Broken Shield Ch. 06

Chapter 6

The little clearing looked just the same as Blue remembered it, except that a bare circle of stones marked the fire and a litter of brilliantly orange and red leaves replaced the furs where she'd spent her last night in Galen's arms. Being experience travelers all, they made camp well before the sun vanished with a last purple gasp below the horizon. Three oilcloth tents sprung up around the crackling fire. Arno and Creo shared. Reece had his own, lopsided and sloping downward on a poorly chosen plot. Vlad, after seeing to the horses, had resolved to sleep in the wagon, "Anybody steals it, they take me with."

Blue did not mind sharing with Larch. He rarely stank, never snored, and his feet weren't icicles if weather forced them to huddle for warmth. She did not mind, normally.

But with Reece's touch on her throat lingering like a sordid daydream, the last person Blue wanted in her bedroll was Larch, interrupting arsehole. Half an hour later with his news this morning, she could have cum at least once, maybe twice. Instead, desire rolled like a lead weight in her pelvis.

She shucked her armor and padded tunic with a groan. Her spine popped and shoulders. The dull pressure in her ribs eased as she stretched left and right. And then she felt eyes on her. Reece's pretty blue eyes, almost too dark in his pale face, swept down her body and up again. The ping and stretch of her tendons could not compare to the thrill of hearing that small catch in his breath.

That settles that. Blue unwound herself to find a comfortable seat in the light of the flames and rifled through pouches for her herbs. Dried leaves of Feverfew, ground Goldenseal root, purple Echinacea petals, a knuckle width of precious Ginger.

Finally, wedged deep, beneath a well-worn roll of healer's tools, she found the waxed cloth enfolding delicate seeds and leaves of deepest red.

"Mother's wort?" Larch sat with that cat-like grace that Blue so envied.

She smacked away his inquisitive fingers, and tucked the package into her breast pocket lest he scatter its contents. "Do you just float above the crunchy leaves?"

"Aye, wings on my boots." Larch poked at her again and pawed through the remaining satchels. "That was mother's wort, no? Thought it didn't grow this time of year." The rough grind of his teasing wound her nerves tight enough to snap.

Mother's wort only grew in warm, damp seasons. Flowering vines that choked the life from oak trees. Dried, the plant proved a reliable contraceptive. It cost twice a gold-weight and its expense had sent many a girl into Blue's open, safe, arms.

"It doesn't. Need to restock at the next temple." Blue ripped the tie from her braid and began to unwind the strands, her yellow hair almost orange in the sunset.

With a reproachful cluck, Larch untangled her fingers and took over himself. He was patient with the knots, easing them free, and carding through with easy dexterity. Blue had always just yanked mats loose; she had plenty hair to spare. But Larch had clever hands and a fastidious nature. She melted into the scratch of nails on scalp. Spine unlocking, joints softening into the familiar.

Larch leaned forward and hooked his chin over her shoulder, "Takin' Vlad to bed, then?"

Blue jerked, cracking his teeth together, and hissed, "Vlad? That honey-hair'd lass suck your brain out yer cock?"

"An attempt was made, aye," A drop of blood blossomed at the corner of his mouth.. "Why not Vlad? Man's funny, monied, and got biceps thick as yer thighs."

"Older than my father and paying boss, besides." Blue grabbed his stubble rough chin and inspected the minute wound. Fingers pinching the softness of his lower lip. Not a mortal wound, alas.

"Skill comes from age." Larch captured her middle finger between his square front teeth.

Until she wrenched it free. "Ye have my blessing to fuck him yourself, then."

Eyebrows twisted into an exaggerate leer, Larch looked over her shoulder to where Vlad cursed with efficacy only born at sea. He tossed down an ale barrel as big around as his own belly. His smoking pipe barely bobbled. "Too much a man fer me, Blue."

The stippled dusk painted across his pale face like a bruise, Reece snagged her gaze. Something presumable edible boiled in a dent iron cook pot. Long, tall body folded into a soft, male shape atop a fallen log. Knees bent and spread. Robe too loose to really tell, but Blue's imagination peeled him down to naked, pink skin. The broad roll of shoulders. Long line of spine. Ropy muscle pulled taut against rib and stomach. Sharp vee of hipbone a frame and lure towards his groin.

She felt the scalding blush creep up her chest and throat. Echoed in his cheeks.

"Blue," Larch jabbed an elbow into her waist.

"Fuck off," Blue started to shrug him off and rise, but he put one of those clever hands to her cheek.

"Just be careful with the priestling." Thumb pressed to the dimple in her chin. Bottle green eyes glittered with earnestness. "What the church takes, the church keeps."

"Cockbrain," Blue thunked a fist against his sternum just hard enough to force a sharp exhale from his lungs. "And give up all this? Ne'er."