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on the delicate skin of her hand.
    She started to draw her hand away, but his own hand still covered hers, lightly but forcefully.
    “Thee must let me go,” she said, suddenly frightened by his power over her. “Thee is healed.”
    He nodded, his eyes still closed. But he didn’t release her hand. “Your name. I would know your name.”
    “Leyla.” She had not meant to tell him, but somehow lacked the power to refuse.
    “Leyla.” He repeated the word softly, drawing it out, liking the sound of it. He opened his eyes and gazed into her face. “Leyla.”
    A slow smile spread across his face, making his green eyes sparkle.
    “I am free again,” he murmured. He reached for her other hand. Leaping nimbly to his feet, he swung her round and round. “Free, Leyla! Free! Do you know what that means? No more dungeons!”
    He lifted her off her feet and hugged her close. “No more darkness!” he exclaimed. “No more chains. Free!”
    He twirled her around again, his face buried in the cleft of her breasts and then, slowly, he came to a stop and stood her on the ground before him, one of her hands clasped between both of his. “Free.”
    Unfettered by the black hood and the heavy shackles, he seemed taller somehow, broader, a little frightening in his intensity. She had never been with a man in quite this way before, alone as they were in the midst of a sheltered glen.
    “Leyla…” She was beautiful, so beautiful standing there with the forest behind her and the gossamer light of the three moons shining upon her silver hair.
    Her nearness sent a quick heat surging through him. He gasped at the unexpected suddenness of it. So long, he thought, so long since he’d even thought about a woman. So long since he’d even wanted one…
    “No!” She jerked her hand free, her eyes wide and frightened as she backed away from him.
    “I guess you’re reading my mind,” he muttered, cursing her power to do so.
    “I cannot help it, thy…emotions…are so strong.”
    He couldn’t deny that. He wanted to laugh, to cry, to bury himself in her softness and let her erase every dreadful memory.
    “Leyla, do not be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you, I swear it on my mother’s life.”
    He opened his arms and she went to him without hesitation.
    “I believe thee, Jarrett. And I will hold thee all the night long if that is thy desire, but only in friendship. Does thee understand?”
    He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
    They had no food, no water, only a fire to turn away the cold. They sat down with their backs against a log, one of the horse blankets spread beneath them, the other across their legs.
    Like a mother comforting a child, Leyla put her arm around Jarrett’s shoulders and drew him close to her breast, one hand stroking his hair.
    “Can you read the minds of everyone you meet?” he asked.
    “No.”
    He looked up at her curiously. “Only mine?”
    “I can communicate with other Maje telepathically.”
    She gazed into his eyes, keenly aware of the attraction that hummed between them. She had a strong urge to hold him, to protect him, to shield him from harm. They were motherly instincts, given to all women, and yet there was nothing maternal in her feelings.
    “I have never been able to read the mind of an outsider before,” Leyla confessed, and wondered why she could read Jarrett’s thoughts so clearly, and what it meant.
    Jarrett grunted softly, pleased that she could divine his thoughts though he could not say why. At times, it was damnably inconvenient.
    Closing his eyes, he gave himself over to her touch, feeling all the tension drain from his body. How good it felt, to be held in a woman’s arms, to lay his head upon her breast and breathe in her warm, sweet scent.
    Her warm, sweet scent, like sunshine after a storm, like the flowers that grew in the walled gardens at Greyebridge Castle…
    Gently, Leyla eased him down until his head was resting in her lap.
    “Sleep, my brave warrior,” she