Inspired by lisafer's "Shivers" on thekingsown . org :)

Shiver

Kel couldn't stop shivering, and it was embarrassing. She'd never really minded the cold or wet – four years of muddy roads and nights camping out in sleet had accustomed her to it – but this felt different. Even in the heat of the fire, mere inches away, only toasted her skin before dissipating, defeated by the ice-cold sunk deeply into her bones. Wrapping her blankets more closely around her body, Kel tried to sink deeper into the pallet laid before the hearth and ignore the shivers that wracked her body.

Behind her, the door creaked open, and she sat up enough to turn and watch as her traveling companion shut the door again with his toe. His arms were piled with blankets, and an extra pillow was tucked under one elbow.

"You don't have to do this," Kel protested as he set his burden on the empty bed frame. They'd moved the two-person mattress next to the fire for her comfort, but this was a bit much.

"Nonsense." Not unlike a fussy grandmother – though Kel would never tell him so – Lord Wyldon shook out the blankets one by one. "What did the healer say?"

"I'm not sick," she replied, her teeth clacking together as she shrugged. "It's just a chill."

"Hmm." Apparently satisfied with the state of the blankets provided by the innkeeper's wife, Wyldon shucked off his boots and approached, brandishing the pillow. "Sit up."

"I already look like a caterpillar," she grumbled, but obeyed. He was wearing that stubborn look that told her he would have his way, and so she resigned herself to being coddled.

Not, she added silently, that she minded all that much. For all his stern countenance and brusque manner – and parade-ground voice, when he chose to use it – Wyldon could be quite gentle. Besides, she hadn't been cared for quite like this since she was a child. Smiling at the unlikely comparison between her mother and her district commander, Kel let him wrap her snugly from shoulders to toes. The final touch was a blanket wrapped around her head and neck like a turban.

"Are you quite finished?" Kel inquired acidly.

He barked a laugh. "Yes. Try and get some sleep. Let me know if you're not getting warmer soon, all right?"

"Yes sir," she sighed, settling back against the third pillow he tucked beneath her head. He fished a book from one of his saddlebags and propped his back against the fireplace to read.

Kel woke up with a jerk. The fire had died to glowing coals, but she didn't feel chilled anymore – far from it. Instead she felt uncomfortably warm and sweaty, suffocating in layers of wool. Her face felt flushed, and an oven seemed to be pressing against her back. She experienced a brief moment of panic when she couldn't move her arms; more than half-asleep still, she thrashed briefly before freeing her hands and tearing off the blanket around her head, gulping deep breaths of air.

"Easy, now." Firm hands unwrapped the blankets just as carefully as they'd put them on, and she pushed them away as she sat up, head clearing. Kicking the bundled layers off her legs, she fumbled with her two tunics until she was finally able to pluck at the collar of her shirt, letting in cool air.

"I was so warm," she explained, feeling slightly foolish as she glanced at him. "I felt like I was in an oven." Frowning, she reached out and touched his hand. "No wonder – you're on fire. Are you sick?"

One corner of his mouth twitched up. "I'm fine. I'm just warm-blooded." His dark eyes darted briefly to the gaping collar of her shirt and away again. Kel, remembering she wasn't wearing a breastband, flushed at the knowledge of what he'd likely seen. Not that there's much to see anyway, she thought, a little glumly. Then, Why should I care about what Wyldon thinks of my figure? Or lack thereof. The very tenor of her thoughts gave the answer. There was a part of her, stuffed back in an out-of-the-way corner, that wanted him to look at her like she, sometimes, looked at him when no one was watching.

Biting back disappointment, Kel reached over to stoke the fire. She could almost feel his gaze burning into her back as she coaxed the coals into flames, adding extra wood to keep it going, and laid back down.

The silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire, was unbearable. Fingernails digging into her palms, Kel gave in to the temptation to look at him. He was on his side, the V of his shirt open to expose his chest, hand resting innocuously on the mattress between them. His brown eyes glittered darkly in the firelight, unwavering and piercing; it made her toes curl, and she wondered suddenly what it would be like to lean forward, just so, and touch her mouth to his, feeling its weathered texture, pressing more firmly and maybe taking his lower lip between her teeth and sucking ever so gently…

She jerked back, covering her face with her hands. "Milord, I'm so sorry, I –"

"Keladry." His voice was rough with want, pitched low in amusement, and it stopped her in her tracks. Calloused fingers took her hands, drew them away, brought them to his mouth where he kissed them tenderly. "You can't tell me you don't feel this too."

What was this? The desire that was beginning to uncurl somewhere beneath her navel, or the sweetness of his touch, or maybe something entirely different? Perhaps it was the way he laughed at her wry humor, the reckless glint in his eyes when they sparred together, the desperate coldness he'd radiated for so long when he'd received word of his wife's death. Perhaps it was walking into his office to find him hunched over his desk, old letters crumpled in his hands, shoulders shaking in dry, racking sobs; perhaps it was the rewarding glow she'd felt when she finally coaxed a smile from him for the first time in months. Perhaps it was the pride she'd felt, watching him training Tobe in the ways of horse breeding, finally taking interest in something again after so long.

Perhaps it was something more altogether.

"I do," she whispered, hesitantly tracing his lean features. The darkening of his eyes made her breath quicken, and this time when they leaned toward each other there was no hesitation.

Kel clung to him, breathless, as he pinned her to the mattress and kissed her thoroughly – more thoroughly than she'd ever been kissed in her life. Cleon and Dom, however interesting and knowledgeable, weren't half so thrilling as Wyldon. This time she welcomed the heat as he slid his hands up her shirt, tracing her scars and caressing every inch of skin. Apparently, she thought as his fingers skimmed her breasts, he doesn't mind my lack of curves.

His voice in her ear brought her back to earth, although his touch continued to drive her crazy. "Are you sure about this, Keladry? I am twice your age, after all."

She laughed, but it came out more of a gasp when his hip slid neatly between her legs, putting pressure on a very sensitive place. "I'm sure." Her hands climbed to his face, holding him steadily to look into his eyes. "Are you?" She could feel his desire quite prominently, but there was more to certainty than wanting something – or someone.

His mouth jerked to one side in that half-smile that never failed to melt her. "I'm young at heart," he whispered, and she was falling again.

Gradually their clothes were abandoned in favor of uninhibited exploration, and her hands sought out every scar and dimple even as his mouth wandered south. It thrilled her to feel the marks of his profession under her fingers, permanent brands that were echoed by her own scars and stitch-marks. His quick intake of breath as she ran her nails lightly over his stomach curled her lips in a grin. She let her fingers twine through the hair on his chest, pushing his shirt up so she could press her own bare belly to his, and her mouth opened soundlessly when his fingers slipped into her loincloth and slid upwards.

"I'm sorry, I –" He stopped, bewildered, and she gave a moan of frustration.

"What is it?"

For a moment his face was closed, but then an abashed sort of confusion replaced it. "You're very… unpracticed, but you're not…" His fingers moved again, and she understood.

"I'm a virgin, if that's what you're asking," she panted, arching her hips into his touch. "Once, when I was a squire, I bled a little during the wrong time of month. When I asked a healer, she said it wasn't uncommon for girls who rode and fought to… er, do the job themselves." She grinned weakly, only to close her eyes when he moved again more purposefully.

"I see." The huskiness of his voice had returned, and she wrapped her arms around him as he replaced his fingers with something far more suited to the task at hand.

Later, they dragged the mattress farther from the fire and curled up together, enjoying the wash of cool air that moved over their flushed and sweat-slicked bodies. Outside the blizzard still howled, shrieking its anger at being denied entrance to the cozy inn; but for Kel, the noise was easily blocked out. She'd lost count of exactly how many times they'd made love in the past few hours, and all she could manage was a final sigh of contentment before falling asleep in his arms.

She was no longer shivering.

The part about "doing the job themselves" I also stole from lisa haha, from her wonderful "Negotiations and Love Songs," which can be found here as well as at the King's Own archive. Thank you, dear, for being my continuous KW inspiration!