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And yet you dislike him, an inner voice admonished her. Another added a mocking rebuttal. Because he’s dangerous. He makes you feel.
Not that it did him any good. The notion he should have taken up sculpting instead of warfare just for the ability to carve this majestic woman from stone wasn't what he needed to dwell upon at the moment.
“Stallions,” she groused, shrugging her shirt back over her head and straightening the hem with a yank. “Arrogant, temperamental, and more trouble than they're worth.” He couldn't resist. “Not all of us.”
“You're nimble for such a big man,” she said, the faintest thread of admiration running through her voice. “Fast too.” He brushed straw bits off his clothes and out of his hair before giving her a wry look. “So to sum up, I'm big, ugly, and annoying.” Once more, the brief flash of pointed teeth in a smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared. “So sayeth you.”
“Margrave?” Some instinct, or maybe the tone in her voice, warned him to stay put and keep his back to her. “Hmm?” “You're ugly, but your hair is soft.” A gust of more laughter burst past his lips and out his nostrils. The woman wouldn't know how to deliver a compliment if her life depended on it. He wrapped the blankets more snugly about him. “Then I've found favor in your eyes with one thing.” he said. “Good night, Anhuset.”
Anhuset quickly learned that the conversation between human males worked better than any dream elixir brewed by the most skilled Kai apothecary. It was vapid, shallow, and so utterly uninspired she was in danger of sliding from a light sleep atop her horse into a stupor of boredom.
She offered up a faint smile, enjoying the sight of his amusement and the fact she was the one who'd amused him. “You're almost not ugly when you laugh, margrave.” He snorted, shaking his head. “Only you can wrap a compliment inside an insult and present it as a gift with all sincerity.” He bowed. “I thank you, madam. Stay with me a little longer, and soon you'll find me breathtaking.” She sniffed. “The Kai don't live that long.”
Serovek knew what they thought. What about this taciturn, intimidating Kai woman fascinated him so? Everything.
“You are truly the most beautiful woman I've ever beheld.” Perched on the edge of sleep, she wondered if she imagined Serovek's compliment. She didn't bother to open her eyes. “I don't understand why you think so,” she mumbled. His voice caressed her, body and soul. “And I don't understand why you do not.”
He regained consciousness gradually, his eyes moving back and forth beneath the thin skin of his lids, and his breathing changed once more. One eye finally opened to a bare squint, his gaze made even more hideous by the blood threads marring the whites of his eyes. “Ah gods,” he said in a rough voice. “We made love, didn't we? And I don't remember any of it.” He shifted position, cursing from the pain it caused him. “You weren't jesting when you said I wouldn't survive you.”
“Battered and pissed on, you're still beautiful.” “And I didn't think you could get any uglier.” His smile grew, accompanied by a wince. “Does this mean I can't coax you under me?”
“Some bruises, a few cracked ribs. They didn't geld me.” “Don't think the idea didn't occur to them. And you didn't mention the black eyes. Your nose is broken too. You're in no shape for a swiving.” He snorted. “I'm beaten, not dead. I'd suggest you be on top, but you weigh as much as my horse. You'll break the rest of my bones those shit maggots didn't get to.”
“Be careful. I don't want to lose you.” The words sent a bolt through her. Words not of lust or teasing but of deep affection for her, of fear for her. Anhuset almost replied she wasn't his to lose, but that was no longer true.
She held an invisible shield in front of her, a defense against embarrassment at him finding the ribbon and the belief that surely, surely he understood why she'd tried wearing it properly, and worst of all, why she had failed. He did understand and fell even deeper in love with her.
Anhuset might have forgotten about the ribbon but Serovek had not. He tucked it into the cuff of his tunic's sleeve. A ribbon but also a treasure beyond price. Just like the woman who'd worn it.
“I announced at the entry gate that I was your lover and had come to visit you. I'm afraid I've diminished you in the eyes of your countrymen.” Sincere confusion and puzzlement settled over his face. “How would such an announcement, a true and glorious one I might add, diminish me?” She must have made an odd noise because his eyebrows crashed together. “What's wrong?” If she weren't made of hardier stuff, her knees might have buckled. No practiced charm or seductive quip would ever equal in power what he just said to her.
“We live for those we love,” she told him in bast-Kai. “We die for those we love. This is a privilege, Serovek, not a sacrifice.”
