Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [183]
“Da, I’m sorry!” Jill stammered.
“And so you might be, carrying on like a serving wench where anyone might see you.”
“I won’t do it again. Promise.”
“Good. You’ve got a chamber for that sort of thing, don’t you?”
Jill’s head reeled as badly as if he had slapped her. Cullyn gave her the barest sort of smile and walked past, calling out to Rhodry to wait for him. The two of them went off together, discussing some new men for the warband.
“So that’s what Rhodry wanted to tell me. Oh, by the Goddess herself!”
She felt betrayed. Jill stood there for a long time and considered it, that where she might have been pleased, she felt betrayed. Cullyn had handed her over to Rhodry to be his mistress, just handed her over like a horse, and she wanted Rhodry too much to protest. At that moment, she saw clearly what her life would become, caught between the two of them, loving them both, yet kept away from both. Rhodry would have his wife, and Cullyn, the warband. She would be important to them, in her way, rather like a valuable sword that they would never use in battle, only hang on a chamber wall to be taken down and admired once in a while. I can’t do that, she told herself, I won’t! Yet she knew that she could, and that she would. The bars of her cage were made out of love, and they would keep her in for all her gnawing at them.
All evening, Jill debated the question of whether Rhodry would find her door open or barred. She decided that she should hold out and make him realize that he would have to court her, that she wasn’t a bit of battle loot to be distributed by her father. When she went to bed that night, she barred the door, but she couldn’t sleep, and slowly, a bit at a time, her resolve wore away like sand under a storm tide. She cursed herself for a slut or worse, then got up and lifted the wooden bar free of the staples. She stood there for a moment, barred it again, then lifted it off and left it off. She stripped off her nightdress, lay down, and felt her heart pounding in the darkness. Not more than a few moments later, he came to her, as sure-footed and silent as a thief.
“Just once, my love,” he whispered. “I’d like to have you in the light. I want to see what your face looks like when we’ve done.”
Jill giggled and threw the blankets back. He took off his clothes and slipped in next to her. At the touch of his naked body on hers, she forgot every worry she’d ever had about honor and betrayal, but she pretended to shove him away. He grabbed her wrists and kissed her until she struggled free, then he caught her again. They wrestled with each other as much as they caressed each other, until at last she could wait no longer and let him win, pressing her down, catching her, filling her with an aching fiery pleasure that made her sob in his arms.
Since Nevyn never slept more than four hours a night, he was up late that evening, brooding over the dark master and his peculiar plot. For all his scrying on the etheric, he’d found no further traces of the enemy, and neither had any other dweomermaster in the kingdom. He was just thinking that it was late enough for even him to be in bed when Jill’s gray gnome popped into manifestation on the table. The little creature was furious, making soundless snarls and pulling at its hair as it danced up and down.
“Now, now, now. What’s all this?”
The gnome grabbed his hand and pulled, as if it were trying to haul him to his feet.
“What? You want me to come with you?”
The gnome nodded a vigorous yes and pulled on him again.
“Is somewhat wrong with Jill?”
At that, the gnome leapt into its final dance of fury. Nevyn lit a lantern and followed the gnome as it led him toward the women’s quarters. As soon as the gnome realized that he was going to go to Jill’s chamber, it disappeared. Holding the lantern low, Nevyn turned down the main corridor