No Other Love (18 page)

“Tell her that. Tell her whatever you think
will help our joint cause,” Tula urged. The meal finished, he rose
to leave.

“May I walk with you?” Herne asked. “I don’t
like being confined. I want some exercise.”

“You are not prisoners,” Dulan said. “You may
go wherever you wish. But the evening grows cold. You will need
some covering.”

“I’ll go, too,” Merin said, not wanting to be
separated from Herne.

“I will remain here, to make contact with one
of Saray’s servants and request an appointment. Tula will explain
to you how to find your way back to this house.” Dulan produced a
jacket for Herne to wear and a striped shawl for Merin.

Merin was wearing her treksuit and had donned
her coif before dinner, over Herne’s objections. As soon as she
stepped through the door, she wrapped the shawl around her
shoulders. The wind was surprisingly strong. She remembered that
while they were exploring the ruins of Tathan with Tarik a similar
wind had swept down from the plateau each evening.

The streets were deserted, lit only by the
silver glow of the twin moons.

“Doesn’t anyone go out at night?” asked
Herne.

“Dulan lives in a particularly quiet
neighborhood,” Tula said. “The central square is a lively place,
especially on the night of a Gathering, as you will see
tomorrow.”

“How will your people react to our presence
at the Gathering?” Merin asked. “When we walked through the city
earlier today everyone ignored us as if we were invisible.”

“They would have recognized you at once as
Jurisdiction personnel,” Tula said. “They were probably trying not
to antagonize you. By tomorrow night all will know that you have
not come to Tathan with violent intentions.

“Now, here is my house, and I thank you for
your escort. If you wish to return to Dulan’s home by another
route, walk to the end of the street and turn right. The path there
will take you along the land that rises above the edge of the salt
marsh. Dulan’s house is the last one just before you reach the
Gathering Hall. Good night, my friends. I will rejoin you in the
morning.”

They found the path with no difficulty. On
their right as they walked were houses, each with wide windows or
terraces arranged to take advantage of the view, and each with an
extensive garden. Lights shone in many windows, and here and there
a torch flamed to illuminate a garden. Occasionally they could hear
the murmur of voices or the sound of laughter. With the houses
sheltering them from the northwest wind that had gusted through the
wide city streets, the air seemed warmer.

To their left and a little below the path lay
the salt marsh, its grasses bending in the wind, an occasional pool
or water channel touched with silver by the moons. Silver, too,
were the distant sand dunes, which ran straight across the horizon
until they merged into the sand bar that marked the eastern end of
Tathan Harbor.

“This is a nice place.” Herne was walking
close beside Merin. “I like it here. Too bad it will all be
destroyed soon.”

“Nothing we can do will change that, Herne.
The Cetans
will
come. At least we know Dulan and Tula will
escape.”

“I don’t want to talk about any problems
right now,” he said. “I’m tired and still not certain exactly what
happened to us to bring us here. All I want to do for the next hour
or so is enjoy the quiet and the peace, and being with the woman I
love.”

He took her hand and they walked along in
silence. Merin could think of at least half a dozen subjects they
ought to be discussing while they were in the open with little
chance of being overheard so long as they kept their voices low.
But there was a magical quality to the night, with the moons riding
high in a cloudless sky, the mingled scents of flowers and salt in
the air, and the warmth of Herne’s fingers enclosing her hand.

“I believe this must be happiness,” she
murmured, just before she tripped over a clump of grass. Herne
caught her around the waist.

“You’ve had too much batreen,” he accused
her, laughing.

“I have no way of judging whether what you
say is true, or not. I have never been the least bit inebriated
before,” she admitted. “Will I now disgrace myself by singing or
hiccupping?”

He gave a low chuckle, which ended when his
mouth captured hers. The idea of kissing in the open air, where
anyone might see them, had not occurred to Merin. She found the
experience shocking, exciting, and totally wonderful.

“From what Dulan said,” Herne murmured a few
minutes later, “the effects of batreen are pleasant, but they don’t
last long.”

“That’s a pity. I was beginning to enjoy
myself.” She was startled at her own words. She, who did not know
how to tease anyone, was teasing Herne. Herne laughed back at her.
They stood a moment longer in the moonlight, with their arms around
each other and laughter still on their lips, until he kissed the
tip of her nose. Merin decided she wasn’t inebriated at all. She
was just a little light-headed and ridiculously happy to be so
close to Herne.

He took her hand again and they continued
walking. Now she became aware of an unfamiliar hollowness in the
area of her stomach.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Ravenous.” He paused to lean toward her and
nibble at her earlobe.

“Herne, I’m serious.” She stopped walking,
pulled back a little, and looked up at him. “I ate a lot more food
than I usually do. Every mouthful tasted delicious, a fact I noted
with surprise because I ordinarily don’t pay much attention to what
I eat. But at this moment I feel as if I haven’t eaten at all.”

“Now that you mention it,” Herne said, “I am
hungry. Kissing you distracted me from my rumbling stomach.”

“I don’t think there was much substance in
the meal we consumed,” she told him. “Nor do I believe it was too
much batreen that made me trip. I drank it because I was thirsty,
and it did quench my thirst, but that was the only effect I
noticed. However, I have had bouts of lightheadedness and dizzy
spells ever since we were hit by lightning while we were still
aboard the shuttlecraft.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t lightning,” Herne said.
“Perhaps that was the moment when we were transported to another
time and place. I’ve experienced the same feelings of
lightheadedness, but apparently not as severe as yours, and it does
seem to be occurring less often. Do you think the dizziness made
you trip, not the batreen? It’s possible. The spells will probably
fade away as mine are doing.”

“It would be a relief.” They were walking
once more, this time with Herne’s arm around her. “I don’t like the
feeling of not being in control of my own body, not even for a
minute.”

“No?” There was laughter in his voice. Merin
knew at once what he meant.

“That’s different.” From the sudden heat
flooding her face, she felt certain she was blushing. She said what
was in her heart. “Here in Tathan, the laws I have obeyed
throughout my life don’t seem at all important.”

“I know. On Sibirna I would never dare to
tell a woman I loved her. It would be a fatal admission of
weakness. But here, I have told you, and will doubtless tell you
again before the night is over. Whatever has happened to us, it’s
not all bad so long as we have each other.”

They reached Dulan’s house. Behind it, they
could see the long white shape of the Gathering Hall. Dulan had
left a lamp burning for them and the door unlatched. The sitting
room was empty.

“You said earlier that we should take turns
standing watch,” Merin reminded Herne.

“Right.” He moved toward the guest chamber,
Merin following him. “We ought to close the door, too.”

“Your tone of voice leads me to believe that
you are not entirely serious about our need to stay on guard,” she
chided.

“I am, but at the moment, something else
interests me more. You.” He threw the bolt on the guestroom door.
“I want to make love to you again. I think you want it, too.”

“My existence has been turned upside down,”
she said. “Everything I was taught now seems wrong to me. It’s
difficult to think clearly, especially when we touch.”

“It’s the same for me.” He reached toward
her, to draw her close. She put her hands on his upper arms,
keeping their bodies apart for a little bit longer while she tried
to understand the sudden differences in her thought patterns.

“Herne, when we came together before, did it
hurt you? Please be honest.”

“I wouldn’t call it pain,” he said. “It was a
little uncomfortable for me at first, because you were obviously
untouched and your entrance was unusually tight. Also, I was trying
to restrain myself and that was difficult. Believe me, there is no
man in the universe who would consider it a fault in his woman that
she came to him completely innocent. You can also trust me when I
say neither of us should feel anything but pleasure from now
on.”

“Am I your woman, now that we have lain
together?”

“For as long as you want to be. I hope
forever.”

Once more Merin felt as though everything she
knew had been turned around. She had always been taught that the
forbidden act she and Herne had committed was hideously painful,
that there would be great loss of blood along with permanent,
debilitating damage to the bodies of both partners. But Herne had
apparently suffered only a moment of discomfort, while her own
pain, though sharp and prolonged and accompanied by some bleeding,
had ended in unexpected delight. And they were both obviously still
healthy. It was easy for her to reach the only possible conclusion
from all of this.

For reasons she did not understand, she and
everyone else on Oressia had been told lies about the act of love.
If her teachers had lied about one subject, they might well have
lied about other matters, too. She had been betrayed by those whom
she had trusted completely. The realization made her feel ill. It
also made her determined to deal honestly with others, especially
with Herne, who was dearer to her than anyone else had ever been,
and who had not lied to her.

“I sat at Dulan’s table tonight,” she told
him, “thinking about what we had done, and wanting to do it
again.”

“Then we had identical thoughts.” His quiet
voice ignited a fire inside her. She offered him the one gift she
had left to give.

“Would you remove my coif?” He could not
possibly know that no one was ever allowed to remove an Oressian’s
coif, to look at another person’s hair, not even in death, but he
seemed to understand the solemnity of her request.

“I would be honored.” He unfastened the chin
strap, then lifted the stiff white fabric off her head. Beneath it
her hair was tightly coiled and pinned. She bent her head so he
could loosen it. He combed through it with both hands, releasing it
into curls and delicate tendrils, until her face was like a pale
flower set in a mass of gleaming dark brown and gold. Herne caught
his breath at the sight.

“My dear love,” he said, “thank you for
trusting me enough to let me do this.”

With her hair freed from its strict
restraint, Merin was able to answer the question he had asked when
they first entered their bedchamber.

“Make love to me, Herne.” Smiling at him, she
began to open the neck of her treksuit.

Solemnity suddenly gone, Herne tore at his
own suit, pulling his arms out of the sleeves.

Wanting the sensation of his skin against
hers, Merin turned her back and quickly removed all of her
clothing, then went to the bed. He moved behind her, to run his
hands up along her spine and down her sides. She leaned back
against his chest, to let him reached around and play with her
breasts and stroke her abdomen and down between her thighs, while
he kissed the nape of her neck, her shoulders, her throat. His
hands moved further, pressing, probing, exciting her beyond
endurance. He was doing the most incredible things to her, and she
could tell by his quickened breathing that his passion was growing
as fast as her own, yet when she pulled away he let her go.

She lay down upon the bed and stretched out
her legs. To her surprise, it did not embarrass her to have him
watch her movements with devouring eyes. The need that had been
growing within her all during the evening could no longer be
controlled. Innocent as she still was, she did not know how to
indicate what she wanted, except to simply say the words.

“Come.” She opened her arms to him. “I want
you inside me right now.”

He was as gentle as he had been the first
time, which was a good thing, for Merin knew an instant of jabbing
pain – but only an instant, and then all was soaring delight. Her
tongue was in his mouth, his manhood was deep inside her, and the
exquisite madness was upon her again. She went rigid, poised at the
brink of an ecstasy nothing could prevent, and then she sailed
bravely out into empty space with him, fearing nothing so long as
Herne was with her.

Afterward she slept deeply, lying on her side
with her hands at her face like a child. Herne pulled himself up to
sit with his head against the wall, keeping watch, protecting his
love in case of danger. Moonlight shone upon her through the open
window. Even in the silvery light her hair showed brown and gold,
with glints of red. Herne picked up a strand, twisting it around
his finger.

She had been so innocent that she hadn’t
understood exactly what they were doing the first time they made
love. Still, for all her innocence, she was the most passionate
woman he had ever known. He wanted to cherish her, to guard her and
keep her safe for the rest of their lives. His chronic anger and
his constant irritation with the daily frustrations and
difficulties of life, had vanished, absorbed into the vast expanse
of his growing love for her. It was as though there had been a
gaping, ugly wound in his soul, and Merin had healed it. He felt
complete and at peace, a whole man for the first time in his
life.