22 Nights by Linda Winstead Jones Page A

for home. Others simply walked away arm in arm. Many said good night to Bela and Merin and thanked them for the meal and the entertainment, as if the host and hostess had had a choice in the matter. Clyn and Tyman glared at Merin before they left, Clyn with his wife, Tyman with a young girl he had been courting. Gayene Haythorne and her chieftain husband looked pleased with themselves as they said their good nights.
    “We should clean . . .” Bela began.
    Merin grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him. “Tomorrow morning will be soon enough. You shouldn’t be cleaning anything in that dress.”
    “It’s not as if I’ll ever wear it again,” she protested.
    Merin raked one finger down a length of black fabric. “You never know. Maybe your next husband will want to dissolve your marriage,” he teased.
    “There will be no next husband,” Bela said sharply.
    It made him sad to think that she would never have what her friend Jocylen had found. It made him angry to realize that she would close herself from all things womanly because of one bad night.
    “Anything is possible,” he said.
    She looked aghast in the fading torchlight. Soon the flames would burn out and all would be dark, as was right at this time of night. “I suppose you will marry one day,” she said, more than a hint of accusation in her voice.
    “I suppose I will,” he said.
    “You’ll likely pick some brainless, childlike woman who will expect you to take care of her.” Bela almost sneered. “Why bother?”
    “I would like to have children one day.”
    “Why?” she sounded horrified.
    Merin found himself smiling. “You don’t like children? ”
    “Once they’re of an age they’re all right, I suppose, but babies stink and they require constant care. They can be uncommonly loud and demanding, considering their small size, and they expect to drink from their mother’s breasts as if she were a sow.”
    Merin brushed a thumb against Bela’s nipple, and she gasped. He felt it harden instantly, as her body unwillingly responded to his touch.
    “I did not ask for a demonstration,” she said primly. “I know very well where my breasts are located.”
    They stood there for a while, and the light of one torch died. Another soon followed.
    “We should go inside,” Merin said.
    “We should, I suppose. I’m very tired.” She glanced toward the door to their small cottage as if there might be a monstrous beast hiding behind it. “Nothing has changed,” she insisted.
    He disagreed. Somehow, everything had changed.
     
    MERIN lit a single lamp inside the cottage. Bela tried very hard not to look at him as he began to remove his uniform without bothering to ask her to stand outside or turn her back. Maybe he just planned to sleep in his trousers, as he sometimes did.
    But like it or not, she had to get out of this blasted dress, and she did not want him watching while she shed it.
    Merin stripped down to plain, dark green trousers and then stopped to fold the rest of his uniform. It was easy to forget that he was a general of high station in other parts of Columbyana, given all they’d done in the past few days. He had never complained about the menial labors which had been required of him. He had never once tried to use his position to weasel out of this untenable situation.
    He sat on the side of the bed and removed his boots.
    “Would you stand outside while I put on my nightgown?” she asked, thinking her voice was amazingly sweet and serene and reasonable.
    “No,” Merin said. “I don’t think I will.”
    Bela placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. So much for reason! “We have an arrangement, and it has worked quite well until now. Why become obstinate now? ”
    “I’m tired, just as you are,” he said, and in truth he did sound weary enough. “I don’t want to step outside and stand there while you wrestle with that gown and your nightdress, when it would be so much easier if I helped you take it off.”
    Bela