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“Yes,” she breathed back, filled with fire. Somehow they moved to the bed with Pascal hanging on her shoulders with one arm, while his free hand slid over her breasts and stomach. She relished the touch, rubbing her breasts into his hand.
The featherbed enclosed them in softness, wafting the smell of sweet herbs mixed in the down into the air. Pascal landed half on top of her. His eyes seemed to glitter in the firelight as he untied the drawstring on her shift and opened the gown. “I have longed to see these,” he whispered.
With a gentle tug her breasts were exposed. His hands cupped her and his thumbs brushed her nipples. Tingles of delight rushed through her. He looked at her breasts for a long moment before speaking. “I wondered what color your nipples would be. Coral, like your lips? Or brown and dark? Now I know they are coral like your lips.” He brushed soft lips over one coral pink nipple, then teased it with a wet lick.
Mallow groaned as heat rushed through her, centered on her nipples and between her legs. She moved restlessly under him and his hips moved so his hard length was cradled between her legs.
Suddenly his tunic was too irritating and she ripped the tie at his neck then pulled and tugged until they were flesh to flesh. He helped her get out of her shift, she helped him carefully remove his leggings over his hurt foot.
He was thin, but every muscle was well defined and his skin was the color of cream. She trailed her hands from his broad shoulders down to his hard tan nipples, his narrow hips and then to the golden curls there. His cock was long and pink, velvety soft over hardness. She let her fingers rove, enjoying the textures of him, the smooth skin, the coarse curls, the hard velvet. She enjoyed his gasping breath, too.
“Mallow,” he moaned, and kissed her hard, driving his tongue into her mouth. She welcomed his fierceness and shifted until he was over her, between her legs. She pulled her legs up and around his hips telling him with her movements what she wanted. She was wet, ready, longing to be filled.
He pushed into her in one fast thrust. They both stilled, eyes locked for a long moment.
“Oh,” he breathed. “Mallow. ”
She took a shaky breath and he lowered his head to her lips, catching her tongue in a sucking motion. Then he pulled back and thrust forward, plunging into her. She lifted her hips and met him.
Pleasure jarred through her as he thrust. Over and over he pounded into her and she moaned in both delight and frustration. Pascal seemed to know what she needed because one long thin hand slid between them, to her swollen clit and he paused inside her to circle and rub the swollen flesh. His fingers were not gentle, they were rough, rushed, almost desperate. His touch was perfect, bringing her to the peak of ecstasy and she shattered while he thrust into her twice more before collapsing with a moan against her neck.
He slid to her side and neither spoke for some time while Pascal stroked her hair. Then a thought came to her, making her tense.
“I wonder,” she said, “Can a dwarf and an elf make a baby?”
Pascal stared at her. “I don’t know. But we are not all that different.”
Mallow sat up quickly and dragged on her gown. “I have a tea. Dwarf women use it to space their babies. I think I’ll go make some right now.” She rushed from the room in a panic.
What was she thinking? What if she got pregnant?
When she returned Pascal was dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Do you regret what we did?” he asked.
Did she regret it? She stirred crumpled leaves into the hot water and watched them for a moment. “It made me feel alive. A woman, not just a mother and a farmer. No. I do not regret it. But to bear a child would be a hardship for me and my children. A child conceived now would come near harvest time.”
She paused. “And what would be the future of that child? What if the dwarves rejected it?”
* * * *
PASCAL THOUGHT ABOUT her words all the next day. She would be alone after he returned to his people. The idea of her, heavy with his child, trying to harvest the fields and care for her children all alone, made him shudder. He could not do that to this good woman.
Yet he still wanted her. When he looked at her, working in her dull brown dress, he thought of the beauty under that gown. He relived their moments in bed, over and over.
They pretended it never happened. They never spoke of it. Mallow went to bed with the children, and if she spent time dreaming about their night together, he could not tell.
Once in a while though, they had to brush past each other in the small cottage. The brief touches left him feeling wild and he thought it might be the same for Mallow because her cheeks turned pink and she would not meet his eyes.
* * * *
A FEW DAYS LATER A visitor arrived, a villager. Between the shouts of the children and the barking of the dog, Pascal had plenty of time to pull himself up into the loft.
“Don’t tell Snip about Pascal,” Mallow told her children. “The villagers might get upset about an elf in our home. We know it is all right, but they might not understand.”
He could tell by the chatter down below they obeyed her.
“It’s the cough, Mallow. We thought it had abated, but now several villagers are ill and some never really got well,” Snip said.
“I have more coughwort elixir, and other herbal potions. Plenty of them. I just hope it helps. Berri will know what to give.”
The boy stayed just long enough for a basket of herbal remedies and to have a quick meal, then departed so he could get back to the village before nightfall.
* * * *
“WHAT TYPE OF TROUBLE would it cause, if it was known I was with you?” Pascal asked her later, when the children were outside.
“I don’t know.” Mallow said. “Elves have never traveled to our village. You’re the first I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how the villagers would react.” She paused in her spinning to frown at him. “We are not at war with your people. We just have no contact.”
He thought about it. “But that can’t be quite true. Where do we get our wood from? The North Pole is barren of wood. And the jewels, aren’t they mined in dwarf mines? Plus, many of our foodstuffs are carried to our land in ships, which come across the Ice Sea from the dwarf ports.”
“I have no idea. Our stories say elves moved to the North Pole many years ago, in the times of the grandfathers’ grandfathers. But I have never really heard of trouble between our people.”
“It is difficult to get to your lands. The mountains have no roads or trails for trade.”
She nodded “It would be easier to trade across the Ice Sea than to go over the mountains.” She paused. “Our storytellers say the elves went north to separate their beauty from our earthier appearance.”
Pascal stared at her. “Well, that cannot be true. That’s ridiculous. You are as lovely as any elf woman.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I think you are desirable, you know.”
His blue eyes looked straight into hers and she felt heat rise into her face. She swallowed as desire rushed through her veins. He leaned toward her, lips ready to capture hers. But children’s voices sounded near the door. Mallow leaped off the bench and began to chop vegetables for the pot. It would be sweet to sleep with him every night, to share pleasure again. But she was a widow raising children alone, and soon he would leave. A harvest babe would be too great a hardship. But it would be sweet...
* * * *
“I HAVE MY MOTHER’S Books. They go back many generations,” Mallow said the next afternoon when they were both working while her children played in the farmyard. “I am the only daughter of my line, so I received them all.”
She pulled open a chest and the smell of herbs wafted out. “I keep them very carefully, surrounded by leaves that keep them from getting too dry and crumbling away. The oldest goes back to the times when the dwarves and elves lived in the same lands.”
She placed a leather bound tome on the apothecary table and carefully opened it to reveal yellowed pages with faded writing. “I have always planned to copy much of this in a new book. Dawnli will begin her Mother’s Book soon, I was waiting to do it with her. Dobbin will be a little older then and I will have more time for the copy work.”
Pascal touched the yellowed page reverently. “I am known for my fine hand, and I often have nothing to do while you work. I am useless at spinning.”
She giggled. This was very true, he just produced a knotted mess. “I have an extra book. I bought it with the fox hide. And there is plenty of ink.” So Pascal began copying the ancient book. Some of the words and language had changed so he would consult with Mallow over the work, and sometimes they would look through her other books for more recent copies. Pascal found the work fascinating, especially the herbal remedies long forgotten.
* * * *
A FEW DAYS LATER, DOBBIN fussed and cried about everything, which was not like him. Normally he was a happy little boy, busy with his blocks and stuffed bear, or trailing his siblings about. Mallow picked up the wailing child and felt his forehead.
“He feels hot. He must be coming down with something.” Her eyes met Pascal’s and she swallowed hard.
By nightfall Dobbin was coughing, by morning the other three children were ill, also. Mallow moved their featherbeds downstairs in front of the fireplace and Pascal helped her care for the sick children.
“They’ve never been ill all at once like this.” Two days later, Mallow looked tired and her face was white.
“There is an elixir in your oldest book, a recipe for the Severest of Illness. It contains coughwort and several other herbs, made into an elixir,” Pascal said. “It is stronger than the tea. Let me try it. If they could sleep without coughing so hard, they would all get more rest and get well.” Mallow looked at the recipe. “I have all except ladyroot, but I know where some grows.”
She bundled up and took a shovel and digging tool with her to find the root. Pascal stayed with the children but anxiously watched the door. What if Mallow got hurt or fell ill while out in the meadows? He finally saw her, a dark spot against the snow. The wind had come up. He rushed outside and grabbed her tight, unable to stop kissing her cold face. “I was so worried. This must stop, this harvesting alone. It is too great a risk.”
Then it hit him, how precious she was to him. Like air. Was this love, that special love she spoke of?
“I found a large patch and dug up a lot, but the ground was so hard it took a long time. I thought we could make extra, for the villagers.”
Pascal got her inside wrapped in a blanket, with a heated stone at her feet and a mug of sweetened clover tea in no time. He took the bundle of herbs to the back room and began to work. It would be an all-night procedure. “I will take care of this. Rest while you can.”
The children were sleeping fitfully. She nodded. “Thank you, Pascal.” She began replacing the cool cloths on hot foreheads.
He worked late into the night on the elixir, which had to cook for a certain length of time. When it was finished he brought a jar into the main room. Mallow dozed on the featherbed next to Dawnli, who was awake and coughing. Pascal mixed a spoonful of the elixir with Mallow’s sweet syrup and gave it to Dawnli, and then administered it to all the children.
“I think it’s working,” Mallow whispered to him some time later. The coughing slowed then stopped, and the children fell into a healing sleep. Mallow checked each child, making sure they were rolled onto a side and bolstered with pillows. They were breathing easily, every one of them. An hour later the high fevers were gone. Relief rushed through her. She knew so many who lost children to the Cough.
She turned to Pascal, smiling broadly. “Your elixir is wondrous.” He smiled back, almost a shy smile. “I’ll teach you how to make it when the children are better.” He turned and pulled a pot from the coals. “Sit down and eat a little. You’ve had nothing but a crust of bread all day.”
A delicious aroma wafted from the pot when he lifted the lid.
“What is that?” she asked.
“I stewed vegetables to make a broth. Then I added that hard cheese in your cupboard and let it melt together by the fire. We dip bread into it back home.”
Her stomach growled so she sat next to him on the wooden bench and he served her a bowl of the cheese soup with a large chunk of toasted bread. She dipped the bread into the soup and took a bite. It was richly flavored with savory herbs and the bread was hot and buttered. It was delicious and she ate quickly, letting stringy cheese dangle from the bread as she bit into it. Finally satisfied, she dropped a small scrap of crust onto the table and sighed. “That was delicious.”
Pascal’s eyes were focused on her mouth with an intensity that made her feel self-conscious. “What? Do I have food on my face?” She raised a hand to wipe her mouth but his hand blocked hers.
“Let me,” he said. His voice was husky and she froze on the bench as she waited for his touch. He drew one finger slowly across her upper lip like a caress. Then his finger moved to the opening of her lips and pressed within.
Honeyed warmth stirred in Mallow’s veins, filling her with tingling desire. She drew in a sharp breath, then his lips were on hers, his tongue deep in her mouth. They kissed for a long time, each holding the other tight.
It wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel his flesh, his smooth skin and slim, hard body under her fingers. “The bed,” she whispered. He nodded, and soon they were at the bedside, pulling off boots and woolens. They tumbled together onto the bed and Pascal pulled the coarse woven curtain, making the bed a tiny private chamber, with firelight pouring in softly through the open weave.
“I won’t get you pregnant,” he stated in a gruff whisper.
“All right. As long as I can hold you, feel your skin...” She rained kisses over his face. She had dreamed about this in the dark, while her children slept.
“Oh, trust me, there will be more joy to be had than just holding.” His open mouth found her nipple. It came as a de-lightful shock and her hips jerked in response, pressing against his swollen cock. His mouth devoured her nipples, licking, sucking and rubbing with a hungry tongue. Pleasure ran through her, straight to her center, and the soft space between her legs welled with moisture.
His fingers found the wet folds between her legs as his lips pressed against hers, and they kissed while his fingers glided over her sensitive nub, circling and tapping, making her moan into his mouth and writhe restlessly against him. In between kisses she watched him through her lashes, fascinated with the look of concentration on his face. Soon the stroking of his fingers became so compelling she gave herself up to the pleasure until her body tightened, coiled, and released in breathtaking ecstasy.
When she was calmer, when her body slowed its delightful pulses, she slid her hand down to Pascal’s thickened length. He moaned against her mouth. Moving swiftly, she turned around and pulled the head of his cock to her lips. She licked and suckled the tip, enjoying the silky soft flesh over iron, enjoying his smell.
“Mallow, sweet...that is good...” Before she understood what he was doing, his hands gripped her hips and pulled her around until she was on her belly facing his cock. He spread her legs apart, adjusted her, then she felt his mouth claim her sensitized clit. His hands found her bottom, kneading and rubbing. They developed a rhythm of pleasure, moving together, their mouths and hands pleasuring each other. She could feel him trembling under her body and she sucked him more vigorously, rubbing her tongue over the swollen head. Then he was gasping and she swallowed his creamy fluid.
His mouth went crazy against her then, licking her clit hard and fast. She muffled her cry as her body was once again swept away. Afterward they snuggled together deep under the quilts and slept.
* * * *
MALLOW AND PASCAL HAD the Cough, but a very light case that went away quickly, so Mallow was able to get jars of the elixir down to the village on a sunny warm day. Pascal fretted about her leaving alone again but she assured him she passed other farms on the way and would not be far from others if she needed help. The villagers were relieved to see her and the elixir. None had died of the Cough, but there were some small ones fading away.
“I was worried about you.” Berri’s eyes had dark circles underneath. “But I could not get away. My daughter was sick, and due to deliver a new babe any day.”
Mallow gave her a jar of the new elixir. “We found relief with this. Berri, I must tell you something. A secret.”
“After.” They administered the elixir and gave small pots and jars to mothers in the village.
“Here.” Mallow thrust a page from the new book with a copy of the elixir done in Pascal’s fine script. “Make sure others have this for their Mother’s Books.”
“Where did you get this, Mallow?” Berri looked confused. She knew Mallow’s writing.
“That is my secret. Remember when you stayed with my children so I could go upriver for coughwort?”
Berri nodded.
“There was an elf on the mountainside, an herbalist named Pascal, also gathering coughwort. He was injured in a rock slide and I had to bring him home until he recovered. He has been at my farm, helping with my herbs, since then. His foot was crushed. I don’t know if he will ever be able to hike over the mountains back to the North Pole.” Mallow shrugged. “He found this recipe in my oldest Mother’s Book, and it worked for us.”
“An elf, Mallow? Does he treat you well? Or does he order you around like a servant?”
“Oh, no. He is very nice and helpful. I think he cares for me.”
Berri looked thoughtful. “The nearest widower is two villages away, downriver. I doubt you would ever find time to meet him. I don’t like you being alone on that farm.”
“Funny, but Pascal doesn’t like it either. He thinks it is too dangerous, traveling the wilderness alone to find herbs. He didn’t want me to come here alone, but I couldn’t bring him.”
“Well, that does show he has some sense. I will be up to meet him after the New Year. And I’ll bring Shurn. Just to make sure everything is well with you. Shurn trades with elves, you know, at the King’s Port. That is where most of our farm produce from the village goes.”
“I didn’t know that. I haven’t sent surplus with the trade guild.” Shurn was Berri’s husband, head of the village trade guild.
“I will talk with Shurn about this. And we will be visiting.” Then Berri hugged Mallow. “But this could be, perhaps, a very good thing. I danced to the Mother two moons ago, for you to find a man. Because all the widowers are so far away and there is no one in the village for you.”
Mallow returned home in a thoughtful mood. Two moons ago...right before she met Pascal. But a rockslide?
Well, she was an Earth Mother.