Disclaimer: They're not mine. I just like to play with them. All credit for Daine, Numair and all the rest to the glorious Tamora Pierce.
The lively, chattering crowd spilled out of the large stone manor into the spacious courtyard. Music cut through the clear, sharp night air, flowing from the great hall with the light that brightened the dark yard.
There was a snap to the breeze that cut through night air; frost had painted the branches and stones and made visible the breath of those who talked and sang in cross near the entrance.
A tall, lanky man wearing elegant floor-length mage's robes, black with silver embroidery, cut through the middle of the crowd leading a much smaller, delicate young woman, her smoky brown curls threatening to escape from their elaborate twists and braids in the wind. The skirt of her delicate white gown fluttered and shimmered with each step she took. A low chant started among the crowd, and suddenly the man seized the young woman by his side and swept her into a passionate kiss, bending her back in a dramatic show worthy of any Player's performance. The crowd cheered with glee.
Numair Salmalin set his beautiful bride back on her feet with a mischievous grin.
"You look incredibly pleased with yourself," Veralidaine Sarrasri - or rather, Veralidaine Salmalin - told him with a wry smile.
"I thought it was one of my better ideas," he said, still grinning.
The day still seemed like it must be a dream from which he would yet wake. When Daine had finally agreed to marry him, it had taken every favour they were both owed to convince King Jonathan and Queen Thayet not to insist on a wedding at the palace. The stuffy court event, rich with formalities and frivolities would not have suited either of them. But when Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, one of Numair's dearest friends and the King's Champion, had practically begged them to let her host at Pirate's Swoop, the offer seemed too good to be true. With Alanna's husband, George, at the helm of the arrangements, they could be guaranteed a rollicking, rambunctious party. And that's exactly what they had gotten.
Thayet still had her hand in the planning. She had insisted on having Daine's dress made and her impeccable taste shone through every stitch. When he had seen Daine walking toward him as the sun was setting, his breath had caught in his throat until he thought his chest would explode. He had gazed with awe at her as they danced around the floor, the material soft against his hands as he enjoyed the way it hugged Daine's body. Even now, with a rich blue travelling cloak tied about her shoulders in a heavy, high-quality wool, with silver embroidery that matched that on his own robes and cloak, she was a stunning picture in the moonlight.
He leaned down and pressed another gentle kiss to her lips. "And, now, if I might propose another brilliant idea - shall we take our leave?" he murmured.
That was the other advantage Pirate's Swoop offered. His own cottage was conveniently close, allowing for an easy escape from the festivities.
Daine smiled up at him. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. I can call Spots and Cloud?"
Numair shook his head. "I have... a surprise for you." He pointed to where a stable-boy was bringing Spots over, saddled and ready. "Cloud is already waiting at my cottage."
"But..." Daine started, and Numair silenced her with a finger to her lips.
"Trust me," he said, replacing his finger with his lips to the crowd's obvious delight.
He ushered Daine toward Spots, who was being held in place by the stable-boy. He could see Alanna, George, Thayet, and Jon all watching him with large grins, and he swallowed hard. He sent a silent plea to any gods who might be listening that he not end up looking like an idiot.
With what he hoped was calm self-assuredness, Numair grasped Daine firmly around the waist. Using the barest touch of his magic to help, he lifted Daine and set her side-saddle onto Spots. He then seized the saddle and swung himself up to sit behind Daine as the crowd clapped, cheered, and cat-called.
Daine looked back at him with shock. Numair had many talents, but it was well known that he was not a horseman. "The last time you tried to get on Spots, by yourself, you almost fell off the other side," she said, her tone slightly accusing.
A slight flush coloured his cheeks as he gathered the reins. "I... had practice."
"Practice?" Daine repeated. "Lifting me onto a horse?"
The flush deepened. "Well... Alanna pretended to be you."
Daine looked across the courtyard at the short redhead, standing with her husband and waving gaily, cheering very enthusiastically. She looked very pleased with herself.
"Shall we?" Numair murmured in her ear, pulling her attention away from the many things she was going to do to get back at Alanna for keeping this a secret. She nodded, and Numair urged Spots forward out of the courtyard, away from the cheers.
Daine settled into the trip as the sound of the party died behind them. It was comfortable, resting against Numair's chest with his arms wrapped around her. The warmth from his body took the edge from the crisp night air. Spots was always an obliging mount, the result of years spent carrying Numair, and it was an easy ride. Although Numair's cottage was only a short ride away, Daine found she soon dropped into a light doze.
Numair smiled to himself as he continued to guide Spots, enjoying the warmth and weight of the beautiful woman in his arms. He remember how hard he had fought against his feelings for Daine when he realized they were developing, the many late-night arguments with himself that he was too old, she was too naïve, it was inappropriate. He remembered, somewhat shamefully, the times he had tried to distract himself with some curvaceous, buxom, but vacuous blond - in short, a woman who was everything Daine wasn't. He smiled at the memory of their first kiss, Daine's stubborn refusal to accept his protestations, the joy and acceptance of their friends when they revealed their relationship. And now...
Daine stirred as Spots slowed, then stopped in front of a pretty, sprawling cottage, set well back from the main road, with a picturesque yard filled with trees.
Numair pressed a kiss to the top of Daine's head as another stable-boy rushed out to hold Spots. "Welcome home, magelet," he murmured.
His dismount was somewhat more typical of Numair's usual horsemanship abilities, and Daine giggled. "Insolent wench," he grumbled as he reached up for her. His revenge was swift as he deftly flipped her over his shoulder in a pirate's carry and turned, heading for the house. A young boy had dashed up and grabbed Spots's reins.
"Numair! Numair, put me down! This instant!" Daine commanded, her fists beating uselessly against his back.
"Nonsense, my sweet," he sang. "It's a time honoured tradition that one must carry their new bride over the threshold. And we daren't offend the gods." With a flourish, he swung Daine from his shoulder and set her gently on her feet in the cottage's front room, straightening her cloak and skirts. "Voila!"
"That is NOT what they mean!" Daine said sternly, though a smile played around her mouth.
Numair covered her mouth with his own in a brief kiss. "The gods can be so hard to interpret sometimes," he quipped as he pulled away. Daine slapped his chest lightly, knowing he would not let her have the last word. He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her fingers before releasing it and turning his attention to the clasp on Daine's cloak. He drew it gently from her shoulders and turned to hang it up, removing his own as well.
The simple gesture sent a strange sensation through Daine, immediately setting aflight the butterflies that had been waiting in her stomach all day long and had been lulled into quiet by their peaceful trip here.
Palace gossip had placed her in Numair's bed since she was a mere student; in reality, Numair had been acutely aware that of the damage that had been inflicted upon Daine's reputation by her affiliation with him and had seemed even more insistent that there be no reality to those rumours. They had certainly enjoyed kissing one another, exploring each other's bodies with their hands; they talked late into the night, enjoying each other's company and often awoke together. But Numair had swiftly clamped down whenever their … activities... had become to ardent, too dangerous. When hands strayed too far under clothes, when inhibitions were lowered. Daine deserved better, he insisted.
She wasn't sure if it was better, but it was important to him. And it was touching, that her reputation meant so much to him. But now, tonight... now there were no social constraints holding either of them back. This was what she had wanted for months. What she had yearned for all those nights in his tower, in his arms. If she could just get her stomach to agree.
To calm her nerves, she looked around. She had not been here before. They had ridden by it before, on their way to Pirate's Swoop, but when they came here, she stayed with Alanna. The main room was a large, spacious area, relatively sparse with simple furniture. Someone had put a bouquet of dried flowers on the table, and a roaring fire had been built in the heart before they arrived. Numair was adding wood now, the firelight glinting off the silver embroidery in his robes.
She stepped over to a large window and peered out. Her curiosity was well-rewarded. The window looked out onto the ocean, showing the waves crashing against the sharp, black rocks. The moon shone across the top of the water, while stars winked at them from the inky black sky. In the far distance, she saw a whale break the surface of the water.
"I added this window after I bought the place," Numair whispered, his arms sliding around her waist as he stepped up behind her to enjoy the view. Daine started in surprise, though she quickly forced herself to relax into his hold. "There's another window like this in the bedroom, but the view isn't quite as nice."
Daine's stomach gave a quick flop at the word 'bedroom', but Numair did not say or do anything else. Instead, he just stood, holding her, staring out at the crashing waves. Daine closed her eyes and tried to let the sound wash over her.
She sighed as she felt Numair's lips press against the top of her head, his hands caressing across her stomach. He trailed kisses down to her temple, along the curve of her jaw, dropping to the sensitive spot where her neck joined her shoulder as she tipped her head to give him better access. He made his way back up, caressing her lovely neck with his lips, his hands tracing the beautiful curves displayed to such advantage by her gown.
"Shall we retire, my love?" he murmured in a voice thick with want.
Daine's breath caught in her throat, choking off any reply. She tried to nod, but seemed frozen in place and instead just stared straight ahead.
Numair drew back at the sudden change in her demeanour, turning Daine in his arms. He gently raised her chin until he could look down into her face, his large hand sliding to cup her cheek. "Daine," he said softly. He waited until she had lifted her eyes to his. "We won't do anything you don't want to do," he finished, his voice gentle. "I promise. If you want, we can just go to sleep." He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, then another, each a mere invitation without even a hint of demand.
Daine responded warmly, if somewhat tentatively, wrapping her arms around him. Numair gathered her close with one arm still wound around her waist as he deepened the kiss. The hand that had been resting against her cheek slid back to stroke her beautiful, errant, disobedient curls...
And immediately he found his fingers entwined in one of the countless twist and braids that had been used to subdue those curls into order for the wedding. Daine broke the kiss with a yelp.
"I'm so sorry," he said as he carefully untangled his fingers, but Daine could only giggle. Numair soon joined in with a hearty chuckle as he finally released his hand.
He grasped her face again, brushing several feather light kisses across her cheeks and nose as she continued to giggle. "What, exactly, did Thayet use to secure your hair in place?" he finally asked.
"About a thousand hair pins," Daine answered.
"A thousand?" Numair repeated, smiling down at her.
Daine shrugged. "Give or take."
Numair fiddled with the twist that had come loose as he had untangled himself. "Well, perhaps we might start there." He took Daine's hand and began leading her to a far door in the cottage without another word.
When he pushed it open, Daine felt her breath catch again for a moment. A large bed, with rich coverings, stood in the middle of the room. Daine could see the coast again through the window. This was his bedroom.
If Numair noticed her reaction this time, he said nothing. Instead, he pulled a stool away from a dressing table, and gestured for her to sit down. When she had, he began slowly and gently unpinning her hair, untwisting each of the braids and curls and removing a countless number of hair pins. Daine might have over-estimated the hairpins in her hair, but only slightly. She closed her eyes and leaned back against Numair's body slightly, enjoying the feeling of his fingers combing through her hair.
She hardly noticed when his hands fell away until she felt her skirts move. Her eyes snapped open to see Numair knelt in front of her, unlacing her delicate slippers. She watched as he removed each, then stood, carrying them to a wardrobe and placing them neatly inside. He calmly removed his own mage's robes, hanging them up carefully before unlacing his boots and placing them beside hers.
The serene, unhurried manner in which he did all this seemed to have a calming effect on Daine. She watched as he crossed back to her, smiling slightly, his eyes soft. He brushed her cheeks with his knuckles as he crossed behind her, standing at her back again.
"May I?" he said quietly, resting his hands at the back of her dress, where the laces held it tightly together. He looked up, catching her eye in the looking glass on the dressing table. She nodded, not trusting her voice.
He gently urged her to stand and untied the lacings, loosening each from its grasp until the dress hung loosely from her shoulders. Without a word, he slipped it down her arms, sliding the dress from her body, untying petticoats and letting them fall, until she stood only in a simple, soft cotton shift.
Moving to stand in front of her, Numair held his arms out and helped Daine step out of the center of her beautiful gown and petticoats. With the same methodical calmness, he hung up the dress before turning back to her.
He was wearing only a soft white cotton shirt that showed off his lean but muscular form, and fitted black breeches. Suddenly Daine stepped forward, eagerly, letting Numair pull her into his arms.
Sweet fire raced through her body as she found herself crushed up against him. She met the passion, heat, and desperation of his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself up on to her toes to press herself more firmly against his body. She could feel the heat from his chest even through his shirt, and his hands caressed her back.
Suddenly it wasn't enough. She needed to feel more of him. She dropped her hands and began tugging at the edge of his shirt, pulling it free from his breeches so she could slip her hands underneath, caressing along his bare stomach to his chest.
At the first touch of her fingers against his skin, Numair gave a heady groan against her lips. Together, they pulled his shirt off over his head and Numair tossed it aside. Feeling surprisingly brave, Daine reached for the tie on his breeches.
His body shuddered with need at the feeling of those small, careful fingers at his waist. As Daine succeeded in loosing the tie, Numair suddenly caught her hands again, breaking their passionate, lust-fueled kisses.
With a heated gaze, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from the floor. Daine's arms went back to his neck in surprise as he carried her across the room, and in one smooth fluid motion, laid her gently on the bed. He leaned over her, pressing more kisses to her face, her neck, her chest, as his hands skimmed down over her body and caught the edge of the thin shift. He whispered encouragingly as he pulled the shift up and over her head. Quickly, he divested himself of his own breeches before joining her in the bed.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured, his large hands caressing her skin as he gazed down at her. "So absolutely perfect. Do you know how much I love you?"
Daine blushed from the intensity of his stare, feeling self-conscious in only her breastband and loincloth, and at the same time, thrilled by the sensations being sparked by his hands. She brought her own hands up to frame his face. "I love you too, Numair," was all she said, pulling him down for a kiss.
This was more than she had imagined. Everywhere their bodies touched it was like she was on fire. His skin against her skin, holding, caressing. She whimpered as one hand traced over her hip and brushed along her bare thigh while his legs entangled with hers. When he deftly removed her breastband and trailed his lips from her neck, down her chest, to caress one bare breast, she cried out, trying to pull him even closer. She felt as if she would explode from the pressure.
Suddenly he pulled away, bracing himself on his arms over her. "Daine," he said quietly, intensely. "Are you sure about this? I meant what I said. We don't have to."
She reached to pull him back down. "I'm sure, Numair," she whispered, as his mouth began its assault on her senses again. "I love you. I'm sure."
"I love you too, magelet," he said between kisses. "I will love you forever."