Lords Of The Dark Fall - Fabian (32 page)

“Figures you’d pick up the vibes from this place then. Even I can feel them. Want to go back to the farm?”

“No. I must explore this further.” Her hand in his felt solid enough. The ground stable beneath his feet. Had he simply moved too closely to the place where the spirits of the dead showed themselves to the living? For a brief moment he’d seen a figure. The more terrifying thought that he might be still falling made his heart thud in his chest. What if Tig, the interlude on her farm was merely an illusion conjured by the Fall? The final part of his penance?

He took a tentative step forward, every sense tuned to the vibrations. How could he tell when the Fall had felt as real as this? Was Tig about to sprout wings and reveal herself to be one of the conscience guardians who’d plagued him with their incessant nagging for a thousand years?

“Are you real?” he said ghosting his free hand over her face, her hair. “Tell me you’re real.”

“I’m here. Fabian, if this is worrying you we’ll go back.”

“Show me. Show me you’re real.”

Lifting his hand, she pressed a kiss to the back. Turned it over and kissed his palm. “A moment’s panic. Nothing more. You’ve been training too hard, my love. Getting too wound up.”

“You used that word again.” Shaky, his voice didn’t sound like his own.

“So I did.” She frowned now, genuine concern in her eyes. “I’m taking you back. You’ve been out of the world for too long. This is enough for one day.”

So many times during the Fall, he was given things, shown things only to have them torn away as he reached for them. Had he been shown love, the vision of a future with Tig, only to find he was not yet worthy of it after all?

Maybe there were a few ghosts, that was all. She had to physically push him back to the rig all the while reassuring him they were both here, at the Gerrely’s farm. Curse to get him inside when he was rooted to the spot by the thought that here might be a portal. A rift in time the witch-woman may be able to open and point towards home.

With one last worried glance, Tig flicked the reins and shouted Cafino to get the hell out of there. “Don’t look back,” she shouted above the clatter of Cafino’s hooves.

She took the corner from the overgrown farm-drive onto the main track so fast the gig nearly toppled. Once on the main road she slowed and let out a long breath. Turning to him, he realised she was laughing, silently.

“Oh, lord in the heavens,” she said fighting for control. “I haven’t been that spooked since my brother dared me to go into Figgis-cave alone and I thought the spider-woman had got me. I’ll find somewhere else for you to meet your madjina. You don’t have to go back there.”

“I must. Even if only to discover that I felt only the touch of the wind.”

“And to prove you’re not a scaredy-cat?”

“I am not afraid, merely intrigued.” Now, away from the place, he couldn’t recall whether fear had been involved. Surprise, yes. Confusion. Why should he fear the chance to go home?

He didn’t bother with the scarf. Covering his face seemed a trivial concern compared to the enormity of what lay ahead. He was ready to show his face to this world. To prove himself more than a displaced ruler who hid in the shadows. Tig made no comment when he pulled it away and stuffed it into his pocket.

A sudden rush of gratitude for her tolerance and patience had him reaching for her as she drove the rig back into her own yard. Sex had a way of making the world go away for a little while and tonight he wanted to leave the puzzles and questions behind and think of nothing but her. 

Practicalities intruded as they always did for those without slaves and servants to do their bidding. Cafino, the hens needed bedding down. The dogs required feeding - the poor beasts had nearly fallen under the wheels with their enthusiastic welcome home. And he was hungry, too, an unfamiliar feeling that was proving hard to master with grace. They worked quickly and efficiently, stealing the odd glance, smiling in anticipation of what was to come.

He loved the way that no matter how tightly she braided her hair, her face would always be framed by a tumble of curls that refused to be tamed. How she nibbled on her bottom lip when absorbed in a task. How she got on with life no matter what it threw at her. How desirable she looked in her ragged, baggy clothes.

But most of all he loved her steadfast refusal to give up on him. Her loyalty and understanding. She’d taught him how to be human; a debt he would be forever owing.

He loved her, plain and simple. It was a good feeling.

* * * *

No high passion tonight. He’d taken her slow and easy, giving her a glimpse of that legendary staying power he’d boasted of during their first time. Seemed like such a long time ago. He now lay pressed to her back, tangled in her hair, an arm thrown over her waist. Warm breath tickled her nape, her jaw stung from the rasp of his unshaven beard. The scent of their love-making surrounded her.

She’d made light of the incident at the Gerrely’s. Hidden her shock when Fabian had started rambling about portals and holes in space and time. She had no trouble believing in ghosts. Although her kin had never seen fit to do so, she could well believe the dead lingered and visited those they’d left behind.

Fabian’s reaction had been more than a man rattled by ghost stories. He’d clung to the tale that he was from another dimension, another time and finally, she believed it might be true. And if it was? Oh heaven, could she watch him disappear, never to be seen again? She’d thought so, when the possibility remained the mad ramblings of a man who’d been robbed and left for the Frey in the desert. Touch of sun and a man would believe anything. Never going to happen.

But now? For a split-second he
had
appeared to blink out. There, gone, there again in the time it took to draw a single breath. And she knew at that moment she could never let him go so easily. Not without first showing him what he could have if he stayed here with her. Whoever, or whatever, was trying to grab him away had a fight on its hands.

There was her problem. Apart from undying devotion, what did she have to offer that he couldn’t get tenfold elsewhere? Certainly not wealth and beauty. Nor the power he seemed to admire and crave.

“I can only offer you this,” she whispered into the dark.

“Tell me,” the dark whispered back.

“With me you’ll always know who you are.”

“I would treasure that more than all my coffers of gold.”

“Would you?”

The arm about her tightened, pulling her against the solid wall of his body. A woman could get lost in a man like this. Be overwhelmed by his strength and his will and never have to think for herself again. Snuggling into the crook of his arm, she indulged the fantasy wondering if she could ever be that surrendered woman. Smile and nod and fade into the background while her man told her how to live her life.

Not a chance in hell.

“I would, Tig. What’s so amusing?”

His lips on her neck made her squirm, sending a delicious pulse racing over her skin. Opening his mouth, he grazed her with his teeth, growling softly. His cock, hard and ready prodded her thigh. She only had to move a little for him to be inside her.

“Was thinking about what a terrible surrendered woman I’d make. Let me put a condom on you.”

“I would never ask that of you.” Throwing off the covers, he rolled onto his back, legs apart, half in shadow, half-lit by moonlight streaming through the open curtains. Darkness and light met in the set of his mouth, the hollow at his throat, the ridged muscle of his abdomen. She knew so much about him yet some shadows remained. Things she would rather not know, if she were honest with herself.

“We’ve nearly used them all up,” she said shaking the few remaining condoms from the box. She ripped the pouch open with care, treating them like something precious because they were.

“And that still concerns you? I thought you braver than that.”

She bent to kiss the silk of his skin before covering it with the barrier that would take the edge off the sensation as well as do its damndest to ensure no pregnancy resulted.

In one smooth movement, he tipped her onto her back and fell over her, weight supported on his elbows, seeking entrance which she gladly gave. Now came the passion. After the first, almost violent thrust, he stopped and dipped his head to take one of her aching nipples into his mouth, suckling insistently until she clenched around him and let go a deep moan.

And then he was battering into her, insisting she go with him to that private place they’d made between them. He wanted her surrender? She could give it, for now. Closing her eyes, she cut out all sensation but the slick feel of him reaching deep inside her with every thrust, the sound of his harsh breath as he took them both to the edge of pleasure and beyond.

Afterwards, Tig touched her tongue to the salt on his skin, breathed with him and thought about his words. Why was she so set on remaining childless? Cowardice or practicality? A bit of both, she decided. Here in the shadows and quiet of the night it was all too easy to dream of a child, all sweet and soft. A child that looked like him and who would lend comfort and support to her fading years. The morning light would remind her that childbirth was risky and single-parenthood only for the wealthy and most dedicated.

Rubbing slow circles over her stomach he said, “I would love to see you swelling with my child.”

She covered his hand with hers. “Our child.”

“Yes.” He sounded surprised. As if that concept had only just occurred to him. “Our child.”

A catch in his voice. An intense longing. They loved each other, but was he ready to hear this?

“A child needs a mother and a father, Fabian. Brothers and sisters, too. It’s a lifelong commitment and well, if you’re not planning to be here...”

“And I, of all people should know that. I gave my children everything but the one thing they needed most.”

She kissed him, trying to take some of the sadness from his voice. “From what I hear, children of powerful rulers rarely see their parents anyway. You did what you thought best for them. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“I cut them from my life because I could not bear to see them grow and fade into old age. To die before my very eyes. No man should have to watch their children die.”

“Amen to that.”

“We’ve too much on our plates to be having this conversation. It’s the wrong time. Concentrate your efforts on the madjina and Warrington.”

Fabian rolled his head to the side to face her, his eyes dark pools in the lighter shadows of his face. “This time next week I may be dead. What better time than this to think about leaving something of myself behind? It terrifies me to think that I might disappear as if I’d never been.”

He clutched at her so tightly, she bit her lip to stop herself crying out. Mumbling an apology, he let her go. She hadn’t wanted to coerce him with words of love. And she definitely didn’t want to trap him here with a child as blackmail.

Was it selfish to want him to stay for her and not because they’d conceived a child and he felt responsible for it? If he did die during the challenge or falling into some black hole would she regret having denied him?

Orange light gilding the window-glass heralded a new day. From the hen-coop, she heard the muffled crowing of the cockerel stirring his harem, urging the lazy from their beds. Fabian sat up, blinking, finger-combing the hair from his face. She rubbed his long back, touching the bumps of his spine, the indents on either side and thought again of a son, tall like him. Eyes as dark as night. Serious and strong.

She wasn’t a coward, she was a fool. A fool whatever decision she made.

Fabian slipped from the bed. Bent to retrieve his discarded pants. Stepped into them, purpose in his movements. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he slid into socks, laced up his boots. Brisk and efficient, a man on a mission.

A gentle kiss, his expression pensive as he left her for his early-morning training session. The last three condoms lay discarded on the rag-rug. No time for the long ride into town to purchase more and who had the cash to spare for that anyway? They’d long been classified as an expensive luxury item by politicians who wanted to encourage procreation. Repopulation was a hot political topic.

When the condoms ran out they would just have to stop having full sex.

Yeah, that was going to happen. She could almost see fate standing in the wings, waiting to make a grand entrance into her life. To take the decision out of her hands.

Sometimes you just had to go with the flow and trust that she had your best interest at heart.

The madjina rather disconcertingly resembled her grandmother. Tig had been expecting diva seductress who would be all over Fabian. Failing that, wrinkled crone with a warty nose like those in the fairy-tales of her childhood. Then she’d discarded both ideas as too obvious and thought they might get some mysterious robed figure with unnatural eyes mumbling incantations and scaring her half to death.

By the time Hal’s wagon turned into the bend in the road, his mysterious passenger at his side, Tig’s imagination had her riding around the yard on a corn-broom, cackling, spewing fairy-dust and turning them all into toads. 

The loaded rifle slung over her shoulder made her feel a little more confident of handling whatever situation unfolded. She lifted the binoculars, noticing with annoyance her shaking hands. She frowned. Next to Hal sat an elderly woman with grey bubbly hair, a pair of cat-eye spectacles perched on her nose, an easy smile on her lips. On her lap, the woman carried a bag which she clutched with both hands. That couldn’t be the madjina.

Tig rehearsed her speech while she hitched Cafino to the rig. The beast munched happily from the bag hanging over his mouth, blissfully unaware of the enormity of what was about to happen.

They would meet here because she hadn’t been able to get word to Hal about relocating to the Gerrely’s place. Then they would travel separately to the old deserted farm and Fabian would get his hearing and find out once and for all if this world held enough magic to spirit him home.