Warlord

despite their differences.
    Keir. My throat suddenly closed. I missed him so much. I wanted him close, to talk, to argue, to touch. I hated this separation, hated not knowing what was happening to him. Maybe I could get a message to him, somehow. Maybe Rafe, or Prest? I took up the flat bread, and started chewing. I stopped in mid-bite. Did she say something about a bath?
    "This wasn't quite what I had in mind." I tried not to laugh at them, since it wasn't their fault. But my hosts had very odd ideas of what 'bathing under the bells' meant.
    They'd put up a tent over a stream that pooled deeply next to the bank. The tent stretched from bank to bank, and down into the water. There was no top. They'd carefully asked if I had to be private to the skies, and I'd solemnly told them that it wasn't a problem.
    "It's private," I conceded. The warrior-priests were glaring at me rather fiercely. Apparently Reness carried a bit of weight and they'd been told in no uncertain terms to arrange a bath for me.
    "Of course, my Warlord provided warm water," I added sweetly.
    Amyu suppressed a slight smile as my offended guards filed out. "We will guard upstream and down, so that you are not disturbed." Amyu offered a basket full of drying cloths, and a clean tunic and trous on top. I dropped my satchel on the shore, and took them with a great deal of satisfaction. It was going to be chilly, but it was a bath, and I couldn't wait to wash my hair.
    Amyu gave me a nod. "Call out if you need me."
    I waited until the tent flap fell shut, then stripped off my clothes. The sun was high, almost to the nooning, so that would help keep me warm as I dried. I'd wash out my underthings as well. Naked, I sat on the grassy shore, and dug out my precious bar of vanilla soap. There was a bit of vanilla oil left too. I'd save that for my hair. I chortled in delight. A bath. Finally!
    I set everything out where I could reach it, and then slipped into the water, gasping as the cold stole my breath.
    The bottom was sandy under my toes, clear of sticks and rocks. I reached down and added some sand to my hands as I worked the soap for suds. I was determined to get as clean as possible. The sand added a bit of grit as I worked the soap over every inch of my skin.
    It didn't take long for the water to feel warm and the air cool. I waded out into deeper water, holding my breath to submerge myself completely, and started in on my hair. It would take time to dry but it would be worth it. It felt so good to scrub my scalp.
    Finally, after sudsing and rinsing twice, I stood up straight. My hair felt heavy with all the water and I wrung it out as best I could. Twirling it up in a long rope, I laid it over my shoulder, and moved toward the bank. I'd dry it out and comb it once I was—
    Something grabbed my ankle.
    I jumped, squeaked, and dropped the soap.
    Keir rose from the depths, dripping wet and glorious. I gaped in amazement, drinking in his face.
    "Lara," he whispered, reaching out to me. "We need to—" I leaped into his arms, reaching out to pull his head down, and claimed his lips with mine. Keir moaned into my mouth, and his arms came up to wrap me in their strength. I kissed him again and again, craving his touch, his taste, his hot breath on my chilled skin.
    Keir broke the kiss, gasping for air. "We must talk."
    I reclaimed his mouth, and raised my leg to rub his hip, trying to get him closer. His arm moved down, his hand under my buttocks, and then both hands, supporting me, lifting me.
    I held on for dear life, grabbing his shoulders, refusing to release his mouth. He groaned as he entered me, and moved me with ease, his arms and shoulders flexing under my fingers. I broke the kiss, and wrapped my arms around him, urging him on with soft demands in his ear, letting my fingers play with his wet hair.
    It had been so long.
    We both shuddered in release at the same time, holding each other tight, fearful of making a sound. The air was chill, yet there was nothing but heat burning within. I listened to Keir try to catch his breath as I stroked his damp shoulders. "The skies favor the bold," I whispered softly. He pulled back his head to smile at me, and kiss me again. "I had to see you. To know that you were well. To taste—"
    I kissed him again, desperate for more. Part of me trembled at the risk he was taking, at the thought that we might be caught.
    The rest of me trembled for other reasons.
    Keir shifted me then, lifting me a bit higher, and