A Warrior's Heart Page 11

  She smelled like Cheyna.

  Under his prolonged stare, a hint of rosiness tinted her cheeks. He smiled. It seemed his House-daughter had yet much to learn about her lord if she believed he would back away from a dare.

  "So. How are you going to prove me wrong?" He resisted the temptation to run his hands down the length of her hair, letting the silken strands tangle and wrap around his fingers. He waited to see what she would do now that he had called her bluff.

  Long lashes brushed her cheeks for just a moment, before sweeping up to reveal a guileless innocence in their depths. "Why, by introducing you to Sai and Kai's basics, of course. I believe it's best if we leave the intricacies of the meditation levels to a day when we have more time to spare. This morn I will show you the proper balance for a few basic exercises designed to limber muscles and prevent injury. First the stance."

  Cheyna tilted her head down so that her hair hid her expression. An imp of mischief, hibernating behind years of training and learned serenity, wriggled free. She knelt, resting her hands on Drakthe's ankles. They were strong and ruffled with hair. Kneeling at his feet, she was inordinately aware of the shift and play of hard muscle as she ran her hands up and down his calves.

  He had, she noted with one corner of her mind, excellent natural balance. Then, he was a skilled warrior. Gripping his ankles, she shifted his feet minutely, glancing up in time to see a muscle in his jaw jerk. His gaze met hers down the length of his body. He no longer looked amused.

  Satisfied, she patted his ankle.

  "Keeping your weight centered is important for obtaining balance. Balance, whether mental or physical, is essential in Sai and Kai." She flowed upright as she spoke, the black moonsilk of her gejar brushing Drakthe as she rose. One tendril of scarlet hair reached out with a life of its own to tangle with the dark thatch at Drakthe's groin. His indrawn breath shuddered responsively through her. Cheyna cleared her throat.

  "You must attain the perfect balance between relaxation and readiness. If your muscles are not attuned and yet limber, flow and coordination will suffer." Distracted by the warm muskiness of his skin, and by the increasing tenor of his breathing, it became more and more difficult to remember why she had started this game.

  Her hands moved from his waist, traveling upward. Ripples feathered his skin at her slightest touch. Cheyna stared at her hands resting on the breadth of his shoulders, wondering what in the name of the Saints she was supposed to do with them. Oh, yes. His arms. His arms were supposed to be outstretched. Before she could carry out the thought, Drakthe moved with breathtaking speed.

  With a deep growl of laughter, he settled his hands on the indentation of her waist. "Relaxed is the last thing I am, but I assure you, bondwife, I am most ready," he said, pressing his arousal, heavy and full with wanting, against her. His breath hot and moist against the curve of her neck, Drakthe murmured wickedly, "And I promise flow and coordination won't suffer in the slightest."

  * * *

  The sun was several hours past the horizon by the time they were finally on the trail. Drakthe, his eyes heavy-lidded, felt like a well-satisfied taiger. In fact, he thought with a touch of whimsy, a person might mistake his occasional, contented growl for purring.

  "Well, my lord?"

  He turned in the saddle, checking his taiger on the narrow trail. "Well, what?" The heat of the midday sun burned down on his shoulders. He felt lazy and inclined to be indulgent. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt if the pace were slower. Just until Cheyna grew accustomed to the hardship of a trade mission, he thought.

  "Will you concede Sai and Kai is not a warrior's art?"

  A deep bark of laughter exploded from him, filling the warm, lush air. "Lady, I cannot vouch for Sai and Kai's meditative properties, but I willingly concede it is a great form of exercise," he teased, sidestepping the intent of her question. He wasn't in the mood to argue on a subject of so little value.

  He laughed again at her furious blush. He found it amusing that Cheyna could be so fierce and demanding in the pallet, yet so easily embarrassed outside it. His bondwife would pour some foul tasting potion down his throat if she knew the pleasure he derived in stripping that mantle of serenity from her. Still chuckling, he refused her demand to know what was so funny.

  The trail widened. He waited until Cheyna was abreast of him before leaning across to kiss her, a warm, lingering kiss that reflected his contentment with life. He lifted his head. A glimmer of moisture coated her lips and a soft flush painted her cheeks. Satisfied, he booted his animal into a shambling walk.

  The sense of malevolence, of harm closing in, which had prompted the entire miserable episode with Cheyna, had dissipated. Much as it chagrined him to admit, maybe it had been nothing more than nerves at bonding. Still, it wouldn't hurt to keep an extra careful watch on the trail. His hunches were rarely wrong.

  "Drakthe? Is all of Scimtar this lush? So full of moisture?"

  The question shook Drakthe out of his contemplation. He wondered, not for the first time, why the most commonplace things seemed strange to Cheyna. She sounded so amazed. "No. Some parts are completely different. Quite dry, in fact. What is your home like? Similar to this, I imagine." He slipped the query in casually, hiding his intense interest in her answer.

  "Oh, no. Nothing like this. Water is a very precious resour--"

  "Go on," he prompted, very quietly.

  "In--In a farming district, water is always of prime importance," she told him, her cheeks flooding with a bright wash of color. "While quite favored, in Mvale District conservation is ut--utmost in everyone's mind."

  Despite her plausible explanation, it was pathetically obvious Cheyna was hiding something. She stammered and grew so tensed that it was a wonder she didn't break in two. While respecting the value of water was reasonable for the House of Flowing Water, expecting an abundant supply of the resource in a farming district was also reasonable.

  So why did the richness of this area take her by surprise?

  Disturbing images of high plains, dry and sparse and shimmering with an alien green light flashed through Drakthe's mind. His hand clenched violently on the reins causing his taiger to rear. Jkael, where in the name of the Saints had that sprang from?

  Moreover, why did he associate the scene with Cheyna?

  "Drakthe? Are you all right?"

  He focused on Cheyna's worried expression. "I'm fine," he snapped. Drakthe shoved the unsettling image aside. He should confront Cheyna and have done with it.

  Would she tell him the truth? And if she didn't, what then?

  Drakthe decided to test her.

  "Why were you not apprenticed?" He made it sound as if he didn't care either way, but he did, more than he wanted to admit. The cloven hooves of the taigers, thumping with monotonous regularity on the hard-baked ground, rang inordinately loud as he waited.

  She answered without hesitation. "I was my parents' only child. I learned the art of Healing first from my mother, and then from others in the area. I did not enter the NaturPaths' Guild for placing as an apprentice. I learned from observation, from trial and error."

  Drakthe closed his eyes for a brief moment. She was telling the truth. He could hear it in the clear and sure cadences of her voice. Now was the time to push, to find out what she was hiding. Instead, he decided to gather more information before he taxed her with her deception.

  Uncomfortably aware that he was acting out of character, Drakthe shut out the derisive voice in his mind screaming that he was in way over his head, hiding from a truth he might not want to face. Shifting in the saddle, putting more weight on the near side so he faced her, he asked, "Was yours a House of NaturPaths then?"

  She shook her head. "As far as I am aware, I am the first."

  "I don't get it. Why didn't they apprentice you? Give you the advantage of working with a practicing NaturPath? Didn't your parents know the Guild would accept you? Tradition does not bind NaturPaths; they may come from any House and strata of society." Anger that any par
ent would deny a child the right to fulfill their talent, stirred.

  "My parents were aware the Guild would accept me, but I was content to learn at home. I did not wish to leave my family. Both my parents believed in education and worked to challenge my abilities."

  Still, Drakthe was troubled. "Did you never wish to apprentice? To earn the badge of a Guild?"

  "I never gave it much thought."

  "What I have trouble accepting is no one ever reported your talent." His eyes roamed over her delicate features, noting the redness high on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Already, the lightest coating of tawny gold tinged the translucent paleness of Cheyna's skin. He frowned in displeasure. He'd have to see about getting her a different cover for her head; he'd hate to see the uniqueness of her complexion ruined.

  "Obviously someone did. How else would Lord Krthe have heard of my talent?" Something in her voice caused Drakthe to glance at her. She met his gaze and returned it with an innocent one of her own.

  "I'm not talking about now," he dismissed with an impatient wave of his hand. "What about when you were a child and first showed signs of the healing talent? Why didn't someone speak up then?"

  "Why should they? I was training for, and practicing, healing. Did it really matter whether it was under the auspices of a Guild NaturPath if I were getting results?" She was silent for a moment. "You asked me when we first met if I were a NaturPath. I did not answer then. I will now. I am a NaturPath. I am very good at what I do, Drakthe, although my training is not in the traditional manner."

  "You must be if some busybody didn't turn your House in for violating the principle of apprenticeship."

  "You took a chance on my talent with much less validation than my neighbors," she pointed out. "Your questions, however, have given me pause and caused me to think."

  "Jkael save me."

  She ignored him. "I thought to explore Scimtar after our mission is complete, to learn about the plants and animals. But now I worry that such aimless wondering won't satisfy me for long. I need to look ahead." She began pleating the leather reins. "I love Healing, love helping people, and would like to set up my own clinic. The cost of setting it up is no longer a worry, but the fact that I will not have the backing of the Guild is." Drakthe tried to catch her eye, but her head remained stubbornly lowered. "I thought to ask the Agora NaturPaths if they will endorse me."

  "Aren't you getting a bit ahead of yourself, House-daughter? We haven't reopened the route yet." His mood shattered completely at the evidence that already she was planning to leave him. Her earlier outburst in the city hadn't been due to anger, after all. Possessiveness flared inside him.

  By the Saints, they were bonded, not just a bond-of-trade, either. His mouth tightened. She had bonded to him in a traditional ceremony. Drakthe couldn't pinpoint just when he had decided not to let his bondwife go, maybe when she awoke from the stun baton to scold him; or maybe the determination took root on the trail to Class when he discovered a House-daughter and a bastard warrior weren't so different after all. It didn't really matter. What mattered was now that he'd found her, he was keeping her.

  He was, Drakthe reminded himself, very good at keeping what he considered his.

  Cheyna didn't answer. Her attention was riveted below. She drew her taiger to a halt. "Drakthe, why did you not tell me there was a township near?" she demanded. "May we stay the night?"

  "Tired of my companionship already, House-daughter?"

  Her head whipped around, wisps of escaped hair clinging to her flushed cheeks. "Of course not. I have not had the opportunity to travel much. Perhaps this is old to you, but I find it exciting to discover a new place."

  Her excitement was contagious. Indulgence replaced irritation. But he couldn't resist teasing her a little. "I suppose you would find me exceedingly cruel if I denied you the pleasure, especially as Shhiv has hot springs?" he drawled.

  "Hot springs! Most cruel," she assured him, her eyes dancing. Quick as a flash, she grabbed his hand and bit lightly.

  "For that bit of impertinence, bondwife, you will pay. Later, hmm, in the privacy of our chambers?" Tapping her animal on the rump, he commanded, "Hurry, woman, Shhiv waits not for the lazy!"

  Drakthe stopped the animals at a livery across the street from the guest lodge he favored. The skin on the back of his neck tightened as he tethered the animals. He finished what he was doing, not rushing. Rested his arm on his taiger's back, he casually glanced in the direction of the guest lodge.

  All his senses sprang alert.

  Standing in the doorway was Lord Lcrier.

  Chapter 8

  Cheyna, busy loosening the cinch on her own saddle, raised her head as Drakthe growled something short and pithy.

  "What is it?" The air around her charged with an undefined tension.

  "We have company."

  "Company? We do not know anyone in Shhiv. At least, I do not." She turned to look where Drakthe was staring. "Oh." What in the name of the Saints was Lord Lcrier doing here? She had seen him but once, the day of her bonding ceremony, when some of Krthe's guards had hastily escorted the man out of the Great Hall, but his boldness in attempting to come uninvited to the joining had etched the man in her mind.

  "My sentiments exactly." Drakthe paid no heed to the ebb and flow of residents eyeing them, and blatantly ignored several greetings.

  Embarrassed by his rudeness, Cheyna nodded in return. "Drakthe, perhaps Lord Lcrier is just passing through on business. As are we," she reminded him pointedly, not liking the aura of readiness surrounding him.

  His quick glance questioned her intelligence or, more precisely, her lack thereof.

  Cheyna remembered the speculation that ran rampant at the bonding reception. Many people had wondered when Drakthe would confront Lord Lcrier about the less flattering explanations of their hurried bonding floating about. She recalled the manner in which Drakthe had leaned against the wall, glaring at and intimidating the guests. That same look was in his eyes now, the look of a dalanth spotting a tender weeket.

  He was contemplating a scene.

  Well, not if she had anything to say about it. It was high time he realized there were other solutions than violence to a problem. Unfortunately, his notion of subtlety was going for the throat with a krees rather than a daegar.

  Cheyna lifted her chin. It appeared yet another of her duties was to introduce her bondhusband to the alternate solutions.

  "Right, House-daughter," he drawled, "and the route he chooses just happens to mirror ours. Is that what you're saying?"

  It struck Cheyna that she hated it when he called her 'House-daughter' in just that tone. "It is possible," she defended.

  "Jkael! Are you naturally this naive or do you work at it?"

  "My lord, you have no call to cast aspirations on my intelligence." She gave a sharp tug on the girth, tightening it. Ashamed of taking out her ill humor on the poor beast, she soothed the indignant animal. Drakthe had a most disconcerting way of making her lose her self-control.

  "Upon occasion, the urge is irresistible," he muttered. "Pay close attention, House-daughter. What is our purpose on the trail?" His gaze drifted back to the doorway of the guest house, and lingered on the man paying inordinate attention to their conversation. Cheyna saw a muscle in Drakthe's jaw twitch.

  "We are on a trade mission."

  He expelled an impatient breath. "And, bondwife, what goods are we hoping to acquire?"

  Lcrier straightened, relinquishing his poetic stance, his hands dropping to his side.

  Grim satisfaction flashed across Drakthe's face.

  "Access to the NaturPaths' herbs and, through them, the other Guilds' products." She faltered as she finally understood what he was driving at. "You believe he is attempting to appropriate the trade route?" she asked, outraged. "He cannot do that!"

  "It's time, bondwife, you understand a few facts of a trader's life. One of the many advantages to an open route system is a man may do whatever he has the guts and sk
ill to do. There are, however, a few drawbacks. Under the system, opening the route is just the beginning. Hanging onto the profit requires as much, if not more, skill. A healthy dose of luck doesn't hurt, either."

  "What do you mean?" Cheyna felt queasy. His attitude highlighted yet another difference between Rpiere and Scimtar.

  Curt and to the point, he explained. "The NaturPaths refuse to deal with anyone except another NaturPath. But, and leave it to a NaturPath to make things difficult for a trader, that NaturPath must be unapprenticed. That means you. Lcrier has two choices. He can lure you away from me--"

  "We are bonded! I would never act with such dishonor!"

  Drakthe spoke over her indignant protest. "Or he can attempt to steal the goods after we acquire rights to them. For some unfathomable reason, the herbs don't seem to care who has them once they leave the Agora. I wouldn't doubt they arranged it that way just to plague traders," he said under his breath as he slung the saddlebags over his shoulder.

  "Could there not be another explanation, my lord?" Cheyna asked.

  "Use your head, House-daughter." His annoyance was palpable. "Just how many places out here, besides the Plains of Skaen, have the resources to provide a good business investment for a trader?" He turned on heel and strode toward the guest lodge, not waiting for her answer.

  "If I knew the answer, I would not need you to guide me, would I?" The shrewish question slipped out before she could stop it. Cheyna inhaled the sultry air, and exhaled slowly, seeking the control that should have been ingrained. What was it about Drakthe that robbed her of a lifetime of training? she wondered, watching his retreating back.

  A dark warning floated back to her. "Keep that in mind, bondwife," he retorted, a distinct edge to his voice.

  Cheyna resisted the urge to throw something at that broad expanse of back. She became aware of the curious stares they were garnering and smiled at the nearest passerby.