He knelt and gave to her the cup, his dark eyes never leaving her face as she drank it.

  “I thank you.” She handed the cup over to Dara and caressed Warrick’s jaw with her wet hand. “I will be to bed shortly.”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth.

  Elina arched a brow and tilted her head at the curtained bed.

  With a rumbling growl low in his chest, he caught her lips in a quick, hard kiss. He rose to his feet while she was still catching her breath—and if the bulge at the front of his leather wrap was any indication, Warrick was no less affected than she had been.

  He started toward the bed, unbuckling the strap that held his axe to his back, then unfastened the belt at his waist. As he walked, his leather wrap dropped to the floor, where he left it.

  Elina twisted around in the tub to watch him go. Dara’s and Chardyrn’s eyes followed him, too, until he stepped through the filmy curtains. A lantern had not been lit within, yet the small amount of moonlight filtering through the tent walls offered to them his silhouette as he sat upon the bed.

  A boot was tossed out through the curtains. Then the other.

  Muttered something about barbarians, Chardryn collected the items and set them neatly aside, then settled on a cushioned stool next to the bath. Her concerned eyes slipped over Elina’s face and settled on her lips, still reddened from his kiss. “Has he been gentle with you, girl? Has he frightened you or taken more than you wish?”

  Elina doubted Warrick would ever take more than she would wish. Yet she did not think that was what Chardryn meant. “I am still a maid. He knows I must be a virgin at my wedding.”

  “You may still be a maid but he is still a barbarian. And the bizarre stories you hear…” She tutted and shook her head.

  Dara winced. But her slight nod of agreement piqued Elina’s curiosity.

  “What bizarre stories?”

  “Their unnatural practices,” Dara said, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “In bed.”

  “Not only in the bed!” Chardryn interjected. “Anywhere they like! In the mud, up against walls, while riding horses.”

  While riding a horse? Had Warrick wished to while riding that morn—was that why he had invited her to share his saddle?

  Oh, she could not wait until the ride tomorrow.

  “And they do it as beasts do! Not face to face as the gods intended.”

  “Like horses, I’ve heard,” Dara said.

  “Or dogs,” agreed Chardryn.

  “And pigs?” Elina offered, for she had once seen a boar mount a sow.

  A choking, snorting noise came from the bed. Immediately they hushed, glancing at each other guiltily. Then the guilt eased when Elina remembered Warrick couldn’t have known what they said. She saw similar realizations on the others’ faces.

  “The noises men make.” Chardryn grimaced. “And the smells. You’ll have to get used to that now.”

  Elina could not count how many times over the years that Chardryn had fallen asleep in the carriage. Nothing Warrick did could be much worse than Nanny Char’s snoring or farting when the window curtains were closed. But she nodded.

  The nurse leaned in. “If he gets you on your hands and knees in the manner of a beast, insist that he turns you around proper. I once saw two dogs mating that way, and when the male got stuck inside the female—well, he just turned ass to ass and then dragged her down the street.”

  “Do you think that happens often in the Dead Lands?” Dara’s eyes were wide.

  “Be certain of it, child.” She turned to Elina. “That giant thing he’s got will get stuck inside you for sure. Though once he spends his seed, it’ll shrink fast enough.”

  No conversation had ever delighted Elina more. “So he won’t be dragging me out of the tent, ass to ass.”

  “Oof! You never take anything seriously. But you’ll see. Not just when he uses his big”—Chardryn wiggled her finger—“One can’t help but hear the unnatural tales of how they kiss. How they nearly eat up the women they’re with.”

  He’d certainly helped Elina eat the raspberry. “Do they only kiss with fruits, do you think? Or also cheese and meat?”

  Chardryn looked utterly horrified. “That’s not what I meant— Did he do that to you? Oh, you poor child.”

  Elina decided not to pursue that. “What did you mean?”

  “That he’ll kiss you everywhere. Not just your mouth.”

  Her breast, too. The memory pooled warmth deep within her belly and under the surface of her skin.

  “Everywhere, child.” Chardryn cast a significant look between her legs.

  She pondered that, and the heat that rushed through her then was not merely warm, but blazing as she recalled the wetness between her thighs that morn, when she’d risen from bed after his kisses. And he wished to taste her there?

  “Then it is very well that I’m taking a bath first,” Elina concluded.

  Dara chortled and pressed her hands to her red cheeks, looking both delighted and scandalized.

  Nanny Char clucked her tongue at Elina. “You’re a bizarre one, too. Come now. Let us braid your hair and prepare you for bed.”

  Those preparations were too slow. And too fast.

  Elina’s heart seemed about to pound through her chest when they finally left her. Carrying a lantern might make her an easy target for an assassin’s arrow—that had been a lesson learned years ago—so she made her way to the bed assisted only by the soft glow of the moon through the tent’s walls.

  Warrick waited for her, reclined against the pillows, his elbow cocked behind his head. The sheet draped across his middle from navel to mid-thigh. The massive bulk of his body seemed far too big for her bed, though it was of no small size.

  And she was of no small heart. No small courage.

  Chin high, Elina stripped the nightdress over her head and threw it aside.

  Despite her boldness, a blush burned over every inch of her skin as she crawled in from the foot of the bed, feeling the dark gleam of his eyes upon her. He murmured something—Elina knew not what, but by the appreciative rumble, the husky edge of it, she thought he might have said she looked lovely again. Maybe not only lovely. Perhaps he’d also said delicious. So delicious he would eat her up.

  And if he had not said that, she would pretend he did.

  Instead of stretching out alongside him, she knelt at his right side and sat back on her heels.

  Her fingers hovered over his pectoral. “May I?”

  His big hand enfolded hers and brought it to his chest. Beneath her palm, his heart beat deep and steady…and steadily quickening. Elina could be in no doubt of his arousal. That she could easily see, though she was not brave enough to move the sheet. Not yet.

  Instead she leaned forward, cupping his hard jaw, sliding her thumb over his firm lips. His head tilted back to meet hers when she bent down to kiss him. Softly, gently. Exploring the shape of his mouth with her lips, though she soon found it was an awkward position, with her arm braced beside his head to support the twist of her upper body over his.

  His hand curved over her hip and nudged her closer. It took a moment to understand what he intended, for there was no closer. Unless she straddled him.

  So she did, her lips never leaving his as her torso untwisted, as she was rendered breathless by the solid heat of his body between her thighs—or when she began laughing against his mouth.

  A low rumble from his throat queried the reason.

  She lifted away a few inches, shaking her head. But why not say? “It is only that Nanny Char and Dara said barbarians will do this on a horse, and do it like a horse—yet now I am astride as if you are the horse. And though it is true you are nearly as big as one, I am just glad you are not so ugly as yours.”

  His big hand clasped her nape and hauled her down for more kisses, peppering them over her face, her lips, her jaw, all the while his body shaking as if gripped by laughter. Perhaps he, too, had been diverted by a stray thought—or her amusement had sparked his. Whatever the reason, it faded soon enough. His mouth returned to her lips and his kiss deepened. He licked past her teeth and the first slide of his tongue over hers sent her spinning into whirlpool of shuddering need, and continued until she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

  Near drowning in his kiss, she broke away, panting and trembling not only from his touch but from the effort of bracing herself above him.

  She rested her forehead against his. “I wish I was stronger for you.”

  His hand smoothed up her side. His rumbling reply was reassuring, admiring.

  She truly liked everything he said to her. Not a word did she understand but his meaning was clear.

  So were his intentions when he rolled Elina onto her back. He rose over her trembling form, his thighs straddling her hips though he put none of his weight upon her. Then he kissed her again, not soft or gentle but as if he hungered for the taste of her. As if she truly was delicious.

  His warm hand cupped her breast and she gasped into his mouth. It was too much, his kiss and his touch. Then he teased her nipple with his thumb, pinching her sensitive flesh, and she could not stop the cry that escaped her. For an instant it crossed her mind that they might soon be set upon by any knights who heard that faint scream—until Warrick murmured against her mouth, as if approving her loud response. As if praising her for the pleasure she’d taken in his touch. After that, Elina could no longer care if her entire retinue piled into her tent to watch, so long as Warrick did not stop kissing her.

  And he did not stop, though he abandoned her lips. But the kisses continued, down her throat to the center of her chest, teasing her skin with his tongue and teeth. She was shaking with anticipation by the time he latched onto her breast with a suckling kiss that made her clutch his head and writhe with the exquisite pleasure of it.

  How the wanton ache in her nipples took up a second residence between her thighs, she didn’t know. Yet Warrick seemed to. Because he began kissing his way down her stomach as if he understood exactly where to go. His body slid farther down the bed, and it seemed the entire world spun around her when he urged her legs apart.

  Oh gods. Everything they’d said was true.

  But it wasn’t bizarre. It was the most wonderful, incredible thing. His tongue, everywhere. Swirling and licking. He found a spot that made her bite her lips against another scream and then he teased and teased and teased, his hands gripping her ass and tilting her up for a deeper taste when she almost squirmed away, not wanted to stop but it was so much, too much, as if she were dying—oh she was, she was—but this was surely the best way to go.

  Then his tongue slicked just right. The ecstasy burst from within to without, through her curling toes and arching back and all centered at his mouth. She screamed, and then it was done, she was dead.

  Though still in bed. With Warrick, tasting his way back up her quivering flesh, then rising onto his knees between her widespread thighs. His fist wrapped around his engorged shaft and he stroked, hard, fast, his dark gaze locked upon her face. It seemed only seconds passed before he grunted, his every muscle clenching. Seed spurted onto her belly in hot jets.

  Chest heaving, he smeared his fingers through his spend, as if writing a rune onto her skin. He spoke, his voice low and so deep. So resolute.

  A vow. Or a promise. It could not be a spell.

  In the dark, the rune etched over his hip gave off a steady golden glow that lit his surrounding skin. Languidly she reached for it, intending to feel its warmth. Warrick caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her fingertips.

  That would do just as well. She did not care what she touched as long as she touched him.

  Releasing her hand, he retrieved her discarded nightgown, using it to clean the seed from her belly. Then he slid into the bed, drawing up the sheet and pulling her close, her back to his chest. Somewhat like beasts, though they were on their sides, and nothing of this position felt unnatural. Instead she felt comforted. Protected, with the thrum of his heart against her back and his hand cupping her breast.

  She clasped him even closer, the jewels on her fingers gleaming softly against his forearm. No one had ever held her in this way before, but when was the last time anyone had held her at all?

  Lady Faraine had been the last, she realized after casting back through her memories. The night they’d fled Aleron.

  Once, it had been a memory that comforted her. Now it was one she didn’t care to revisit.

  “I pray that I am not a fool for trusting you,” Elina whispered. “Nearly everyone I’ve trusted has betrayed me.”

  Warrick turned her toward him, sliding her upward on the pillow until they were face to face. His eyes searched hers in the dark, as if trying to read her mood, her meaning. Elina was not sorry he couldn’t understand her. That just made it easier to say. Easier to expose the greatest scars upon her heart. She could share them…but remain safe.

  “When I was young, I had few playmates. But my uncle Soren was there. Every day. Talking with me, playing with me. My father and mother were always busy with political concerns. And I had tutors aplenty. But he taught me to have fun—and Nanny Char would give us such looks as we laughed and explored and got into so much trouble—yet the best, most harmless sort of trouble. For we were always in the mud, or using sticks as swords, or sneaking where we ought not to have snuck. I had the best of childhoods because of him.” Her whisper hoarsened as her throat tightened. “So many times since, I’ve wondered—was he merely toying with me, befriending a child he always meant to kill? Was he hoping that when I became queen he would be a powerful advisor, but then decided that role wouldn’t be enough? So he killed my mother and sent assassins after me. Then sent this curse, this slow and painful death. If he’d ever had any feelings for me at all, it would have been quick.”

  A tear slid over the bridge of her nose. Warrick made a noise low in his throat, his hand cupping her face, his thumb brushing the moisture away.

  “Then my father. His marriage to my mother was only to strengthen ties between two kingdoms—Aleron and Tagdon. He was third in line, so not expected to inherit Tagdon’s throne. Yet he did inherit it after the blue fever came, and though they were still married, they ruled from their separate kingdoms. When my mother was killed, he was in Tagdon. So it was there we fled first. Of course he would protect me and protect Aleron’s throne—after all, his own daughter would hold it, and I was his heir in Tagdon, as well.

  “It was only by the merest chance that Serjeant Iarthil learned that my father had arranged for me to be sent back to Aleron. Back into my uncle’s hands. Because my father had no wish to embroil Tagdon in another kingdom’s squabbles, he said—and because he was already overwhelmed with ruling Tagdon and did not want to be at war. He has since remarried and sired another heir. So he has no use for me, and I suppose that he understood better than anyone how easily the first in line can die to make room for another behind.” Hearing the bitterness that crept into her voice, Elina forced her thoughts away from her father. “So we fled Tagdon.”

  Warrick’s thumb stroked her cheek. She’d probably said enough—or too much—but she couldn’t stop.

  “Then there was Lady Faraine.” Her throat clumped merely saying the name. “She’d come with us when we first fled. She’d been my mother’s lady-in-waiting, her friend, her closest advisor. And she promised my mother that she would help guide me through the courts we traveled to.”

  He wiped her tears again, and a little laugh escaped her.

  “Despite her promise, I was not easily helped. I was angry and grieving and—and…vengeful. We were reliant upon other kingdoms for sanctuary and alliances, but I had no patience for their politics or their concerns. And they had sympathy for me but no one was willing to risk their armies to help a screaming child regain her throne. So Lady Faraine, she taught me how to speak at other courts, to control my anger. Taught me to be clever instead of rash. Taught me that when a situation makes me want to both laugh and cry, to choose the laughter. She continued the lessons my mother had begun—and she became to me as she was to my mother. A friend. An advisor. And I confided in her. Of course I confided in her—there was no one else. A queen cannot lay her burdens on her maids and attendants. But Lady Faraine, I could always speak with her. Of my rage and my grief. Of my hopes. She knew me, Warrick. Better than anyone. Better than my mother ever had, or even Soren had, because Lady Faraine and I were always together. For years, while traveling. Or…still fleeing, in truth. Soren had begun sending assassins after us. One even managed to—”

  She turned to show Warrick the scar just below the ribs on her right side. His blunt fingertip traced the ragged puncture, then slipped around to her back where the arrow had poked through the other side.

  “Elina.” He growled her name and pulled her close into his chest. Her face pressed into his throat and her arm rose to wrap around his neck, clutching him to her.

  Her breath shuddered against his skin. “The assassins always found us, so we rarely stayed anywhere for long. And in each kingdom we sought allies. Someone who might be willing to stand against my uncle. Always going farther and farther from home—and I had begun to suffer from a deep melancholy. The first heat of anger had passed, my mother was dead, my father indifferent to whether I lived. We had been gone for three years, and I was so tired, Warrick. And beginning to think that returning to Aleron and fighting my uncle was a hopeless cause. Until the witch. The witch that healed me when—”

  She touched her side again.

  “She spoke to me a prophecy. ‘Bind to you with ribbon red a warrior who knows the weight of chains. From the Dead Lands he will come, and by his axe your tyrant will fall.’” Elina paused. She would not say how she would know her warrior. Her heart was too vulnerable and Warrick’s presence here too precious to speak it aloud now, as if it might conjure another warrior in chains. She wanted only this one—and his axe. “Truthfully, it says nothing of you killing my uncle. Only that your axe will. So I only need marry you and take your weapon. But I will take you as well.”