Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [98]
A faint snore escaped Dorelei's parted lips.
I sighed.
Wide awake and lonely, I sat cross-legged on my bedroll, twisting Sidonie's ring around my finger. I was alone in a strange land, and although it was a beautiful land, it seemed not to want me here. I missed my home, and oh, gods! I missed Sidonie. I wished I could talk to her. I wished she was here or I was there.
I wished I could lose myself in her.
For the first time in many days, I lowered the rigid guards I'd erected around my thoughts and let myself think of her.
Ah, Elua! It hurt, but it felt so good, too. I chose a memory of our lovemaking; only one. They were like perfect pearls on a strand, precious and far too few. I pushed away the strangeness and the nagging sense of fear and sank into my memories with a vast sense of comfort and indulgence, playing them over in my mind. Every kiss, every gasp, every thrust was etched there. Sunlight in her hair, the sheen of sweat, the honey-sweet taste of her mouth. It drove everything else away, until I was taut with desire.
Nothing else mattered.
I propped myself on one elbow, stroking my throbbing phallus with my other hand. Is this what you want? Another memory; too many, too fast. I was spending them too quickly. I couldn't stop, though. Faster and faster. Sidonie, wrists straining. Begging. Shuddering over and over as I took her relentlessly, driving her to new heights, plunging to new depths. I stroked myself harder, my testes rising and tightening at the memory.
It came fast and hard. I rolled to one side and hissed between my teeth, my seed spurting onto the ground.
And then it was over. I flopped onto my back and lay panting. Turning my head, I could make out Dorelei's profile in the dim light of the low-burning campfire that filtered through the tent walls. Sleeping, peaceful and oblivious.
I felt better and worse, all at once. And I felt tired. I'd opened the floodgates and other memories sought to crowd me, tender and importunate and hurtful. I was too tired to fight them, to tired to wrestle them into submission. Instead I fled, seeking refuge in sleep, eased by my body's languor.
This time, I didn't hear the pipes.
Only the woman's laughter.
Chapter Twenty
In the morning, a handful of Mairead's riders departed for Innisclan to give warning of our impending arrival. Unencumbered by wagons, they were likely to arrive some hours before us. The young Dalriadan warriors were a loud, merry lot. They'd stayed up late, drinking and boasting with the Cruithne and the D'Angelines, and seemed none the worse for wear. I was glad relations seemed amicable among all parties, and I envied them.
My own head felt thick, as though I'd drunk too much wine. Too much emotion, like as not. The boulder of my buried heart shifted and groaned, disturbed from its place of rest far, far beneath the surface of my life.
"Shall we talk now?" Dorelei asked me, clear-eyed and well rested. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay awake.”
I made myself smile at her. "It can wait. I can't think straight with all this lot around. My head's a muddle.”
She smiled back at me, dimples flashing. "They are a bit loud.”
No one else was melancholy. It was a fine day, bright and clear, with nary a cloud in sight. All of last night's concerns were forgotten. No one spoke of Wise Ones, Old Ones, bear-witches, or the Maghuin Dhonn.
And in the bright light of day, that was fine with me.
We made good time, following the tracks of the Dalriada. Before long, we came upon rutted paths and the wagons travelled more smoothly. There were low stone fences marking pastures, and cattle watched us with incurious eyes. The mules pricked their ears, the Bastard pranced beneath me. We sang