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Two baskets of the uncarded wool sat beside her. The clan had several herds of
sheep and goats. One of the goat herds, a breed called kazamerie, had hair so
fine that a shawl from it could be drawn through a ring and yet was wondrously
warm. When she finished, one of her aunts would spin and then her mother and
two eldest aunts would weave on the three great looms by the hearth in the
main hall. Only the family was allowed to work with the wool at this stage,
not the clumsy servants who had less to gain from it.
Malthus made her feel uneasy. Combining that with this room, made her feel
queasy. All of her troubles had stated in this room. The motions of her hands
became a meditation and she slid without helping it into her remembrances.
Yes, all of her troubles had started here.
Merissa wore a voluminous skirted cream dress with a tight, stiff bodice
that cupped her breasts and molded itself to them. A cream hair net held her
hair in place. Everything was cream, the color of this wool so that the loose
fibers would not show when they floated across as some always did. One of the
reasons the liked carding was that the lanolin in the wool made her hands so
soft.
She worked steadily, drifting off into daydreams. While the clan called her
a princess, she was really just a clan chieftain's daughter. At least that was
how she thought of it. Real princesses, like those at the court of King
Baaltrystan, did not card wool and weave. She was not certain exactly what
they did, beyond the descriptions of balls and intrigue in some old books, but
Merissa was certain it was far more pleasant and interesting than this.
Taking another handful of the raw wool, Merissa began to card again with a
deep sigh. All of her suitors were clan and she fancied none of them. The very
last thing she wished was to remain stuck in this valley or another clan
valley with each year much like the one before it. Troyes intrigued her. No
sa'necari who had come through this valley over the years had ever paid her so
much attention, but perhaps that had been nothing more than the fact that
before she had been a child. Now she was seventeen, a woman.
The door opened as if her thoughts had called him and Troyes came in. He
moved aside some of the baskets and drew a chair over beside her, settling
into it. Merissa's heart quickened. They had been flirting for days, but this
was the first time she found herself alone with him.
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Troyes gave her a languid smile, his eyes soft and sensual. He ran his
finger along her arm and took the combs away from her, setting them atop one
of the baskets. Merissa shivered at his touch. He stirred her longings in ways
that the lycan males did not. Troyes regarded her a moment, then leaned in and
brushed his lips across hers. She caught her breath sharply at the electric
tingle it sent racing through her body. Her loins grew wet and aching. Troyes
kissed her again and this time he parted her lips with his tongue, sliding it
inside. Merissa responded tentatively, twining her tongue with his, wanting
him to touch more of her. Her hands crept up his arms and linked behind his
neck.
The chair arms separated them, but Troyes leaned as far over as he could and
fondled her breasts as he continued to kiss her. Merissa moaned softly. He
moved to the floor and drew her after him. She went unresisting and lay there
on her back as Troyes pressed his body on top of hers, moving against her. He
pushed her long skirt up, reaching for her small clothes to move them aside,
while he jerked the strings on his pants loose with his other hand. She caught
his hands and stopped him, realizing that he intended to enter her.
"They will catch us. Mother comes up for wool or sometimes to check on me."
Troyes rolled off her, went to the door, and drew a sign upon it. A black
sigil formed, sank into the wood, and vanished to be sensed rather than seen.
Then he returned to her.
Merissa's heart hammered with sudden fear. "Troyes, please. I don't wish to
go any farther."
Troyes' eyes narrowed and his smile became poisonous. "You've been teasing
me for days, weeks. Parading your charms and practically begging me to touch
them. I am not one of your farmer boys. I am a grown man, and a sa'necari. I
will not tolerate having you get me worked up, and then withholding what you
have promised with your eyes and manner."
"I I'll scream."
Troyes shrugged. "If anyone answers, I'll kill them."
Merissa shivered harder as he knelt between her legs and removed her
underwear. His fingers probed her with his thumb on the knob of her clit. She
whimpered in a tangled web of fright and desire.
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"A virgin. You surprise me, princess of farmers. I understand both your need
and your reluctance." He drew his hand back and licked her juices off his
fingers. "Anyone coming to this door will suddenly find something else to do,"
Troyes told her. "Do not fear discovery."
Merissa swallowed. She had not meant to go this far, but now there seemed to
be no way out of it. She had never gone beyond petting with her lycan suitors.
Yet, the fear was part of the attraction. Merissa had been craving the feel of
a male, a powerful male, inside her for two years now. If she did not yield to
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