Page 43 of The Maiden

Rowan, holding her, was stupefied and didn’t wrap his coarse, raggedy cloak about her as he should have. He just stood there with his body pressed against hers, his hands lightly on her back.

She was eye level with him and she waited for him to kiss her but he made no movement, so Jura touched her lips to his. It was all he needed to speed him into action. To Jura’s great pleasure, Rowan’s hands were all over her at once and he seemed to have a hundred mouths. He kissed her, caressed her, and oh, how deliciously beautiful he made her feel. How wonderful to feel womanly and desirable and adored and wanted and pursued. She kissed him back with all the wanting she felt.

“Beg me, Jura,” he said, his voice pleading.

She didn’t hear him at first.

“Please beg me,” he repeated.

Jura began to hear him and pushed him away. He was limp with desire and malleable in her hands. “Not in your lifetime, Englishman, will an Irial beg,” she spat at him. She turned away from him and walked to the river, glad for the cold water to cool her hot skin. She cursed the man with every word she knew. What kind of animal was he that he took pleasure in making a woman beg for his favors? He should be locked away before he harmed someone—and Thal thought this idiot was fit to be king!

When she emerged from the river, dried and dressed, Rowan had a small fire going and two rabbits skinned, speared, and roasting.

“I have supper,” he said softly.

“And what must I do to earn it? Go on my knees and plead? Or is begging reserved for the marriage bed? Perhaps to receive food I must bray like a donkey. Pardon me if I do not know your English rules of marriage conduct.”

“Jura,” he said, his voice heavy, “please do not be bitter. Let me explain that I am a knight. I made a vow, a stupid vow that has punished me more than you, but a vow to God nonetheless and I must keep it. If you would only—”

“Where do you plan to go tomorrow?” she asked. She didn’t want to discuss how awful he made her feel: desirable one moment and the next thrust away with all the contempt she had for the Ulten robe.

“You are returning to the Irials. I am going to find Brita.”

She smiled meanly at him over the fire. “I have the map. No, you will not find it on me, even if you could bear to touch my person, for I have committed it to memory. I am going with you. We will find Brita and we will talk to her.”

“Why didn’t I marry a sweet biddable Englishwoman?” Rowan mumbled. “Here! Take this.” He thrust a rabbit leg at her.

“You have made no sacred knightly vows concerning rabbit legs?”

“Only shrews,” he answered. “Now eat so we can sleep and leave early tomorrow. We have many miles to cover.”

“Maybe,” Jura said, and smiled sweetly at Rowan’s glare.

She slept quite well that night even if Rowan’s getting up twice did wake her.

“Wake up,” he said before dawn, and threw the hideous Ulten robe on her. “That should cool my interest in you.” He handed her bread and cheese. “Be ready to ride quickly.”

“Yes, oh sire,” she mocked.

They rode for two hours before Jura told him to halt and follow her down a narrow road leading into the forest. It was a road made for foot traffic and twice Rowan hacked at branches to provide room for the horses.

At noon they stopped to eat cold meat pies Jura had brought with her.

“We should change clothes,” she said. She looked at his greasy hair. “An Ulten and a…whatever you are, each alone is all right, but we make an unappetizing pair. We will not get near Brita’s city dressed like this.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Ten miles from here is the manor house of a rich relative of Brita’s. I thought perhaps the man and his wife might not miss a few garments.”

Jura watched Rowan’s face, and to her surprise, she found herself thinking that the man’s good looks were marred by his artificially darkened hair. Now he was frowning and she wondered if he disliked following a plan made by a woman.

“I would have to know where the clothes are kept and I doubt if it will be easy getting in and out of the house. You must swear you will return to the Irials immediately.”

“I do not swear things with the ease that you do. Cilean visited this house a few times when she was a Vatell captive, and I know something about it. You will follow me and—”

“I will not follow you,” he said. “You will remain hidden in the forest until we return.”

“We shall see,” Jura said, smiling.