“Aye. Mayhap. But ’twill no’ be easy to get there unseen, wi’out a reason.”
“Think of some reason.” She sucked one of his lips and then the other. “Soon.Now.”
“Aye. I could say I am showing ye a good hunting ground. But why would we go alone? And in the rain?”
“Because I say so?”
“Hulda, we walk dangerous ground.”
“You think I do not know it?” She narrowed her eyes on his. “I do not care. Ineed. You. I need to have you.”
“Aye.” He could but agree. She made him weak in the knees and at once strong enough to accomplish anything. “Put on your cloak,” he told her. “And mak’ your excuses to your men.”
She did as he bade her. But she paused first, for one more kiss.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The rain pickedup as they climbed the rise of land and headed away from the sea. Hulda felt glad of it, for it provided some cover from those who followed. Certain ones of her men would follow. This she knew as she knew her own name.
They would do so in order to protect her, so they would say. But she and Quarrie would have to lose them, if what she needed so desperately were to take place. If it did not take place, she would surely burn up to ash.
As it was, she dared not touch Quarrie along the way. Even a simple clasping of hands would tell too much, if her men were watching.
She asked him, “Where are we bound?”
“There are two places.”
“The nearest,” she chose promptly.
“The nearest may no’ be the best.”
She had to swallow back her words in an attempt to control her emotions. She did not know herself. Calm, she usually was, controlled, and not prey to this kind of madness.
“By Freya’s heart,” she whispered, “we had better get there soon.”
Did he laugh? A flash of white teeth said so, but she could not hear him over the rain.
Wherever they were bound, she trusted him to lead her. That might be the worst sort of folly, for he could lead her off and leave her dead where none of her men might find her.
She trusted him.
He looked back several times as if determining whether they were followed, but in the end it rained so hard a silver curtain shrouded them from sight.
They came to a half-ruined structure. Stone sides it had, tumbled at one end.
“This place used to be for hunting parties,” he told her as they ducked inside. “Shelter from bad weather long ago. So ye see, ye will no’ be lying to yer men.”
The place lay empty, the end still boasting a roof mostly dry. It smelled of ancient thatch and vermin.
Quarrie looked at her doubtfully. “If this is no’ good enough, we can continue on—”
“It is good enough.” She turned to face him. “Touch me.”
He lit a rushlight that he had brought, keeping it dry somehow beneath his cloak. The poor light barely illuminated the place. He laid his hands upon her, big hands that were nevertheless gentle, and the sensation went through her like pain. She closed her eyes.
“Hulda.” He dropped kisses on both her eyelids and something inside her melted. Her desire became no less fierce, yet it blended with softer feeling.
“Let us get out of this wet clothing.”
