War Maid's Choice-ARC (42 page)

She straightened enough to kiss his forehead gently, then stepped back again, standing between him and the bed while she unlatched her doublet and slid it from her shoulders. She smiled at the almost frightened look in his eyes and tossed it into another of the chairs. She raised her arms and stretched, arching her spine with luxurious, feline grace, green eyes gleaming with wicked, challenging tenderness at his expression before she put her hands on her flaring hips, cocked her head, and looked directly into his eyes.

“So, tell me, Milord Champion,” she said, her voice husky and soft and warm and teasing all at the same time, “are you really going to be so churlish as to throw me out of your room at such a late and lonely hour? Or are you going to prove a champion of Tomanāk can be wise enough to recognize the inevitable and surrender gracefully?”

Chapter Nineteen

“Good morning, Tala!” Brandark sang out, clattering down the stone steps to the second floor chamber which had been established as the tower’s inhabitants’ dining chamber. “I could smell that omlet all the way up—”

The Bloody Sword halted abruptly as he came through the arched stone doorway. Bahzell sat in his usual place at the head of the table, but seated at his right hand, red hair loose over her shoulders and shining like flame in the sunlight pouring in through the archer’s slit, sat Leeana Hanathafressa, nursing a steaming cup of tea in both hands.

She wore a loose linen shirt and soft trousers of a deep, grassy green, bloused and tucked into the tops of her riding boots. The hilt of a throwing knife showed above the sewn-in sheath in her right boot, and a pair of scabbarded short swords stood propped upright against the stone wall under the slit. Now she looked up at Brandark through the wisp of steam rising from her tea and arched one eyebrow. He stood frozen, even his facile brain obviously slithering in confusion, and she glanced at Bahzell.

“That’s odd,” she said with a lurking smile. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard him when he didn’t have something smart to say. In fact, now I come to think about it, up until this moment, I didn’t think it was possible for that to happen!”

“No?” Bahzell rumbled a deep-chested laugh, his brown eyes sparkling as they met hers. “I can’t say as how I’d ever
hoped
it might be possible. Mind you, I’m thinking it makes for a morning a sight more restful than most mornings are around here.”

Brandark gave himself a shake and stepped fully into the room. He looked back and forth between them for a moment, then smiled and swept them a deep, graceful bow not even one of Saramantha’s elven overlords could have bettered. When he straightened, the normal sardonic humor had vanished from his expression.

“I find myself...deeply happy for you both,” he said simply. “I see now what Gayrfressa’s secret was, I think...and why she was so pleased by it. May your lives be long, may your love be deep, and may every day bring you as much joy as I see in your eyes
this
day.”

Leeana’s eyes softened, and she blinked quickly. Then she set down her teacup, stood, walked around the table, and hugged him tight.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’m sure there will be others who don’t see it quite that way, but I don’t care about them. I
do
care about about how you feel. A brother’s blessing is always a joy.”

“Aye, little man,” Bahzell agreed, smiling from his chair. “But don’t you be expecting
me
to come and hug such as you and get your fancy waistcoat all damp and teary!”

“It’s fortunate Leeana has enough poetry in her soul for both of you,” Brandark replied, standing back and resting his hands on Leeana’s shoulders while he looked into her eyes. He studied them for several seconds, then nodded and squeezed her shoulders once, firmly. “You’ve chosen an...interesting road, Leeana. I’m happy for Bahzell’s sake, but the bard in me is already itching to write the ballads
this
is going to inspire!”

“Bahzell tried to warn me about that, too.” Leeana smiled. “But we war maids are just natural troublemakers at heart. Surely you’ve heard that about us?”

“I believe I have heard something to that effect, yes,” he said dryly, and she chuckled.

“If you’ve got the name for it anyway, you might as well take advantage of it. Now come sit down! I hadn’t realized just how good a cook Tala really is, and it would be a crime to let that omelette get cold.”

“I agree entirely.” Brandark swept her another bow, this one less deep and touched with more of his usual insouciance, and followed her back to the table. He sat across from her and served himself a generous portion of the bacon, cheese, onion, and mushroom-stuffed omelette, then collected one of Tala’s patented sourdough rolls to keep it company.

“May I assume I’m the first to be informed—in a manner of speaking—about the, um, change in your status, as it were?” he asked as he spread butter across the roll and took a largish bite.

“Well,” Leeana said judiciously, leaning back in her chair and crossing one booted ankle elegantly over her knee, “aside from Gayrfressa, Walsharno, Tala—who saw me sneaking up to Bahzell’s room last night and kept her mouth shut about it, Lillinara bless her—and, of course, Mother. That makes you, let me see,
sixth
, I think.”

“I only make that fifth,” Brandark said, after counting carefully on his fingers, and cocked his ears inquisitively at her.

“Well, that’s because I had to fit
Bahzell
in there somewhere,” she told him demurely, and he chuckled.

“He can be a bit...obtuse sometimes, can’t he? Have I ever told you how hard he worked at never hearing Tomanāk at all?”

“As to that, I’m thinking that ditty of yours has done damage enough without adding more to it,” Bahzell told him.

“I suppose that as a special observation of this day’s significance I
could
go ahead and exercise that exquisite sense of tact and discretion which is so much a part of my naturally sensitive nature.”

“Aye, and be keeping your ‘naturally sensitive’ arms unbroken, in the way of it,” Bahzell agreed, and Brandark chuckled. Then his expression sobered a bit.

“I’m truly happy for you both, happier than I know how to tell you, but I wonder if you’ve given any thought to exactly how you intend to go about letting other people know about this?”

“We plan on discussing it with Mother after breakfast,” Leeana said serenely. “Not that I’m particularly worried about how she’ll react.” She smiled faintly. “It’s certainly not going to come as a
surprise
to her, at any rate. And I’ve already written Father, telling him what I had in mind.” She cocked her head, gazing not at Brandark, but at Bahzell. “I sent it off two days ago, in fact.”

“And did you now?” Bahzell rumbled, twitching his ears in her direction. “Never thought as how you might be being just a mite premature?”

“Oh, I had confidence in my...powers of persuasion,” she murmured, and Brandark took a hasty swig from his tankard of ale.

“Well, as to that,” Bahzell replied judiciously, “it might be you had a point, after all.”

“I thought so, at any rate.” Her eyes laughed at him before she looked back at Brandark. “Aside from Mother and Father, there isn’t anyone we
have
to tell about it. Another of those advantages of being a shameless war maid. On the other hand, neither Bahzell nor I have any intention of hiding from anyone.” Her green eyes hardened ever so slightly. “I’m sure some bigots are going to have...strong opinions on the matter. If any of them care to bring his opinion to my attention, I’ll be delighted to
discuss
it with him.”

Brandark winced.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “you don’t really look very much like her, but you remind me a great deal of Kaeritha in some ways.”

“Why, thank you, Lord Brandark!” Leeana dimpled. “I’ve always greatly admired Dame Kaeritha. I think it’s that streak of what she calls ‘peasant practicality.’”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Brandark acknowledged. “In fact—”

He broke off as Tala bustled in with a fresh pot of tea for Leeana in one hand and a basket of fresh, hot rolls in the other.

“Out late again last night, I see, Lord Brandark,” the housekeeper said severely. “Drinking, no doubt!”

“When I wasn’t dicing, wenching, or slitting purses,” he agreed cheerfully, lifting his tankard in salute, and she set down the basket of rolls so she could swat him with her freed hand.

“Exactly what I would have expected!” she told him roundly, and he heaved a huge sigh.

“It’s so sad when everyone sees straight through my façade of respectability,” he mourned.

“Respectability, is it?” Bahzell snorted. “Not the very word
I’d’ve
chosen, I’m thinking!”

“But that’s because you’ve known me so long. I ought to at least be able to fool some totally unsuspecting, innocent stranger, don’t you think?”

Bahzell gave him a speaking glance, and Brandark tucked the rest of his original roll into his mouth so he could snag one of the newly arrived ones as a replacement and began spreading fresh butter with a lavish hand.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any of those fig preserves left, would you, Mistress Tala?” he asked wheedlingly.

“I’m down to just the two jars,” she said, waving an index finger under his prominent nose, “and the
last
time you asked that, it cost me a jar and a half!”

“Is it
my
fault you make such excellent preserves?” He looked at her innocently. “You should take it as the most sincere possible compliment!”

“Oh, should I, now?” The housekeeper planted her hands on her hips to give him her very best glower, but he only looked back at her with that same innocent expression.

“Oh, all right!” she told him finally. “But only the one jar, mind! I’m saving the other.”

“Whatever you say,” he agreed meekly, and she laughed.

“Promises are easy, Milord, but don’t think you can turn me up sweet enough for me to be taking my eye off of my pantry when you’re around!”

* * *

After breakfast, Leeana and Bahzell left the tower and walked along the curtain wall towards the keep. The keep’s early morning shadow lay deep and cool across the battlements, and Bahzell gazed down into the courtyard with a pensive expression.

“Second thoughts?” a gently teasing voice asked, and he turned quickly to smile at Leeana.

“Now, that I don’t have,” he told her. “Mind, I’ve no doubt I
should
, but it’s a rare, determined wench you are, Leeana Hanathafressa! And”—his voice softened—“it’s never happier I’ve been.”

“Good. See to it you stay that way.” She tucked her hand into his elbow and laid her head against his upper arm. It felt odd not to tower over a man, but it felt...good, too. Of course, that might have something to do with the man in question, she reflected warmly, storing up the memory of the night just past like the treasure it was. A gentle and considerate man, her Bahzell, in more ways than one.

Sentries manned Hill Guard’s walls at all times, and she saw the armsman at the angle between the curtain wall and the keep jerk upright as he glanced in their direction. The sentry’s eyes widened, and then he snapped to attention. It would have taken a very tall human—even for a Sothōii—to fix his eyes above Bahzell Bahnakson’s head without straining his neck, and so the armsman locked his gaze on the center of the Horse Stealer’s massive chest.

“Good...morning, Milord Champion,” he said.

“And a good morning to you, as well,” Bahzell rumbled back. It couldn’t have been a more pleasant response, yet there was a little something in its timbre. Something that snapped the sentry’s eyes to Leeana, as well. He colored, then cleared his throat and bobbed his head.

“Give you good morning, Mistress Leeana.”

It came out in a commendably normal voice, only a bit more gruff than it might have been, and she smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she said, then looked up into the cool morning sky, her hair flying like red silk on the breeze that laughed its way across the castle and danced with the banners. “And the same to you. It
is
a beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

“Aye...Mistress.” The armsman returned her smile. “It is that. And”—he let his eyes meet hers, then Bahzell’s—“more beautiful for some than for others, I’m thinking.”

“Why, yes, it is,” she told him with a fleeting dimple.

He bent his head respectfully and stepped back out of their way, and Leeana laughed softly as they passed on into the keep proper.

“There!” she told her towering lover. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Now that it wasn’t,” he replied, looking down at her, “and it’s a fair start we’ve made, I suppose, in a manner of speaking. Your Da’s no more than another fifteen or twenty score armsmen here in Hill Guard and Balthar. Why, I’ve no doubt we’ll have dealt with all of them by lunch!”

* * *

“I’m sorry, Leeana.” Sharlassa looked back and forth between her and Bahzell, obviously afire with curiosity. “Baroness Hanatha isn’t here. She finished breakfast early and said she was going riding.” The younger woman grimaced. “She invited me to join her, but Master Tobis is expecting me this morning.”

“I see.” Leeana smiled at her resigned tone, remembering her own lessons with the dance master. “Do you think we could catch her at the stable, or is she already out and about?”

“I think you could probably catch her,” Sharlassa replied. “She hasn’t been gone long, and she said she had something to discuss with Master Greenslope before she left.”

“Well, love,” Leanna glanced up at Bahzell, “do we want to wait for her here, or go beard her in Doram’s den?”

“There’s a cowardly part of me says as how we ought best hide right here,” Bahzell admitted, “but I’ve not seen Walsharno at all, at all this morning, and I’m thinking Gayrfressa is after having a ‘told you so’ or three for me, as well.”

“My thinking, as well,” Leeana said, and chuckled at Sharlassa’s expression. It was obvious the younger woman was
simply
dying to ask the dozens of questions dancing through her mind, and Leeana shook her head at her.

“Wish me joy, Sharlassa,” she said. “Wish
both
of us joy.”