When he pulled back, she saw fire in his eyes, saw the desire that spoke volumes, and knew he’d be taking her, even if it was out here in the frigid weather. But the funny thing was she was warm, feeling his body heat consume her, and knew that no chill would touch them.
They were breathing hard still, and she was wet, so damn wet. She wore no undergarments, hadn’t since that first bath. She’d since given up on fighting with herself to enjoy this. He was good to her, was helping her learn to fight and defend herself, and she couldn’t help but feel these things for him that went against all common sense.
But she didn’t fight it, didn’t even attempt to try to say to herself she didn’t want this.
“Tonight, Agata. Tonight, I’ll claim you.” He kissed her again, and she opened her mouth, sucked on his tongue, and loved when he groaned. He was off of her seconds later, to her utter disappointment, and helped her to stand.
“You don’t play fair,” she said and smiled when he made this low, uncomfortable sound.
“I can show you how unfair I can be, wife.” The way he said it, all deep and husky, like he’d have no problem showing her right here in the wilderness that he could claim her, had tingling sensations moving through her. “But I’ll let you practice your stance and holding the sword while I prepare the fish.” He turned and went into the hut, and she saw his shadow through the burlap sack that covered the window.
She tried to practice, but it was weird in her grasp, and far heavier than anything she ever held before. For the next few minutes, she swung the sword, envisioning herself being attacked, and hoped she’d be able to protect herself. The sound of a twig snapping far too close for comfort had her stilling.
She glanced around, couldn’t see anything but her breath coming from her in a white cloud, and when she heard the snap of a twig again, she opened her mouth to call for Stian.
But the sight of a white cloak had her snapping her mouth closed.
The middle-aged woman that was several feet away gestured for her to come forward. The frantic, panicked expression on the woman’s face had Agata moving toward her instead of going to see Stian and telling him what was going on.
She was several feet from the hut, but from her vantage point could see Stian through the window still. The thick bushes concealed the young woman.
“You are Saxon, yes?” the woman asked.
Saxon?
“You speak my language?” Agata asked, and although it was broken up, a little hard to make out, Agata felt this thrill of having someone she could communicate with fully.
The woman nodded but looked over her shoulder, her eyes moving back and forth.
“But how?”
The woman faced forward again, closed her eyes, and breathed out. “Years ago, when I was a very young girl, there was a woman who wandered out from the woods. She looked strange, not of our land with the clothing she wore and the color of her skin.” The woman took a deep breath and spoke lower. “I was only four years of age, but one of the village men fell in love with her. He taught her our language, and when no one was looking, I would sneak into her hut when the men would go hunting, and she’d teach me hers.”
The woman spoke fairly good English, and although some of the words didn’t sound right when she said them, it was easy enough to follow.
“What happened to the woman and man?”
The woman shook her head. “The elder was furious that he would take a woman who wasn’t of our kind. There was a decision that she would be cast out, but before they could be called forth, they’d disappeared in the night. No one has seen them since.” The woman looked down. “She was very kind, told me to always practice speaking and I would never forget, and I did, always practice.”
Damn, Agata could have asked the “Saxon” where she came from, if that witch woman had brought her here as well. But it seemed like the couple had been smart and ran and never looked back.
“I never spoke of this language to anyone, because I was too afraid.” She looked over her shoulder at the woods. “They will be coming soon.”
“Who?”
“The village men, to finish Stian. They don’t feel the elder made the right choice in banishing him after what he did.”
Agata swallowed. “What he did?”
The woman nodded. “He slew his parents,” she said in a soft voice.
Agata felt her eyes widen.
“But he didn’t do it because he enjoyed the kill. He did it because his mother and father hurt him countless times.”
Agata looked over at the hut, saw the big, shadowed body of Stian in the window, and felt her throat close. She remembered all those scars on him, ones that were probably not all from battle. “What?” she asked in a shocked, wavering voice.
The woman couldn’t have been much older than her late forties, but she looked far older with the worry and strain around her eyes.
“He was but a mere child when he took the lives of his parents while they slept. The elders found him the next morning, crying and covered in blood in his hut, his parents dead. He didn’t deny it, and even if we all knew he was abused, it isn’t our custom to get involved.”
Anger the likes of which Agata had never felt filled her. Those bastards had known Stian was abused, stood by and probably watched it happen, and when that little boy couldn’t take anymore, he found his solution.
She wasn’t about to try to understand this world, but where she came from, a child was to be protected.
“He could have been sentenced to death for his crimes—”
“Even as a child, even though he was just protecting himself?” Agata asked, outraged.
“Shh, please,” the woman said, then nodded at Agata’s question. “Yes, in our culture, anyone who takes a life is subject to death, and now that the elder is dead, they’ve come to collect on his life.”
It made no sense to put a child through that when they were abused, condemning them to death when they were in a horrible situation and had no other options, but again, she wasn’t going to try to understand this world or culture. She just wanted to make sure Stian wasn’t alone anymore.
That realization had her motionless for a second, had her stunned she felt so strongly about making sure Stian wasn’t alone anymore. Knowing that, knowing she’d protect him as hard as he protected her, made this warmth fill her. Then she heard it, the sound of a horn being blown.
The woman grabbed Agata’s hand, squeezed it tightly, and said in a rushed voice, “You can still run. I can show you to safety.”
Agata shook her head before the other woman could even finish speaking. “I can’t leave him. I can’t run when he could very well die with these heathens coming after him.”
An arrow came flying through the air, and Agata landed on her face, the arrow barely missing her as it slammed into the tree beside her. Breathing out, dirt moving around her face, she grabbed the hilt of the sword she dropped, looked around, and saw the horde of men coming at them.
They had axes, swords, knives, and bows and arrows. They were shouting, blowing a horn to clearly tell everyone they were attacking. She turned around to look at Stian, scream for him to get ready for the ambush, but he was already outside, his sword in hand and his arm wrapped around her waist.