Love Never-Ending (18 page)

Would that future have a place for Samara? He didn’t know.
During his time with Gar, he had time to observe the mating relationships
between the valley men and women with a clearer eye. Without a doubt he had
messed up all around. He still wanted her but now he was too damn tired most of
the time to worry about whether or not he was getting sex. Gar woke him before
dawn and they worked until well after dark. That didn’t leave much energy for
jerking off. The lack of bathing facilities and limited hot water took care of
the rest.

While Bish finished cleaning the
woolie
barn, Gar fetched
him a skin of water. He grimaced at the leathery taste of the water but it was
cold and hadn’t made him ill so far. Just another thing to adjust to, he
supposed. After they each had a drink, they plodded through the rain to the
rowans’
barn. If
woolies
vaguely resembled sheep,
rowans
were a cross
between a horse and a cow. Their chief characteristic seemed to be the huge
quantities of manure they produced. Gar bartered the manure to a farmer down
the road in exchange for
woolie
feed. Bish was intimately acquainted
with this quality of theirs as he shoveled the barn out every day and now had
the muscles to prove it. When he arrived in the valley, he had superficial muscles
from swimming and tennis. Now he had heavy muscles from working hard each day and
could feel the difference.

Gar mentioned that harvest fest would soon be upon them. With
his limited ability to ask questions, Bish couldn’t be sure but he thought it
might be similar to Thanksgiving. It seemed that there was going to be a feast,
anyway. Gar was excited about having sweet pies and mentioned them every day. Bish
wondered if he was still going to be with Gar at harvest time and then, caught
up in the work in the
rowan
barn, he dismissed his questions. If he was,
he would no doubt find out soon enough. By his reckoning, harvest fest would be
in another half moon.

Later that evening, Mali arrived in Dai’s Hamlet on his way
to deliver packages to Sunrise, Talking Wall and Rebaccah’s Promise. The
village men gathered in Gar’s
woolie
barn to drink
sim
and hear
the latest news from Lost Market and the southern villages. The alcoholic
content in
sim
was so low that he certainly wasn’t in any danger of
getting drunk but Bishop enjoyed the astringent taste. As the men sprawled over
the loose bundles of hay, they listened intently as Mali entertained them with
his quick wit and occasionally humorous recap of the news.

“Traveller and Wrenna finally bonded. He was so anxious to
get on with it that they’re spending their seclusion in the cave at circle
three.” Mali’s long fangs flashed as he grinned and rolled his eyes
suggestively. “They’re keeping Llyon busy running out there to check on them. I
helped Ly and Ty haul a big chair out there last eight-day. It seems that Ty’s
getting tired of being in bed all the time. Wrenna’s
schalzina
is
wearing his back out.”

Gar snorted in amusement. “No doubt he will get used to it.
Is she pregnant yet?”

“Oh, yes. Llyon confirmed that the first eight-day.” Mali
nodded his head sagely. “He’s pretty sure that happened the first day.”

Jacob Taylor frowned and asked, “Weren’t you one of the
hunters that tracked down the
grimahrs
that attacked Wrenna?”

Shuddering in remembrance, Mali agreed. “I was. I’m not
anxious to repeat the experience.”

“I heard that Arturo and Hawke went with you. How did Arturo
handle it?” Jacob sipped his
sim
as he listened carefully. Arturo was a
morkert
and as such needed to be balanced and steady in his judgments. Everyone in the
valley knew that he had suffered much from the brutal attack on him earlier in
the year.

Mali shrugged. “He dealt with it as he does everything. He
is a man. But I believe that he and Hawke are planning a
soul walk
.
Hawke says they both have much to think about. I think a
soul walk
will
be a good thing for them to do.”

“That is true. What other news?”

“Samara will soon return to Lost Market. Qwenna’s
burda
is nearly complete. And arrangements have been made for Daniel’s care when she
goes into
schalzina
. Samara wants to return to Lost Market before the
winter rains.”

Gar refilled Mali’s cup. “Aye, that would be best. The fall
rains are cold but the winter ones often freeze, covering the trails with
dangerous ice. Who will escort her?”

“I imagine that I will—or Tyger will on one of his fleece
runs. Barlo, the
woolie
farmer up at Jump Stag Spring, notified him last
eight-day that he has fleeces ready to card and spin.”

“This late in the year?” Gar questioned with a frown.

“Ty thinks he was holding out for more barter credits but,”
Mali chuckled, “Della down at Broken Pine had a surplus this summer.”

“Her fleeces are better too,” Gar agreed. “Is he still going
to take the fleeces from Barlo?”

“Of course. There will be many new babies this winter who
will require new blankets, clothing, bedding and other things necessary for
infants. I don’t know what they require but Jade Llewellyn assures me that it
is so.”

“Hah. Speaking of Jade, how is she feeling?” Jacob asked.
“Or maybe I should ask how Merlyn is doing?”

Mali laughed out loud. “Merlyn is declaring that this is the
last pregnancy for them. As though they would have a choice. But Llyon and Dai
both agree that there will probably be no more babies.” He leaned forward to
whisper, “But it seems to me that Merlyn is enjoying the benefits very much.”

“As indeed what man would not?” Gar smiled in fond memory of
his own time spent caring for his bond mate. “Who would not?”

Harvest Fest

Bish sat at one of the long tables at the Dai’s Hamlet
harvest fest with Gar and his family. The food was plentiful and hot and for
the first time in his life, Bish enjoyed a holiday meal. Here there were no
family squabbles, no rude children and sniping wives. The people surrounding
him were hardworking farm families who enjoyed three festivals a year, at spring
fest, harvest fest and Midwinter.

After the meal, several of the men entertained the crowd with
singing and drumming. One fellow did a very complicated dance while another
whistled. Bish wondered what the dancer would have made of Broadway and what
Broadway would have made of the dancer.

When the entertainment portion of the evening was concluded,
there was group dancing. Gar’s little girl, a gap-toothed seven-year-old named
Anika, led Bish out on the dance floor where they joined the crowd hopping and
skipping through a group dance that reminded him of a very disorganized square
dance. His next partner was Gar’s skinny eleven-year-old daughter Belle. To his
surprise, she was very light and graceful and after taking a second look, he
decided she was going to be a beauty in a few more years.

He sat out the next dance, resting and drinking
sim
. He
figured he would have to drink about a barrel of the stuff to get much of a
buzz but it didn’t taste bad and was soothing to his parched throat. The
crowded room was heated with the press of bodies and he longed for a few
moments outside in the cool air. After his cold bath in the barn before
dressing for the harvest fest, he had been sure he would never be warm again
but he hadn’t reckoned on the number of villagers attending the feast. At the
close of the next dance, Gar led a dark-haired woman up to Bish. With all of
the noise, he didn’t catch most of the introduction except her name, Susie.
After a moment, he nodded agreeably, thinking she must be a relative of Gar’s.

A gray-haired man stood and began to sing a lively song and
Susie, her blue eyes sparkling with anticipation, tugged him out on the dance
floor. During the weaving movements of the dance, he slowly realized that she
was purposely brushing against him, checking him out. His eyes met Gar’s with a
questioning look but Gar just smiled and nodded. As the song wound to its
close, Susie took his hand and pulled him through the door into the cool, dark
evening. “Gar says you don’t talk much but I can’t say I’m interested in chattering
anyway,” she muttered to him, before pulling his face down so she could kiss
him.

Her soft lips brushed his before parting in anticipation.
Their tongues tangled in a leisurely exploration accompanied by little moans
and whimpers. Both were pleasantly surprised. Bish slipped his arms around her,
drawing her closer for a second kiss. “Yes!” she said with an eager nod. “Come
with me.”

Initially he resisted leaving the harvest fest but she
frowned at him in annoyance. Then she briskly tapped him on the chin. “Dai says
that you will come with me. Now come.” Moments later he found himself following
her to a small cottage at the edge of the woods and they went in. He lit the
fire and she used a twig to light a small tallow candle. Then he stood staring
at her for a few minutes, suddenly uncertain.

At last, she reached out and
shoved his rough wool vest and
shera
from his broad shoulders. When he
was bare-chested she put out her hand to play with the soft dark curls. She
discovered his flat nipples and leaned her head down to kiss them in turn,
lightly flicking them with her tongue until they were hard little points.

She had on a heavy winter wool
meerlim
so he searched out the fastenings and untied them. Then slowly, he spread the
meerlim
open, revealing the lush, curvy body hidden beneath the rough fabric. He wasn’t
sure what to expect but he thought she was lovely. Her dark lavender nipples
tightened as he watched. Very slowly, still not sure quite what she wanted from
him, he leaned down and took one tight little berry in his mouth, sucking
gently. Susie moaned and twisted in his arms, pressing closer. He moved to the
other one, stopping for a brief kiss first. Susie held his head against her
breast, clutching at him with increasing fervor.

Abruptly, he felt her groping
for the waistband of his
sharda
. Pushing her away from him, he released
the fastening and allowed it to slip to the floor. His cock stood proudly in
the dim candlelight, throbbing and pulsing impatiently. She just stared and
then uttering an enchanting little whine, she dived in with both hands, petting
and handling him until he started making a few panting whiny sounds of his own.

Bish hadn’t been with a woman
since the day he left Samara crying in her dome. Uncomfortably, he pushed away
the thought of Samara. Really, he had no control over what was happening to him
now. It wasn’t his fault, he reasoned. He planned to savor this unlooked-for
opportunity and refused to allow memories of Samara to interfere. She was the
one who had declared their relationship over and sent him away. So why did he
feel guilty?

To his surprise, he found Susie’s
touch dissatisfying and unemotional. She wasn’t Samara. He tried to think of a
way to let her know that he was ready to go back to Gar’s farm but it seemed
that Susie had other ideas—ideas that Bish had no intention of cooperating
with. He gently nudged Susie away and bent to pick up his
sharda
.

“What are you doing?” she
demanded in puzzlement.

Bish stubbornly shook his head
as he wrapped his
sharda
around his hips and securely fastened it. In
the dim candlelight, he searched for his
shera
and vest.

No man had ever refused Susie’s
overtures. She was
garbonhzan
! Unbonded men vied for the opportunity to
bed with her! She smacked his back with her small fist. “You cannot leave me
like this!”

Again he shook his head as he
straightened up, his
shera
and vest in his hand. Turning away from her,
he went to finish dressing in front of the hearth.

Enraged at his ability to walk
away when he was clearly aroused, she rushed across the room and tackled him.
Surprised at her attack, he stumbled over the hearthstone. His head cracked
against the stone mantle. With a sickening thud, he fell to the floor.

Susie bit her lip as she stared
at the outlander lying unconscious on her floor. Tentatively, she checked to
see if he was still breathing.
What was she going to do with the outlander?
she wondered.
What if he told the village leaders that she attacked him?

No longer in need of an erotic
candlelit setting, she went about the small room, twisting the light stones
until the room was ablaze with light. Squatting down next to Bishop, she
carefully checked for bleeding. Though there was a large bump hidden in the
hair above his left ear, the skin wasn’t broken.

She went and sat on the side of
her bed as she tried to think of what to do next. Every time she thought of him
blithely walking away, her anger flared so she pushed those thoughts away. Rage
was not going to help her solve her problem with the outlander.

As she sat there with her
meerlim
gaping open, thoughts of his large
kzusha
stirred her arousal. She
wondered if his
kzusha
would get erect if she played with it. It would
make a fine revenge to use him for her own pleasure. Regretfully, she shook her
head. No, she would not stoop so low.

But he would not get away
without payment for rejecting her. Shedding her
meerlim
, she fingered
her pussy until she was very wet. Then she went to squat next to him again. She
smeared her wet fingers over his lips and lower face, carefully painting his
mouth with her pussy juices. Then she unfastened his
sharda
and squatted
over his groin, slowly rubbing her pussy on his flat belly.

When he began to get hard, she
stood with a sharp nod of satisfaction, bent to refasten his
sharda
and
flounced off to bed.
There! When he woke, her scent would be the first thing
he breathed in. He wouldn’t find her so easy to forget.

She burrowed her hand beneath
her pillows until her fingers touched the smooth surface of her purple
chinka
kzusha
. Who needed stupid men when a
chinka kzusha
was always
available? With a fierce push, she thrust it in her pussy and fucked herself in
a sudden frenzy until she reached orgasm.

Sprawled in the bed, still
impaled on her toy, she fell asleep.

Bishop woke late the next
morning with a pounding head and smelling like a bordello. He groaned and tried
to sit up, but blackness threatened to overcome him. Lying on the cold stone
floor, he concentrated on remembering where he was. Just thinking made his
headache worse. His eyes fluttered shut as he dozed off again.

When he woke again, his
overfilled bladder was painful enough that he clambered clumsily to his feet
and stumbled into the bathing room. After relieving himself, he bent over the
sink and splashed cold water on his face. His head felt like there was an evil
blacksmith in there fiendishly pounding on hot iron. He dried his face,
stopping to carefully probe the knot above his ear when he brushed against it
with the towel.

Well, that explained the
pounding head. He couldn’t quite remember exactly where he was or why he was
here. Holding on to the doorway for support, he went to stare at the small room
where he woke. The woman sprawled sound asleep on the bed sparked a few vague
memories. He noticed his
shera
and vest flung on a chair and slowly
moved to pick them up and put them on.

Then he went to the front door and left. Outside on the
porch, he closed his eyes against the bright sunlight that seemed to sear his
brain. Walking home was clearly going to be a challenge, but something urged
him to leave immediately. He had learned to obey those urges long ago. Slitting
his eyes against the sunlight, he set his sights on a small building down the
trail and determinedly staggered toward it.

So ended his first harvest fest in the valley.

* * * * *

Early the morning after the Rebaccah’s Promise harvest fest
dinner, Samara gladly set off alone for Sunrise where Tyger planned to meet
her. By the time she reached the small village, he would be waiting with a full
cart of fleeces he picked up at Jump Stag Spring. Wispy fog still wreathed
through the dark woods, creating a brooding edgy feel to the lonely path but
she was so relieved to finally leave the endless discussions of pregnancy and
babies that she would gladly fight off any demons who might appear.

With surprise, she admitted she was eager to reach home.
While she dearly loved her sister and her family, she longed for the peace and
quiet of her own dome. Closely examining her feelings, she came to the
conclusion that having a mate and children might not be as wonderful as she had
dreamed. She
liked
having her dome to herself. She treasured her
privacy, her freedom to walk around in her dome without her clothes on if she
wished. She longed to be home where she could luxuriate in the sensual abandon
of sleeping naked.

With an impish grin she admitted that she was anxious to get
home so she could try the gift from her sister. Buried deep in her bag, wrapped
in one of her meerlims was a dark blue
chinka
representation of a
life-sized
kzusha
. She and Qwenna had laughed when her older sister
Elizabeth had showed up with an exquisitely carved box in hand. But Samara’s
face flushed deep lavender in embarrassment when she opened the box and saw
what was inside. Qwenna and Lizzie giggled softly while Samara silently
examined the
chinka kzusha
, turning it so that she could see the fine
details.

It wouldn’t be the same as having Bishop. Nothing would be
the same as that—not even another man. And the
chinka
dildo was much
finer than the wooden one in her dream. But in the dark silent night when she
longed to fill that empty place deep inside…maybe, just maybe Elizabeth’s gift
would help.

Soft shuffling noises behind her jarred her from her
daydreams, finally grabbing her attention. She whirled on the path, brandishing
her heavy walking stick as she faced a stranger. The young man smiled disarmingly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

“Well, you did.” She gestured for him to pass. “You go on
ahead. No need to be stuck behind me on this narrow path.” The tiny hairs on
her neck stood up in alarm as he approached her. When he drew even with her, it
was clear that though he gave her a friendly smile, it didn’t reach his cold,
dark eyes. Involuntarily she shivered as she watched him move off down the
path. It bothered her that he was vaguely familiar. There was something very
wrong with the stranger.

Walking briskly enough to keep him in sight, she followed
him to the edge of Sunrise where he melted into the woods as though he didn’t
want the villagers to see him. She determined that she would give a report to
the village council member. There were enough four-legged dangers to deal with
in the woods, without having to worry about the two-legged variety.

Picking up speed, she hurried into the shelter of the
village and quickly sought out Joseph Marks, the council member. Once her story
was told, Joseph notified the other council members and warriors were
dispatched to patrol the main trails.

A stir at the northern edge of the village snagged her
attention. Tyger had arrived at last with his heavy cart of fleeces. Samara met
him at the guest hut, waiting patiently while he slowly cooled down as he drank
several cups of freshly pressed apple cider.

He quirked an eyebrow at her in inquiry. “So, what has you
upset?”