Epic Of Palins 01 - Dagger Star (33 page)

She’d exposed herself to him—let him see into the depths of her heart. To a warrior such as herself, that would be frightening. Josiah chuckled, feeling a bit smug. His kitten was startled and afraid, her fur puffed out and teeth and claws displayed.

But the nights—she was just as eager as he, and more often then not, it was his kitten who reached for him in their tent. Of course, once she took the throne—

Josiah stopped in midthought, not letting himself finish the idea. He’d have her as long as he could, Lord of Light willing.

Their forces were almost ready, he knew. Another few days, and she’d leave to join the forces massing to attack Edenrich.

Another few days…

“Lord Josiah!” The cry came from behind. Josiah whipped around to see Lerew running toward him.

SHE was losing him, as she’d known she would.

Red looked toward the fields where Josiah was working as she waited for the next messenger to arrive. A moment of peace in the organized chaos that is a military campaign. Bethral and Oris stood nearby with horses, also awaiting the next messenger.

Josiah had tried to look interested as they pored over the maps and discussed the routes that the warriors would take from the various baronies, but more than once his eyes had strayed to the fields around them. Red smiled at the memory. The refugees had been a good reason to send him off to do the work he was best suited for. Every night, in their tent, he’d talk of plants and grain and births among the cattle and sheep.

She’d lie back on the bed, content for a while just to watch and listen to him. Odd that he didn’t bore her with his talk of crops and livestock. She enjoyed watching his face as he talked, alight with interest, enthusiasm, and plans for the future. He was so sexy, padding about the tent, folding his clothes, crawling into bed….

Red sighed. She wouldn’t be able to do that for much longer.

She looked at the maps spread over the table. The armies had been moving for some time now, and it wouldn’t be long before they’d be massed, waiting to move on Edenrich. From every report, they’d be ready sooner, rather than later. She’d know in the next hour or so.

As much as she wanted to remain at Josiah’s side, they couldn’t move soon enough for her. Time wasn’t their ally. The Regent knew of the Chosen with the red gloves, might even know of the force gathering to stand against him. The sooner they moved, the less time he’d have to counter them.

Red glanced over to where Gloriana was studying a map, comparing the counters with the papers before her. She was intent on her work, and dedicated to the cause. Gloriana certainly looked the part of the Chosen, wearing the armor that displayed her birthmark.

Red studied the girl carefully, satisfied with what she saw. Gloriana looked so young, her shoulder-length hair brushing the map as she leaned over the table. She’d do, to follow in Red’s footsteps if necessary.

Of course, one never knew with the young, until they were tested in the fire. But Red thought Gloriana would survive, when it came down to it.

Movement by the shrine caught her eye, and she saw Ezren leading a group of men talking and gesturing. The men were all dressed differently: some prosperous, some plain, and a few down on their luck. She’d let him have full rein over his plans, and didn’t ask too many questions. He seemed very earnest that his scheme would be helpful, but only time would tell.

She stretched, reaching up and standing on her toes. It would be good to finish this, good to—

She heard a cry, and turned to see Josiah and his workers running for one of the distant fields.

They were moving fast, and she couldn’t tell…were they being attacked?

“Oris,” she called out, and pointed.

Oris pulled himself up on his horse, as Bethral did on Bessie. Red ran from the platform and mounted as well, and set Beast to a gallop. Damn fools, if there was trouble, why didn’t they run toward her, and not away? Where were the cursed sentries?

Fool goatherder! She kicked Beast into a gallop and pounded through the fields.

JOSIAH didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. He knelt in the soil, examining the tiny green leaves on the twisted, gnarled vine.

Others milled about, talking and laughing and checking the other rootstocks. But Josiah just stared at the tiny growth, and felt something ease in his chest. He’d never thought it possible.

The thunder of hooves brought his head up. Red pulled Beast to a halt, scanning the area and glaring at them. “Where’s the attack?”

Josiah looked up into Red’s eyes, filled with concern and worry. His heart swelled with joy, with gratitude, with love for the woman who had ripped his scabs off and started the healing. He just grinned at her—looking like a fool, he was sure. “No attack, Red. Come and see.”

She dismounted, and threw the reins to Oris. Bethral stayed mounted, her armor gleaming silver in the sun.

“Fool goatherder,” Red grumbled as she knelt. “Scared the life out of me. I thought you were being attacked.” She nudged one of the goats away with her knee. “What is this?”

Josiah smiled at her, using his fingers to display the leaves. “The vines. They are coming back.

Athelbryght is coming back.”

Red gave the vine a dubious look. “If you say so, Josiah. Not much to look at, though.”

“Not yet.” Josiah stood, brushing off his knees. “But in a few years…”

Red quirked her mouth, and gave him a doubtful look.

Josiah laughed, the joy welling up inside him. He reached out, took Red in his arms, and swung her about. The goats kicked up their heels, bleating and dancing about. Red squawked a protest, but there was a sparkle in her eyes when he set her back on her feet.

“The grapes will come back, Red, wait and see.” Josiah grinned. “We’ll make wine again, wonderful wines that dance on your tongue.”

“Wine to make a bard weep?” Red asked, repeating what she’d heard him say.

Josiah looked at the smiling faces of the men and women talking and laughing around him.

“Aye, Chosen.”

She smiled, but there was something in her eyes. Something haunted. Josiah reached out to her, but Red pulled back. “I’ve one last dispatch to consider.” She turned back toward Beast. “We’ll eat in the tent tonight. Just the two of us, eh?”

“Yes,” Josiah said softly, but Red just mounted and rode away.

THEIR meal was a simple one. They ate on the bed in an easy silence, which suited Red just fine. She relished the food, and the light of the sun as it glowed on the tent walls. She’d managed to bathe before they ate, and was wearing some worn trous and a tunic from deep in her pack.

Old, but comfortable. No armor this night. The guards were posted about the camp, and Bethral had trained them to within an inch of their lives. They were safe enough.

And her plans for the night did not include smelling like oiled metal.

She watched Josiah as they shared the food. He ate absent-mindedly, lost in thought of vines and grapes, no doubt. She smiled, and he caught the look as he reached for the last of the kavage.

He smiled back. “What are you staring at?”

“The vines are not the only things growing, Josiah. You need a haircut.” She set her mug aside.

He shrugged, putting a hand up to his neck. “I usually cut it when I can feel it on my neck.”

“Let me,” Red offered. She leaned over, and drew her dagger.

He gave her a smile, and she moved behind him, running her gloved fingers through his curls.

She pulled the hair out with her fingers, and carefully started to trim it. “So soft,” she whispered as the silky locks clung to the leather of her gloves.

“It will get everywhere,” Josiah warned.

“We can shake out the blanket.” Red smiled at the back of his head. She loved the contrast, the black strands with the dusting of silver. “Your hair shines like Bethral’s armor. Silver in the black of night.”

Josiah sighed under her touch. “I’m afraid there’s more of the gray than the black.”

“Silver,” Red corrected him. She continued to work, but she made sure that her gloved fingers stroked the back of Josiah’s neck once in a while, the barest of teasing touches. He shifted a bit, but made no protest.

She worked around to the front, trimming back the curls just enough so that they framed his face.

She couldn’t resist stroking his lips with a gloved finger.

He looked at her with hungry, smoky eyes, the gold flecks gleaming in the depths.

Satisfied, she sat next to him on the bed, gathered her hair in a fist, and pulled it over her shoulder to see the ends.

“Do you want me to…?” Josiah asked.

“No need,” Red said. “I’ve done it this way for a long time.” She trimmed the ends, and then released the hair so she could gather it on the other side. With careful strokes, she cut it short so that it fell just to her shoulders.

Josiah was busy brushing the hair from his tunic. She stood, and they made short work of gathering the bits on the floor. Josiah went out to shake the blanket.

Red sheathed her dagger and pulled off her boots. Josiah returned, and together they smoothed the blanket over the bed.

He stood across the bed, and looked at her. “So, Chosen.”

“Josiah,” Red breathed, “take off your tunic.”

Josiah stepped around the bed, and walked to her side as he pulled the garment over his head.

Red reached to help him, kissing him as soon as his lips appeared under the cloth. She tossed the tunic aside.

Josiah returned the kiss hungrily, and Red leaned in close, enjoying his warm, wet mouth and teasing him with her tongue. Breathing in his scent, she moved closer, enjoying the feel of her tunic caught between their bodies.

Josiah put his arm around her, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. Red broke the kiss, tossing her head back with a chuckle. She pushed back, escaping from his arms, and pushed him down on the bed.

Josiah sat. “Doesn’t seem quite fair, that your tunic—”

Red pulled her tunic over her head in a single move. She grinned at Josiah as he took her in.

“Mercenaries don’t play fair, High Baron.” She reached down, and skimmed out of her trous as fast as the fabric would allow.

She kicked the clothing to the side, and climbed on the bed to kneel behind Josiah.

She pressed herself to his back and reached around to stroke his nipples. Josiah moaned, and put his head back. An awkward angle, but Red kissed him as she reached around to untie his trous.

“Stay like that, Josiah,” she whispered in his ear. “Don’t move.”

HE felt her soft breasts press against his back, felt her arms come around his waist. He tried to obey her, tried to stay still, but his body had other ideas.

Her gloved hand dipped between his trous and fevered skin, moving lower and lower. He arched up into her touch, and Red chuckled at his frustrated efforts.

Josiah growled and turned to grab her. Red fell back, laughing, her arms stretched above her head, her breasts quivering.

He moved then, up and over her, pinning her to the bed. Now it was her turn to moan and arch up against him, but he denied her that touch. Instead, he took her nipple in his mouth and teased it between his teeth.

Red reached down, and they struggled for a bit, each making demands that the other would not meet. Finally Red fell back, sweaty and spent, giving him a mock glare. “You have an obligation here, Lord High Baron.”

“Which I will meet, Chosen.” Josiah nuzzled her neck. “If not now, there is always the morrow. I will satisfy, that I promise. But when? Well…”

The play left Red’s eyes. “I leave at dawn, Josiah. We have only this night.”

Josiah pushed himself up, bracing himself on his hands. “I thought you wouldn’t be ready for at least another week.”

“No.” Red shook her head. She reached up and stroked his face. “Fael moved fast, because the weather has held. I leave in the morning, with Bethral, Evelyn, and our warriors.”

Josiah looked at her. “Tomorrow, then. It begins tomorrow.”

Red nodded. “It does.”

“And finishes,” Josiah asked urgently, “when?”

“When it does, however long it takes.” Red sighed. “The best plans change to meet the circumstances.” She stared into his eyes. “If I had my way, I’d stuff you through a portal to Soccia. Instead, I’ll leave men here to guard you.”

“And the refugees,” Josiah said pointedly.

Red shrugged. “Them as well.” She hooked a gloved hand behind his neck. “Don’t you have something you need to do, ’Siah?”

He smiled down, and shifted his body between her legs. “I think so, Chosen.”

“Best be about it, then.” Red pulled his mouth down to her, and kissed him.

He shifted again, entering her heat slowly, taking his own time to enjoy the sensation. Red moaned, flexing her hips to take in more, but Josiah held firm, using his mouth and hands to stroke and tease.

She hissed when he was fully seated and, moving her hands down, pulled him closer. Josiah resisted her, setting his own pace. A long, slow, steady stroke. He watched her face as she flushed, lost in her passion, as her body twisted beneath his. Her eyes closed, her head thrown back, he watched as she fell from the height he had taken her to.

Josiah stilled, waiting. Her wet heat rippled around him, and he breathed deeply, not wanting to give in to the demands of his own body. He was rewarded when her eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a lazy smile that turned to surprise when he pressed down. “Josiah,” she breathed, responding to his demands.

He kissed her then, demanding her surrender, speeding up his thrusts until she clung to him, almost sobbing from the pleasure. Red threw her head back and cried out his name, and this time Josiah followed, losing his own awareness to the pulse of her body.

When they recovered, breathing hard, their bodies entangled, he reached out and brushed her hair from her face. Red smiled drowsily and snuggled close with a murmur of satisfaction. He moved his lips to her ear. “Sleep, kitten.”

Her eyes flew open, and she stared at him, wide-eyed. “Kitten?”

Josiah swallowed hard. “I…you…” He dropped his head back on the pillow. “Just go ahead and kill me.”

Red shoved over, and straddled him, pushing his wrists down on the bed. “What did you call me?”