Disclaimer: Tamora Pierce owns them, but sometimes they invade my head and ask to play with my muse. Errors are mine, of course. :)
By the late afternoon of their second full day at Numair's tower home, Daine was feeling rather annoyed. After an entire fall and winter spent at the palace when they weren't off dealing with misunderstandings with immortals, with dozens of well-meaning but nosy people seemingly watching her every move, she had looked forward to spending some time alone with Numair. That's why the two of them had started arranging this trip as soon as the snows had begun to melt.
Daine didn't mind living in Corus, and over the years she had made a number of friends in the palace and even some in the city. She had even been willing to put up with having to attend rather more balls and formal parties than was normal for her – her role in the final battle of the Immortals War had garnered her an increase in her status at court. However, the one thing she absolutely could not stand about court was the gossip. Of course, she really had no-one to blame but herself, but all winter tongues had been wagging, speculating about her and Numair.
Besides this, and even about the worries of some of their friends, there was one more thing that had kept their relationship at pretty much the same level for months. Last summer, Numair had confided to Daine that he wouldn't feel honourable seducing a girl half his age. Her pragmatic rebuttal had been to point out that after her next birthing day, she would be more than half his age. However, the day had come and gone, and nothing had happened. Or rather, the same things had happened that had been happening since summer. Chaste embraces, mostly chaste kisses, dancing at parties and balls, and extreme nervousness on Numair's part if they found themselves alone together in his rooms.
Now it was spring, and Daine was beginning to get impatient. The tower was in the middle of nowhere, several hours' ride from the nearest village and even further from anyone they knew. They were far, far away from court gossips and over-concerned friends alike. However, this did not seem to have dawned on Numair. On their arrival she had cared for their horses and he had brought their saddlebags inside. When she came in, she found her gear in "her" room, the guest room beside his on the second floor. This had set the tone for the next two days, as Numair showed no sign of wanting anything more out of their relationship than chaste embraces and kisses. Daine couldn't possibly know what he was thinking, but she knew what was on her mind.
Perhaps it's time I took matters into my own hands, she thought with determination.
So that evening, she took it upon herself to set the stage. Numair had no housekeeper, so they were cooking for themselves. They had planned to cook together that night, but instead Daine shooed Numair upstairs and made dinner on her own. Just before calling him, she dashed up to her own room and changed into her nicest outfit. Not a dress – she avoided them whenever possible – but the best of the breeches and shirts she had brought with her, and a tunic in her favourit shade of blue. She even took the trouble to quickly comb her unruly curls before checking that her charm against pregnancy was hanging with the silver badger's claw around her neck.
The table was set simply – Numair had a rather limited supply of tableware – but Daine found some wine in the cellar for them to share. The food was also simple, again due to limited variety in their supplies, but there was little she could do about that, especially this early in the spring. She did have candles, though, instead of the magelights Numair had set in the walls.
The door to Numair's room was ajar, indicating that he was interested in quiet but could be interrupted. Daine knocked, and when he turned toward the doorway, opened the door enough that he could see her fully. Doing her best imitation of a palace servant's bow, she announced, "Dinner is served, sir."
Numair smiled at her whimsy. "I'll be right along, magelet."
As Daine went ahead to make sure everything was just right, she wondered to herself, Am I being utterly silly? After all, I really have no idea how to go about… Even in the privacy of her own thoughts, she hesitated.
Seducing someone, she thought firmly. There. Now I've said it. Somehow, her intentions seemed more real now that she had admitted them clearly to herself. She wondered, again, if she was completely crazy.
But then she heard his footsteps behind her, and turned from her inspection of the table to face him. He was standing in the doorway, a stunned expression on his face. As she felt a familiar rush of deep affection for the man standing before her, Daine thought, Yes. This is what I want.
She grinned impishly up at him. "Have a seat," she said, gesturing at the table.
Still looking somewhat dazed, he pulled out a chair for himself and sat. Daine walked over to the hearth, and served two bowls of the stew bubbling merrily over the fire. She carried the bowls to the table, setting them down, then uncovering the basket of pan-bread in the middle of the table.
"Sorry there ain't anythin' fancier," she murmured, traces of her old accent surfacing with her sudden shyness.
Numair smiled at her as she sat. "It smells delicious, magelet."
Daine noted his almost deliberate use of the pet name, as if he was trying to convince her that she was still the insecure thirteen-year-old he had first befriended.
Or maybe he's trying to convince himself, a small voice in her head offered, maybe he's afraid of what will happen if he thinks of you as you are now.
Daine picked up the wine and poured into Numair's glass, for something to do while she pondered this thought. Then she poured for herself as she came to a decision. I s'pose I'll just have to show him that I've done some growing up since then.
They began to eat in silence, suddenly both unsure, not knowing what to say. Daine took a sip of her wine. 'Courage in a glass,' she'd once hear it called, and the gods knew she needed some courage now.
Before long, Numair shifted in his seat as if the charged quality of the silence was making him physically uncomfortable, and began making small talk, speaking of the weather. When he moved on to asking if she had met any interesting animals when she had gone riding that day, she felt more inclined to chat. Her discomfort soon eased as she relaxed into the familiarity of describing her interactions with the various denizens of the surrounding forest. In fact, she became so occupied with describing, between mouthfuls, her encounter with a family of hares, that she did not immediately notice the intensity of Numair's gaze upon her face. Whe she did, she stopped mid-sentence, and he suddenly looked away.
"I must be boring you to bits," she laughed.
Numair's eyes met hers, and the intensity of his dark gaze held her mesmerised as his hand reached across the table to cover hers. "Never, Daine."
She noted his use of her name with a small thrill. This is a definite improvement. Somewhat flustered, she glanced down and saw that his bowl was still almost full.
"You've hardly eaten," she accused, somewhat affronted.
He had worked his thumb under her hand, and was stroking her palm. Daine felt ripples of sensation running up her arm as he said, "I'm not hungry anymore." His voice was suddenly huskier than usual, and when Daine met his eyes the look in their depths kindled a matching spark within her.
"I've had enough, too," she whispered.
Whoa girl, came a sardonic voice inside her head, not too fast!
Acting on this advice, Daine stood, and when Numair also rose, pulled him into the next room, which had a fireplace in one wall and a couch opposite, with magelights on the walls. Together, they walked toward the couch. Stopping just in front of it, she turned to face him. Smiling suddenly, she rubbed her nose in the patch of hair that peeked out from the unbuttoned top of his shit. She heard him gasp, and he released her hand as his arms came up to encircle her. As she raised her face up from his chest, he lowered his head to kiss her. The touch of his lips on hers sent a jolt through her entire body, but he broke away all too soon. She looked up into his eyes, and saw to her surprise that he looked worried.
"Is something wrong?" Daine asked, wrinkling her nose in concern.
Numair smiled down at her. "Nothing is wrong, only…I'm frightened," he stated simply.
Daine was surprised, "Frightened of what?" she gaped.
Numair shrugged expansively, and replied rather cryptically, "everything."
Rather than reply, the young woman sat down, pulling the man down beside her. Reflexively, he put his arm around her. She moved closer, and placed a reassuring hand on his chest. "Don't worry," she whispered.
She shifted to face him, and began tracing aimless patterns on his shirtfront as he leaned back, his arm warm around her shoulders. Her hand spiralled across, and down, and up, and when she reached his collar she turned so she could use both hands to begin unbuttoning his shirt. She opened it halfway, and slid a hand inside. Her questing fingers felt springy hair, and then the round nub of his nipple, hardening under her hand. She ran her fingers in gradually widening circles around it, then transferred her attentions to the other side of his chest, where she proceeded to repeat the entire process, enjoying the feelings of smooth skin and coarse hair under her fingertips.
"Daine…" she hear him whisper, and he started to shift position.
"Hold still," she admonished, "I'm not finished."
She opened his shirt enough to plant a kiss on each nipple, before twining her arm around him to caress his shoulders and back. She continued to kiss his chest, working her way around each nipple and then down, unbuttoning his shirt and untucking it from his breeches to work her way down his stomach. With her head resting on his lap, she could feel a warm ridge under her cheek, and she turned her head to plant a swift kiss there before moving back up to his mouth to stop his groans of her name with a kiss. Her arms twined around his shoulders as he held her, returning her kiss with intense fervour.
Then he twisted around, so that she was now pinned against the back of the couch.
"Your turn," he announced, triumph and a certain amount of strain both evident in his voice.
Daine surrendered herself with a sigh, raising her arms to Numair could remove her tunic, and then giving herself up to the sensations he created in her with the movements of his hands, even through the fabric of her shirt. He hungrily claimed her mouth as his large hands encircled her breasts, then moved down her chest and stomach and up her back, over her shoulders to the top button of her shirt. Trying to kiss her and unbutton her shirt at the same time, he was failing miserably with the buttons. Daine laughed against his mouth, and he began to chuckle as well. She reached up a hand to stroke his cheek.
This is it, girl, said her inner voice. She took a deep breath.
"Perhaps we should go somewhere a little more comfortable?" she suggested, surprised at the husky tone of her own voice.
Numair's eyes lit up like dark embers, and she thought she might drown as she gazed into their depths.
"I thought you'd never ask," he rasped, then took a deep breath. "Besides," he continued, more lightly, "I'm getting too old for the couch."
Daine laughed, as she knew he had intended her to, and they stood together and moved toward the stairs hand in hand.