The dwarf scrambled down from the chair, and gathered up the plates. ‘Leave them,’ said Sigarni. ‘Be off with you, Ballistar. I have a need to be alone.’
‘Don’t be too hard on Bernt,’ said Ballistar, from the doorway.
‘I’ll treat him like an injured puppy,’ she promised.
After the dwarf had gone Sigarni cleaned the plates and built up the fire. She did not relish seeing the young cattle-herder, for she was determined never to renew their relationship. It was not that he was a poor lover, nor even that he was dull. In the early days, last autumn, she had enjoyed his quiet company. However, during the spring he had become like a weight around her neck, following her everywhere, declaring his love, sitting and staring at her, begging for love like a dog begs for scraps. She shuddered. Why could he not enjoy what they had? Why did he need more than she was prepared to give? Idiot!
Pouring herself a goblet of honey mead from a flagon that Gwalch had given her, she moved to the doorway and sat down beside Lady. The hound looked up, but did not move. Idly Sigarni stroked the soft fur behind the beast’s ears. Lady lay still, enjoying the sensation for several minutes, then her head came up and she stared intently towards the tree line. ‘What is it girl?’ whispered Sigarni.
As horse and rider emerged from the trees, Sigarni swore softly. It was Asmidir. He was dressed now in clothes of black and riding a tall black gelding. His burnoose of black silk was held in place by a dark band of leather, with an opal set at the centre. The horse advanced into the yard. Abby spread her wings and let out a screech on her bow perch. Lady merely stood, alert and waiting.
‘Come to see your whore?’ asked Sigarni as the black man rode up. He smiled amiably, then dismounted. Draping the reins over the gelding’s head, he climbed the three steps to the porch.
‘You are too prickly, Sigarni. I need to speak with you. Shall we go inside? Your northern weather plays havoc with my equatorial bones.’
‘I’m not sure you are welcome,’ she told him, rising to stand before him in the doorway.
‘Ah, but I am, for friends are rare in life, and not to be idly tossed aside. Also I can see from your eyes that you are pleased to see me, and I sense in you a tension only sex will resolve. Am I at fault in any of these observations?’
‘Not so far,’ she agreed, stepping aside and ushering him into the room. Once inside he stopped and sniffed.
‘You have been having a feast,’ he said, nostrils flaring. ‘The aroma makes my mouth water. Duck, was it?!
‘Yes. Ballistar cooked it for me. Now he is a true sorcerer when it comes to food. You should employ him.’
‘I’ll think on it,’ he said, removing his cloak and laying it over the back of the chair. Sitting down by the fire he sat for a moment in silence staring into the flames. Sigarni sat on his lap, leaning to kiss his cheek.
‘I’m glad you came,’ she said. Reaching up, he ran his fingers through her silver hair and drew her close. Pushing one arm under her thighs, he stood and carried her through to the back bedroom.
For more than an hour they made love but, skilled as he was, Sigarni could feel a different tension within him. After her second orgasm she stopped him, pushing him gently to his back. ‘What is wrong, my friend?’ she asked him, rising up on her elbow and stroking the sleek dark skin of his chest. He closed his eyes.
‘Everything,’ he said. He reached for her, but she resisted him.
‘Tell me,’ she commanded.
‘I would have thought,’ he said, forcing a smile, ‘that you would have the good grace to let me achieve my own climax before entering into a dialogue.’
She chuckled and bit his ear. ‘Then be quick!’ she told him, ‘for I have other matters to attend to.’
‘Your wish shall be obeyed, mistress!’ he said, rolling over and pinning her shoulders.