VirtualDesire Page 15

  Gwen burst into life. She locked her bare arms about his neck. The look on her face warned Vad before she began to kiss him. “No,” he said, evading her questing lips. “No. You must stop.”

  “Why?” She leaned forward and nuzzled his neck. Ardra made a sound of disgust behind him.

  He imagined that all that had passed between himself and Gwen was now apparent to Ardra. “It seems the village women wish to keep me.”

  Gwen burst into laughter, and he lost his grip on her. She unrolled in a boneless slither onto the floor.

  How far away she looked—how naked—how splendid.

  “They want to keep you?” She clutched her belly and rolled about. “Sure, who wouldn’t?” she said between gales of laughter. “I mean, you can really cook—”

  “‘Tis not his cooking they require,” Ardra snapped. “She is acting the idiot, Vad, and her laughter will attract the men. She must be very susceptible to the hypnoflora’s essence.”

  And so was he. “It would appear so.” With gentleness—after all, he’d just known her intimately—he shook Gwen’s shoulder.

  Ardra shoved past him and took matters into her own hands. She slapped Gwen hard across the face. Gwen’s laughter changed to gulping hiccups.

  “We have no time for this,” Ardra said close to Gwen’s ear. “The women are adamant in their mission. If the men agree, they will put Vad in a pit, and where will they put us? I imagine wherever they plant their dead!”

  The imprint of Ardra’s hand stood out starkly on Gwen’s smooth skin. Amazed, Vad watched as Gwen’s head rolled about on her neck. When she jerked upright, a grin lit her features. “I want a dress as nice as yours.”

  Ardra threw up her hands at him. “Help me.”

  “Gather the bows, some furs, whatever you can carry—do not forget my other clothes.”

  Unaccountably, Gwen wriggled and laughed each time he touched her—especially on her sides. Finally she was garbed in a haphazard collection of men’s clothing—enough to make her appear to be a well-fed Selaw merchant.

  Ardra bundled clothing and then lashed the pile with several furs and outergarments to the two bows. Vad set Gwen on her feet. “Take her to the boat, Ardra. I will remain here and hold them off until you are safe.” He thrust the bundle into Gwen’s arms.

  “You will come with us now.” Ardra fisted her hands on her hips. “I know what will happen if you resist them. They will cut off your feet.”

  “I will not run away like a coward.”

  Gwen began to hiccup again. “Silly. You can’t run without feet. Of course, you can still cook…”

  Vad ignored her. She did not know what she was saying.

  “Close your eyes and stand on one foot,” Ardra ordered him.

  He could not do it. The room spun and twisted.

  “You are not fit to fight anyone! When the hypnoflora has worn off, you can return and burn the village to the ground if you wish!” Ardra shook out the white wool cloak in which she was garbed. She softened her tone. “Come with us, I beg of you. I need you. The maidens my father took need you.”

  “Ah, the maidens,” Gwen said, and sagged onto a stool. “The maidens will probably want to keep you, too.”

  “How dare you make light of—” Ardra began.

  “She is not responsible for what she says.” No, he thought. I am at fault here. I brought her here, I did not recognize the soap’s danger, I took advantage of her…

  “Vad. Vad!” Ardra shook his arm.

  Vad took a deep breath. In truth, his head was spinning, and his limbs took far too long to respond. What chance had he against dozens of determined men and women? He strode to the window. “Gwen, get on your feet. Ardra, throw her out the window if you must.”

  He climbed from the rear window and reached up. Gwen tumbled out into his arms. She leaned drunkenly on the wall, gasping the fresh air, her face a pale oval. Ardra flung herself over the sill into his arms.

  “Stay low. Now run,” he whispered.

  Ardra led the way, skirts raised to her knees.

  He stumbled after her, still clumsy, but his head grew clearer with each step.

  Behind him, he heard a raised voice. He grabbed Gwen’s arm and urged her to a faster pace.

  When they reached the beach, he shoved the boat into the water with both women on board.

  “Look,” Ardra said in a gasp as he jumped aboard. Between the trees, men and women could be seen running. Their voices echoed against the foothills.

  Vad pulled the sail aloft and secured it as he had watched Gwen do a number of times. He folded her hand about the tiller. “Ignore it,” he ordered as an arrow tore through the sail and Gwen gasped. “You are in Ocean City, sailing the sea breezes, racing the wind.”

  “Ocean City…racing?” she whispered. He felt her hand lock on the tiller beneath his.

  “Aye. Ride the wind.” Slowly he pulled his hand from hers. Arrows whizzed across the bow, but Gwen’s eyes were locked to the fluttering strips she’d tied to the top of the mast.

  “Vad, watch out,” Ardra cried, but it was too late. An arrow embedded itself in his forearm. She shrieked and flung herself flat.

  He jerked the arrow out. Blood welled from the wound. Another arrow thunked into the wood by his hand.

  His bows lay at his feet, but there was no point in firing on the Selaw. He had no idea what the hypnoflora had done to his aim, and they still had precious few arrows to waste. He would not do as Ardra had either. Gwen must remain upright, sailing the boat. He must shield her as best he could. To that end, he lifted the bow and its burden of furs. Each time an arrow came too close, he used it as a shield.

  Suddenly the boat keeled sharply, nearly spilling them all into the river. Ardra screamed. Gwen laughed and flung her body practically overboard as she hauled the sail close and shoved the tiller over.

  In moments they were truly riding the wind, skimming the water, the Selaw arrows falling harmlessly behind them.

  Gwen looked magnificent, her hair tousled, her face to the wind. He knew she was somewhere else, still under the hypnoflora’s influence, probably on the gray waters of Ocean City.

  And where had she been when he’d joined himself to her? Had she been in his arms? Or had she been in her lifemate’s embrace again? Reliving her former life?

  A burn, not unlike that in his arm where the arrow had entered, filled his throat.

  Finally they drew far enough from shore to no longer fear the archers. Three arrows were buried halfway up the shaft in his makeshift shield. “Gather the Selaw arrows,” he said to Ardra, who finally sat up. “Perhaps we can reuse them.”

  Ardra crawled about the boat, pulling arrows from the soft wood, her eyes round and frightened in her pale face.

  Gwen shook her head. An odd exhilaration swept through her as she sailed along the water, looking neither left nor right, only to the clouds and the wind-filled sail.

  Then she glanced about. She looked down at her own legs. When had she changed into this awful green costume?

  “I see you are with us again,” Ardra said.

  “Huh?” Gwen licked her lips. They were dry. Her throat was scratchy.

  She looked closely at Vad. He was dressed very oddly—like the Selaw men who’d accompanied Ardra. Gone were his thigh-hugging leather breeches. A long red line of blood ran down his arm where he’d rolled back a sleeve. The blood dripped from his fingers as he played with some arrows and inspected their points.

  “Vad! You’re hurt,” she cried, but he merely shrugged. He untied a strip of bloody cloth, dipped it in the river water, then tried to rebind the wound.

  “I will see to it,” Ardra said, and edged to where Vad sat.

  Before Gwen could ask how he’d hurt himself, the wind kicked up and whitecaps danced across the water’s surface, requiring her immediate attention.

  The scent of wet earth and rain filled the air. She shivered. How had she gotten here? How had Vad been injured? Even the terrain looked differ
ent from what she remembered. Gone were the red, rocky shores, the stained water, the stunted green conifers. Ahead the river curved between two high cliffs of dark, striated stone. An apprehensive feeling of being watched filled her. What if someone awaited them up there?

  A small rapid threatened to capsize the boat. She fought the tiller bar, hauled on the sail with all her strength. She wrapped a cloth about her hand to protect it from the rough rope.

  When she next could look back to where Ardra tended Vad in the stern, she saw that the other woman was inspecting a deep gash across his forearm.

  “Doesn’t that need stitches?” she called over the rising rush of the wind.

  Ardra nodded. “I have no healing skills. What shall we do?”

  Gwen thought a moment. “Maybe we could put in to shore. We can boil some cloth and wrap it up.”

  “We will not be stopping,” Vad snapped. “Just bind it and let it be.”

  This time it was Gwen’s turn to shrug. Ardra bit her lip and looked anxiously from her to Vad.

  Her hooded cloak, lined with white fur and embroidered with gold, accentuated her ivory skin and amber eyes. As she leaned toward Vad, the cloak parted to reveal a matching fur-trimmed gown and shiny leather boots.

  Well, Gwen thought, rank certainly does have its privileges. She groped beneath her rough wool cloak and pulled a long strip of cloth from around her middle.

  “Here,” she called. “Tear this up. At least it looks clean.”

  In the end, it was Vad who took the cloth and did the bandaging. Ardra patted his arm and made small, ineffectual fluttering motions over his work.

  The effort of holding the sail against the strengthening winds made Gwen’s arm tremble. No sooner had she felt the tremor run along her arm than Vad was there, sitting beside her, relieving her of the burden of holding the sheet.

  “What happened? Where are we?” she asked him when the boat had settled into as smooth a glide as could be expected on the choppy water.

  Vad kept his eyes on the sail, and Gwen sensed he was not going to be completely honest with her. “The Selaw attacked us. They were going to cheat us over the bowls, so we decided to move on. The soap we were given was tainted with hypnoflora. It muddled your mind.”

  Gwen frowned. “I feel so…strange. And…I had the weirdest dream…” Her body flashed hot. Sweat broke out on her skin. Her hand jerked on the tiller.

  He placed a hand over hers, and together they brought the boat back on an even keel. “What did you dream?” he asked when he released her hand.

  “Oh…nothing…I mean…I can’t remember.” The lie would have to satisfy him. There was no way she was going to tell him about her dream. She could suddenly feel its effects. Her whole body felt bruised. In fact, she was vaguely sore in all the wrong places. Her mouth hurt, too.

  “Gwen?” He studied her face. It was almost as if he was trying to see inside her mind. What could he read in her gaze or in the deep blush of color on her cheeks? She lowered her eyes. “It’s stupid—just a dream. I can’t even remember it. Just…I feel a little dizzy.” That at least was not a lie.

  The scenery changed from one moment to the next as they rounded another bend. High black cliffs rose on either side. Jagged lichen-covered rocks hung over their small boat. The clouds darkened overhead to match the changing terrain. Deep purple shadows filled the crevices.

  There would be no lights to guide them when the darkness fell. No Tolemac moons glowed overhead. She hoped they’d get to the fortress before dark. Her arms, back, and legs ached from sailing the boat.

  Ardra pointed to a narrow offshoot of the river. “I think we should stop a moment to plan how we will gain entrance to the fortress and to eat,” she said.

  Gwen gratefully guided the boat into the sheltering cove.

  “We are but a short way from the fortress,” Ardra informed them. “There are two ways into it. One is used only by my father and his chosen ones—a waterway into an underground grotto. The other is the public way—over the drawbridge—a way you cannot use. You might be recognized as from Tolemac with your blue eyes. No man from Tolemac has ever entered the fortress.”

  Vad nodded. “Who guards each entrance?” he asked. He leaped onto a flat outcropping of rock and wrapped a rope around a jagged spur.

  “The drawbridge is rarely raised now that we have peace. The people of the area come and go as they please. Sentries man the ramparts. Able archers all.”

  “At the grotto entrance?”

  “Four of my father’s men in watches of two on and two off. Little more is needed. The cliffs hem in the boat; there is no way out once you enter the canal leading to the fortress. How we will get past the guards, I do not know, but if we succeed we can disappear in the many underground caverns. If we choose the public way, many will see us, and my servants will immediately come to see to my care.”

  Vad made no comment, and Ardra continued her description of the grotto. “Warm springs rise from the earth in the caverns. Once, they were worshiping places of the ancients. The ways of the labyrinth were passed from father to son. With no son to inherit, my father entrusted me with the way.”

  “What’s to stop Ruonail from telling Narfrom how to get around down there?” Gwen asked.

  “It is not so simple that a single telling would suffice. It took several years for me to learn. One must trace the paths, walk them often, know the key to the markings. It is not something one learns quickly. Trust me, only my father and I know the true nature of the labyrinth beneath the fortress.”

  Gwen scrambled out when Vad pulled them close enough to disembark. “And if we can’t get into the fortress?” she asked him.

  He met her gaze squarely. “The maidens will die.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gwen tucked her hands into her underarms. “I’ve seen enough violence today to last me two lifetimes. Why can’t we go now and get it over with?”

  “I agree,” Vad said. “Do what you need to. I will prepare food, and then let us be gone.”

  A little glimmer of an idea as to how they might enter the fortress had come to Gwen, but she wanted to think it through before telling them.

  She jumped across a small gap between rocks and stood at the mouth of a large outcropping. Vad lifted Ardra across the gap and set her down.

  After shaking out her snow white cloak, Ardra frowned up at the sky. Gwen looked up, too. The sky, now filled with angry, grayish purple clouds, looked low and threatening. Would it rain purple? High cliffs penned them in. The terrain was cold, alien.

  “What is wrong?” Vad asked Ardra, but it was at Gwen he looked. She felt a strange discomfort from his intent inspection.

  “I do not understand what is happening,” Ardra said. “The weather is always fair after the harvest-time. This gathering of clouds is an ill omen.”

  “Just looks like rain to me,” Gwen said, rubbing her sore rear. She caught Vad watching and stopped. A vision came to her of Vad kneeling over her. Naked. Every detail of his body was edged in a golden shimmer, as if a fire flickered behind him.

  Gwen found herself staring at the long line of his well-muscled thigh, the way his woolen tunic pulled taut across his shoulders.

  She jerked from her reverie. Stop it. He’s just flesh and blood. Whatever dreams you’ve had, you’re awake now. Still, warmth curled through her insides.

  She hopped from rock to rock until she was out of their sight, then sat down, arms about her knees, and stared at the water. They needed to get past the guards so they could rescue the maidens.

  Just saying the words—rescue the maidens—sounded absurd. The biggest thing she’d ever rescued was a seagull from a kite string. The whole concept of what Vad proposed to do was insane. Believing she was in a game was insane. And what possible help could she be to him? She couldn’t even draw a bow, she was so weak.

  Her reflection looked back at her in the waning light. “My hair’s wrecked and I look like a giant lima bean.” As she brought her cupp
ed hands to her mouth to take a drink, she caught the scent of the soap from the cottage.

  The purple-stained sky spun. The water slid sideways. “Uhhhh…”

  “You were desirous of a swim?” Vad said as he snatched the back of her cloak and hauled her away from the water’s edge.

  “No. I-I-I feel so dizzy.”

  Vad settled her a few feet from the rocky lip.

  “The soap…” She held her hands close to his face.

  Treating her with little gentleness, he scrubbed her hands and used the point of the jeweled dagger to clean beneath her nails. She forced herself to look away from his strong hands and long fingers.

  What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she watch him do the simplest thing without some erotic image taking over? She’d played Tolemac Wars II countless times, turned him off without regret, laughed when Mrs. Hill and other women went on and on about how spectacular he was.

  Now she was worse than any rabid fan. She couldn’t look at him without… An incredibly vivid image—his head bent to kiss her inner thigh—made her jerk away from his hands. She could feel the rasp of his unshaven cheek against her soft skin.

  “Gwen? Something is wrong.” Vad cocked his head to the side. He examined her with an intent scrutiny that made her insides chum.

  “You’ll think I’m crazy—mad—if I tell you,” she whispered back. She edged away from him.

  “Perhaps I will; perhaps I will not.” His voice was low, seductively so. The scar coursed his cheek like a dark ribbon of blood.

  “I had this dream that we…”

  He hissed in his breath.

  The look on his face stopped her. “Did we?” she whispered. He was silent. “Did we?” Her lips trembled, and she clamped her fingers over them.

  “It was not a dream,” he said equally softly. “Hypnoflora is very…powerful.”

  She bowed her head. Not a dream. Reality. Each moment. Every caress. Tears burned against her eyes. What had she done? She had slept with a man who had told her quite bluntly he did not trust her. She had slept with a man she did not love—who would never love her.