As if hypnotized again, Varia stood. “There is something else I must tell you,” Mariil said. “Something he cannot and would not. That he is a very good man: kind, considerate, and loving. He is still loving to me. Not in bed of course, bag of bones that I am. Let him remember what I was like in bed in decades past: smooth and supple and full of life.” She put her hand on the door handle. “Hmh! I ramble.”
Together they walked down the hall to the Cyncaidh’s private apartment, and Mariil knocked.
“Come!”
Before she touched the handle, she turned and kissed Varia’s cheek, a quick dry touch. “I hope you’ll be happy, whatever you decide.” Then she opened, turned away, and left Varia standing there alone. The Cyncaidh had gotten to his feet and started to the door. He too had exchanged his uniform for less formal wear.
He stopped in his tracks. “God,” he breathed. “Varia, you’re beautiful!”
She looked down at herself, then at him.
“Come in! Come in!” he said. She did, and he closed the door behind her. “Mariil’s told you what I want?”
“Yes.”
“That I want you as my wife, when she’s gone? And as my mistress now?”
“The first, yes. The latter she implied.”
Reaching, he touched her cheek. “I fell in love with you when I first saw you on that mountain pass, deep inside the Rude Lands.”
Varia’s voice was quiet, almost emotionless. “There are beautiful ylvin women who’d bring a dowry of wealth and connections.”
“I know. Since Mariil’s decline became known, a few have courted me, or their fathers or brothers have. But it’s you I want to spend my life with. I have no doubt it’s our destiny, for I wanted you before I really knew you.” He chuckled. “I wanted you when your face and clothes were grimy, and your hair only this long.” He indicated half an inch.
Varia failed to smile. “Before you really knew me. Do you know me yet? Really?”
He sobered. “I think I do. I’ve been on the trail with you. Seen you under stress, seen your aura, and read the transcript of A’duaill’s interrogation. And beyond that, there’s a knowing that goes deeper than seeing.”
“You know I love someone else.”
“I do know, and I’m content with it. He must be good, for you to love him.”
Good and innocent. But I wonder how Curtis would feel to share me with you. Though I’ve been overshared already, if not of my own will.
The Cyncaidh put a hand on her waist then, and gently but firmly drew her close. She did not resist. “It is my wish,” he said, “to love you so long as we both shall live.”
So long as we both shall live. She’d heard those words before, in English. Had said them. Tears began to flow, silent as always. Cyncaidh kissed first them, then her lips, and she responded the way she’d feared she might.
She did not return to her room that night, nor on any night thereafter.
16: Reflections in a Prenuptial Bed
General Lord Raien Cyncaidh lay on his side, staring motionless at the glowing coals in his fireplace. This far north, a night fire was usual in summer, and rather often, when he was at home, he let watching it lull him to sleep.
Tonight, though, he felt no sleepiness at all, despite more than an hour of love-making. Good love-making, it seemed to him. It had gripped him, lifted him, held him aloft, then spent him. Twice. The first time it hadn’t worked for Varia, though it had started well; Curtis Macurdy had gotten in the way. But the second time she’d climaxed despite herself, with urgent movements and sharp cries, her strong clutching fingers digging hard in his back.
Then his joy had turned to dismay, for her climax ended in tears and bitter sobbing. “Curtis,” she’d wept, “oh Curtis, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Over and over, till she’d run down and slept.
Earlier, when they’d stood in his parlor and kissed, when they’d come into this room and undressed, and gazed at each other, and when he’d caressed her and she’d begun to move beneath his hands, it had promised to be one of the most beautiful, fulfilling nights of his life. And when at last they’d merged in climax, it seemed the promise had been met.