Her spoon stilled in her hand. “They’re staring again.”
“Aye,” Dar said easily. “Folks in border villages always stare. They weigh every face that passes through, deciding if it means trouble or coin.”
“But it’s you they keep watching, not me.”
He tore another bite of bread, unbothered. “I’ve been told I’m worth looking at.”
She couldn’t deny that. Even with the scruff that had grown thicker on his face, it didn’t hide his exceptional features. She frowned more at herself than him for thinking so frivolously when serious matters were at hand. She may enjoy his kisses but there was no future with him, he was a wanderer and she—an herb-scribe mistaken as a healer and snatched up at any moment and swept away to who knew where.
She shook her head to clear it as she said, “You’re avoiding the question.”
“Because the answer doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, quietly, “What is it you want to know, wife?”
Elara met his gaze. “Why do they stare at you with caution?”
He leaned forward, his face close to hers. “A drunken moment I wish to forget and obviously they have not. Now eat.”
She took a couple spoonfuls of the stew before deciding she needed to settle her curiosity. “What made you a wanderer?”
His expression didn’t change, but the light in his eyes faded like a shutter closing.
“Nothing I’ll talk about,” he said sharply and with a distinct finality. “Now eat so we may rest.”
She didn’t pursue it, though it gnawed at her as did his dictate. “I prefer we go find Feena.”
He kept his voice low but firm. “You’ll do as I say. We’ll go at first light. I want to see what sort of folk this Feena keeps around her before we go knocking at her door.”
Elara nodded, since he made sense, though every part of her bristled. “At first light, then.”
They exchanged few words as they ate, Elara enjoying the stew and the warmth of the inn. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Dar was right about waiting until morning to visit Feena. Several yawns had proven she was tired and needed a good night’s sleep so she would have a clear mind when she spoke with the old woman.
“You need to sleep,” Dar said and stood and came around the table to take hold of her arm and help her to her feet.
The murmurs in the room rose again as they passed by, too soft to make out, but Elara could feel the unease prickling her skin.
When they reached the stairs, she cast one last glance over her shoulder. Several of the men whispered while others still watched them, and though she couldn’t hear their words, she saw the look they shared. One that told her plainly that whatever had happened the last time Dar was here, it had not been forgotten.
The scent of fresh pine and churned earth hung heavily in the air. It came from Dar standing a few feet away.
“It is the only way. Trust me,” he said and walked toward her.
She backed up but he reached out and took hold of her arm, stopping her from taking another step.
“You’re mine now,” he whispered close, then kissed her.
She welcomed his kiss, returned it and before she knew it, they were both naked, the hearth’s firelight casting a soft glow over their bodies. His body was sculpted, as if a fine hand had drawn him to perfection. His glance traveled over her, admiring her curves and angles, then he scooped her up and carried her to bed.
No fear ran through her only desire, the need to touch him and to be touched as if they both had waited for this moment, hungered for it.
His strong hand was quick to roam over her in a feather-like touch, skimming her flesh faintly and sending a rash of gooseflesh over her and a jolt of passion through her.
She reached out to explore him, but he pushed her hand away.
“Nay, I have waited long enough for you, and I will not last if you touch me. I will see this done, seal our fate.”