A Battle Lord’s Heart (9 page)

           
It was because there was no muffled
clanking of pots and pans coming from the kitchen below. There was no softened
laughter or the murmur of a hundred voices seeping through the bedroom door.

           
This was their new home. Peaceful.
Secluded. Private. Perfect.

           
Atty rolled over in bed and opened
her eyes to a glittering morning. Laughing throatily to herself, she tried to
scoot over to the edge of the mattress, except her body had a little more
trouble than normal obeying her.
That’s what having a baby will do to you
.
And I’m not even close to my due date.

           
Of course, the lengthy amount of
lovemaking they’d done last night might also have something to do with her layabout
lateness in rising.

           
Getting up, she first went to the
bathroom before grabbing a gown from the closet and padding barefoot downstairs
to find a breakfast tray sitting on the side table by the front door.
Amazingly, the oatmeal was still steaming beneath its lid.

           
“You have no business going barefoot
this time of year,” a voice behind her fussed.

           
Atty giggled and popped a piece of
bacon in her mouth. “Hush. If you don’t tell, he’ll never know.”

           
Tory emerged from the hallway. She
was dressed and looking like she always did, which made Atty wonder how long
she’d been awake.
 
“It’s a crying
shame,” Tory smiled.

           
“What is?”

           
“That you should look this beautiful
when you’ve just woken up. I know women who would kill for that ability.”

           
Atty gave her a playful wink. “Maybe
it’s my pheromones.”

           
“He told you.”

           
“We don’t keep secrets from each.”
Grabbing one of the bowls of oatmeal, Atty poured a generous amount of milk
into it and carried it over to one of the large stuffed chairs by the fire. She
replenished the wood, then crawled into one of the chairs and began to eat.
Tory followed her with a bowl as well, and parked herself in the chair
opposite.

           
“You haven’t eaten?” Atty asked in
mild amazement.

           
“Fortune and I have been out and about
sightseeing. I’m still trying to get used to the size of this compound,” the
older woman confessed. “I just came back a few minutes ago to get another
sweater. It’s going to be a gorgeous day, but it’s definitely nippy.”

           
“Do you know where Yulen is?”

           
“Yeah,” Tory smiled over her bowl.
“He’s having sword practice with his men. Fortune’s over there now, watching.”
She licked her spoon and gave Atty a lopsided look. “I was planning on going
over to watch, too. Do you mind?”

           
“Give me a couple of minutes to get
dressed, and I’ll join you.” As she got up from the chair, she threw Tory an
exasperated grimace. “How come you and Teal didn’t tell me about the
aggravation involved with becoming overloaded? I feel like I’m carrying a
backpack across my middle.”

           
Giggling, Tory warned her, “It’s
only going to get worse. But trust me, Atty, it’s worth it.”

           
“All my actions are delayed. I can’t
move as quickly as I used to. I feel like I’m running against a heavy wind.”
Atty continued to complain to her as she went upstairs to dress for warmth.
Tory listened to the woman gripe about her difficulties, even though she knew
Atty was only talking to be talking. There was no irritation in her words, nor
was there any remorse. Clearly Atty was as much in love with the thought of
becoming a mother as she was in love with her husband.

           
Once the woman was ready, which
definitely took more than a couple of minutes, they left the lodge and walked
over to the rear compound wall where the narrow door would let them out onto
the field beyond.
 

           
On the other side of the wall sat a
small set of risers for people to sit and watch as the soldiers took sword
practice. Farther away, at the top of the small rise, was the archery field
where Atty realized she hadn’t practiced in several days. As the flush of guilt
faded away, she let Tory lead her over to the seats where a group of soldiers
readily relinquished an extra pair for them.

           
Yulen was out among the small group
of men. His back was to her, so he wasn’t yet aware of them being there. It was
clear he’d already had a turn. His shirt was off, and his upper body glistened
with sweat, despite the near-freezing temperature. Atty eyed the expanse of his
shoulders, the hard muscles knotted like burled wood beneath the skin. So much
strength, she mused to herself, and so much gentleness.
Corianne was right.
He does have great looking buns.

           
Off to the side, Baylynn, one of the
sub-lieutenants, barked off adversaries. The men sparred with wooden swords
with the same heft and weight as their own swords. Yet, because their weapons
were wood, there was no chance of an accident. At the moment a man Atty vaguely
recognized and one of the soldiers she knew as Verdella were circling each
other, throwing lunges and parrying. The slap of wood blade on wood blade was a
loud, flat sound.
 
The clashing
continued until the new man managed to graze Verdella across the shoulder.
Symbolic first blood drawn ended each match, and Atty wondered how her husband
had fared earlier.

           
“This is fascinating!” Tory confessed
sotto voce
. She glanced at Atty to see the woman was equally enthralled.
“I bet you love coming out here to watch, don’t you?”

           
“I’ve never watched before,” Atty
admitted, not taking her eyes off the circle of men.

           
“You’re kidding, right?”

           
This time Atty cut her eyes to the
older woman. “I’m not kidding. I usually take practice at the same time. Yulen
often comes to watch me.
 
I just haven’t
had the chance to reciprocate.”

           
“I’ll bet you he’s good,” Tory
challenged. The remark, meant to get a rise out her, only made the young woman
chuckle.

           
“He’d better be,” Atty said. “If
not, he doesn’t deserve the job or the title.”

           
“That’s not what I meant,” came the
insinuation.

           
“I know, Tory. Now hush and watch.”

           
Baylynn glanced up and noticed the
Battle Lady sitting in the stands. He gave her a slight nod, then announced the
next pair. As she’d half-suspected, it was to be Yulen and Mastin.

           
Neither man reacted to the call.
Neither knew how closely they were being watched. The other soldiers around
them, however, seemed to perk up as the two men entered the ring. This was the
Battle Lord against his Second, and that suddenly made the stakes very high. As
Second, Mastin would be expected to run the compound and all the territorial
compounds under Alta Novis’s banner in the event Yulen went down in battle or
was unable to perform his duties.

           
Atty drew her coat closer around
her. This was going to be good.

           
Slowly the men circled each other,
both in a crouched position. Mastin took the first swing, which Yulen expertly
avoided.
 
Coming back with a side cut,
the Battle Lord’s sword barely missed grazing Mastin’s shoulder. The near miss
brought out a small cheer from the crowd.

           
“You know, this is the first time
I’ve seen him without a tunic on,” Tory tried to mention nonchalantly. Atty
threw her a humorous smile.

           
“Nice, huh?”

           
“He’s so...golden. Not quite a
redhead. But blond.”

           
“Strawberry blond,” Atty quickly
corrected her.
 
Tory tore her eyes away
to see Atty’s sparkling in fun. She giggled.

           
“Right. Strawberry blond. Sooo, is
it that color all the way down?” At Atty’s deep blush she grinned. “Thought
so.”

           
It was also the first time Atty had
seen Mastin shirtless. As light as Yulen was, the Second was equally dark. It
was like watching complete opposites at war, as neither man expected to lose.

           
Wooden sword met wooden sword with
hard, unrelenting smacks. First Yulen would advance, forcing Mastin to retreat,
then it would be the other way around. Sometimes they held their faux weapons
with one hand, sometimes with two, depending on how quick they wanted to
strike. Around them the men yelled out encouragement and taunts to try and
break the opponents’ concentration.

           
At one point Yulen lunged and almost
snagged the inside calf of Mastin’s breeches. The Second barely managed to
dance out of the way, avoiding the fatalistic first blood. Several men
booed.
 
Mastin wiped the sweat off his
face with the back of one arm, and resumed his stance. Yulen had tied his hair
behind his neck, but it didn’t stop the tiny trickle of sweat from rolling down
the side of his face. Atty wondered if it stung when it reached the scar.

           
Again, sword descending met sword
parrying. By now both men were breathing heavily, their arms burning from the
weight of their weapons. Mastin tried to uppercut, but met the edge of Yulen’s
blade, knocking his own blade aside. Knowing the Second suddenly had left an
opening, the Battle Lord pivoted and brought his sword downward, aiming for the
man’s upper arm.

           
Miraculously, Mastin managed to duck
as the dull wooden weapon slid over him within a hair’s breadth.
 
The near miss drew another round of catcalls
from the crowd. Even Atty joined in the intimidation.

           
“Good heavens, Yulen! Getting slow
in your old age?”

           
At the sound of his wife’s voice,
Yulen started and paused, turning his head toward the risers. The hesitation
cost him, and Mastin’s blade caught the small of the Battle Lord’s back with a
loud and definitely painful sounding
fwack!
Yulen flinched and hissed at
the pain, falling forward slightly until he caught himself from stumbling, and
straightened up. Once he readied himself, he turned to give Atty a definitely
irritated look.
 

           
She knew that expression too well.
Her remark had managed to distract him, and it had cost him the match. Around
her, the other soldiers backed off slightly, knowing what was to follow would
be worth every second.

           
Atty gave her husband an impish
smile. “Oooohhhh ho ho. Lost that one, didn’t you?” she teased. To one side,
she noticed that Mastin had backed away, a big smile already on his face.
Suddenly the confrontation had shifted from the two leaders to the Battle Lord
and his Lady.

           
“Old age?” Yulen finally echoed in
his deep voice. “How dare you criticize me, when the sword isn’t even your weapon.”
Although his words were cutting, his tone was not. Atty, as well as everyone
else, realized he was playing with her.

           
“Hey, given the right weapon, there
would be no match,” she taunted.

           
He paused only for a fraction of a
second. “Care to put a wager on that?”

           
The dare immediately set the crowd
around them into an eager and alert mode.
 
Atty could only blink unbelievingly at her husband.

           
“Hey, no fair! I’m middle heavy!”

           
Slowly Yulen raised his hand and,
with three fingers, gestured for her to come join him. He swung his sword in
wide arches overhead to keep his muscles from tightening up. “Come on, Atty.
Just a little practice to keep your arm limber.”

           
“Yulen, what are you doing?” This
came from Tory, who wanted it made known she didn’t like where this challenge
was going.

           
Ignoring her, the Battle Lord turned
his head and issued a curt order to Mastin, who dropped his weapon and hurried
off. Turning back around, he gave Atty a slow grin. “You’re quick with the
mouth. Now let’s see if you can back all those words.”

           
To the crowd’s surprise, Atty got to
her feet and proceeded toward the circle. “All right,” she acquiesced. “But I
want it on the record that you waited until I was under a severe handicap
before you issued the challenge.
 
What’s
the matter, Yulen?
 
Afraid that when I
was still skinny you couldn’t best me?”

           
The soldiers roared with laughter as
Mastin finally returned with the two foils he’d procured from the wall inside
the main lodge. Yulen thanked him as he took the weapons and made sure the tips
were securely covered.
 
Giving his wife
a smile, he tossed one to her.

           
“You told me once you detested a
sword because of its weight. Fair enough. But you also mentioned you’d gotten
quite good with a foil. Well, I know for a fact you haven’t had a chance to
renew your acquaintance with the weapon, and I haven’t worked with one for a
couple of years. So we should be pretty much on equal footing, my love. Now,
nothing daring. Nothing dangerous. The tips are nicely blunted.” He saluted
her, then waited.