She didn’t know how that was possible but was very glad he’d chosen to explore up there first before inviting her to join him. The loft might be warmer, but she imagined a swarm of rats nesting up there, tiny eyes shining as they watched these new intruders invade their domain.
He must have heard her thoughts, because he suddenly appeared above her, leaning too far over the edge for her comfort. “No vermin,” he announced. “And it’s a lot warmer up here. Climb up.”
He held the ladder steady as she climbed and helped her over the last rung with a grunt. “For a bear, you don’t climb so well,” he teased.
“Be nice,” she said. “Or I won’t share my nice, warm cloak with you.”
At his command, the witchlight he’d incanted into existence floated up to provide them with light but far enough from the hay to keep from igniting it.
“I think that is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” she said.
Bron wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I thought so too until I saw a pair of battle mages sling fire balls the size of ox carts at fortress walls.” He didn’t laugh at wide-eyed amazement or boast when she asked if he would be trained to do the same. “No. Except for small magics like this one, I can’t wield fire. It isn’t the element of my calling. Air is, though the two can work well with or against each other.” He flicked his fingers at the floating light. “That will fade, and we’ll be in the dark, but it serves its purpose for now.
They agreed to split the tasks of taking care of Euwey and fixing the loft for a more comfortable stay. Bron braved the fury outside, returning with a bucket filled with snow that would become drinking water for the goat. Disaris moved piles of hay to create a nest with short walls that blocked the icy drafts that managed to slide through the slivers of space between the barn’s cladding boards.
Bron’s cheeks were ruddy with cold when he rejoined her in the loft. The witchlight had died away while he was outside, and he eyed the lit firestick she held. “Unless you need to do anything else that can’t be done in the dark, snuff the stick. I don’t want us to burn down the farmer’s barn, especially with us inside of it.”
She didn’t argue and capped the flame, making sure it was fully smothered before setting it aside. The loft descended into complete darkness. Bron was no more than a presence next to her, sensed instead of seen. A great deal of rustling came from his place beside her. “What are you doing?”
He grunted. “Trying to get free of all these clothes.” More grunting, then a triumphant “Finally!”
“You cannot be hot,” she said, shivering beneath her own layers of garb. “It’s cold enough to freeze snot the moment you sneeze.”
“Trust me and take off your heavier garb,” he said. “We can use it and mine as blankets and get underneath them together. Shared body heat will make a difference.”
If he’d suggested such a thing to her two years ago, she wouldn’t have thought much of it beyond the fact she’d be even warmer. Things were different now. Her feelings for him were different. He was still her best friend but no longer a playmate. And the greater part of her recognized that he’d left boyhood far behind once he joined the garrison.
“Good idea,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as fluttery as the butterfly wings swooping within her chest and stomach.
Once they created the makeshift cocoon and slid under the heavy weight of cloaks, outer tunics and extra layers of hay, Bron immediately gathered Disaris in his arms and nestled his face into the space where her neck met her shoulder.
She yelped and tried to jerk away. “My gods, your nose is an icicle!”
“Stop thrashing about,” he muttered against her skin. “It’ll warm up soon enough.”
“If you were anyone else, I’d throw you out of the loft.” She lay against him, terrified he’d feel the violent beating of her heart and correctly guess as to what made it so.
His laughter was a rumble of vibrations along her neck. “I’m very glad I’m not someone else.”
They fell silent, listening to the wind how its fury and rattle the barn doors in protest at being barred from entering. Disaris’s eyelids grew heavy as the space she shared with Bron heated to a toasty pocket insulated from the cold. She burrowed deeper into its warmth until it was she with her face pressed to his chest, serenaded by the slow, steady beat of his heart.
Her own heartbeat had calmed as she drifted toward sleep, only to race once more when Bron’s hand stroked her back,gliding from her shoulder blades to just above her buttocks. With only a few layers of clothing between them, she easily felt the contours of his slender, muscular frame, the long length of his legs riding along hers, and the obvious proof of his arousal.
Disaris was an innocent and had only experienced the small intimacy of a kiss with Bron. The exchange with Ceybold didn’t count. That had been a bargain made, transactional instead of intimate. She wasn’t, however, ignorant about the physical part of courting. She was the daughter of a pragmatic peasant woman who didn’t subscribe to the idea that lack of knowledge was protection. Her mother’s enlightening conversations and no-nonsense advice regarding what happened between lovers, what should happen between and what wasn’t acceptable, had a thirteen-year-old Disaris squirming with embarrassment. Now, she was grateful for the straightforward honesty.
Bron’s reaction still made her blush, but it didn’t frighten or confuse her. On the contrary, her body hummed with excitement, the loveliest sensations spreading across her lower belly, her thighs and between her legs.
His voice was a purr in her ear. “Disa, are you asleep?”
“No.” She eased her arm from where it lay between them and slid it across his shoulder in a gentle hug. Her breasts pressed to his chest, and she gasped. Bron echoed the sound.
“I want to kiss you again,” she said.
He pulled her even closer until they were a tangle of arms and legs. His lips were a feather’s touch on her forehead, her temple, her cheek. “I’m very glad to know that,” he said against the corner of her mouth. “I want to kiss you too.”
This kiss was far better than the one they shared on the hillside. No clumsy awkwardness or fear of the unknown, only an eager curiosity. Bron leisurely explored her mouth, coaxing tiny moans from her. She returned his caresses, learning again the shape of his lips, even the shallow indentation of hisphiltrum and the way his lower lip was fuller in the center than it was at the sides. When the tip of his tongue slid lightly along her lower lip, she opened her mouth and welcomed him inside.
The storm seemed far away as they lay together, locked in a mutual exploration of each other’s shape and taste. Kissing graduated to touching, hands seeking bare skin beneath clothing to map the fascinating landscape of supple bodies.
