Part 66 (1/2)
”I wasn't thinking! I was out of my mind with fear and worry. Just as you were when Tinnean was lost.”
The anger drained out of his face, but he stared at her so intently that she winced. ”And what did he ask in return?”
”He . . . wanted me to go to the Summerlands with him.”
”And what else?”
”And spend the day.”
”And what else?” When she didn't answer, he crossed to her in three strides and seized her arms. ”What else did you give him in return for saving us?”
She shoved him away. ”He wouldn't save you both! He made me choose.”
His eyes widened in stunned disbelief.
”He made me choose,” she repeated in a broken whisper. ”Just as he made you choose between me and Cuillon all those years ago. And I . . . I chose you. And now Keirith-”
”Nay.”
”If I had chosen him, then-”
”It's not your fault.”
”He's my son. My son! Any mother would choose her child. Any wild creature would protect her young. But I didn't. Fellgair pushed and pushed and I just called out your name and then it was too late.”
He shook her, his fingers digging painfully into her arms. ”Look at me. Look at me! We cannot know, Griane. We'll never know. We're alive, girl. We're alive and we're home. That's all that matters.”
”Is it?”
She saw the terrible uncertainty on his face, the desire to believe that nothing had happened in the Summerlands warring with the helpless fear that it had. He would not ask her again. She knew that. But should she tell him? Would the truth be easier to bear than the lingering doubt?
”Darak . . .”
He seized her face between his hands and kissed her, his mouth hard and demanding. Without thought, her arms came up, her hands tangling in his wet hair, her body pressing against his, needing the rea.s.surance of his love as much as he needed hers.
He jerked away, but only to grab her wrist and pull her down onto his discarded mantle. He bore her back, pinning her beneath him, spreading her thighs with his knee. She lifted her hips to receive him, but he reared back. His eyes filled her vision, daring her to look away.
”You're mine.”
He sheathed himself with a single hard thrust that made her gasp. His teeth clenched, but he couldn't prevent a low groan from escaping. As if to deny it, he gripped her tighter.
”Mine. Now. Always.”
With each word, he moved inside of her. She tried to pull his head down, but he captured her wrists and pinioned them at her sides. And when she closed her eyes, unable to look at his ravaged face, the calloused palms came up to clasp her cheeks.
”Look at me.”
His eyes were as gray as the twilight. Wide and tearless, they held her captive as surely as his body. Neither of them was permitted the escape of tears, the oblivion of release, only this relentless imprisonment of body and mind and spirit.
”One blood. One body. One life.”
The words of the marriage ceremony. The words that bound them together forever.
His breath came hot and fast, his body demanding the renewal of the pledge they had given to each other so many years ago. And her body answered, hips rising to meet his, fingers digging into the scarred back. She cried out his name, desperate to possess him, to be possessed by him, to expunge the memory of Fellgair, to blot out the grief and pain she had brought him and Keirith both. And when he cried out hers, his voice was so fierce and full of longing that she wanted to weep.
The pleasure built until she could no longer contain it. Her body shuddered as the first wave engulfed her. Only then did his lips seek hers. Her cry mingled with his as they lost themselves in a final surrendering of self.
They clung to each other in wordless communion, each offering strength to the other and receiving it in turn. Just as they always had, as they always would. Nothing could change that-not distance or death, not even the Trickster.
”One blood,” Griane whispered. ”One body. One life.”
Darak's hands cupped her face. ”Always.”
And then there was only the sweetness of their mouths and the rhythm of their hearts and the warmth of the summer night enfolding them.
Chapter 52.
NIONIK ARRIVED AT the hut shortly after dawn to tell them he wanted the council to meet immediately. ”I know you've only just returned, but it would be better to deal with this matter at once.” Darak agreed; the sooner the council could settle things, the better.
Griane fussed over them while they dressed, as if their appearance could possibly determine the outcome of the meeting. ”Just tell the truth,” she advised them. ”They'll believe you. And mind your temper, Darak.”
”My-?”
”You're going to hear things you won't like, and it won't help matters if you start snapping at the council members.”
”I don't snap.”
”Nay. You shout.” She smoothed his braids, brushed a speck of oatcake off his tunic. When he captured her fluttering hands, she went still. He waited for her to look up at him, watching the color rise up her throat to stain her cheeks. Finally, the blue eyes lifted and she gave him a tremulous smile.
He smiled back and pulled her close. Last night had confirmed their love, but the shadows were still there. In time, it would grow easier. In time, he would stop tormenting himself with images of Fellgair smiling at her, stroking her hair, touching her body. The Trickster might have been content to make her choose between her husband and her son. He might not have demanded anything more.
And if he had . . .
His arms tightened around Griane.
”Darak. I can't breathe.”
He released her. He even managed to laugh as she shooed them out of the hut. ”We'll be waiting,” she promised. ”Unless I decide to sneak over to the longhut and listen outside.”
”Can we?” Callie asked.
”Nay! I was teasing.”
”It won't help matters if your mam charges into the council meeting like a mad bullock.”
Griane punched him. He grabbed her fist and kissed it. Hircha smiled along with the children. Only Keirith's smile seemed unnatural, as if he sensed the undercurrents. With an effort, Darak thrust aside those concerns; today, all his energy must be focused on the council meeting.