This Battle Lord's Quest Page 2

  “By God, you haven’t changed after all these years!” MaGrath exclaimed.

  “Modern medicine, my boy!” Saxon boasted with a laugh.

  MaGrath gave him a quick once-over. “Are you all right? I heard that was a close call.”

  “They were just a bunch of young punks wanting to rob me of my money. They didn’t believe me when I told them I didn’t have so much as a penny’s fart.”

  “What? You ran out of money?” Yulen inquired.

  Saxon grinned. “Nope. Never carry any.” Lifting a string of vials and pouches hanging around his neck, he added, “This is my currency. In exchange for bed and board, I tend to the ill. Every compound has folks who are needing a little extra miracle or two to get them over the rough spots.”

  “Saxon was one of my tutors up in Far Troit. Even back then, he stood out among his peers. He showed me how to use the pharmacopoeia from nature’s bounty, rather than rely on manmade chemicals.” MaGrath suddenly realized he’d forgotten to introduce their new guest. “Forgive my rudeness. This is Dr. Manderly Saxon. He prefers to be called Saxon.”

  “The same way you prefer to be called MaGrath.” Yulen smiled. He held out a hand to the elderly gentleman. “I’m Yulen D’Jacques. I’m the Battle Lord of this compound, Alta Novis. And this...” He waved a hand in Atty’s direction. “...is my wife, Atty.”

  Saxon bobbed his head at her, then paused. “Might I ask you a question, young lady?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “Is that a fashion statement, or is your hair actually two distinct colors?”

  She realized what he was talking about and laughed as her hand involuntarily went up to touch the braid. “It’s normally blue. I had to dye it—”

  “Excuse me. Did you say your hair was normally blue?”

  Before she could answer, MaGrath stepped in. “Atty is Mutah.”

  She carefully watched the older man’s face, especially his eyes, to see what kind of reaction he would have. To her astonishment, he reached out and held a hand over her crown.

  “May I?”

  She nodded, and Saxon ran his fingertips over her scalp. His touch was almost too light to feel as he traced the grown-out portion until he reached the blackened ends.

  “Incredible,” he murmured. Withdrawing his hand, he explained. “We have Mutah up north, but with few exceptions, they all sport what we refer to as vestigial body parts.” The man chuckled. “Of course, extra eyes, or a second nose, or ten thumbs doesn’t quite fit that definition in my book, but who am I to argue? Just accept it and forget it, I say.” He bent over to look directly into her face to examine her features, including her eyes and skin and ears. “Extraordinary! I’ve heard of some Mutah being referred to as ‘near normal’, but I have yet to meet one. You’re the closest I’ve encountered.”

  “Bet you did meet a near normal. You just didn’t know it,” she countered.

  Saxon chuckled as he straightened. “You’re probably correct, Atty. I take it the majority of your Mutah abilities are inherent? As in the way you handled that bow a few minutes ago?”

  “Atty’s ability with the bow is legendary,” MaGrath bragged. “You should also see what she can do with a knife.”

  The door at the end of the clinic waiting room opened, and Mattox ran out, heading straight for his father. Yulen laughed and picked his son up to perch him on his hip.

  “Saxon, this is my son, Mattox. If you want to talk inherent, he spotted you on horseback when you were still so far away, I needed a spyglass to see you.”

  “Extraordinary!” Saxon leaned closer to the child, who clung to his father’s jerkin and warily watched the stranger. Atty could see her son’s eyes slowly darken to a cherry red color. As far as she knew, Mattox had never shown any fear of any kind, no matter what he saw or what he encountered. Instead, the child exhibited a combination of curiosity and anger that intrigued her. It was as if the boy challenged everything and everyone to prove themselves worthy of his attention.

  MaGrath tugged on the man’s coat. “Saxon, this is why I sent for you. May I present my wife, Madigan.”

  Everyone turned around to see the woman standing in the doorway leading into the inner chambers where she and MaGrath lived. In the brighter light, Atty noticed how badly the pregnancy was going. There was no blood in her face. Her cheeks were sunken, and she appeared to be much older than her years. She walked slowly, but the warmth in her eyes and in her smile were unflagging.

  “Dr. Saxon.” She held out a pale hand.

  Saxon took it and bowed. “Madam.” Turning around to MaGrath, his expression became stern. “Take this woman and lay her out where I can examine her.” The words were harsh and no-nonsense. Authoritative. The tone of someone who expected to be obeyed, and immediately. Both Yulen and MaGrath jumped toward her, but it was Yulen who lifted his mother into his arms and carried her into the clinic’s examination room where he laid her on the padded table.

  “This is where you say, ‘Good evening, Mother. Talk to you later.’ And leave,” MaGrath informed the Battle Lord.

  Atty watched as Yulen lifted his mother’s hand and kissed it, then bent to kiss her forehead. “Good evening, Mother. Be well. I’ll talk to you later.” He bowed further to let Mattox kiss his grandmother goodbye. “Say bye-bye, Matt.”

  “Bye-bye, Nana.” The child placed a wet kiss on the sallow cheek, then father and son left the room.

  Atty went over to the table and gazed down at the woman. Over against the wall where MaGrath kept his supplies and instruments in cabinets and drawers, the two physicians were laying out what they needed while in deep discussion.

  “You’re going to be fine now,” she reassured the older woman. “Liam’s a damn good doctor. And if this guy’s the one who taught him what he knows, you couldn’t be in better hands.”

  “I know.” Madigan’s gaze shifted over to the men. “I never thought he would come this far, much less make it.”

  “Well, the world’s a better place, now that the Bloods have moved on. The roads are safer, even with the Marauders around, and I don’t see those hoodlums remaining in the neighborhood much longer. Give Yulen a couple more months, and those assholes will start searching for greener pastures, too.”

  “Atty? Please?” MaGrath walked up, signaling it was time she left.

  Bending over, Atty kissed the woman’s temple, adding a smile. “I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

  Madigan replied with a slight nod.

  MaGrath showed her to the door. “Do me a favor and turn over the closed sign on the clinic door, would you, Bluebell?”

  “Sure. Anything else?”

  “Nope. Thanks.”

  She leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek. When she moved back, she looked into the physician’s eyes. “She’s going to sail through this, Liam. Trust me.”

  He inhaled a shaky breath. “I hope so. I’ve been doing a hell of a lot of praying these past few months.”

  “If you need me or Yulen, don’t hesitate to send for us.”

  “I won’t. Thanks.”

  Giving the man a reassuring pat on his shoulder, Atty left the building, making sure to turn the sign on the door to show the clinic was closed. She hurried across the small section of land that separated the main hall and clinic from her and Yulen’s home. While they had been inside with the physicians, night had fallen, throwing handfuls of stars into the heavens and a chilly blanket across the land.

  Opening the front door, she paused. The living area was empty. Glancing overhead at the bedroom, she listened. There was nothing. “Yulen?”

  Oddly, there was a single candle burning on the side table next to the door. The rest of the house was pitch black, and her senses told her she was alone. Which meant the Battle Lord had taken their son with him, wherever he’d gone.

  Shrugging to herself, Atty ascended the spiral staircase to the second floor. She lit the lantern on the wall sconce beside the bed, then sat down on the edge of the mattress to remove her boots. As she did every night since they’d moved back into the rebuilt and refurbished home that Rafe D’Jacques had tried to demolish five months ago, she stared at the new hand-carved headboard. Like the old one Rafe’s men had burned, it bore her and Yulen’s symbols, a massive longbow on the right, and a representation of her husband’s sword on the left. At the top, in the center where bow and blade met, however, a new symbol had been added. It was a small eye. An eye without a pupil or distinct iris, but which small rays were shone emanating from it, as if it were a small sun.

  Smiling, Atty tossed her boots to the side. She was hungry. No, not hungry. Heaven knew she’d gorged herself on the noodles Berta had made to go with the diced rabbit soup. More like peckish.

  She made her way downstairs to the kitchen and lit a lantern. Rather than reach for a piece of fruit from the bowl on the cabinet, she checked the cooling pots stacked inside the enormous pantry. The large clay jars were from a Mutah compound called Benesta, which dredged the mud used to make their pottery from the bottom of the huge freshwater lake located near the fortress. With trade opening up more and more between Mutah and Normals, places like Benesta were coming out of hiding to offer their goods, like these containers that could store food items for days without spoilage.

  Berta had drawn simple images on each pot to indicate its contents. Atty found the one she was searching for, and lifted the moist towel from the lid before opening it and reaching inside. Her fingers immediately found the cluster of grapes she was seeking.

  “Aha! Caught you with your hand in the cookie jar!”

  Atty jumped, her free hand already holding her dagger outward as she whirled around. It was an instinctive reaction, brought on by years of self-preservation. Only by the thinnest of margins did she not throw
the long knife in Yulen’s direction.

  “Dammit, Yulen! What have I told you about sneaking up on me?” She was peeved at him, but at the same time, she was proud. Her husband had taken all his lessons from her to heart, until he could now track and stalk game with an expertise that impressed even Mutah hunters.

  The hulking black shadow standing in the living area laughed as he went back over to the front door, closing and barring it for the night. Strolling over to where his wife was in the kitchen, he plucked a grape from her handful and popped it in his mouth. Atty immediately noticed something was lacking.

  “Where’s Mattox?”

  “With Tory and Fortune. He’s spending the night with them.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Liam and Saxon are planning on inducing labor on Mother, and I figured it could take most of the night. In case either of us was needed, we’d be able to run over there without having to worry about him.” He leaned in to give her a moist kiss that tasted of grape juice. “And, in the event we wanted to try for number two, ourselves.”

  He kissed her again, licking the corner of her mouth. His hands were already under her tunic, moving with slow, deliberate motions across her bare skin. Massaging. Teasing. They cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples. Atty moaned. His kisses stole her sanity. His hands were melting her across the table. The grapes fell from her fingers as she grasped his broad shoulders to hold on.

  “My Atrilan.” His mouth brushed across her neck, his tongue inciting tingling sensations as he touched upon her sensitive skin. Hungrily, she sought his lips again, wanting him to drive her over the brink.

  Their hands fumbled in the pale light to undo belts and buttons. Atty started to shove her pants down when she felt herself being pressed back onto the table, a spear of flesh pressed insistently between her thighs. She grabbed it with one hand, but Yulen took her wrist and disengaged her fingers.

  “No. This way.” His breath warmed her ear. In the next instant, he moved away from her. She opened her mouth to protest the loss of his body heat in the coolness of the room, when he took her by the hips and flipped her onto her stomach. Jerking her backwards until her legs hung all the way over the edge of the table, he spread her butt cheeks. Atty dropped her forehead to the wood and moaned in anticipation.

  It had been too long since they’d been able to have this kind of sex. Playful sex. Spontaneous sex. Too often these days they were interrupted either before coitus or during, and usually by Mattox. Ever since the boy learned how to climb out of his crib, they had given him a regular bed, but opted to keep their son in the nursery in the room adjacent to theirs, rather than move him downstairs. Whenever the child wanted to be with his parents, it was not unusual to find him in the bed with them. It made intimacy almost nonexistent.

  Yulen slowly slid inside her, moving an inch at a time, giving her inner muscles a chance to yield to his length and pressure as they coated him with her juices. Pressing, filling, taking her completely, until he was sheathed all the way. Adjusting himself slightly, he leaned over, brushed away her hair, and licked the back of her neck. His fingertips roamed down her sides, tickling her until the gooseflesh rose in their wakes.

  “My beloved Atrilan. Didn’t you tell me this was your fertile time?”

  “Yessss.” Her breathy answer was cut short as he placed kisses across her shoulders and back. She shivered at his touch. At the same time, Yulen pulled out a bit, then pressed back inside. Out and in, keeping the rhythm steady, rocking them both on top of the table. She moaned in pleasure.

  “I’ve missed this,” he murmured above her. “I sometimes see you walking about the compound, and I remember waking up next to you. I remember wanting to make love to you, but I’m needed elsewhere. I have to leave you lying there, but I spend the day thinking of you. Wishing I could follow you into the woods like we used to in the beginning, and have you over and over.”

  Atty pressed her cheek to the flat surface, her fingers gripping the edges. This is what she loved, the way he talked to her. The way he built upon her passion and his one gradual layer at a time.

  His speed increased, his command of her body all-encompassing. He was pounding into her with such force, the table squeaked with each movement. She could feel herself rising.

  He shoved her blouse into a bunch around her neck and reached for her breasts again. This time, instead of shoving her hips against him, he held her steady and thrust with his own, spinning a new sensation through her.

  “Yul!”

  He grunted with each plunge inside her. There were no words to describe how wonderful this moment was, or how much she had been needing him. She could hear her heart pounding, the blood ringing in her ears. So close. So near.

  Yulen hesitated, halted, and she gasped.

  “What? No! Don’t stop!”

  The pounding repeated itself. At the same time, she could make out the sound of bells chiming. Her body trembled in the wake of their lovemaking. She had almost come. She had almost reached her peak, and she knew Yulen was still hard and heavy within her.

  “Sir!” The pounding echoed inside the house. Someone was at the front door, demanding entry, demanding attention.

  Yulen muttered an obscenity and withdrew from her body. “Something’s happening. Get dressed, Atty,” he ordered darkly as he tried to stuff himself back into his pants.

  The clanging continued. Loud. Echoing. Tolling three times, a pause, three more times. She knew what it meant before she pulled up her own breeches and watched her husband stride to the door. Her every nerve was on edge in the event of an emergency.

  The Battle Lord threw open the door, sword at ready. The soldier standing there nearly jumped back as Yulen barked at him.

  “What?”

  “I-I come at the request of MaGrath,” the man stammered. He got no further. Yulen dashed past him, with Atty at his heels.

  They burst inside the clinic to find the physician sitting in the waiting room. They could see the man was exhausted, but he smiled warmly and got to his feet when they arrived.

  “Mother?” Yulen gasped, grabbing the man’s shoulder.

  “She’s fine. We’re done, and you have a brother.”

  “A brother?”

  Atty laughed at the look of disbelief on her husband’s face. “You have a baby brother, Yulen! Mattox has an uncle!” Throwing her arms around MaGrath’s neck, she kissed the man on the cheek. “Congratulations, Liam! Welcome to fatherhood!”

  Chapter Three

  Offer

  “Liam, we have to come to a decision.”

  Atty glanced over to see Madigan sternly facing the physician. Over near the fire, Mattox galloped his toy horse in the air above the infant sleeping in the crib. All throughout the day, people had been coming by to leave small gifts and to see the tiny newborn. The only problem they’d encountered was when they asked what the child’s name was.

  “And don’t for one second think I’m going to let you call him Augustus,” the woman continued firmly. “Not even for a middle name.”

  “To be truthful, Maddy, I never wanted to name him Augustus,” MaGrath admitted sheepishly. “I just threw that one out there so that you wouldn’t turn away my second choice.”

  “Which is?”

  “Iain.”

  “Iain?”

  “It was my grandfather’s name. Spelled I-A-I-N, but pronounced ‘Ee-uhn’.”

  “My grandfather’s name was Stuart.”

  The man smiled. “I like Stuart. What do you say, Maddy? Iain Stuart MaGrath?”

  Atty swooped down to prevent Mattox from riding the wooden animal over the infant’s face. “I like it,” she told the couple. “It’s a strong name.”

  “So do I,” a voice announced from the doorway. Saxon strode into the living area and parked himself on the edge of the divan where Madigan was resting. “How are you feeling, my dear?” he inquired, wrapping his fingers around her wrist.

  “Tired.”

  The man snorted. “I’ve no doubt. Your color has come back. Your appetite will, too. And given a little time, those dark rings under your eyes will fade. Mmm, good strong heart rate.”

  “What about her milk production?” MaGrath asked. “Is there anything we can give her to help?”