Keir placed his hands on my hips. “I know something that will make me feel better well before morning.” He leaned forward, and kissed me between my breasts.

I placed the warm wet cloth over the paste, and pressed lightly with my fingertips. The familiar smell of bittergrass rose from the warming paste.

Keir wrinkled his nose.

“Just a bit longer.” I stepped back to clean my hands. “The heat helps it go into the skin.”

Keir heaved a false sigh of frustration, which turned into a yawn. He blinked as he gave his shoulder a glance. “Why does it smell so bad?”

I rolled my eyes, and reached to tug him up off the bed. “I’ll remind you of those words when you can move with ease in the morning.” I nodded toward the bed. “Pull back the bedding.”

“I can move with ease now,” Keir growled as he pulled back the blankets.

I put my supplies back in my satchel. Keir stood waiting as I peeled back the bandages. The paste had been absorbed into the skin, leaving a green tinge, and a faint odor. “I’ll treat it again in the morning.”

Keir’s arm snaked behind me and pulled me close. He kissed me hard. I let the bandage flutter to the floor, and held on to him for dear life. His mouth was warm and he explored mine eagerly. I responded with enthusiasm.

We were on the bed then, a tangle of arms and legs. But I could feel a tremble in Keir’s arms even as he moved us under the covers. I knew what I needed to do.

I wiggled around until he was flat on his back beside me, his mouth on my breast. I pressed in close, enjoying his touch, moaning as his hands explored my body. Finally, I kissed him, moving my hands to his chest, tweaking his nipples.

He murmured his pleasure as I slowly let my fingers trail down his chest, to circle his birth-hollow, and then continue on until my hand covered him. He was hot and hard beneath my palm. His hips flexed slightly, trying to increase the pressure.

I leaned in, and put my lips to his ear. “So do I claim my Warlord.”

His eyes widened in surprise for an instant, just as I closed my fingers around him. But then he closed his eyes, lost in the pleasure of my touch. I taunted and teased, using my hand to take him to the brink, and then backed off, and watched as he writhed, powerless against me.

His eyes snapped open, clouded with his heat. “Lara,” he croaked, gasping for breath. “Lara, I—”

“Surrender to me, my Warlord,” was my command.

That was enough. Keir’s eyes closed, his body convulsed, and his pleasure was mine. He melted down into the bed, a pool of boneless muscle.

I kissed his face as he relaxed into sleep, cleaned us both, then pulled the bedding up around us. I carefully put my head on his shoulder and nestled in close to his warmth, and breathed a prayer of gratitude to the Goddess.

I fell asleep, well pleased with my choice of Warlord.

Much, much later, I awoke to the feel of a hand stroking my hair.

I sighed in delight and opened my eyes to see Keir’s face close to mine. He kissed me softly, his hands moving to cover my breasts.

I whispered encouragement as his hands explored my skin. Keir’s touch trailed fire over my body, until his hand played wide over my lower belly. There he paused for a moment, and looked at me with a question on his face. “You’ve quickened?”

I smiled. “I’m not sure yet, but my courses are late.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners, proud and pleased. He kissed me again, a gentle brushing of lips over mine.

“Keir,” I sighed into his mouth, and shifted to open myself to him. He needed no further encouragement, sliding into my depths slowly, filling me. We groaned together as our bodies merged. We paused for only long enough to kiss, then started a slow dance beneath the bedding.

Keir’s hands continued to move over my body, and I explored his as well. Warm skin, soft from the heat of the bed, glided under my fingers.

Keir twisted then, moving so that I was on top. The move drove him deeper within me, and I arched my back at the feeling.

Then he stilled.

Dazed, I opened my eyes to look down at him. He looked back at me with those glittering blue eyes. My hair fell about us, creating our own private world.

“Claim me again, my Warprize,” was all he said.

Challenged, I ground my hips down, and his eyes went wide for the second time that night. “Don’t think I won’t, my Warlord.”

And so I did.

I awoke again, to the sounds of the Heart beating around us.

I was on my back, Keir’s head on my chest. His arms were around me, his leg over both of mine. The covers were warm and I was so very comfortable I didn’t want to move. But the tent smelled of breakfast, or the nooning, and I was hungry. If I didn’t wake Keir, the noises in my stomach would.

I reached out to stroke his hair, thick and black. If I could get him to shift a bit, I could slide out of the bed without waking him.

Keir lifted his head, and smiled. “I was listening to your heart beat.”

I smiled back at him. “Wasn’t last night proof enough?”

He shifted then, and kissed me, his mouth firm and gently on mine. I lost myself in him, responding to his desire as the kiss grew warmer and wetter, making my own demands.

Breathless, we broke it off. Keir chuckled, and leaned back against the pillows, smug. “Never enough, my Warprize.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Are you so sure I’ll choose you at the ceremony? Other warlords courted me, you know.”

Keir gave a soft snort. “Ultie is a loud-mouth, overbearing—”

“Arrogant, rude, stupid fool,” I said serenely. “But Osa, on the other hand—”

Keir growled.

I laughed. “Not to mention Liam!”

“Liam?” Surprised, Keir sat up, letting the covers fall back. The cold air spilled over me. I shivered and grabbed for the blankets. “Liam courted you?”

“Not really,” I assured him, tucking the blankets under my arms. Then I dropped my voice to a whisper. “He wanted to know about Marcus.”

We both looked instinctively at the tent flap, and then at each other. I leaned in closer to Keir. “Why didn’t you tell me about Marcus and Liam?”

Keir put a finger over my mouth and listened intently. Reassured, he pulled me closer. “What is there to say, Lara? It is his story, and out of privacy and respect, how could I tell it?” Keir cautioned me, “Say nothing to him, or we’ll eat raw meat and weak kavage for months.”

“But what happened?”

“I served under Liam as Second,” Keir answered. “When we returned to the Heart after Marcus was injured—”

“Warlord,” Marcus called.

We both gave a guilty start.

“Marcus?” Keir responded.

“A messenger, for the Warprize.” From the sound of his voice, Marcus was at the main entrance to the tent. Thank the Goddess.

Keir frowned. “From?”

There were sounds then, some talk at a distance. The discussion ended, and I heard Marcus walk across the main area. The flap opened and he stuck his head in. “From the Eldest Singer Essa.” Marcus’s voice betrayed his surprise, and he spoke softly. “He asks the Warprize for a healing.”

Chapter 19

The Heart of the Plains was pulsing madly as we walked to Essa’s tent. People everywhere were striking tents, and packing loads on horses. I looked around in astonishment at what appeared to be chaos. Prest and Rafe were ahead of us, clearing a path. Ander and Yveni brought up the rear. Keir walked at my side, glaring at any that dared to get close.

“What is going on?’ I asked.

“Preparations for the ceremony,” Keir explained. “The area around the Council tent must be cleared.”

“Who attends the ceremony?” I asked.

“Everyone,” Keir answered.

Everyone?

I wanted to know more, but we were at Essa’s tent. Rafe and Prest remained outside, and two warriors opened the flap and welcomed us in.