Courting Kel (15 page)

And she let him see it all. Most of all, he saw the depth of
her love for him as they climaxed together, her cunt fisting then unfisting
around his cock. He spurted deep inside her and roared her name.

* * * * *

Later That Morning

Only after Aren had flown Peg so high she could no longer
see them did Kel remember the questions she’d intended to ask. “Who will feed
Gryph? Water your plants?” she demanded of the clouds floating high above.

“The plants receive what they need from an automatic
system,” Drew said, stepping out from the tree-cast shadows. She looked
indifferent, but Kel saw lingering resentment in the way she stood—as if braced
for Kel to attack her in some physical way—like hitting her or something. Her
eyes seemed wary, as though Drew waited for another emotional attack from Kel.

“Erland and Storrtwo feed the pegagryphs when Aren is away,”
Drew said as she advanced another step in Kel’s direction.

Kel picked up the prophecy cloth from the railing where
she’d hung it last night. Folding it, she put it on a chair then sat on the
wooden deck’s top step.

“How is it that the pegagryphs have names but Aren’s horse
does not?” Kel asked.

“
Horse
is his name.” Shrugging, Drew settled several
steps below Kel’s bare feet, close but out of easy reach.

“Aren told me Caton has several horses. Does he call them
Horseone, Horsetwo and so on?”

Drew’s giggle relieved the tension Kel had felt flowing
between them.

“I think Aren had a dog once,” Drew said, scooting up one
step and a little closer to Kel’s feet. “It died.”

“Every— Ahhh, I think I understand. The dog had a name—other
than
dog
—and it died. Pegagryphs live far longer than humans, so Aren
figures he won’t be around when they die. But he’ll probably outlive
Horse
,
who doesn’t have a name.”

“
Horse
,” Drew began then giggled.

“Is his name,” Kel finished through her laugh. Sobering, she
added, “It’s a beautiful weave, Drew. You and Laurette are very talented. I…I
didn’t understand its purpose when I returned it.”

“I should have explained when we gave it to you.” She looked
up but stayed where she was.

Kel figured it was time she took the next step toward full
reconciliation. She dropped to Drew’s side.

“Caton said something about riding,” Drew said, her voice almost
bored but her expression hopeful.

“I thought I’d teach you. If you want me to, that is. Even
if Ondrican never has to fight a war, women… On Amazonia, women ride.”
Grinning, Kel added, “Sometimes we even ride just for the pleasure it gives
us.” Not that warriors had much time for pleasure riding—not on horses at any
rate.

Pleasure.
Riding for and with pleasure. Kel
remembered the dream the prophecy cloth had brought to her and Aren. It felt
even more real this morning. So real, she rubbed her chest as if her heart
heard words—
I love you
—Aren had not spoken. Realizing what she was
doing, she leaned her elbows on her knees and looked over at Drew. And most
definitely last night was not a dream, although both sessions had a certain
surreal aspect to them. But she would think about that later—once she got away
from her visitor.

“Horses require work. Hard work. Just like a house, their
stalls need cleaning. Having hooves, they cannot prepare their own meals but
rely on us to feed them or to set them free to graze on their own. We must also
care for their clothes—blankets and bridles and saddles.”

“Erland and Storrtwo really hate mucking stalls.”

Kel stood. Taking Drew’s hand, she pulled the girl to her
feet. “You’ll not ride until you, too, have grown to hate mucking stalls. Come
on, it’s time to tend to Horse.”

Drew recaptured Kel’s hand. “Did Aren tell you the prophecy
cloth predicts the future?”

“What do you mean?”

“Only that sometimes what occurs in a dream will truly
happen.”

Nonsense
, she thought as she followed Drew toward the
horse barn. She’d be gone before that had even a chance of happening.

* * * * *

Castle Storr

When Basalia’s image finally appeared on Storr’s vidscreen,
Aren stopped his restless pacing and studied his mother-in-law’s features.
Basalia’s hair was redder than Kel’s and a wide white stripe accented her
widow’s peak. Dark brows winged above her green eyes. Her cheeks looked rounder
than her daughter’s but her nose, lips and chin had transferred perfectly to
Kel.

Satisfied he knew what Kel would look like in twenty-five
years or so, Aren turned his attention to Storr’s conversation with Amazonia’s
queen.

“If Keleos wants to come home, you—”

Aren supposed his sudden appearance on Basalia’s vidscreen
had made her pause. She stared at him for a long moment then said, “You must
return her. I’ll not consign my only child to a loveless marriage. A marriage
based solely on your ridiculous Ondrican laws.”

Aren stiffened at the insult to his homeworld’s customs. And
it made him even madder to think that Basalia would expect him to give up Kel.
At least, he wanted to inform his mother-in-law, Ondrican didn’t keep slaves.
His father’s hand on his shoulder warned him to hold his tongue. But he
couldn’t stop his thoughts or the suspicion Basalia’s tirade was overdone. She
had, after all, agreed to the marriage or Kel wouldn’t be on Ondrican at all.
On the other hand, Kel claimed she’d been kidnapped. Suppose… His father’s
voice cut off Aren’s thoughts.

“Basalia, even you must admit our children have had little
time to become acquainted, let alone fall in love. Aren, because he cares for
Keleos and wants her to be happy in her marriage, wishes to bring his wife to
visit her mother. Keleos misses you.”

Basalia snorted. “Your son wants to visit for the sole
purpose of spying on Amazonia. Assessing our strengths and where Ondrican might
breach our defenses.”

Aren wondered about Basalia’s open hostility but dismissed
it. She was likely still pissed at Storr for trying to fuck her. Or maybe it
was Storr’s lack of success that made her hostile still. Squelching a laugh, he
nudged Storr to reply.

“Then pick a neutral place away from Amazonia. We have the
technology to reproduce your castle and a few of your people.”

“A neutral place, eh? All right. We can hash out the details
as to where later.” An assessing gleam in her eyes, she continued. “Castle? You
once considered my home a hovel, Storr. If you don’t remember it, I’ll provide
you a brief image. You spent months here with my older sister. Months you
obviously prefer to forget.”

“I remember,” Storr growled. “Will you allow it or not,
Basalia?”

“I’ll transmit the images shortly. But if this is a trick,
Storr, you’ll live to regret it. And then I’ll cut you into little pieces
myself.”

“Codswallop!” Storr swore as Basalia disappeared from his screen.
“What a woman. She means it, you know.” Leveling his sternest gaze on Aren, he
added, “I want to live to see my grandchildren, so you’d better have told me
the truth.”

“I have, Father. Kel doesn’t believe in the prophecy cloth
or that it will follow us no matter where we go. This ploy should convince her.
Of the following-us part anyway. Hopefully, it will also convince her about our
dreams. And her possible pregnancy.”

“Her swelling belly will show her sooner or later.”

“I’d prefer her believing in my—our—love before then,
Father.”

“Peace with Amazonia is what I want most—next to my
grandsons of course.” Seeing his son’s face, Storr quickly added, “Or
granddaughters.”

Aren grinned. “Knowing Kel, if our first child is a son,
she’ll think she must hide him from her mother.”

“If Kel doesn’t drown him herself.”

A soft chime alerted them Basalia had returned. Aren waited
only long enough to save the images she sent. Then he left, determined to make
Kel believe in their destiny.

Basalia waited until Storr focused his full attention on
her.

“Aren has gone,” he said.

“This plot we hatched to bring them together is taking on a
life of its own. First Keleos’ abduction. Now tricking Aren into believing he’s
bringing her to some nonexistent Amazonia when it is really Amazonia.”

“Imagine the good that will come of it,” Storr told her.
“Aren knows the risks in taking Keleos home, but he cares enough for her to do
it anyway. That should convince her she’s more than a bedmate to him.”

“Even if he believes he’s not really taking her home?”
Basalia shook her head then rubbed her temples. “This is confusing even to me.”

Storr’s jaw firmed—a sure sign he was determined to tread
this path and the damn the consequences. “Everything will work out as planned.”

“If it doesn’t, Storr, you have no one to blame but
yourself.”

* * * * *

The Country

Kel didn’t bother asking Drew what she meant about the
prophecy cloth showing true events. Instead, as soon as Drew headed back to
Jocelyn’s, Kel stocked the backpack she’d used on her trip to the snow. She
felt a little guilty about sneaking away, but she hadn’t said she wouldn’t try
to escape. And why should she feel guilty when Aren had lied to her?
A dream
,
he’d told her—only a dream!

But she’d sensed from the moment Aren had stroked his thumb
over her brow that what would happen—what they would do and feel—would mean
everything to her. She’d tried to resist but failed. She’d given herself into
his keeping. Willingly. As if she knew she would never experience anything like
this again.

Now, knowing how very much she loved him, realizing she’d
not felt an answering emotion from him, she had to leave. Her heart, her
warrior spirit, demanded she return to her own world. To her own people.

Today fortune smiled on Kel in two ways. The day was sunny
but not overly warm and Drew was spending the day with Laurette and Jocelyn
learning new patterns for their looms.

Settling the backpack on her shoulders, she folded a heavy
towel around one of Aren’s sharpest kitchen knives. Tucking it into her waistband,
she headed in the direction Aren had flown Peg. The tallest peak would guide
her until she needed to take a different path—away from Storr City. Away from
Aren.

Squashing the idea she would miss him, she continued on her
chosen path as if taking a leisurely hike. She knew how to pace herself, but
soon realized that as the ground rose and the air thinned her legs weakened.

As usual, at the first sign of weakness, Basalia’s imagined
voice blasted into her mind to chastise her.
You should have taken Horse.

“In some societies, Mother, horse thieves are hanged.” The
sound of her own voice provided company of a sort. At least, between Basalia’s
harping and Kel’s answering, she didn’t feel quite so alone.

You could stay until Aren returns. Coax him into showing
you more of the countryside. Then make your escape.

“Seduce him, you mean. And he may never leave me alone
again.”

Wretched trees! You’ve already lost sight of the peak and
the sun. You have no idea where you are.

“I do know. I just need to rest a minute. Once I regain my
breath and my legs are steadier I’ll go on.” So saying, she sank to the ground.

Sometime later she awoke. Shadows told her she’d slept
longer than she’d meant to. The air held a chill, making her glad she’d
borrowed the all-weather blanket from Aren’s lodge.

Basalia’s voice returned to Kel’s mind in all its nagging
glory.
Stole it. Aren may not beat Drew for letting you escape, but he’ll
punish her for letting you steal that blanket.

“Oh be still, Mother!” Kel ignored Basalia’s warnings, but
worried her lower lip as she soldiered on. She expected the trees would thin
but they seemed to thicken. Their trunks grew so close together Kel began to
despair of ever finding her way out of them. At least she’d had sense enough to
pack flint and stone and scraps of dry peat to build a small fire. With a fire
and the all-weather blanket she’d stay warm enough.

“I wonder what the altitude is here.” Gathering detritus
from the forest floor, she fashioned a mattress then put the blanket over it.
Satisfied she’d sleep comfortably, she hunkered down to start her fire. She’d
barely coaxed a spark into a single flame when the rain started. No gentle
pitter-pat like she’d heard at the hot springs, but a deluge like she’d heard
at the waterfall Aren had taken her through. It was so cold her teeth
chattered.

If she didn’t drown first, she’d freeze to death.

“Are you ready to go home now, Kel?” Caton’s voice held a
hint of amusement as he wrapped a warm, dry blanket around her shoulders.

“I should have known Aren wouldn’t trust me.”

“Aren trusted you well enough. I’m the one who set Erland
and the younger Storrs to watch you. Not Storrsix—he’s too young as yet.”

Kel surrendered to the hysterical laugh building in her
chest. When she recovered, she said, “H-how long must he wait for this k-kind
of ad-adventure?”

“Another year or so. Next to Erland, he’s the best tracker.”

“How far did I get?” she wondered aloud, allowing Caton to
help her to her feet.

“Close to twenty kilometers. Not bad for a girl…a person not
knowing where she was going.”

“Keep talking, Da.” Erland came from the shadows, a lantern
in his hand. “You’ll dig yourself a hole so deep you’ll have to wait for Aren
to pull you out.”

“If I don’t drown first.” Caton hoisted Kel over one wide
shoulder.

“I can walk,” she protested weakly. Hanging upside down made
the blood rush to her head and left her dizzy.

“Not in those fancy boots you’re wearing. Not through the
muck we’re wading through. Wager you’ll have blisters to show for this day’s
trek.”