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Because you are mine. Frustrated that he couldn’t answer her, he leaned down and covered that tempting mouth with his.
This time he took it slowly, savoring the taste of her and the little breathless sound she made when he tightened his grip on her braid. One of her hands flattened against his bare chest and he fought the urge to urge it downward to his aching cock. To feel those soft little fingers on his swollen flesh…
He swore under his breath and jerked away. So much for his attempt to remain in control.
“Show me the plow.”
“I will not.”
Her voice was just as stubborn as his, although her cheeks were flushed and her lips were swollen. She yielded so deliciously to his kiss, but as soon as he raised his head her obstinacy returned. Perhaps he just needed to kiss her longer…
Forcing himself to ignore that delightful prospect, he simply nodded and strode deeper into the barn. If she would not tell him, he would find it himself. The second section of the barn contained a variety of equipment designed to be pulled by mechanical equipment or beasts of burden. They were not identical to the ones he had seen as a child, but close enough.
“You see?” Mary had followed him and now she gave a triumphant smile. “They’re all useless without a team.”
Hmm. He picked up the tongue of the plow and tugged experimentally. Heavy, but not unmanageable. Her eyes widened as she watched him.
“You can’t possibly be intending to pull that yourself!”
He was almost tempted to show her that he was quite capable of doing so, but he put aside his pride and shook his head.
“No, but in case you’ve forgotten, I do have a horse.”
“A riding horse.”
He shrugged. “We shall see. If not, then I will become your beast of burden.”
She muttered something under her breath, but he ignored her and went to get his horse. It required some adaptation of the gear, but his horse stood patiently as he adjusted it and proved willing to pull the plow.
“I should have known,” she sighed when he couldn’t resist a satisfied smirk.
“Yes, you should have done, little fojii. Now I will start on the field.”
“Thank you,” she said begrudgingly. “Then I’ll start in the garden.”
He wanted to protest, to tell her to wait and let him do it, but that was an argument he was sure he would lose. He forced himself to nod and head for the field. It was hard but pleasant work, the warmth of the sun on his skin relieved by a slight breeze and the rich scent of freshly turned earth in his nostrils. Birds sang in thetrees lining one side of the field and every time he turned to work his way back towards the house, he could see Mary working in the kitchen garden.
Despite her small size, she worked steadily, moving back and forth across the garden behind the ridiculously small tiller. Her hair started to come loose from its braid, strands catching the light as they floated around her head in the breeze. Her face was flushed but she was smiling and a curious ache filled his chest. As a child, this was how he had envisioned his future. He had never thought to leave the farm, let alone become involved in a terrible endless war.
The memory disturbed his enjoyment and he forced himself to concentrate on his work. This was not his future; it was only a temporary break from what he had become. He focused on the neat rows of dirt and when he finally looked back towards the garden, she was gone. Just as well.
The low rays of the setting sun were slanting across the field and the breeze had turned cold when he decided to stop. More than half the field had been plowed and he didn’t want to tax the horse with the unaccustomed labor. He detached the plow and led the horse back to the barn, brushing him down, then providing him with food and water.
“Excellent work today, Arros,” he said, surprising himself with the name as he stroked the silken flank. Arros was the name of the zebard he had ridden as a child. A foolish sentiment, but he smiled as he repeated it.
Through the open barn doors he could see a light glowing in the kitchen window and after a brief argument with himself, he went to find Mary. She was standing at the stove but she flashed a quick look at him over her shoulder as he entered. Somewhatto his surprise, she didn’t immediately order him to leave but merely nodded.
“I made vegetable stew and cornbread. Go and get cleaned up before we eat.”
“You cooked for me?”
“I cooked for me, but I made enough for you as well.” Her eyes trailed over his body before she grinned. “At least I hope I did.”
“I do not want to take your food,” he said stiffly.
“And I didn’t want you to help me, but here we are.” She raised a challenging eyebrow, but when he didn’t respond, she pointed towards the hallway. “Clean up. Take advantage of the hot water you fixed. Then eat. That isn’t too difficult, is it?”
He shouldn’t stay, not in the warm kitchen with the delicious smells, and the even more delicious female. Not even in the cozy, run-down house. But he still found himself walking in the direction she indicated. A simple meal wouldn’t hurt anything, would it?
