Chapter Twenty-Two

Respite, at last. Weariness, bone deep, warred inside Barta with the desire for True that had ridden her for days while the tribe moved ever eastward toting wounded, distressed children, and a dismayingly small number of belongings. Now at last Brude had called a halt on the banks of a stream and begun setting up a rough camp. A collective sigh of relief—felt more than heard—migrated through the tribe.

The rear guard insisted they had not been followed. Gant himself had told Barta so when she questioned him, having been one of the men sweeping their trail. Barta wondered if she dared relax and catch her breath, take time to regain her strength. And, perhaps, at last lie with True?

She set down her burdens—two packs and a number of weapons—and eyed him as he busied himself getting Tally settled. Her young brother, now on his feet, was unable to match the pace Brude had set, and True had helped him most of the way. Tally, a boy always in motion, found his continued limitations as hard to bear as his grief, and Barta worried for him. He seemed sunk into the same gloom she occupied.

More than once had she heard him weeping in the night. But then, the sound of quiet weeping had become commonplace among members of the tribe once the sun went down.

At least Tally had his own followers—the group of girls who accompanied him had increased to four in number; Barta rarely had a chance to do much for him. The girls served to distract him from his thoughts and perhaps provided some comfort, even as True lent her.

True…she derived such pleasure just in watching him, the grace and economy of his movements, the beauty of his narrow face and the way it brightened impossibly when he smiled at Tally. She allowed her gaze to caress his shaggy hair, like a wild mane down his back, and admire the supple body beneath the shabby clothes he wore. The very prospect of that body pressed against her own brought the heat up into her face and stole her breath away.

Tonight? Perhaps, but there was so much to do first. Arrange for shelter, check the state of the wounded, fetch water and provide food for all. And she still owed an answer to Brude. Twice had he come to her looking for acceptance of his proposal of marriage—something to lend the tribe heart, as he put it. Both times had she put him off, but she knew all too well he would soon be at her elbow again.

True looked up and caught her gaze upon him. His eyes brightened and greater heat kindled between them, this time touching her heart. Oh, by the sweet goddess, how she loved him! She needed to tell him so over again, show him with every part of her body and her being, bond with him beyond the reach of Brude and the rest of the world.

If there was one comfort left to her, one thing that made her grasp hold of life and hold on, it was True…

“Barta?”

She gasped, the magical spell woven between herself and True trembling like the threads of a spider’s web, but not breaking. She turned to find Brude beside her. Indeed, that had not taken him long.

But Brude looked a man changed—as weary, filthy, and worried as she, his hair hanging in a tangle and his eyes hollow. She felt an unexpected twinge of sympathy.

He nodded toward Tally and his group of attendants. “How fares he?”

Barta could not but wonder why he asked—out of concern, was it, or did he imagine a fully recovered Tally might make a threat to his place as chief? And, she chided herself, who would want the place? Only look what it made of the dauntless Brude!

She shrugged and grimaced. “Improving, but he has no endurance yet. It might be better were we to stay in one place more than a night.”

“We shall be staying here for the time being. We’ll take time to tend our sick and wounded and make a few decisions. I think if the Gaels intended to pursue us, we would know of it by now. Our men have seen nothing yet.”

“Good.” But Barta felt uneasy down to her bones. She glanced about. “Brude, do you not think it strange we have come all this way yet have met with the members of no other tribe? We should be on Chief Cunobar’s land by now. Why have we encountered none of his guard?”

“That worries me also. He was a good ally to your father. Quite frankly, that is one of the reasons I moved us east. I hoped to speak with him of joining forces.”

“What do you think it means?”

Brude shook his head. “Perhaps he has also shifted his folk farther east, or north. We may yet meet up with them. For now, we will build a camp here.”

“That is well.”

He glanced aside to where True now assisted Pith to sit as comfortably as possible. The old man, his hut having been situated apart from the main settlement, had not lost his possessions to fire and insisted on bringing a large number of them along. True had carried most of those belongings all this day.

Barta assumed Brude assessed the old man’s condition, but when he spoke his words did not concern Pith.

“Barta, have you made up your mind?”

She caught her breath. “Not yet.”

Brude turned his hollow eyes on her. “You need to make your choice soon. We have to put the pieces of the tribe back together, for their sake. This would be a good place for that.”

Even though Barta had expected this—and set herself for it—panic licked up through her now. She shook her head.

Brude snapped. “Still entirely selfish, are you? I was hoping you had changed, but it seems you can think of nothing but your own desires. Have you never heard of sacrifice?”

“I’ve been instructed in it by the best.” The very best.

“Then it is time for you to embrace that teaching. This is survival. Think how ashamed of you your father would be.”

Barta stood motionless, unable to speak for her hurt.

True, still at a distance, turned his head in Barta’s direction as if he felt her flare of distress. Certainly he couldn’t hear Brude’s words, not unless he had the hearing of a hound.

Around the lump of pain in her throat she choked out, “I am surprised you would consider taking me for wife when you still hold so harsh an opinion of me.”

“I have no choice. I can think only of the welfare of the tribe—as must you. I will have your answer in the morning, understand?”

Not awaiting a reply, he stalked away, leaving Barta drenched with cold.

****

“What did Master Brude say to you? He upset you, so I could tell.”

Deep darkness had fallen once again. Here on the banks of the quiet stream a few fires burned low—Barta could just glimpse the nearest, tended by Tally’s friends. The girls had made him supper and stayed with him while he ate it.

Exhausted, many members of the tribe already slept. Not far away, Pith had rolled into his blankets; across the camp Brude and Avinda sat with their heads close together. Children had been tucked among rugs, and a measure of peace spread slowly through the trees.

Barta, who ached with weariness, had expected True’s question but felt nearly incapable of answering it. She snuggled closer to his side, and his arm snaked about her; the breath came easier in her lungs.

All she wanted was the peace and pleasure of his company, without discord. She sighed. “He asked once again for my answer. He says he will have it come morning.”

True said nothing but, this close to him, she could feel the protest jerk through his body.

“He insists our union will stabilize the tribe. And I do want that, I want to put our pieces back together if I can. If I have, in fact, left my selfishness behind me, should I not accept him?”

“You ask me?” True’s rough voice sounded like a growl.

“Should I not? Speaking with you feels almost like talking to myself.”

“You would do better talking to Gant. He understands these matters far better than me.”

“What matters?”

“Of the heart, of the choices people make for themselves and one another.”

“Perhaps he does understand those things, but I am not in love with Gant.”

For an instant neither of them breathed, but the connection between them flared and demanded acknowledgement.

At last he whispered, “I have told you I will be with you no matter the choice you make.”

“With me, yes, but in what way?”

“At your side. Fighting for you, always at your call.”

“I want you in my bed, True. You—not him. I thought you understood that.”

“Me first, so you said. Before you accept him. Yet you will accept him.”

“I may have no choice. It is not what I want. But it has been brought upon me—I believe the goddess works to impress upon me—that sacrifices must sometimes be made.”

“So they must.” In the dim light, she saw him close his eyes like a man in pain. “Barta, if you must go to his bed, it will not change the way I feel about you.”

“Nothing can?”

“Nothing can,” he agreed.

“But does that not make it all the more wrong that I should go to his bed, when you and I are so closely bound? It should be you, only you.” At the urging of instinct she pressed her mouth to his, lips parted, wooing him into her. She could not get close enough, not unless he became part of her and they one.

He tasted the inside of her mouth with long, slow sweeps of his tongue that banished every other thought, every worry, and turned her blood molten. Her heart began to pound in demand.

When he turned his attentions to her cheek and her throat, moving downward in a blaze of heat, she said, “I want you tonight, True. Before I give him my answer. I will have you.”

He said nothing, merely drew her down to lie beneath him on the ground. His fingers threaded through the laces at her bosom and teased them apart. She felt his tongue at her breast.

But she seized his head in both hands. “Do you hear me, True? Do you understand?”

“You wish to give yourself to me.”

“Completely.”

“Completely.”

“Then we will always have this even if…well, whatever else happens. This will remain sacred between us. Do you agree?”

“I exist only for you, in any way you ask.”

“But…” She strove once more to see the expression in his eyes. “Do you want me also?”

“Do I want you? Only as I want my next breath, as I want my heart to keep beating. No, even more than those things.”

A gust of breath left her lungs, a sigh that contained both gladness and longing. “Need,” she whispered.

“Yes. I need to taste you, every part of you. Need to feel in full these bonds between us.”

“Then show me.”

“What of the guard? Should they stumble upon us…”

“They will not, here. If they should, let them. I mean to have you this night.”

He began tugging at her clothing, spending no more words. She shed her garments eagerly and without shame, more sure of this than anything that had ever come before. She pulled at his clothing also, her hands shaking with need.

When they were both naked, when their bodies met skin on skin in the soft dark, it felt so wonderful she gasped.

“Kiss me,” she begged and their mouths met, their bodies met, and she felt him in full.

Let me have this if but once, she begged the goddess, and I will never ask for another thing.

True broke their kiss, licked her lips, and dragged his tongue down her body, past her throat, her breasts, and lower still. She felt his teeth nip very gently at the skin of her belly before he lifted her effortlessly beneath him, the muscles of his stomach flexing. Not until he started to flip her over did she gasp again.

“True? What—”

He set her on her elbows and knees and positioned himself behind her, nipped her shoulder and licked it in consolation.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Mating you.”

A wild, delirious laugh rose to Barta’s throat. “But, like this?”

“Certainly. How else?”

Barta’s mind lashed madly. Was this how men and women made love in the north? Arousing, without a doubt, but—

“I was hoping this time—our first time—we might join face to face.”

“Eh?”

“As people do.”

“People?”

Laughter bubbled up again. “People such as us. We are not animals.”

He froze for an instant; she could feel his thoughts racing. He breathed, “You must show me.”

“Well, I have never…”

“Nor have I, not with any woman.”

“Oh?”

“But I wish to join with you in this way, Barta.”

She flipped back over beneath him and drew a ragged breath, all her laughter flown. “Then listen to your body. Follow as it bids.”

He nodded, joined his mouth to hers, and began to move. She wound her arms around his neck and followed.

There would be pain the first time, she knew that much. At this moment she didn’t care. She felt alive for him, aware and sensitized. Her love for him rose in a staggering wave, lit by fire.

She dug her fingers into his hair and wooed him with her body. He nudged her thighs apart and—just as easily as breathing, as being—slid inside her, a knife coming home to its sheath where it belonged. No pain, only the shattering sense of rightness, and completeness that defied description. They moved together to an ancient rhythm, fully joined, and hung like a star in the sky before they came as one.

Perfection, full and exquisite. Barta scarcely dared breathe for breaking the spell. True remained inside her, close as flesh could be to flesh, their mouths still fused. Emotion barreled through her and tears pricked her eyes.

Now nothing would be the same for either of them, not ever again.