Daughter of Sherwood (14 page)

She never knew which of them spoke the words, “I want you.” It did not matter, because their feelings had melded as surely as their tongues.

Sparrow caught her up in his arms and walked blindly through the windy darkness as if directed. Even as they went, she kissed him, little bites of kisses irresistible as comfort. She barely noticed when he set her down. The ground beneath her, though, felt soft and dry.

“Sparrow, where are we?”

“I do not know. Say my name again.”

“Sparrow.” She breathed it into his mouth and accompanied it with a kiss.

He begged, like a sob, “Again.”

Rennie laughed in delight and reached for him. Did she remove his clothes, or did he? And what of hers? The sopping leather should have been difficult to remove, yet it melted away just like Rennie’s uncertainty.

She no longer felt the cold; Sparrow’s body became a shield, a defense, a place to dwell. Heat followed his mouth, exquisite in the darkness. She could see nothing, not even Sparrow, but could feel everything: the calluses on his broad palms, the whispered abrasion made by the hair on his chest when it caught her bare nipples and teased them deliciously, the gentle strength of his fingers that seemed to call something from within her body and lit in her the unprecedented desire to give him anything, everything.

Sparrow
. She continued to speak his name in her mind, when her lips were otherwise occupied. And he heard.

Wren
. His breath poured into her. She nearly wept when his mouth left hers, but then his lips whispered across her throat and lower still. Aye, Martin had touched her breasts, but that had felt nothing like this. For when Sparrow’s hot mouth found her chilled breast and he began to suckle her, he called forth her very soul.

Time suspended; Rennie died and became born anew, a woman of sensation, existing only for this one man. When his hands moved over her again, when his fingers slid between her thighs, she opened to him eagerly. When they slipped inside her, she knew she had never wanted anything more.

“Wren.” He raised his head from her breast. “I need—”

“Sparrow.” She tangled her fingers in the wet silk of his hair and pulled his mouth to hers. “I need.”

He kissed her with fearsome passion. “I would not hurt you, frighten you, harm you at all.”

Gentle soul, priceless soul, her soul, hers. “You will not.”

“Are you certain? From this, there is no going back.”

She could not see him; he was but heat, sensation, a spirit in the darkness. “I need,” she repeated helplessly.

She lifted her bare legs and wound them around him, drew him in. He slid into her as easily as if she had been made for him.

She had—oh, she had.

After that she did not know where her body left off and his began. She could not tell his thoughts and feelings from hers. His rush of pleasure, when he came, was hers also, triumphant.

Mine, mine, mine.

Her legs still draped around him, she kept him inside her, and felt complete for the first time in her life. Breath sobbed in her lungs, and she could feel his heart flutter, a bird held in her soul.

“Wren—”

“No need to speak, Sparrow. Only hold me.”

He gathered her in, though in truth she could scarcely get closer.

Never let me go
, she beseeched.

I will not
.

Only after the vow was given did Rennie realize the words had not been spoken aloud. Amazement coursed through her, followed swiftly by delight. Their joining had been no illusion; he was with her, in her mind.

Can you hear me?
she asked.

How should I not?
She felt his surprise as he grasped the truth. His soul rippled with gladness that matched her own.

By the Green Man’s horns,
he said,
it is a miracle.

“No,” she told him aloud, “it is destiny.”

“You believe that?”

“I no longer know what I believe in, save you.”

“Wren—”

“Hush, Sparrow. The night is long, and I need you again.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Sparrow, are you awake?” Rennie whispered the words even though she knew he slept still. She could sense his soul’s repose, feel him dreaming, like flickers of butterfly wings in her own consciousness.

But morning had come to Sherwood. Light streamed in radiant bars through oak and beech, making an enchanted bower of the place where they lay. Rennie could see it now, for the first time: an earthen burrow beneath the shelter of a massive oak, perhaps a former animal’s den, snug and dry.

And she could see the man whom she had welcomed into her soul.

Could a man be described as beautiful? She bit her lip in wonder, remembering how, the first time she had seen him in Lil’s kitchen, she had considered him ordinary. No more: he lay with one naked arm thrown across her in a gesture of unconscious possession. Brown hair, still crumpled from the rain, scattered in wild disarray and fell against his cheek. A bare chest—naked save for that line of dark hair she had felt but never seen—and burnished shoulders that rippled with strength. A big man, he had nevertheless fit her in a way that still had the power to make her tingle.

Aye, he was beautiful, and she wanted him again—no, needed him the way she needed air. But the need to find Lil pulled just as strongly.

Yet, how to wake him? A thousand possibilities filled her mind and made her fingers itch. With a touch? With a kiss? With a call of the mind?

Sparrow.

His sinfully long black lashes fluttered, and he opened his eyes, dark and wise as those of a wild creature, the eyes of a hart.

My stag
, she caressed him in her mind.

He smiled and reached for her, as natural as breathing
. Wren. Will you welcome me again?

She would, had they not duty before them. Aloud she said, “Lil.”

“Aye.”

He sat up in one glorious movement, stealing Rennie’s breath. She could see him now, oh, yes—and she might never be able to look her fill. Completely unselfconscious beneath her gaze, he sat with the morning light washing over him. Her eyes explored him freely, even to that part of him responding so magnificently to her nearness.

“Ah.” Rennie sat up also, her only cover provided by her hair. Helplessly, she reached for his face, now rough with beard.

His fingers caught her wrist. “Wren, you do not regret what happened between us last night?”

“Can you feel any regret?” She dared him to use the sense that had been forged between them in the darkness.

He shook his head with a rueful smile. “Then let us get you home.”

“Aye, but first—” She leaned forward and kissed him, something to hold against the fear and difficulty ahead.

****

They moved swiftly and almost soundlessly, their hands still joined. All last night’s rain had flown, and the light strengthened around them as they went.

They spoke only between their minds.

Do you know where we are?

Aye, Wren.
He loved repeating her name, and every time he did, it sounded in Rennie’s soul, deepening the claiming.
Not much farther
.

I hope we find Lil well. Martin—

Martin.

Martin posed a problem from which they both flinched. Would Martin be able to tell what had happened in the forest? If so, how would he react?

But when they at last reached the camp site, they found chaos and upheaval. Alric and Simon came forward to meet them. The old man looked weary and grave.

“Children, I am glad you are come.” His gaze dropped to their joined hands for a moment before he went on. “We have had word Lambert is on his way with a squadron of soldiers. We are moving camp.”

“Lil?” Rennie managed but the one word.

Alric eyes filled with regret. “She lives, but only just.”

“I need to see her.”

“Aye, lass, I think you should.”

Sparrow asked Simon, “Where is Martin?”

“Arranging Lil’s transport. He is sore hurt, himself, and collapsed after he got her here last night.”

“Madlyn has treated him as best she can,” Alric added. “But the truth is, we need Lil’s healing hand.” He eyed them once more. “What of the two of you? You are not harmed?”

Sparrow answered, “We are well enough.” He released Rennie’s fingers. “You go with Alric. Simon, take me wherever I can do the most to help.”

Alric led Rennie to a shelter constructed of boughs, where Madlyn and Sally bent above a pallet. On the way, they passed Martin, who looked startled. He leaped to his feet and called, “Wren!” But Rennie did not pause. All her attention was on the swaddled form beneath the branches.

Lil. She looked so small lying there, scarcely bigger than a child. Her hair, pale gray, caught the light from above, but her face looked uncannily still. With eyes for no one else, Rennie dropped to her knees beside the pallet.

“Mother.”

Lil did not seem to hear. Eyelids like the thinnest parchment remained closed, bluish lips still. Someone, most likely Madlyn, had tried to ease the wounds that marked her flesh, covering them with salve, yet they stood out like brands.

Rennie’s heart twisted at seeing her so, this woman whose strength, wisdom, and indomitable kindness had made the one beacon in her life, yet now so weak, so frail.

Tears filled her eyes and threatened to choke her.

“Thank the Green Lord you have come,” Madlyn said. “She has been asking for you.”

Rennie reached out and touched Lil’s hands. “Mother, I am here.”

At that, Lil’s eyes opened. They held a blank, distant look and did not sharpen until they found Rennie’s face. “Ah.” Her voice held relief. “Daughter.”

They gazed at one another, and Rennie felt eternity rushing like a strong, oncoming wind. She had to swallow hard before attempting to speak again.

“Tell me what to do for you, so I can help make you well.”

Lil shook her head, and terror speared Rennie’s soul. “Please, Lil. I will do anything.”

“You know what you must do. You have your father’s courage, and your mother’s kindness. It has been a privilege to know you, and to have had a hand in raising you.”

Rennie’s tears began to fall, hot and slow. “Do not speak as if my raising were all in the past, Lil—I need you yet! You are the strongest woman I know. You will recover from this.” Even as she spoke, her eyes noted again the terrible extent of the wounds, and she faltered. “What did they do to you? Oh, Lil.”

“Hush. Do not fret for me now. My days are run out. And do not try to hold me. I go to follow Geofrey.”

“No—oh, no.”

“Would you deny me what you have found? Duty so often kept us apart in life. But I can feel he waits for me now.”

A sob rose to Rennie’s throat. Lil reached out, and Rennie took her hand between her own.

“You ask, child, what you can do for me. Take my place. Use your courage to fill it well.”

“I cannot. Oh, Lil, I—”

“It is the role for which you were born. For the sake of any love you bear me, promise—and let me pass on.”

Rennie struggled to speak around her agonized grief. “You know I would do for you aught you ask. You have been everything to me, each day of my life. But do not ask me to go on without you, alone.”

“Not alone. You have him.” Lil smiled, and it transformed her, made her suddenly beautiful. Her eyes no longer saw Rennie but reached for something beyond, and Rennie knew what she saw.

“I will not hold you here in pain,” she said, cradling the frail hand. “I will do my best to do as you ask.”

“Thank you, my child. I love—” Lil sighed then. Her eyes gently closed, and her hand, in Rennie’s, became light and lifeless as a dead bird.

For an instant the entire camp stilled. Men busy packing bundles turned their faces toward Lil and froze; all but Alric, who sank to his knees where he stood and covered his face with his hands. Life paused, and then began once again.

Madlyn wept, Sally lamented, voices cried inquiry and response. Rennie, still kneeling, looked into a gulf of blackness so bitter she shied from it.

“Come, love.” Not Sparrow’s arms, but Martin’s lifting her up so Lil’s hand slipped from between her fingers. She felt his kindness, his unexpected gentleness as he pulled her into an embrace and comforted her like a child. Instantly, his grief assailed her and combined with her own.

“There now, there—I know it is a terrible loss. But you will take her place, even as I will take Geofrey’s.”

Rennie could not tell him, not now, that someone already filled the place beside her. She closed her eyes and sheltered against the agony. Martin pulled her still closer, wrapped her in his arms. He murmured, “Together we will keep the magic strong, here in Sherwood.”

And so they would. Had she not promised Lil?

All about the camp, cries of grief and weeping arose. Rennie drew from Martin’s arms and saw Sparrow on the ground beside Alric, seeking to offer comfort. The old man appeared broken, and Rennie knew how cruelly the bonds inside him had been severed. It would feel just so for her if she lost Sparrow—or Martin.

But now it was time for her to take her courage in both her hands. Time for her to do as Lil had asked. She drew a deep breath. “We cannot linger here,” she declared. “Gather the rest of our things, and we will go.”

Chapter Twenty

“We need to scatter,” Martin declared. “We stand a better chance in small groups, for the Sheriff’s men cannot pursue us all.”

“What of Lil?” asked Wren, her face a mask of grief. “We cannot just leave her here.”

“No,” Sparrow agreed.

The three of them stood in a clutch with Alric and Madlyn, struggling to make last-moment decisions. Alric had pulled himself up from the ground, but the old man was clearly shattered, barely able to speak. Madlyn wept silently, and constantly. Wren—Sparrow could barely look at her, for what leaped up between them whenever he did. When he met her eyes, or even when he did not, he could feel her hands upon him, sliding over his naked skin, even feel himself glide again into her welcoming heat. This was no time for such thoughts, when emotions were raw and brutalized. Martin’s control hung by a mere thread, and if Martin suspected the truth, hell would erupt.