have power, gold, slaves, anything he wanted-if he could save Orak from the barbarians.
A big if, despite what he had told Nicar and Gatus. There was so much to do, it was difficult to know where to start. Tomorrow there would be many tasks to set in motion. He would have to talk with Gatus, choose new subcommanders, prepare to meet with Nicar, and speak to the soldiers.
Esk kar knew he faced long odds, but there might be a chance, and if he could win, if he succeeded, if the gods gave him luck, if… if… if.
His thoughts kept traveling in circles, going from Nicar’s dinner to the meeting of the nobles, thinking of all the things he should have said to his men and the crowd tonight, what else he should have discussed with Nicar, all the tasks he would have to do tomorrow, how he must address the men, what he must say to the Families. Each time he tried to follow one particular thought, another popped into his mind and started the cycle all over again.
The blanket shifted a little, and abruptly he felt Trella’s body against his back, her legs barely brushing against his, something softer touching his shoulder.
“You’re still awake,” she whispered, almost as if it were an accusation.
“It’s cold against the wall,” she explained further, to justify moving closer to him. “What are you thinking about?”
Whatever he’d been thinking about vanished with the first contact of her flesh. “You. I was thinking about you.” Thoughts of Orak, along with his tiredness, disappeared, and he felt himself beginning to harden.
“Don’t lie. You were thinking about Nicar and his gold.”
He laughed a little. She was certainly quick about her wits and bold enough to challenge her new master. “Well, I was thinking about Nicar, but not about his gold. But now I can’t remember my thoughts, only the touch of your body. You are very beautiful, Trella.”
She didn’t answer for a long moment. Then her arm crept over his shoulder, and somehow it seemed both cool to his skin and warm to his touch. Esk kar took her hand in his and held it firmly, the way he’d held it in the street earlier that night. She drew a little closer to him, and now he could almost feel the length of her body against his, warm and soft.
“And what do you think about now?”
He felt her breath against his ear.
“I think about holding you in my arms, holding you and kissing your lips.” His manhood raged now, almost painfully, with an intensity he hadn’t felt in a long time, but he didn’t want to move or do anything to break the spell cast by her words and touch.
“I am your slave, Esk kar,” she said, her voice low in his ear, moving more of her body against his back.
Her words surprised him, but he rolled to face her, putting his arms around her, feeling the muscles in her back as he pulled her against him.
Esk kar could feel her whole body against his, her skin almost hot to his touch. Something strange had come over him. Perhaps the events of the day aroused him, or the fact that she belonged to him. Suddenly he wanted her more than any woman he could remember. Most of all, he wanted her to be willing, wanted her to want him as well.
“A slave is taken. If you were just that, I would take you whether you wished it or not. But you’re more than a common slave girl. Even Nicar knew that, and I’m only a simple barbarian, not someone good with words.” But he couldn’t stop his hands from reaching out for her, and he heard Trella catch her breath as he cupped the softness of her breast.
“I saw the fear in your eyes when you first beheld the crowd outside.
But you said the right words, and I think now that you believe them.”
He said nothing, surprised at her words and a little shamed that his nervousness had been visible, at least to the girl. But he thought he’d managed it well enough, and perhaps no one else had noticed.
Her mouth brushed his cheek, banishing all such thoughts once again.
“I’m afraid, too, Esk kar. Afraid of the barbarians, afraid of the future.
But it is past time for me to become a woman, and I think you will not hurt me too much.” She let her body relax under his touch, burying her head against his shoulder. After a few moments, her hand slipped down between his legs and she gasped.
He kissed her cheek, then her mouth, gently at first, then harder and deeper as she clung to him. Caressing her body, touching her, stroking her stomach, he held off as long as he could, until he thought he would burst with desire, held off until she moaned for him and he could feel the wetness between her legs, before he mounted her, moving as slowly as he could, knowing he would hurt her, but trying to be as gentle as possible.
Then she cried out, a sharp exclamation of pain and intake of breath as her nails dug into his back, then smoothness and a gasp of delight as he entered her.
Esk kar lay still for a moment until she relaxed and her arms encircled him tightly once again. He began to rock against her, and now her small sounds of pain and pleasure mixed as her desire grew. When it was over, all too soon, he held her close, stroking her hair, enjoying her presence, until he fell asleep in her arms, sleeping the deep sleep of the emotionally spent as well as physically exhausted, feeling a sense of comfort in her clasp he hadn’t known since childhood.
Trella waited until she was sure she wouldn’t wake him. Then she gently disengaged her arm from around Esk kar’s neck, though she stayed close to him and could feel his breath against her breast. He stayed on his side, breathing heavily, with his arm thrown across her stomach. She stared up at the darkness, thinking about their lovemaking as silence surrounded them while the village slept. Now her troubled thoughts kept her awake.
It had been lovemaking, something she had wanted, though not for all the same reasons as the man beside her. Her virginity had become a problem. Nicar, his son, the other servants in Nicar’s home, even the slave traders who had delivered her to Orak, all of them had desired her, and her maidenhead offered an added attraction. This Esk kar, he’d wanted her as well, and he would have taken her willing or unwilling this night, except for the events of the day.
But tomorrow would have been different, and as captain of the guard he would have lost respect with his men if he hadn’t taken her. If she’d resisted, he would have beaten her, and she didn’t want such a beginning with him. No, better to get it over with, while she still had the gift to give to him. Much would be happening in the coming months and she’d need all her wits to stay alive, especially if the barbarians did come.
Still, he had wanted her, and the thought pleased her. Back at Nicar’s house, she’d seen it in his eyes, despite her cast — off garments and the tears sprinkling her cheeks. Trella recalled the despair that had washed over her when she first saw the tall barbarian with the grim face who now owned her.
Thus she reasoned, though occasionally the memory of her own desires questioned her logic. How strange, she admitted to herself, that when he chose not to take her, when he left the room, that was when she decided that, despite her apprehension, she wanted him to be the one. And by offering herself, rather than just letting herself be taken, she’d kept some dignity. A man must be more than an animal, and this Esk kar, barbarian or not, had shown that he possessed something more than what appeared on the surface. She might be a slave, but even a slave could share in her master’s life. His life was now hers, and Trella meant for both of them to rise in the future.
She hadn’t heard anything of what Esk kar and Nicar discussed during dinner, but she had overheard much of Nicar’s earlier talk with his wife, Creta, and later with Noble Drigo, including how Nicar’s worries about the coming barbarians had forced him to send for Esk kar. Somehow this barbarian had convinced Nicar that he could handle the village’s defense, and that accomplishment had surprised even Nicar, who had sharp wits of his own-as keen as those of her father.
The thought of her father sent a pang of sorrow through her, but she forced her mind away from the image of his body lying on the floor, blood pouring from his wounds, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. He’d taught her well, too well, her mother used to say, recognizing in his daughter a mind as keen as his. Someday she hoped to avenge his death. But for now, she had no more tears to shed over her parents or her own misfortune.
This barbarian, she needed to learn all about him, as quickly as possible. He might be a strong fighter and experienced in battle, but she needed to know whether he had the wits to survive long enough even to meet the barbarians, let alone defeat them. That concerned her the most. Tomorrow she would learn much more about her new master. Everything in her future now depended on him.
Starting tonight, she belonged to a soldier, and a barbarian at that, so her status was little more than that of
