The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [322]
Marona pushed through the screen of bushes and stood close to Jondalar, pressing her body against him. “That’s right, Ayla,” she said with an exultant laugh. “He can couple with whoever he wants. What do you expect a man to do when his mate is too busy for him? We have coupled often, and not only this summer. Why do you think I moved back to the Ninth Cave? He didn’t want me to tell you, but now that you’ve found out, you might as well know the whole story.” She laughed again; then with a vicious sneer she said, “You may have stolen him from me, Ayla, but you haven’t been able to keep him to yourself.”
“I didn’t steal him from you, Marona. I didn’t even know you until I arrived here. Jondalar chose me of his own free will. Now he can choose you, if he wants, but tell me, do you really love him? Or are you just trying to cause trouble?” Ayla said. Then she turned and with as much dignity as she could gather, she hurried away.
Jondalar shrugged off the woman hanging on him and caught up with Ayla in a few strides. “Ayla, please wait! Let me explain!” he said.
“What is there to explain? Marona is right. How could I expect anything else? You were in the middle of something, Jondalar. Why don’t you go back and finish it,” she said, starting away again. “I’m sure Marona will be able to arouse you once more. She had you well on your way.”
“I don’t want Marona, not if I can have you, Ayla,” Jondalar said, suddenly afraid he might lose her.
Marona looked at him with surprise. She meant nothing to him, she realized. She had meant nothing to him all along. She had made herself available, and he had found her an expedient way to take care of his urges. Marona glared at them both with anger, but Jondalar didn’t notice.
He was concentrated on Ayla. Now he wished he hadn’t given in to Marona’s invitations, hadn’t used her so casually. He was so intent on Ayla, on trying to think of something to say that could somehow explain how he felt, that he didn’t even notice when the woman he had so recently been with stormed past him with her clothes bunched up in her arms. But Ayla did.
As a man, after he returned from his stay with Dalanar, Jondalar had always had his choice of women, but he had never really loved one. Nothing ever matched the powerful intensity of his first love, and his memory of those overwhelming emotions had been made stronger by the appalling scandal and disgrace it had brought on both Zolena and himself. She had been his donii-woman, his instructor and guide in the ways that a man should behave with a woman, but he was not supposed to fall in love with her. She was not supposed to allow it.
He had come to believe that he would never love a woman again. He had finally concluded that as a penalty imposed by the Mother for his youthful indiscretion, he would forever be unable to fall in love—until Ayla. And he’d had to travel for more than a year, to an entirely different and unfamiliar place, to find her. He loved Ayla more than his life. It overwhelmed him. He would do anything for her, go anyplace for her, he would give his life for her. The only person for whom he felt a love as strong, if of a different nature, was Jonayla.
“You should be grateful she is there to satisfy your needs, Jondalar,” Ayla said, still hurting, and trying to cover the pain. “I am going to be even busier than ever now. I have been called. I will do as She wishes now. I will be as a child of the Great Earth Mother. I am Zelandoni.”
“You were called? Ayla, when?” His voice was full of frantic worry. He’d seen some of the zelandonia returning from their first call, and he’d seen some, found later, who had not. “I should have been there, I could have helped you.”
“No, Jondalar. You couldn’t have helped me. No one can help. It must be done alone. I survived, and the Mother gave me a great Gift, but I had to make a sacrifice for it. She wanted our baby, Jondalar. I lost it in the cave,” Ayla said with as much dignity as she could muster.
“Our baby? What baby? Jonayla was with me.”
“The baby that was started when I came down from the cliff