Page 18 of The Maiden

“If I may interrupt,” Rowan said, “our father would like to see you and Phillip and, Xante, could you find someone named Siomun for me?”

“Yes, my lord,” Xante said reverently, and walked away.

“First Siomun,” Rowan whispered, “then Jura.” He followed Xante, whistling.

• • •

Jura left the training field with regret but the young man who had come to her said she was needed urgently. It seemed odd that she was needed in the stables, but lately everything had been odd. Ever since Thal had sent for his English son, her world had turned upside down. She would go now and find out who wanted her, then she would find Geralt and offer him what comfort she could.

The stables were dark and empty of people. She thought with disgust that now the Zerna could attack and win because of the disorganization of the Irial.

“Hello?” she called but no one answered. She drew her knife as her suspicions rose and began to creep slowly along the hall, her back to the horses’ stalls.

As cautious as she was, she was not prepared for the hand that shot out and clamped about her mouth. Another strong arm knocked the knife from her hand and she was pulled back into the darkness of a horse stall.

She began to struggle but, as if her strength were nothing, the man turned her about in his arms and clutched her body to his. Even though she couldn’t see his face in the darkness, her body told her it was him.

When his mouth swooped down on hers, she responded with all the passion she felt. Since yesterday she had told herself that her reaction to this handsome stranger was a fluke, something that could not happen again. It had been the time and the place. She had been lonely for Daire, and, too, when she saw the man, both of them had been half naked. It was no wonder she had reacted as she did. She had also minimized the passion she had felt. It was natural to feel so good at the kiss of such a good-looking man.

But Jura had forgotten her feelings by half. She had not remembered the way she felt in this man’s arms, the way her body weakened and quivered at his touch.

When he lifted his head, her arms were about his neck, her fingers entangled in his hair—and she wanted more of him.

“Jura,” he whispered, and his voice seemed to penetrate her. “We will be together now,” he murmured against her lips.

She opened her mouth against his, like a flower opening to a bee, wanting her pollen to be taken. Together meant making love, and she was ready for him. She did not think of the consequences or where they were. For all she cared, they could be in the midst of a banquet hall.

She opened her legs a bit, pressed her hips against his, and let him hold her upright as he supported her weight.

“My love,” he whispered, kissing hungrily at her neck as if he were trying to eat her skin. “We will be together. I have arranged it.”

“Yes,” she murmured, her eyes closed, her head back. “Together. Now.”

He pulled away from her to look at her face. “You tempt me very much, more than I would have thought possible. Jura, my love, I didn’t know I could feel this way. Tell me that you love me. Let me hear the words.”

She had no thought of words; she only felt. She felt his body next to hers, felt his big, hard thighs pressed against hers. She wanted to put her skin next to his, to entangle her toes with his, to feel her breasts against the hair on his chest. She wanted to run her hands, her fingertips, her nails over his skin.

“Jura!” he gasped, and plunged his mouth against hers so hard that she lost balance and fell backward, her back slamming against the stone wall of the stable. He didn’t release her but kept kissing her, his body crushing into hers until Jura thought she might die from the weight of him, yet, instead of struggling for release, she pulled him closer.

Suddenly, he released her and moved away from her into the deep shadows of the corner of the stall.

“Go,” he said raggedly. “Go or you are a maiden no more. Leave me, Jura.”

She held herself upright by clutching at the stones behind her, the roughness cutting into her palms. Her heart was pounding in her throat and her body seemed to be pulsating in undulating waves.

“Get out of here before someone sees you,” he said.

Jura’s mind was beginning to function again. Yes, no one must see her. She struggled to stand upright on her weak knees and she fumbled a few steps forward, clutching at the stall wall for support.

“Jura,” he called.

She did not turn around. Her muscles were too weak, too fluid to make any unnecessary movements.

“Remember that you are mine,” he said. “Do not let Brita’s son touch you.”

She nodded, too dazed to understand what he was saying, and made her way out of the stables. She was glad her feet remembered the way to the women’s barracks because her mind was full of nothing but him. She kept rubbing her fingertips, remembering the feel of him.

“Jura,” someone called, but she didn’t respond.