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through her.
    To Dorovan she tasted of salt and Delae. She gasped, her hands in his hair as he devoured her, her nipple between his lips, against his tongue. It was hard in an instant. As was he.
    Desperate to have her he drew the nightdress up, slid his hand between her thighs to find her hot, damp and so tight. He slid his fingers inside her and she moaned.
    “Please, Dorovan,” she cried.
    Need was a bright flash of heat and fire.
    In one smooth motion he lowered her to the floor as her thighs opened to him and he took her there, plunging into her as her hips pumped to take him, soft cries of pleasure escaping her as she arched and writhed beneath him. Each motion only fired him more as she clung to him, pulsed around him. He came with a cry and his seed poured into her as she followed him into exaltation.
    Both of them were laughing as he looked down at her and she looked up at him, careful not to laugh so hard he left her.
    “The pommel of a sword here, here or here,” he said, softly, indicating the top of his head, the shoulders and then back of his neck, “will incapacitate anyone who tries such a move.”
    “Ah,” she said, her eyes lighting up as she wriggled a little underneath him.
    “That,” he said, clearing his throat, “will drive your instructor mad.”
    She was clearly delighted at the idea.
    It was as if she were a virgin and he was lessoning her not just in swordplay, but the pleasures of the body. Dorovan was more than glad to be her teacher in both. Though she didn’t know it, the joining of their friend of the heart bond had shown him much - what he didn’t see, he surmised. She might as well have been a widow for how she lived.
    Looking at the threadbare carpets, her simple and much patched clothing, he knew what she struggled with daily and railed against the fate that had set her there…and blessed it for what they could give each other.
    Supper was as simple as all the meals had been, a thick stew supplemented with cheese and wine.
    Afterward, though, he helped her fill the bath with water from the great oaken cask filled from the cistern on the roof over the kitchens and heated by the fire there.
    It seemed to Delae that she couldn’t get enough of him. She was like a child with a new toy. He was such a delight to play with and she was so grateful for it. She was fascinated with him – with touching him – her gaze going to his face and back again as she stroked and played with him.
    These moments alone were enough.
    Curled in the bath, they explored each other slowly.
    Dorovan couldn’t find it in himself to complain. If he taught her pleasure, she taught him delight. Until he couldn’t stand it and grasped her hands to still them, and she rose from the water to sink down on him, taking him deeply inside, riding him. Her tongue traced the sensitive curve of his ear and he moaned. Sucking, nibbling and biting, she drove him wild until he fastened his mouth on her breast. She came suddenly and fiercely, her hips bucking and he filled her, erupting into her as his hands dropped to her waist to keep her firmly impaled.

Chapter Four
     
    Outside the storm showed no signs of abating, after several days it seemed only to have intensified. The wind rattled violently against the shutters, making the room seem all the more cozy, all the closer but not in an unpleasant way. Delae was like a travel stove, her small lush body radiating heat. Dorovan found himself content for the first time in years.
    Those of Talaena would think he’d stayed in the North, while those in the North thought he was safe in Talaena. No one would worry. With the weather what it was, it was likely he wouldn’t be needed, even the Borderland creatures would be hampered by the thick slushy mud and little inclined to chance such weather.
    He couldn’t stay here forever, however much he wished it though - his Enclave called to him and he had his responsibilities there.
    With a sigh, in an eerie echo of his own