Keeping Paige (Divinity Warriors 3), page 6
“And lose a day of work while the blugin run?” a man with short black hair yelled. “We only have two nights to pull the supplies we need to last a year. Who will feed our children when the food runs out next winter?”
“The rest of the season’s catch won’t compare to the blugin run,” said a blonde woman with a small boy huddled into her skirts.
Paige looked at the young boy’s face. Her voice soft and a little too high for normal, she said, “There is no reason you all have to stay ashore, so long as you come back when you feel the storm. We are only concerned about one man in particular. We’re searching for a man with a scar.”
“She doesn’t act like the other oracles. Have her powers been tested?” someone asked.
“You expect us to stay out of the water on an untested prediction?” another added.
“Some prediction!” a woman cackled sarcastically. The tight pull of her laced bodice squeezed a pair of very generous breasts to the point they looked as if they might burst. “A man with a scar in Staria? If that’s a prediction, I can do you one better. I predict I have five husbands.”
A round of laughter instantly filled the center square.
“We are all oracles. I predict trees are growing in the forest,” a voice mocked. “And those trees have leaves.”
“I predict my wife will slap me,” another man added, “for saying she’s got a large—”
Sure enough, a woman slapped the man upside the head, stopping the rest of the comment.
“Is this the scar you are looking for, Lady Paige?” The black-haired man showed a red, puffy gash across his stomach before turning to let her see rounded marks on his back. “Or these?”
Instantly trying to outdo each other, the men lifted their shirts and pulled at their sleeves, pointing out their many scars. Even the boys joined in the teasing.
“I have nigh twenty, my lady, if you count the ones run together,” someone hollered.
“And I nigh thirty,” another voice chimed.
“Forty here!”
“Forty-one!”
“I have one, my lady,” a child yelled, shoving his stick under his arm to hold it in place as he struggled with his neckline.
Behind her she felt Aidan shake as if holding back his own laughter. In her ear he whispered, “They are only teasing. They must like you.”
This was how they greeted people they liked? Paige didn’t say a word.
“I have got a scar to show you, but it’s on my arse.” This response got a solid thump in the chest from the man’s wife and more laughter from the crowd.
That was it! Prying at his arm, she got him to loosen his hold on her waist. Swinging her leg around the side, she slid from the horse. Her legs wobbled as they hit the ground. If they only wanted to mock her, then the lot of them could rot for all she cared.
“We’re looking for an older man with a scar across the back of his hand. Jagged,” Aidan said. She heard him land on the ground behind her. Paige inched away from him, eyeing the crowd for her easiest escape. As the new woman wearing unsuitable attire, she knew it wouldn’t be easy to blend. No, her best bet was slipping notice while Aidan was distracted. Then she would head for the trees.
“Do you speak of Callum?” someone offered. “He has such a scar.”
“Aye, I have a scar on my hand.”
Paige turned to find the man from her vision staring at her. Instantly, she sought his hand, finding the exact scar she had pictured. All thoughts left her as she whispered, “That scar. It’s you. You’re the man I saw.”
Callum rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb, but the gruff lines of his weathered face didn’t flinch. “A barbed hook caught it during blugin season when I was a boy. We had no choice but to rip it out and bandage it up.” He flexed his hand.
“Don’t go to the water tonight. Stay inside.” Almost desperate, she rushed forward. Never had she been so close to saving a life before. The Forestters didn’t want to hear about her visions, didn’t want her help. They threatened and blamed her for whatever misfortune came if she tried. “If you take to the sea, you’ll be killed when the waves destroy your boat. Try to stay away from all water, just to be safe.”
Again, Callum didn’t flinch. Worry didn’t enter his steady gaze, but neither did doubt. He dropped his hand. Nodding once, he said, “Thank you for the warning, oracle.”
Then, turning, he picked up a bucket of water from the ground and carried it down the road as if nothing in his life had changed. Paige lifted her hand, thinking to stop him. “But…”
“Rejoice, the oracle has spoken!” someone yelled causing her to jump in surprise. The cry was followed with shouts of, “Rejoice! Rejoice!”
Even Aidan uttered a very low, “Rejoice,” while looking at her with his hot, seductive eyes. There was something else in his gaze—pride. She trembled, overwhelmed by the crowd’s acceptance and excitement.
“Come on then, we have duties to attend to.” A plump woman waved her hand, ushering a couple boys into one of the nearby shops. The crowd followed her lead and began to disperse. A few even paused to congratulate her on her marriage.
“But…” Paige jerked as Aidan touched her elbow.
“Are you hungry, my lady? The Axe Hitter Tavern will gladly take our coin.”
“I don’t have coin,” Paige answered without thinking. She lifted her hand to point down the road Callum was quickly disappearing. “Did he not believe me? I’m not teasing him. I really did see his fate on the water.”
“I’m sure he believes you. Had he not, Callum would have laughed at you and denounced your claim. See, all is well. He goes home. You have done what you’ve come to the village to do.” This time he grabbed her arm and forcibly made her turn toward the horse. “Callum will make his decision.”
Not wanting to sit close to him again and subject herself to another round of agonizingly unfulfilled desires, she shook her head. “I think I would rather walk.”
“As you wish,” he answered. His low voice sent an animalistic thrill over her.
Heat curled in her stomach and she realized she didn’t have to sit next to him to feel the pain of hunger and need. Just knowing Aidan was near caused her body to respond with wet passion. Her throat dry, she managed to inquire, “Which way to the tavern?”
Chapter Four
By all the bloody swords in Staria, Aidan wanted her like he’d never wanted anything in his life. Everything about her caused his blood to boil in his veins until he had to actively focus his thoughts to keep from fantasizing. He suppressed a groan. Everywhere he looked, he thought of ways to take her against him—behind cottages, against trees, over the table that now stood between them. It was madness and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find a cure for it.
Aidan found it hard to swallow his meal as he watched Paige’s tongue trail across her bottom lip to sweep a small bread crumb into her mouth. The tavern was empty, which wasn’t unusual for that time of morning. Many would have had their morn meal before the sun rose over the earth.
Set along the edge of town, the Axe Hitter Tavern brewed most of the town’s ale and became a natural gathering place for the locals. A sweet tinge of liquor always flavored the air, seeping into the main building from the stone structure around back.
Rough-hewn boards held together with plaster formed the tavern building walls. According to the owner, Merrit, the design came from her homeland. Inside, wooden tables and equally plain chairs lined up like soldiers in orderly rows. Strips of material, bright and festive like a lady’s skirts, covered abnormally large windows. Because of the large oven, the room was warmer than outside, but a pleasant breeze through the opened door made it agreeable. Having Paige as his company made it even more so. Even if she didn’t say much, the growing gleam in her eyes said more than words ever could.
“How is your mother, Sir Aidan?” Merrit asked him, sauntering to the table. Though tall and slender, there was a seedy coarseness to the inviting sway of her hips. Wherever the fairies had sent this woman from had been a hard place. She ran the Axe Hitter with her husbands.
“Still at sea,” Aidan answered. “I don’t imagine she will be back before midsummer.”
“Still swimming away from the suitors is what you mean to say,” Merrit chuckled. “Hasn’t Martin caught her yet?”
“No, not yet. Though I doubt she is worried. With you in town there are no men left without a bride. How many do you have now? Thirty-seven?”
“Eleven. Poor Tomm died last winter.” Merrit clicked her tongue, lightly running her hand over her red curls. “It is a shame. He was a good man, if not a little bit of a stinker. I hated to lose one of my collection. I don’t suppose you want to replace him? Come on, Sir Aidan, be the first Starian man to take two wives. We will change the world, the three of us.”
To Aidan’s pleasure, he saw Paige’s fist tighten over her bread. She stopped eating but didn’t interrupt Merrit’s banter.
Aidan laughed at the very absurdity of the idea, thoughtlessly giving her a small grin. “I am not sure that would work or that it would have the gods’ blessing, for to do so I would be taking on eleven husbands and you a wife. I will have to decline.”
“I don’t know about your gods, Sir Aidan, but mine heartily approve.” Merrit swiped the two nearly empty trenchers of food from their table. “Help yourself to the rooms in back. They’re not all clean but they are all empty.” With a wink she left, leaving them with only themselves and a couple of goblets of slightly soured ale.
“You have a mother?” Paige asked, her eyes steadily on his face.
“Doesn’t every man?” he chuckled, his mind instantly taking his gaze to the hall leading back to where Merrit put up travelers for the night.
“I meant alive. You have family?” She licked her bottom lip. By the teeth of the damned, did she have to keep doing that? His cock lurched in his pants, demanding the full focus of his brain.
“Ah,” he took a drink, gulping down the liquor. When he could again think, he said, “My mother, Lady Carrina, is at sea.”
Paige glanced at Merrit. “I heard.”
“Yea, I suppose you did. My mother spends most of her life at sea these days. Ocean life agrees with her, or so she says. She was born here in Fallenrock Village to a fisherman.”
“And this Martin?” she prompted.
“Martin wishes to claim my mother, but he cannot seem to catch her.” Aidan shook his head, amused and a little sorry for the old warrior. “She left after my father died and only sneaks back at night in the middle of summer to avoid being claimed a second time.”
“And is she an oracle too? Is that why you don’t question what I say?”
“No. She is not, though I sometimes think she wishes she’d been so blessed. And why would I question you? You have no reason to deceive me.” Aidan leaned closer, reaching out to touch her hand as it lay on the table. She pulled it just out of reach.
“Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“No sisters. My family was not blessed with girls.” Aidan went on to explain the Starian’s lack of daughters and need for wives. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt himself rambling, anything to bring forth hints of interest to her green eyes. “I had brothers but they were killed in battle. And you?”
“Everyone I had is dead.” Short. Simple. That was all the answer she would give him.
“Did your family possess gifts?” he asked.
“Just my grandmother and my father. I suppose I’ll pass it to some of my children.” She paused, not meeting his eyes at that last comment about children. Clearing her throat uncomfortably, she continued, “But the Forestters don’t call them gifts.”
“Ah, that’s right. You said you were cursed.” Aidan again reached to touch her, more quickly this time so she didn’t have a chance to pull back. He held her small hand easily under his larger one, conscious of the delicate fingers curling against the tabletop. “I don’t think I’d ever understand people who look at such a blessing as a curse. Without you, Callum would take to the sea, unknowing of his fate, unable to do what he must.”
She visibly swallowed. “Do you really think I saved him?”
The need in her expression was tinged with fear. He wondered exactly how badly she had been treated by her people because of her “curse”. Smiling, he held her hand tighter. “You did well, my lady. Do not worry yourself about Callum. You did what you could by him.”
* * *
Paige’s heart raced until she was sure it would explode. Inside the tavern, hidden in the dim light away from the crowd, she had begun to relax, but now Aidan’s hand on hers made her all too aware of his touch. A nervous, excited tremble began at the contact and radiated up her arm and throughout her body. No man looked at her the way he did, hot and liquid and unafraid. His passion intrigued and frightened her. She was scared to want him as much as she did, scared of what it could mean, of what could be won and lost in his embrace. A small whisper in the back of her mind told her to run away until she could reason out what was happening, but that whisper was drowned out by the thumping of her heartbeat echoing in her ears.
Out of all the times she had tried, she had never been able to save a life before. Her grandmother had spoken of it several times, of how some man in their family lineage had kept his entire planet from being destroyed. Though, Paige’s visions were nowhere near as powerful as those. Her sight was tied to the weather. She saw death by water or air or earth, but never by a human hand. Her grandmother always told her to be patient, that more visions would come. Paige didn’t want them to get stronger.
“Tell me about you, my lady. You have listened to me talk, but you have said little about your life beyond short, necessary answers.” He looked so sincere, so eager to know her. “I would know more.”
Paige opened her mouth, but an answer didn’t readily come. Living alone for the last several years had only taught her to talk to herself and the trees. “I hate crowds.”
“I gathered as much,” he chuckled. “You looked as if you couldn’t run away fast enough. What else do you hate?”
I hate seeing visions of people dying. I hate being treated like an outsider. I hate that fear people get in their eyes when they get too close to me. I hate the Faerians, but perhaps just a little less than I did this morning. I hate the way you’re looking at me now, like you know a secret that I should know too. And I hate Merrit for disregarding me while she tried to make you a twelfth husband—even though that doesn’t mean I want you for my husband. Because I don’t.
Paige frowned. Was it possible that her brain actually started laughing at her?
“This ale tastes off. I don’t like it very much,” she whispered so Merrit couldn’t hear her. Paige touched the rim of the goblet.
“It is a little past its time,” he agreed. “What else don’t you like?”
She gestured helplessly, trying to pull her hand from his. The warmth tingled up her arm and she took a deep breath as she stared at his larger palm engulfing hers.
“Then, what do you like?” His fingers moved. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it, a tiny vibration along her flesh.
“Rain,” she said simply. “When it falls all around me, my head is quiet. It washes my thoughts and I don’t have to see anything. Sometimes I wish it always rained.”
“Then I was right, you are where you belong. It rains almost nightly in Fallenrock.” This time she did see his finger move. His thumb brushed along her wrist, as if strumming an invisible thread from her hand to her chest. A second hand captured her free one, pressing it to the tabletop. Her heart pounded, beating a rhythm in her ears.
“I like music and hearing people sing. Sometimes I would sneak to the edge of the village and listen to the festivals from the trees. Music always sounds better over a distance. I always wished there was a way to capture the music and replay it back later. Silly, huh? Like we’d ever be able to capture something as fleeting as sound.” Paige sighed, closing her eyes slightly. Her limbs felt heavy and energetic at the same time. Her breasts ached and she clamped her legs together to keep the sensation from spreading downward. It didn’t work. Her sex dampened with desire.
“What else?” he whispered, the sound a little hoarse.
The room appeared to blur as she looked at his face. Had he leaned closer? “I like, ah…” Paige let loose a shaky breath.
I like your forest-colored eyes? I like your slightly crooked smile? I like you, your…
“I like your fire boxes.” If he wasn’t holding her hands down she would have smacked herself across the cheek.
Fire boxes?!
“Fire boxes?” He turned, his hands slipping somewhat as he looked at the wall. “You mean the fireplace?”
Paige nodded.
“You don’t have…”
“Our place for fire is in pits in the center of a home.” Was she a complete imbecile? What was she even talking about? And why couldn’t she concentrate?
“I like your soft skin.” His fingers massaged deeper into her flesh. “Your deep, green eyes so full of mysteries I can’t wait to unravel. Your red hair that—”
“Aidan,” she tried to stop him. “You’re…”
“I’m?” There was that crooked smile again—utterly charming and completely devastating.
“I’m,” she started a second time, struggling with the words.
“You’re?” How did he get so close, leaning into her from across the table? When she didn’t find the words, he stood, pulling her with him.
Paige couldn’t think of what to do, so she followed him, letting him lead her through the main room of the tavern toward a back hallway. The faint sound of Merrit’s laughter penetrated the fog in her brain but it wasn’t enough to draw her out of the trance Aidan placed over her senses.
Wood walls striped with white passed along either side of them. Aidan led her to the back before opening a door and pulling her inside. She got the briefest glimpse of a trunk and bed before Aidan jerked her into his chest. Fiery heat exploded where he touched, spreading throughout her with a mind-swirling speed. She gasped and he drew his lips down to devour hers.
