Page 54 of Swordheart #1

Halla woke in bed, feeling very warm.

That was the first thing she noticed.

Sarkis was curled around her, his chest against her back. One of his knees was between hers, and his hand rested on her breast.

That was the second thing she noticed.

She wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing.

That was the third thing she noticed.

She hadn’t slept naked since she was a child. Respectable people didn’t. She had a strong urge to pull the sheet up over herself to hide, which was ridiculous. Sarkis had seen every part of her last night.

More than seen. A lot more.

Good heavens.

To think that the first time she’d seen him without gauntlets, she’d thought his hands looked hard and unkind.

He’d touched her in ways she’d heard about, but certainly never experienced.

For someone who was constantly complaining about the decadent south, it was pretty clear that the north had its own share of decadence.

Unless men and women have been doing this sort of thing around here for years and no one bothered to tell me. Which I suppose is also possible. Even likely.

Gods knew her late husband wouldn’t have taught her that sort of thing. Poor man. He’d almost certainly have considered that an unpleasantness to be avoided. “He put his mouth where?”

She blushed even remembering. It had definitely been… err… indecent. Yes. That was the correct word. Most of what Sarkis had done had probably qualified as indecent.

Certainly her response had been nothing close to respectable. Respectable women did not claw at the sheets and make noises like that.

Sarkis himself was undoubtedly not a decent or respectable person.

But quite splendid nonetheless.

“Good morning,” he said against her hair.

She jumped and squeaked.

“I have been wanting to do this since… mmm. The second day I knew you, I think,” he said, caressing her breast.

“You hid it well.”

“You were a respectable widow. And trusting and very kind. Throwing you down and ravishing you on the spot did not seem courteous.”

She rolled over on her back, pulling the sheets up to her chin. Sarkis’s hands were still touching her under the sheet, but she felt less exposed.

“I thought you wanted to strangle me.”

“Well, there was some of that, too. So many questions! How big is a dragon? Could I fight my way past a half dozen old women armed with embroidery hooks?”

“It was mutual!”

“What, the embroidery hooks?”

“The desire to strangle you!”

He chuckled. His chest was against her arm and she felt the vibration all the way through her bones. “I’m sure it was.”

“The way you were always manhandling me into ditches…”

“I fear I manhandled you worse last night,” he murmured, kissing the point of her shoulder.

Halla opened her mouth to say something and blushed again.

Oh, this is ridiculous. I’ve been wed, bedded, and widowed for the past decade gone. Why am I blushing now?

Sarkis stroked a fingertip over her cheek. “It’s all right,” he said. “There’s no shame.”

“I’m not ashamed,” she said, even as her blush deepened. “I’m—I’m embarrassed.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, either.”

“And now I’m embarrassed that I’m embarrassed. You’re being kind.”

“We could go back to arguing if you’d feel better.”

“I might!” she snapped.

He grinned. “Well, to be honest, I’m impressed I managed to make love to you at all without you stopping me to demand to know if I’d done it before, if I knew what I was doing, and how exactly it worked.”

“You’ve obviously done it before,” she said, and was horrified to hear that she sounded aggrieved.

“That is true,” he admitted.

She folded her arms across her chest, trying not to feel a tiny bit hurt.

“Mind you, it has been a few centuries.”

She lifted one of her hands and swatted at his face.

“The youngest of those other women is… oh, about three hundred years old now, I’d say. I don’t think you need to worry.”

“You are a wretch. ”

“Yes,” he said, seizing her hand and kissing the palm. “An unrepentant one. I’m sorry if we went too fast last night. I should have thought it through. That’s my shame, not yours.”

“No, no! That’s not it—I mean, you were lovely—”

He fell on his back with a groan. “ Lovely, ” he said. “ There’s a death knell. Clearly I should swear to celibacy and join one of your decadent southern religions. Is there one that involves stabbing things?”

“The Dreaming God, but only demons.”

“I can stab demons. Demons are very stabbable.”

“They aren’t sworn to celibacy, though. The paladins are rather notoriously… err… not.” She thought back to a number of armored men in white cloaks who had passed through Archenhold a few years back… and the number of inexplicable births that had followed nine months later.

“The Dervish was like that,” said Sarkis. “You couldn’t take him to taverns. He’d have handsome young men who had met him five minutes ago dueling for his honor.”

“Good heavens.”

“It was exhausting when you only wanted a quiet drink.” He captured her hand again and rubbed his thumb over her fingertips. “Well, I shall simply have to find another of your religions to take me, I suppose.”

“Leaving your great god already?”

“The great god, I fear, has no use for a man who cannot please a woman. Or a man, as he prefers.”

She had to prop herself up on her elbows for that. “That’s… actually a tenet of your faith? Really?”

“Of course,” he said, as if it was obvious.

“ Really. ”

“Failure to make the marriage bed glad is valid grounds for divorce in the Weeping Lands.”

“I don’t understand why there’s so much weeping, then.”

He gazed skyward. “Well, we also murder each other a great deal.”

“Why?”

“A question that you would not ask if you had ever seen the Weeping Lands.”

“I’m glad I haven’t then!”

He shrugged. “It has its moments.”

She shook her head, chuckling. “I no longer have any idea if you’re making this up or not.”

“Never. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes,” she said grudgingly.

He kissed her forehead.

After a minute she said, “You probably don’t need to leave the great god’s service just yet.”

“So you were at least a little pleased, then?”

“I was… um. Very much so. As I’m sure you know!”

“I suspected. Also hoped.”

“I am embarrassed,” she said, determined to have it all out, “because you are obviously so much better at this than I am. And I don’t know how to do… well, any of that. All my experience was not moving for two minutes every few days.”

Sarkis winced.

“It’s true.”

“There are two things,” he said finally.

“Oh?”

“The first is that this is a skill like any other, and you are certainly not too old to learn, if that is what would please you.”

“And the other thing?”

He slid his hand down under the sheet and set his lips against her neck. “And the other is that your countrymen have clearly failed you in this matter, and on behalf of the great god and men everywhere, please allow me to make it up to you.”