Sword in the Storm by David Gemmell Page B

assured him. “Conn doesn’t know how to hold a grudge. Anyway, you got the best of it.”
    Casta gave a rueful smile. “I’ll take some convincing of that.”
    “He ended up with Arian. Believe me, she’s trouble.”
    “Aye, but she’s worth it,” said Casta. “I’d risk far more than a beating for one kiss.”
    “I think the blows have addled your wits,” Braefar told him. “No man who weds her will ever be sure he is the father of her children.” But he could see he was making no impression on Casta.
    It was after midnight when Conn made his silent way to their bedroom. Braefar awoke as a bed board creaked. “I take it all is now well between the two of you?” he asked the darkness.
    “All is well, little brother,” came Conn’s voice.
    “You still intend to wed her?”
    “Of course. Why would I not?”
    “She is a flirt. Why can’t you see that? And I don’t believe she cares for you.”
    Braefar read the anger in the silence and decided to say no more.
    Conn lay awake, his mind in turmoil. The events of the evening had more than unsettled him. Not so much the fight, which, truth to tell, he had enjoyed, but rather the strange, fey mood that had come upon Arian as they had walked into the woods. At first she maintained an angry silence, but then, as they came to the stream she began to tremble. He asked her if she was cold and put his arm around her. Her reaction astonished and delighted him. Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him with such passion that it took his breath away.
    Conn had dreamed of this moment, especially since the night with Eriatha, but he had been more than willing to wait for the Feast of Samain and the marriage walk around Eldest Tree. What they were about to do was against the law of the Rigante and risked the severest punishment, at worst flogging and banishment for both. Even knowing this, Conn could not restrain himself, and within moments both were naked, lying on a blanket of their clothes. He tried to use the skills Eriatha had taught him, but Arian pulled at him, drawing him over her, into her. Her movements were fast and frantic. Conn gazed down into her face. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, her teeth bared as she powered her body against his. Her nails raked his back, and she was moaning softly.
    With Eriatha the lovemaking had been very good and wonderfully satisfying, but here, with the great love of his young life, Conn felt himself reaching new heights of ecstasy. She shuddered beneath him and cried out again and again. As he had been taught, Conn held back, his movements slow and rhythmic. Her blue eyes were focused now, the pupils huge. Conn kissed her gently, then slowly increased the pace of hismovements. Within minutes she shuddered and cried out again, her body arcing up against him. Conn did not stop but finally allowed himself to finish. It seemed to him that his soul rushed into her with his seed, merging with her spirit. In that moment she whispered in his ear: “I love you.” It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. His heart swelled, and his vision misted. Unable to speak, he kissed her again, then rolled to his side, drawing her into his embrace. Her golden head lay on his shoulder, and he stroked the skin of her hip.
    “I am yours,” he said, “now and always.”
    “I will never be frightened again,” she told him. The words jarred, and he did not understand them, though he heard the relief in her voice and did not question her further.
    Now, as he lay in his bed, he could not tear his mind from Braefar’s words.
    “She is a flirt. Why can’t you see that?”
    Of course he could see it and could remember vividly the sound of her laughter as she stood in the dark with Casta. That alone would not have been enough to trouble him, but there was also the unfocused passion. He had not sensed it at the time, his blood roaring and his senses aroused, but looking back, he felt that Arian had not even known who he was before her