far side of the clearing. Packs hung from the branches of a tree, out of the reach of any curious forest animals. The other horses were gone, the men nowhere to be seen. A hard knot of anxiety formed in Siara’s stomach.

  “The men are gone.”

  “Yes.” Anleeh moved into the clearing, stopping beside her.

  “We are alone.”

  “We are. Are you scared?”

  Siara shook her head, and tried to pull down the mask she’d learned to wear, to hide behind a passive façade and observe, but it would not come. Her nerves, desire and curiosity all prevented her from hiding.

  “No? You should be.” With that he moved away to check on the horses.

  “Where is my dress?”

  “Gone.”

  “What do you mean gone? Did something happen to it?”

  “I threw it away. It was ugly and you will not need it.”

  “I cannot wear only this, I will freeze!”

  “I will give you something to wear. By the time we reach Den, you will only wear garments I have given you.”

  “Why don’t you just give them to me now?”

  Anleeh looked up from checking a horse’s hoof and then slowly lowered the leg to the ground, patting the animal’s flank. When he started towards her, Siara once more tried to pull down an impassive face, but again could not. Anleeh’s expressive features were stern, but there was a spark of fire in his eyes.

  “The point, lover, is that I take away your clothes and you wear only what I choose to give you. What you wear, and when you wear it, is no longer your choice, it is mine.”

  “Is this to teach me submission?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you cannot expect me to go around improperly clothed for the cold. That is unfair and…”

  Anleeh stepped forward and pressed his fingers over her lips. “Do you honestly believe that I would put you in danger that way? I, who held you in my arms last night to be sure that you warmed up, who hand fed you?”

  “N-no.”

  “Than your protests are nothing more than a way to seek control.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Maybe not, but that is what you are doing.” Anleeh stroked her cheek and Siara shivered, but not with cold. He made a sound, low in his chest, almost like a rumbling growl. With a rough movement, he wrapped his hands around her arms and jerked her to his chest, his mouth coming down on hers. One arm, strong as a tree branch, wrapped over her back, the other across one shoulder so he could grip her hair. Siara felt caught, mastered, protected.

  Her hands twitched at her sides, wanting, nay, needing, to be free to touch him, to claim him as he claimed her. Siara wiggled and his grip tightened; she tore her mouth from his.

  “I want…” she panted.

  “What? Tell me.”

  “To touch you.”

  “Beg.”

  “Beg?” Surely she had not heard that right.

  “Beg to touch me, tell me that you will die if I do not allow you to touch me.”

  Shocked, Siara stamped on his toes. “I will do no such thing.”

  On a grunt of pain, Anleeh released her. His heavy lidded gaze tracked her as she stomped away. Siara reached up and smoothed down her hair, her shock at his words, at his insane demand and her reaction to it, allowing her to find the cool center she was used to.

  Carefully folding her hands together in front of her, Siara let her quiet mask drop down over her face.

  “Anleeh, I find your request degrading and disgusting,” she stated with calm logic.

  “I can see that, and you have retreated into your shell. But know this, I have seen the passion you hide, have tasted it, and you will not hide from me forever.”

  “I will see the mission through. I am not adverse to experiencing passion in the process.”

  Anleeh laughed, but it was a quiet, brittle sound. “How stupid of me to have assumed some of that fire was for me. Perhaps you just need a good fuck.”

  Outraged at his words and surprised at the hurt she’d put in his eyes, Siara said nothing. Her words were half truth. It was only Anleeh that made her burn. But she could not tell him that, could not make herself that vulnerable. She had thought only to protect herself, and not that she had the power to wound him.

  Anleeh moved towards the horses and used a long stick to lift down the bags. He pulled out two short fur cloaks and a bundle of skins. Leaving those hanging over a low branch, he set about packing the other bags on the horses. When Siara saw him load up her mare, she almost protested. She was not so confident in her riding skills that she would enjoy riding any horse but her own. Had their kiss not turned bitter she would have said something.

  “Come here.” Anleeh picked up one of the cloaks and held it out. Siara reached out to take the garment but he pulled it out of her reach. “I need you to let me dress you. For the sake of the mission.” He would not meet her eye and his lips twisted cynically.

  An apology sprang to her lips, but Siara simply nodded, hoping her obedience would be apology enough. Anleeh wrapped the cloak over her shoulders, fastening the bone buttons at the top.

  “There is a hood.” He stepped closer and lifted the deep fur lined hood, settling it around her face. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her face shaded by the garment. Anleeh reached inside the hood, his fingers brushing her neck and cheek, and pulled out the thick rope of her braid. “Keep your hair loose. It will help protect your neck from the cold.” He unknotted the leather thong at the end and then worked the braid loose, laying the heavy fall of
hair on her chest. Against the dark brown pelts of the cloak, her hair looked rich and wild, like the fur of the animals she wore, or the earth itself. The braid and long days of not washing had turned the normally straight locks wavy, so that they framed her face, softening it.

  “The outer pelt is bear,” Anleeh stroked her shoulder, “and the lining mink.” He slid his hand inside the cloak, the back brushing against her breast, and stroked the ultra-soft inner lining.

  Her anger and worry forgotten, Siara bit back a moan, hating herself for the simplicity of mind and spirit that had her aroused at the barest touch. From the recesses of the hood, she devoured him with her eyes. The curve of his lips and cheek, the strong tendons of his neck all begged for the touch of her lips and teeth. She bit the inside of her cheek to stifle the urge to lean forward and nip at the line of his jaw.

  His eyes, which had been focused on the cloak, suddenly met hers. Their gazes locked, each acknowledging the return of desire in the other, before he moved away.

  Beneath the cloak, Siara wrapped her arms across her stomach and hugged herself.

  “These go over your leggings.” Anleeh picked up the smaller skins, each cut to a different size. Dropping to one knee he lifted one of the larger skins. “Part your legs.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Your legs, lover, part them.”

  His casual and repeated use of the delicious pet name finally caught up with her. Her heart lurched, her cheeks flushed, and more than anything, she wished he wouldn’t do it; she could not protect herself from both his touch and his words.

  Breath coming slower with each inhale, Siara spread her feet, widening her stance. Anleeh laid one hand on her left thigh and Siara moaned. She both hated and loved how the simple touch of his hand brought heat to every part of her. It was magic of the flesh, a consuming force that seemed to be worse the farther they got from the Great City.

  “I am pleased that your passion has returned,” Anleeh said, his fingers flexing gently against her leg.

  Consumed with the desire to force his hand against the flesh at the juncture of her legs, Siara shook her head, having no words to give him.

  “Your beast rides you, does she not?” Anleeh asked. Siara struggled to understand his question, her confusion and concentration driving away some of the overwhelming desire.