She broke off just in time, but Rathgarr was already stiffening again, damn it — and before she could think better of it, she began adjusting the tunic beneath his trousers, letting her fingers linger down there in entirely unnecessary ways. “What do you think they actually want from you?” she asked, raising a brow toward him, as her audacious wandering hand gave the bulge at his groin a gentle little squeeze. “What do any of them have to gain, by lying to you about this?”
Rathgarr’s expression was oddly shifting now, his breath heaving in and out, and his gaze darted away toward the wardrobe. To where he next reached and yanked out a belt, and began swiftly looping it on around Geva’s still-exploring hand.
“Ach, and what doyouhave to gain from me, my pretty poppet?” he said coolly, in a very clear bid to change the subject. “Mayhap you wish to suck out some good seed, before this party? Or mayhap” — his eyes shifted again— “you shall offer up that sweet, deep little womb for my ploughing again?”
Oh, hell, he had not just said that, and Geva snatched her hand out of his trousers, while her muddled thoughts choked and churned. Had he just admitted — yes, yes, he had — that he’dlikedthat? That he wanted it again?
“Later, then,” he said smoothly, with a wicked-looking quirk of his mouth, as he finished fastening the belt. “Now, what shall you wear for this party? Should you not yet wish to walk about bare for me, mayhap you shall at least show off more of your pretty form for me? Whilst making this ploughing easy for me, also?”
Geva’s face was burning now, her mouth fallen open, her thoughts charging between disbelief, and frustration, and worst of all,amusement. “You didn’t seem to have any trouble earlier, you ingrate,” she hissed at him. “Now stop trying to distract me, and answer my damned questions!”
At that, Rathgarr grinned at her, swift and stunning, and purposefully tugged up on her dress. “Mayhap if you behave, poppet,” he drawled, “and allow me to dress you, as a good mate should.”
And damn him, why was Geva’s breath catching like this, why was she suddenly clutching at her dress with fumbling hands, and yanking it off. And then her shift and stockings, too, leaving her standing there entirely naked and exposed before him, her chin lifted, her eyes defiant.
“Better,” Rathgarr purred at her, as his gaze deliberately raked up and down her body, lingering on her peaked, heavy breasts. “You are so pretty when you are angry, my prickly schoolmarm.”
Geva rolled her eyes at him, and purposefully crossed her arms over her breasts, hiding them from view. To which Rathgarr laughed, the sound low and almost indulgent, before finally turning back toward the wardrobe, his hands carding through the various fabrics hanging inside.
“So?” Geva asked, tapping her bare foot on the floor. And though she could hear Rathgarr’s groan, his shoulders stayed low and relaxed, his mouth pursing as he plucked out one of her most form-fitting silk shifts, and sniffed at it.
“Ach, ach,” he said, with a sigh, thrusting the shift into Geva’s hands. “I have good cause to believe that there is… more to this. For of the five Skai who came to me that night, one of these — Alfver — was Ulfarr’s father.”
Oh. Geva considered that as she yanked the shift on over her head, and then watched as Rathgarr began fussing at it, frowning with a surprisingly critical eye. “You think Ulfarr knew what was going on, then?” she asked. “Or that he was even involved in getting rid of you, somehow?”
“Ach, I do,” Rathgarr curtly replied, and then he turned and stalked off to his trove-room, the distinctive sound of tinkling metal emanating from beyond the door — and when he stalked back, he was holding several long, glittering gold chains. “You cannot think Ulfarr has shown himselfguiltlessso far, in this?”
His voice was incredulous, and Geva grimaced as she kept considering it, thinking it through. Because yes, Ulfarr had made it exceedingly clear that he was spying on Rathgarr. That he didn’t trust Rathgarr.Mayhap you have rather come to seek Skai gold, ach? Get out.
“So… what does that change, then?” Geva asked, searching Rathgarr’s eyes, as she twisted her ruby ring on her finger. “What are your goals here, for these three weeks?”
But Rathgarr wasn’t quite meeting her gaze now, his eyes focused on where he was holding up one of the gold chains against her shift. “Kesst is yet my highest aim in being here, always,” he said, his voice very steady. “And” — his eyes flicked to hers, and down again — “you have not told him, or any others, about the three weeks, ach?”
Oh. Wait. Rathgarr hadn’t told Kesst this was just a visit? He hadn’t toldanyone? And Geva’s thoughts were scrambling back, and back, because no, he hadn’t, at all, right?
And was that… was that to reduce suspicion? So Rathgarr could come here and… what, damn it? Steal from the Skai? Attack Ulfarr? Wreak some horrible revenge, and run away again?
“I think… you should tell Kesst, Rathgarr,” Geva said thickly. “If you really want to have any hope of rebuilding your relationship, you need to be honest with him. Not only about your timeline, but about” — she swallowed, raised her brows — “your other possible motives in being here.”
Rathgarr grimaced, and his throat bobbed, his head jerking a nod. “I shall tell him,” he said, quiet. “Only… not yet. I cannot bear to hurt him any more than I already have, ach? He has borne so much, and I have failed him so much, and I…”
He was squeezing his eyes shut, his chest rising and falling, and his throat convulsed again, again. “I keep failing him,” he said heavily. “Ach, today, it was not I who thought to seek that vow from Grimarr for his safety, butyou. And mayhap you do not know the weight of this, but when the captain makes a vow thus” — his eyes opened, found Geva’s again — “this also binds all who swear fealty to him. So in doing this, you have broken any vow that the Skai might have been clinging to upon this, ach? You have gained Kesst safety from this curse, forever.”
Oh. Well. Geva’s eyes were prickling, suddenly, and she attempted a smile. “I’m happy it helped,” she said. “And just — promise me youwilltell Kesst the truth? When you’re ready? And before you do anything… dramatic?”
Rathgarr’s mouth twitched up, his eyes gone unmistakably warm on hers, or perhaps even grateful. “I ken not what you mean, poppet,” he said lightly. “Ash-Kai are neverdramatic.”
Geva laughed aloud at that, and poked him in the chest. “Nice try, but Abjorn had it exactly right about you,” she said, just as lightly. “Play-acting. Pulling your punches. Thinking you’re doing everyone around you afavour.”
Rathgarr was fully grinning, now, and he gave a wry shake of his head. “Ach, and you are not counted in this, kitten?” he scoffed. “You play-act with the best of us, you ken. Who should have thought such a prim, upright schoolmarm could fight thus, or fuck thus, or command a whole room of vengeful orcs to her whims?”
Oh. Well. Geva’s face was heating again, and Rathgarr’s grin had faded into something softer, almost unguarded, as he glanced down at the chains still in his hand — and then he lifted one up, and settled it carefully around Geva’s neck. “Here,” he said, a little rough. “I ken these shall look well upon you, ach?”
Geva’s stomach flipped, her eyes dropping to the intricate, gleaming chain he’d placed around her neck, to the way he was already slinging the other, larger chain around her waist, and tying its loose ends together with his claws. Creating a belt of sorts, its thick gold links cinching against the curve of her waist, its shimmering ends cascading down over her hip.
“Now this is how a true Ash-Kai mate ought to dress for a party,” Rathgarr said offhandedly. “Should you wish.”
Geva was still looking downwards, taking in the shift’s low-cut neck and narrow straps, the way the gold sparkled against the white silk. A shocking ensemble to wear in public, to be sure… but at the same time, it still fell to her knees, and was thick enough to conceal everything beneath. And the gold chains perfectly matched the beads in her hair, and — she glanced down to its red sparkle on her finger — her wedding-ring, too.
