Page 7 of Warrior Queen
The same desire I’d felt earlier reformed in my belly. I stood on tiptoes and kissed him gently on the lips. “And now you have me.”
He nodded, eyes twinkling. “It’s deep enough to swim. Do you fancy a dip?”
My turn to nod. The thought of the cool water after the heat of the day, and the chance to wash the dust and sweat from my body, was intoxicating.
We retreated to the grassy bank. Arthur unbuckled his sword belt and laid it on the grass. As we undressed, I watched him out of the corner of my eye and caught him watching me back. The shadow of the bruises from his fight with Cadwy still marked his body, and on his thigh the knotted scar from the stab wound he’d received last autumn stood out more than I would have liked. But I laughed, and so did he.
The moonlight dappled our skin with her pale kiss as we negotiated the gravel on wary bare feet. Cold water lapped my toes, and I hesitated. No such thing held Arthur back. He leapt into the deepest part of the river, immersing himself and swimming a few long strokes away from me.
Throwing caution to the wind, I did the same. In an instant, icy water gripped my body, depriving me of air, and I floundered in breathless panic. Arthur’s strong arms caught me, and the air came rushing back, making me gasp and splutter. He pressed me against his chest, laughter shaking him. “Best to keep yourself warm by swimming.”
The river wasn’t huge, but it presented us with enough water to swim energetically for a few minutes, which we took full advantage of. Arthur dived a few times, his feet flipping up in the air, as at home in the water as a fish. Where had he learned to swim? Perhaps in the River Severn. Wary of hidden currents, I kept to where I could touch the silty bottom, swimming a leisurely breaststroke in small circles near the bank.
“Watch out for leeches,” he called from further out.
“What?”
“Leeches in the mud. They latch onto your skin and won’t let go– and suck your blood.”
Leeches?
Splashing wildly, I beat a path toward the bank, but before I got there, he came up behind me and swept me into his arms.
I clung to him in a panic. “Do I have leeches on me? Do I?” I could put up with a lot in the fifth century but not muddy river creatures sucking my blood.
Rivulets of water ran down our bodies as he carried me out of the river, staggering a little under my weight. “I’ll need to inspect you all over to check.”
He laid me down on the grassy bank, and I clung to him, shivering, but a lot cleaner despite having had no soap. His dark silhouette loomed over me in the moonlight, his long hair dripping water as, with a hand on my chin, he turned my head to left and right. “No leeches on your face.”
My hand shot up to touch my cheek and he chuckled softly.
His hand slid down to caress my throat. “I don’tseeany leeches, but I might need to inspect you more closely…” A sensuous finger trailed from my jaw toward my belly, and goosepimples of arousal prickled. Now my shivering had more to do with his touch than the cold.
“My legs?” I whispered into his hair.
That teasing finger ran down first one leg then up the other, sensitive, gentle, tickling my skin, then paused where my legs joined my body. “Leech-free so far.”
The need to have him touch me there sent a new shiver running through me, as an inner fire stoked my molten desire.
Teasing still, he bent and lightly kissed a nipple. “Better?”
For answer, I buried my fingers in his wet hair and turned his face up to mine. “I will be in a moment.”
I pulled him into a kiss, my lips opening willingly under his insistent tongue. The kiss deepened, and the fire inside me blazed brighter, warming me from the core. We were naked. We were alone. And the night was warm.
“You naughty boy,” I whispered hoarsely in his ear as my hand slid down his body to find him more than ready to satisfy my mounting need. “You had this planned all along.”
His breath warmed the skin of my throat, and his wet hair trailed across my cheek. “I might have done,” he murmured, his lips brushing my skin and traveling south toward my breasts, his hands hot on my hips.
A few lumps that might have been stones or tree roots poked into my back, but I didn’t care. I lifted my legs and wrapped them around Arthur, drawing him closer. With the lack of privacy in a marching army’s camp, I’d missed this very much.
Chapter Three
We reached DinCadan a few days later, with light rain falling from a cloud-crowded sky. The welcome sight of the huge hill rising from the plain, and the columns of hearth-fire smoke mingling with the mist of drizzle, warmed my heart. After nearly three years here in the fifth century, this felt like coming home.
Maia was standing on the platform in front of the Great Hall with Amhar in her arms. At almost two years old, he was changing fast from a baby into a little boy, a small clone of his father, with curling dark hair, wide brown eyes and longer eyelashes than any male should be allowed.
I slid down from Alezan and, thrusting her reins into Arthur’s hand, sprinted up the slope from the stables, brimming with excitement at seeing my son again. Maia set him down and he ran to me, proving that his bandy-legged, wobbly, toddling stage had almost passed.
