Love's Call (8 page)

He was half-human and half-elfin, the most handsome man she’d ever seen, with sapphire eyes and hair as dark as Leargan’s. Taller than the captain, but just as broad and muscled.

Tristan, too, was perfect for Aimil, but she’d known Lord Dagget for several turns, and Aimil had loved him for much of that time. He was on the quiet side, but there was no doubt the lord loved her friend.

Their wedding had been moved up, but when she’d seen the slight rounding of Aimil’s tummy, Ansley had guessed the reason. Despite the apparent secrecy, she was happy that both her dear friends would soon be mothers.

Aimil and Tristan’s baby wouldn’t arrive for several months.

Cera and Jorrin’s, on the other hand, would be here any day.

She was excited to be able to witness the joyous occasion.

“How are you today, Mama?” Aimil asked as they entered Cera and Jorrin’s vast sleeping room.

Cera rested in the center of the large bed, her white wolf lying beside her. Brow furrowed, the disgruntled look on the duchess’s beautiful face lightened when she saw Aimil and Ansley. She smiled, and Trikser’s tail thumped. “I’d be better if your husband didn’t worry mine,” she grumbled.

Aimil laughed and Ansley shook her head, biting back a grin.

“I’m sure Tristan is just concerned about you and the baby.” Aimil stepped on the stool and sat up on the high bed.

Cera smiled sweetly, her gray eyes twinkling, and apparently ignoring Aimil. “Hello, Ansley.” She tucked a lock of dark red hair behind an ear and patted the bed. “Come sit with us.”

Ansley grinned, climbing onto the large bed. She leaned over and patted Trikser’s head. The white wolf rewarded her with a lick to her hand.

Cera laid a hand on her belly and glanced at her bondmate. “Where are the girls?” the duchess asked of her friends’ wolves.

“Hunting, I think,” Aimil said, glancing at Ansley.

“They left together?” Cera asked.

“Aye.” Ansley nodded.

Their bondmates were often inseparable at Rider Headquarters and being in Greenwald wasn’t proving any different.

“I was surprised Trik didn’t go with them,” Ansley said.

“He won’t leave me when Jorrin’s gone during the day. He goes out at night to handle his needs and eat, then comes right back. Either he or Jorrin is with me at all times. It’s like they’ve teamed up.” Cera’s voice was half-amused, half-annoyed.

“He must know your time is soon,” Aimil said.

“Sooner than later, I hope. But I still don’t need to be confined.” Cera scrunched her nose.

“I’m sure Tristan is convinced it’s best.” Aimil said.

“Hah. I’ll have no problem reminding you of that when
your
time is near,” Cera said, grinning.

Aimil groaned, but grinned back.

Ansley chuckled, then met her friend’s dark gaze. “I had noticed that,” she whispered, “but no one said anything.”

One corner of Aimil’s mouth lifted. “Sorry I didn’t tell you; it wasn’t for any particular reason. It’s not really a secret.” She put her hand over her womb and looked down. “We weren’t supposed to get married for two more turns. I thought my father and brothers were going to kill him…” Her cheeks shone bright red.

“Well, you’re married now, it matters not,” Ansley said, taking one of Aimil’s hands. “But I had no idea you and Tristan…”

Prior to their marriage only a few months before, Aimil had been living in Terraquist at Rider Barracks, like any other Senior Rider.

Cera had also been a Senior Rider before she’d married and made her husband a duke, taking her place as the Duchess of Greenwald.

“Oh, we hadn’t before. Honestly, we’d both been content with kisses for the most part. We hadn’t seen each other in a while. He came to Terraquist to see me…it just happened.” She giggled. “Effectively, obviously.” She patted her stomach with her free hand.

“The first time?” Ansley asked. She ignored the voice that reminded her of what could have happened in the corridor with Leargan.

“Aye.” Aimil dropped her voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell him I told you, but it was his first time, too.” She winked.

Cera laughed and shook her head. “I can’t say the same for Jorrin, but the same thing happened to me, too.”

“Wow.” Ansley should thank Leargan for walking away from her, no matter how it hurt. How much worse would it have been if she’d given herself to him and
then
had him walk away? Even more so if he’d left her with child.

What are you thinking?

They’d shared a few kisses.

Nothing more
.

He hadn’t even wanted that. Ansley sighed.

“Something wrong, Ansley?” Cera asked.

“No, why?”

Cera and Aimil exchanged a glance that didn’t escape her notice.

“You look upset,” Aimil said.

“No. Not at all. I’m so happy for you two, and I like your husbands very much.” Ansley tried for a diversion.

“They both like you very much, as well,” Cera said.

“Are you happy?”
The whisper fell from her lips, unintended. Ansley tried to imagine herself married and expecting a child. She didn’t want anyone but Leargan, so she probably wouldn’t marry.

How could she settle for someone else now that she’d had a taste of him?

And isn’t that just pathetic.

“I’m very happy with Jorrin. The baby was a pleasant surprise. Now, I can’t wait to meet him,” Cera said, rubbing her distended tummy in wide circles.

“I’m also very happy with Tristan. And I always knew I would be. I don’t regret our inability to wait until we were married or the result,” Aimil said, eyes shining.

Ansley forced a smile and her friends exchanged another look of obvious worry. Questions were written plainly on both their faces. She silently begged them to drop it.

Why do I always have to be so obvious?

Cera took one of her hands, and Aimil reached for the other.

Ansley was doomed. Tears hovered; she didn’t have a free hand to wipe them away.

“What happened, Ansley?” Cera whispered.

Soon the whole story poured out, starting with the fact that she’d had an affinity for Leargan for turns. Cera didn’t look surprised at all and Aimil had nodded.

Typical that she’d been transparent to the both of them.

The compassion in their gazes when Ansley admitted she loved him caused more tears. She finished the story with their kisses in the corridor. Sobs took over when she relayed his apology.

Aimil wrapped her in a hug and Ansley crushed her eyes shut.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.” Aimil smoothed wisps of hair that’d escaped her braid.

Ansley wiped her tears away and sat up.

“I haven’t known Leargan for a full turn yet, but I can tell you one thing,” Cera said, head cocked to one side. “He doesn’t easily show emotion beyond a smile here and a laugh there. He’s always in control. When he kissed you, he lost it. I’ve
never
seen him like that.”

“What does that mean?” Ansley met her gray eyes.

“That he probably feels like he insulted you,” Aimil finished.

“Men don’t like to lose control,” Cera continued, “and when a woman is the cause of it, look out. I know him well enough to assure you, he didn’t hurt you on purpose. Leargan’s not like that. He’s one of the most honorable men I know.”

“That’s how I think of him as well.” Ansley sniffed and dabbed her nose with the square of linen Aimil offered.

“So much so, that the fact he kissed you may lead to a proposal,” Aimil said, tapping her bottom lip as if she was thinking.

“No…” Ansley gasped.

“You’re a wellborn lady, he just might,” Aimil said.

Ansley glanced at Cera, who shrugged.

“I only kissed him. I won’t marry him because he feels he insulted me, which he didn’t. It’d be trapping him into something he doesn’t want. I couldn’t do that…” Ansley swallowed.

No matter how he made me feel, he doesn’t want me.

Foolish girl.

Her heart thumped and pain spread from the hole in her chest, threatening to choke her.

“But you just told us you love him.” Aimil’s dark eyes widened.

“Exactly. I wouldn’t want to marry him unless he wanted me.”

“I understand.” Cera’s expression was somber, thoughtful. “One more thing about men, in general.”

“What’s that?” Ansley asked.

“They are usually pretty oblivious to feelings.” She paused, flashing a lopsided grin. “Unless they possess empathic magic.”

“Leargan has no magic,” Ansley said.

“Which makes him pretty daft.” Aimil flashed a grin, too.

The three women shared a laugh, and Ansley’s spirits lifted…a little.

Chapter Seven

The sword slammed into his, knocking Leargan off balance. Hard ground slamming his back, took the breath from his lungs. He heard some gasps and several comments from his men.

Leargan was
never
caught off guard in a sparring match, let alone in a real fight. Even Roduch, who he’d been training with, had frozen, then reached a hand down to help him to his feet.

“Captain?” Roduch’s face was a mask of concern.

Leargan cursed and grabbed the large blond man’s arm with a bit too much vigor, but Roduch wasn’t caught off balance. His friend pulled him to his feet with little effort.

He restrained himself from stomping his foot like a spoiled child.

His mind had been on Ansley.

Had the fight been real, he would be dead.

She
would
be the death of him.

“It’s all right. Spar with Niall,” Leargan told the big knight, sheathing his sword and brushing himself off. His back and arse ached as much as his pride.

With a glare to each of the men who’d stopped to gape, he jogged to the edge of the training grounds. His men busied themselves with their previous tasks.

Smart of them.

He nodded at his Second, who hopped the wooden fence that surrounded the training grounds. Niall wasted no time rushing Roduch, and Leargan heard the clash of metal on metal before he’d even reached the place Niall had been standing.

Leaning on the top rung of the fence, he lifted his foot and rested it on the bottom, studying his men.

At first glance, one would think Roduch would be the winner. The warrior was almost as tall as King Nathal’s six-feet-seven-inches. Just as broad shouldered and muscular.

Dark-haired Niall on the other hand, wasn’t quite six feet tall but he was equally muscular, yet graceful. Niall was quick on his feet and skilled with his weapon.

Roduch was also very good with a sword. All his men were, or they wouldn’t have been selected to be a part of the Aldern personal guard.

He watched them for a moment, then allowed his eyes to sweep the rest of the fighting yard. Some of the men were sparring with swords like Niall and Roduch, others with spears, and even a few practiced with bow and arrow.

Lord Aldern strode over, sheathing his sword before wiping the sweat from his brow. He too, had been sparring with the men. He leaned against the fence next to him, saying nothing as he passed a skin of water.

Jorrin cleared his throat. “I’m surprised Roduch’s here. He hasn’t left the castle in days.”

Leargan nodded thanks and took a long drink. “I guilted him a little. Told him he owed it to the lads.” The big knight was in charge of training the younger men-at-arms with the sword, as well as his special lessons with Leargan’s squire, Brodic. “He’s patient with them.”

“Alasdair doesn’t relish the task in his absence.”

“Aye,” Leargan said, but didn’t look at his friend.

“Has she said anything yet?”

“Not that Roduch shared with me. She’ll talk when she’s ready. She’s taking short visits from the ladies, that’s something.”

“I agree. Leargan, are you all right?”

“Aye. Why?” He swung his head around and met the duke’s sapphire eyes.

Jorrin quirked an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you knocked on your arse before, that’s why,” the duke said, tone half-amused, half-concerned.

Leargan fought the urge to squirm. “I wasn’t aware watching me was a part of training.”

“Just marry her, Leargan,” Jorrin said. “It’s been a sevenday. King Nathal said no more than three…and he’ll
be
here with
Ansley’s father.”

“I remember what the scroll says.” He scowled.

The duke crossed his arms over his broad chest, gaze appraising. “You’re not known as a cruel man.”

Leargan cocked his head to the side, holding his breath.

“Yet, you’ve been stalking about the castle for the better part of this sevenday, barking orders and making maids cry. Even Brodic has been staying out of your way.”

The better part of this sevenday
.

After
he’d kissed Ansley in the corridor. Behaved like a lustful beast.

He looked into Lord Aldern’s eyes and knew better than uttering a denial. Jorrin’s magic would have called him a liar even if the duke did not. “I know…” Leargan said instead, grimacing.

“So, tell her about the scroll, or ask her to marry you, even demand it.”

“Aye, because
demanding
anything of a Senior King’s Rider would get me far.”

The duke smirked. “Well, I suppose you have a point there.”

“I don’t want a marriage without love,” Leargan admitted, looking away. “Your fault, of course.”

“My fault?” Jorrin asked.

When he met Lord Aldern’s gaze again, his breath exited on a whoosh. Kindness made up his friend’s expression. “Well…you and Lord Dagget and your lovely wives. Yet, I’m trapped, ordered to marry. I’ve never disobeyed the king before.”

“Are you planning to?”

Leargan didn’t sense judgment or censure in the question. “No.” He paused. “I don’t know.”

“King Nathal is nothing, if not sensible. Can you explain things to him? I don’t know her father, but I’m sure he wouldn’t want his daughter to be unhappy.”

Jorrin’s tone was reasonable, but something flared within Leargan.

“Are you saying I can’t make her happy?” he barked. Leargan flushed. He was addressing his lord and had no right to speak to him in such a manner. He wouldn’t blame Jorrin if he knocked him on his arse.

The duke laughed. “No, not at all.”

Calm yourself and stop jumping to conclusions.
He took a breath.