"People wouldn't necessarily know that."
He laughed heartily. "Of course they know it. You think people don't take note of what we do?"
"I hadn't really thought about it."
"If it makes you uncomfortable, don't. But the reality is that it is only natural for my people to be curious about us."
"I suppose—" She was only half listening to him and had been ever since he stepped closer to her. It was hot in the sauna; no doubt that accounted for her rather dazed state. That and the shock of seeing him thrown. Those horrible moments kept playing in her mind. As much as she truly believed the sauna would ease his discomfort, so too did she need the reassurance of being able to touch him, feel his strength, and know for herself that he was all right.
And still she saw the moment again and again…
"Dragon?"
"Hmmm?" He was distracted, stroking the soft curve of her cheek.
"You don't think… I mean, there couldn't be any… no, there couldn't be." She answered her own question firmly, certain the stray thought that had flitted through her mind was absurd.
"Couldn't be what?"
"It doesn't matter. Here, let me help you with that." Gently, she urged him down onto one of the benches and, kneeling in front of him, removed his sandals and set them aside. Then she urged him up and carefully eased his tunic over his head. Tall though she was, to accomplish this she had to climb up on the bench. He laughed when she was done and caught her around the waist, sliding her down the length of his aroused body.
"Such a dutiful wife. So meek and obedient."
Rycca made a little gurgling noise and sank her teeth into the lobe of his ear. He grunted but did not let her go. A moment later, when her tongue stroked that portion of him she had just offended, he groaned and cupped her buttocks, pulling her hard against him. "Don't tell me," he said harshly, "that you're wearing one of those damned delicate gowns again."
"Not for riding," she said, a smile in her voice.
"Good." His very large, very capable hands went for the ties down her back.
This time she let him undress, her. Despite the heat of the sauna, his touch made her shiver. Naked against him, she could not stop trembling. Over and over, she saw him flying through the air… the rock so close to his head.
He made a rough sound deep in his throat and pressed her head to his chest. "What are you thinking of? You were wondering about something. What is it?"
"Nothing… it doesn't matter." Her lips moved against his skin, tasting the tang of salt. She closed her eyes, senses whirling. The earth had shaken when he landed, she swore it had. Or at least her earth, the center of her being. If he had been hurt— Her hands clutched at him, over the rounded curves of his shoulders, down the bulging muscles of his arms. It didn't help. Hard in her mind was the knowledge that any man, no matter how powerful, could be harmed… and even worse.
"Rycca… ?" There was worry in his voice. He tipped her head back and in the glow of the firebox, looked at her. Slashes of silver shone along her cheeks. She was crying. Dragon cursed under his breath. He lifted her quickly and, still holding her, sat down on the bench. Wrapping her legs around his waist so that she faced him, he spoke gently. "Everything will be all right, sweetheart, I promise. Only trust me, let me take care of you."
Far in the back of his mind, the ridiculous thought he had so briefly entertained rang mockingly. Truly, the fall had been harder than he'd realized to make him doubt his wife for even a moment.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I don't know what's come over me. I never cry."
In point of fact, she did, or at least she had since meeting him. But he wasn't about to point that out to her. Instead, he tenderly brushed away her tears and kissed her lingeringly. He meant to offer only comfort—or at least the nobler side of his nature did—but inevitably other needs made themselves known.
He felt her body soften against him at the same time his own hardened yet further. Swiftly, he laid her down on the bench, slid his hands beneath her smooth buttocks, and lifted her to him, spreading her sleek thighs. Rycca gasped as his mouth found her. She tangled her fingers in the thick mane of his hair and held on as pleasure bright as the sun swiftly seized her.
She was flung high and free, soaring unhindered, riding a seemingly endless crest that carried her farther and farther before reaching a peak that left her sobbing her husband's name even as he held her shuddering body in the safety of his arms. Slowly, the pulsations of ecstasy eased, only to begin anew as he entered her, not all at once but little by little, giving her time to feel all of him.
Her head fell back as she cried out. She reached for him, drawing him down to her, loving the weight of him, the heaviness of him inside her, driving away memory, making the taunting vision of his fall shatter into a thousand pieces even as she herself did, again and again. Firelight gleamed, revealing and concealing the ancient poetry of possession. Flame-burnished limbs entwined, voices cried out together, and fierce driving strength and power yielded up their tribute, there in the dark heart of the earth's womb.
THE HARVEST BEGAN THE NEXT DAY. ALMOST from the beginning, there were problems. Bottoms fell out of baskets. Water drained out of skins. A wheel came off a wagon, almost crushing the man walking beside it. Most seriously, the blade of a scythe broke loose while being used and badly cut the leg of a young farmer.
Dragon insisted that such incidents were normal but Rycca was not so certain. She found herself looking over her shoulder far too often, checking and rechecking the most ordinary things and even, toward the third day, beginning to jump at sudden sounds. Her nervousness did not go unnoticed. Magda began to glance at her worriedly and the other women whispered among themselves.
She wanted to tell them that she was fine but the incident with Grani still haunted her dreams. She would wake in the middle of the night needing to reassure herself that Dragon was there beside her, whole and unharmed. He would sense her unease and draw her to him, offering all the comfort she could want. Yet still her fears lingered.
On the fourth day, they exploded.
Almost everyone in Landsende, the town as well as the stronghold, was hard at work. Rycca went alone to the kitchens, needing some spices to add to the stew that was being cooked over open fires in the fields, close to the people who would be eating it. People who had worked almost without rest, far into the nights graced by a clear sky and an almost full moon. They got only a few hours' sleep, ate where they could, and scarcely paused even to speak or take note of what was happening around them. She wanted them to have a good meal.
Magda had been in the fields all morning, supervising some of the women. Except for the guards manning the watchtowers as always, the stronghold was deserted. So was much of the town as everyone joined in to help with the harvest. A dog sleeping in the sun raised his head briefly and eyed Rycca but quickly settled back down into his nap.
She was not used to being so alone. A vague sense of unease accompanied her into the kitchens. They were, as always, meticulously clean and orderly. The long tables where food was prepared had been rubbed down with sand and water so that they were without even the smallest stain. Bowls, pots, and ladles were neatly stacked out of the way. Fragrant herbs hanging from the rafters sweetened the air. But the floor…
Something was scattered over the floor toward the far end of the kitchens. Something small, indistinct… round and dark… almost like…
Peppercorns. Precious peppercorns torn from the safety of the locked spice cabinet, which now stood open, its double doors hanging ajar, all its drawers pulled out and their contents either spread over the floor or missing entirely.
Rycca gasped in shock. Still disbelieving of her own eyes, she moved forward carefully, smelling the crushed pepper beneath her feet, and reached out a hand to touch the cabinet doors. Their wood was smooth and unmarred. They showed no evidence of having been forced but instead appeared to have been opened by a key.
The key that hung at her side.
As far as she knew, it was the only key to the spice cabinet. Yet obviously that was not so, for she had not opened it.
A deep, shuddering breath escaped her. First the fabric, then the salt, then Grani, and now this. Someone was attacking her ever more directly, implicating her in doing harm to Landsende.
The day that had seemed so warm suddenly felt chill.
With a heavy heart, Rycca took herself out to the fields to find Dragon and tell him what had happened. He was with the young man who had been injured by the scythe just that morning. Now bandaged and no longer bleeding, the man was still very pale but he looked up at Dragon with utter confidence.
"You will have to work hard to regain full use of the leg," the jarl was saying. "But it can be done. That I can testify to personally since I went through it myself. I can show you what to do, and you have all of the coming winter to recuperate. By the time these fields are ready to be sown again, you will be fully recovered."
The young woman who stood beside the man, clutching his hand, nodded in agreement. "The jarl knows of what he speaks, Harald. This is bad luck for us but not so bad as it might have been." She took his hand held in hers and touched it lightly to her belly. "Our child will know his father. Nothing else matters."
Dragon rose quietly, leaving the couple to themselves. He had gone only a little distance when he saw Rycca. "How is he?" she asked, looking at the injured man.
"The wound is deep but not to the bone. It will take time and effort but he will recover."
When this news failed to relieve her, Dragon asked, "Is something wrong?"
She nodded reluctantly, dreading what she had to say. "I'm afraid so. The spice cabinet in the kitchens has been broken into. Some of the spices are scattered on the floor but most of them are just gone."
He looked at her for what seemed a very long moment. Finally, he asked, "When did you discover this?"
"Just now. I went to the kitchens to get some spices for the stew Magda and the other women are preparing for the midday meal. There was no sign of anyone else about except the guards, in the towers of course, but I presume they don't watch the kitchens."