Hi everyone! I am back! As I told some of you in my review replies, I was travelling for work for 10 days. I had hoped to get something posted, but was just too busy! Anyway, the last chapter I posted was the most popular and got the most reviews so far and I absolutely loved every single one of them! I hope to hear from you all this time! The reviews made this chapter extra long because I want to make you all happy.
On another note, in my mind I have been picturing Mareke to dress like Missandei from Game of Thrones when she is at home (which she is in this chapter). She may also look a bit like her. If you don't know her, give it a Goog.
Anywho, here's the latest update! Enjoy!
Chapter 20 (Aragorn)
The applause and cheering was deafening as we rode into the City of Serpents. I could not hear anything else. The city was surrounded by tall walls and as we rode through the gates, the people were lined thickly on the edges of the streets ready to greet their Princess and her son.
Mareke waved to them all and reached down from her horse to accept desert flowers that were handed up to her. Adnan was waving as well and I could feel a current running through the people at having the young boy back in their midst.
I had forgotten that Mareke might have been popular in her home. Whenever she was in public in Minas Tirith there was no one cheering for her. The only thing that could be heard were insults and malicious whispers in my home city.
"Quite a different reception," Gimli said so only I and Legolas could hear it. He was still shouting, but with all of the noise around us there was no concern that anyone else would hear.
There was another, shorter, set of walls that surrounded the royal palace. The sun was setting as we had departed from the boat very early in the morning and had ridden at a steady pace all day to the City of Serpents. The orange sun caused the marble walls of the palace to look even darker than they were; so much different than the white city we had come from.
There was only a small group of four people waiting to greet us, attendants behind them. I recognized two as the King and Queen of Harad, but there were two younger men flanking them. One of them had to be Na'man, Mareke's brother, I surmised. I could not guess at the identity of the second one.
Mareke hurriedly dismounted and pulled Adnan down as well, both hurrying into her parents' arms. There was no such protocol in my wife's city that would forbid such a thing in public. I hung back until they were through.
Mareke continued to talk to her parents, but Adnan went straight to the man who was standing behind his grandmother. The man beamed down at him and picked the boy up before tossing him high into the air. The boy laughed loudly as he was set on the ground. The man said something quietly to Adnan in their language, but his attention was very quickly diverted and I noticed he was staring intently at Mareke.
Adnan drifted back to my side and I glanced at the other man who had said nothing and interacted with no one. This man had to be Mareke's brother. I would have staked the whole treasury of Minas Tirith on that hunch just by looking at the way he stared at the boy. There was no love in his eyes, only a calculating coldness that made me put my hand on the boy's shoulder protectively, moving him so that he was pressed firmly against my leg. Glancing over at Legolas and Gimli to my side I saw that they were both watching Mareke's brother intently as well, which made me feel better. There would be many eyes to watch over Adnan.
Hashad and Khatun stepped forward and gestured for their son to the same. We had a formal introduction and as he gripped my arm limply, my grasp tightened on Adnan's shoulder, sensing through our contact that Na'man was no good, though of course I had already known that.
When her parents went to confer with the attendants on having our things sent into the palace, Mareke moved toward the other man easily, reaching up to run her thumb across a scar on his cheek.
"Baran, you look so much like him," she murmured, seemingly forgetting those around her.
"Have you forgotten your Haradrim already, Your Majesty?" He jested in heavily accented Sindarin before hugging her so tightly against him that her feet lifted from the ground.
Mareke's brother-in-law was not as tall as I was, but he was very broad, thick muscle visible on every part of his body. He wore gray, loose fitting breeches with a blood red sash tied around his waist and a vest of the same color that was open in the front with nothing underneath but his dark skin.
Immediately, she went back to her native language and I could no longer understand what was being said.
I fell into step with Hashad as we entered his palace. It was only one level and built of nearly black marble. He explained that there were two layers of the walls on the outside. One attracted the sun and so the other had been installed to keep the corridors a bit darker and cooler during the scorching desert days. Even as we walked at a leisurely pace to our rooms I could feel droplets of sweat running down my neck and soaking into my tunic.
I found myself unable to focus on what Hashad was saying, but instead was craning my neck in a very un-regal manner to watch Mareke. She had her arm looped through her brother-in-law's, for that is who he had to be, and they were deep in discussion. Adnan left my side and darted up to her. Her dark hand went into his curls absentmindedly as it often did.
Gimli and Legolas were first shown to their rooms.
Khatun said something to Mareke in their language and she turned to the Elf and Dwarf to translate, arm still looped through her brother-in-law's. "Food will be sent up to your rooms tonight since it is so late. You should get settled in and rested tonight. Tomorrow will be the welcome feast and you will want to have all of your energy for that," she said kindly.
They both nodded and retreated into the side by side chambers.
We walked a ways along the same corridor before we came to another door. Once more Khatun turned to her daughter and said something rapidly in Haradrim that I had no hope of understanding. I knew the older woman could speak Sindarin, but it appeared to be easier, and safer, to use her own language in her home and have her daughter translate.
"These are my chambers," Mareke said quietly. "If you would like your own that can very easily be arranged."
I had tried to be more friendly and even affectionate with Mareke when she had returned from Ithilien. She was not cold to me in the few weeks that we had in Minas Tirith before journeying to her home, but she was not as engaged as I had hoped she might be.
"Nonsense. This will work perfectly."
Her look was one of surprise, but she conveyed the information back to her mother, who turned to me with a soft smile and a nod.
I entered the rooms behind Mareke and Adnan and to my slight irritation the other man followed as well.
"Oh Aragorn, I neglected to introduce you to my brother-in-law," Mareke said offhandedly, confirming my guess at who he was, when she noticed us standing in such close proximity. "This is Baran."
I turned and gave a forced smile as I clasped the man's forearm only briefly. His grip was vice-like and his dark eyes never left mine.
"Truly, Aragorn," Mareke said when we both turned back to face her where she sat at her vanity, undoing the tight bun at the nape of her neck and replacing it with a quick plait. I had seen her with her hair down on only a few occasions. "You do not have to stay in these chambers. It would be no trouble at all to have your own accommodations."
I quickly glanced at the man who was standing to my side. Adnan had run off into the connecting room that must have been his and I had no way to busy myself, to appear nonchalant. Baran had a smirk playing on his lips. Perhaps the King and Queen had told him of our seemingly strange customs in Minas Tirith.
"Nonsense," I replied as casually as I could. "This will be just fine."
She nodded her assent, though I imagined she thought it was strange that I would agree to such a thing.
"I shall leave you two to settle in," Baran said in his heavy accent. The same impudent smile was on his lips as though to say that he knew it would be our first night spent together all the way through.
I ignored him and paced around the room as he left, surveying the rooms that Mareke had grown up in. She went to find Adnan and after a few long moments she came back in and rummaged through the chest of drawers until she found one of the same long-sleeved, high necked nightgowns that she wore in Minas Tirith. I thought that she would be very hot in such a thing in her home.
"They have brought food. It is in the sitting room. Of course, Adnan has already been in it," she said with a tired smile. "He is sleeping now."
"You are not going to eat?" I called after her as she stepped behind a screen in the corner to change.
"I am exhausted," she replied, stepping out, looking every bit the modest, Gondoran wife at bedtime.
I nodded. "I shall have a bit then I suppose."
Mareke did not say anything as I left the room. I surveyed the food when I came into the sitting room. There seemed to be some sort of flat bread, strange fruit that I had never seen, and some cheese that tasted very different than what we had in Minas Tirith.
After eating, I went back into the bedroom to find that Mareke had fallen quickly to sleep. She was practically clinging to one edge of the bed, trying to leave plenty of space between the two of us. I kicked my boots off and changed into my own sleeping shirt and as gently as I could, slipped into the bed, feeling the silk sheets slide over my bare legs. I listened to her light, rhythmic breathing, but stared at the ceiling, until it lulled me to sleep as well.
ooooOoooo
I slept much later than usual after our long journey. I woke to the sound of voices in the language that I did not understand coming from the sitting room. Dressing quickly, I went to see what was going on, but soon enough the irritation from the day before returned when I saw that Mareke was sitting on one of the low sofas with Baran.
"Good morning," she said.
I nodded in her direction and took a seat on another sofa. My legs stretched in front of me, not being able to bend them as I could on the taller furniture at home.
The other man continued to speak to Mareke in Haradrim. The topic was obviously very serious.
"I would appreciate it if you could inform your men, those who are more loyal to my son than my brother, that they should watch Adnan extra closely," Mareke said, slipping into Sindarin.
Baran replied as though he had not noticed the change and went on his own tongue.
"Baran," Mareke said gently. "Please, speak so the King can understand."
He looked at her for a moment before throwing a disdainful glance in my direction.
"It will be done, of course, Mareke," he said without formally addressing her. "His safety is my priority, I can assure you." His accent was thick and it was not very easy to understand him even though he was speaking a language I knew. "Men will be posted outside of his rooms and yours as well. They will be around, discreetly, wherever you and he go. You have nothing to fear. No one who wishes you harm will be able to get anywhere near either of you."
"That is good to know," I said.
Mareke gave me a small smile, but Baran continued to ignore me.
After a bit longer of listening to Baran expand on his plans to keep Adnan safe, I rose to my feet. "I should be on my way. I have meetings to attend with your father. Hopefully, I will be back before you leave for the feast."
Something about leaving Mareke with her brother-in-law made me very uncomfortable, but I had no option. I could not ignore the meetings and negotiations I was to attend with Hashad.
ooooOoooo
I came back with just enough time to spare to change into my more formal clothes. The day had been grueling as we had ironed out more specifics in our treaty.
When I entered the bedroom, Mareke was still in the same Gondoran dress she had been when I had seen her before my meetings. Adnan stood in front of her as she ran her fingers through his thick curls to tame them as best as she could.
I changed into a different tunic and she was still busy putting Adnan into his vest and breeches, smoothing them out.
"You can go ahead of us. We still have a few things to tend to before we will be ready," Mareke said, glancing over her shoulder. "We lost track of time reacquainting ourselves with our home."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. Legolas and Gimli stopped by on their way. They should already be in the hall. We will not be too far behind."
I nodded my assent and left the two to finish getting ready. I followed the corridor until I could hear low music and talking behind the door of the great hall and when I pushed it open, Legolas and Gimli were standing just on the other side, looking around them in wonder.
The women were scantily clad in the skirts and tops that Mareke had worn in the first portrait I had seen of her. The men wore the same breeches and vest ensemble that Baran had worn upon our arrival. There was bare, dark skin all around us.
"Your Majesty," Hashad approached. "You and your friends should take your seats at the high table. The food will be served soon." He looked around me. "Where is Mareke?"
"She and Adnan were still getting ready. Mareke assured me that she would follow soon. It seemed as though Adan were giving her a difficult time about preparing for the feast."
"That child has a spirit all his own," Hashad said with an indulgent chuckle, leading us to the table at the front of the room. He and his wife sat in the middle, their son to Khatun's left. There were no chairs and I noticed that everyone was sitting on plush pillows, legs folded before them or underneath them. There were three empty places on Hashad's right. "For you, Makeke, and Adnan," he said, gesturing for me to sit. Baran was on the other end of the three empty places and Legolas and Gimli were seated on his other side, Gimli groaning as he got to the floor.
I sat, continuing to watch the people milling about in silence. Their chatter was loud and happy, everyone was smiling and laughing.
"This is a bit different from your home," Hashad said. It was not a question, as he had seen my home firsthand.
"A bit," I agreed with a small smile. "But different is not bad. In fact some of my own people wanted to experience your home."
It was true. I had heard that Eowyn had been devastated when she realized that she, Faramir, and Elboron could not accompany us because as the Steward of Gondor, it was Faramir's responsibility to take up temporary residence in the White City to oversee that everything went smoothly in my absence.
"We would be more than happy to host anyone who would like to visit in the future."
Hashad and I continued to chat amicably, though I was anxious for Mareke to appear. No one looked upon me unkindly, but they all stared and shot glances in my direction which made me entirely uncomfortable.
"Mahal's balls," I heard Gimli splutter from down the table.
"Gimli," Legolas chided our friend for taking the Vala in vain, even if it was the Dwarvish name given to Aule, the smith.
I glanced down the table at him, but found him transfixed on something else entirely. He was staring at the door and my eyes followed his.
Mareke stood there looking as I had never seen her before. Adnan was holding her hand and they both seemed to be surveying the hall before anyone noticed their presence.
I could not have looked away from her if I had wanted to. She wore the same style of skirt and top as everyone else, but hers was black as night which I found extremely odd. The other women wore reds, blues, and greens. In Minas Tirith, she would have been taken for being in mourning, but that was obviously not the case in her home.
The outfit left little to the imagination. There was a slit in the skirt that reached her upper thigh and the top seemed only to be a long strip of fabric that wrapped around her chest from her shoulders, covering only what was absolutely necessary.
I had only seen her hair down a couple of times, when I had come upon her unexpectedly on a morning before we were married and on our wedding night. It was always either in a bun or in a tight braid. That day though, she wore it natural as though it were a crown and it framed her dark face. It was pushed away from her forehead with a thick black band.
In Minas Tirith, she was always adorned heavily with either the Crown Jewels or the things that Gimli and I had given her, but in Harad, I could only see one piece of jewelry besides the ring I had given her on her finger, a tiny gold hoop in her nose and the finest of gold chains that connected the nose ring with a very small earring on the left side.
Someone shrieked in the hall and then there was a group of young women running toward my wife. They quickly wrapped her in a hug, before turning quite formal, perhaps remembering that she was now a queen. They began to stiffly curtsy and Mareke burst out laughing, waving away their formality, before opening her arms to the five or so women that had swarmed her.
As she greeted her friends, I noticed that she had more tattoos than I had ever seen before. In the original portrait I had been sent there was the snake on her right upper arm and the spiral on her hip. Since she had moved to Minas Tirith I had seen the tattoo underneath the ring I had given her on our wedding day and the sun on the back of her same hand. But from where I sat I could see at least three more and I realized that I had never seen Mareke completely nude.
Looking at her at the feast made me wish I had.
There was what appeared to be the pattern of Duma's fur that spread across her left shoulder, across her chest and back, and down to her elbow. Underneath the snake on her right arm, starting at her wrist were a series of plain rings around her arm, but the most expansive tattoo was on her lower back. It was an enormous flower that resembled the lilies I had in my own garden, but the points of the petals were sharper.
More intriguing than the tattoos were the marks on her hips that peeked above her skirt. They were much lighter than her dark skin and I imagined that they had come from carrying the little boy who had his head resting against her. I could find no other flaw on her body. She was taller than the women who surrounded her and lean, no soft spots that I could see.
The food was being served and Mareke's little group disbanded for the time being as she and Adnan came up and sat next to me. I was relieved when my wife sat next to me and put Adnan between her and Baran, though they exchanged a few words over the boy's head.
When she turned her attention to me, she did not speak and I did not know what to say. I could not gather my thoughts after her seeing her in such a different environment.
"You look…," I began, but Mareke cut me off.
"Different."
"Yes," I said quietly, though it was not what I had wanted to say.
The food was set before me and again it was a medley of things I was unaccustomed to.
Adnan dug in voraciously on Mareke's other side and I took the opportunity of her distraction to timidly try a few things before putting what I found appetizing on my plate.
"Mind your manners," she scolded him gently. "You are a wild animal."
That only seemed to encourage him as he tore into a piece of meat with an unfamiliar seasoning on it.
Mareke merely shook her head and turned back to her own plate, sipping from a small glass before putting fruits and vegetables on her plate.
"Have you tried our beverage?" She asked, nodding in the direction of my own small glass.
I shook my head and reached for it, cautiously taking a sip. It was as sweet as honey, much sweeter than Legolas' wine or anything else I had ever tasted, but it had a distinct burn as it travelled down my throat
"Be careful," she warned as I took another, longer drink. "You will not feel the effects until after it is too late."
She was not lying. After finishing one glass I felt lightheaded in a way I had not felt in a while. I relaxed a little bit as the dinner progressed.
"You did not have so many tattoos in the portrait that was sent to me," I said, touching the leopard pattern on her shoulder closest to me.
"My father thought it might scare you off since you are not from here so only a couple of them were painted."
I laughed out loud. "They do not scare me now. Quite the opposite."
"Well that is lucky since you are now locked into matrimony with me," she said, not unkindly and she was smiling.
"What do they mean?" I asked.
She raised her left hand. "You know about these," she said of the sun and pattern on her left hand. She glanced at the print that I had touched on her shoulder. "That represents adaptability. Many of the widows of them on different parts of their body." Mareke quickly left that topic. "Everyone from Harad has the snake somewhere on them, the rings are for each year a person has lived."
"And this one," I said, leaning backwards to look at the flower.
"While every man picks a weapon to represent his masculinity, every woman picks a flower to represent their femininity. Though I do not think that I fit into that mold very well, I had to choose one so I went with the desert lily," she said with a laugh.
"Mama, Mama," Adnan said and she was tugged away from me though I wanted to keep talking with her to watch her smile. "May I play?" He asked, pointing at a group of children about his age who had taken over residence in a corner of the hall.
It was not me who Mareke turned to, but she looked over her son's head at her brother-in-law who nodded and stood when Adnan did. He ushered the boy in front of him and spoke to one of his men who was watching over the feast. Very soon all of the soldiers in the room had their eyes on Adnan.
Very shortly, Hashad stood up and received the full attention of the room to say a few remarks. "It is an honor to have King Elessar of Gondor and Arnor in our presence and not only because with him he brings my beloved daughter Mareke back into our midst."
I glanced at my wife who was beaming broadly at her father before giving a quick wave to those gathered in the hall, giving her more raucous applause.
"No, if it were not for the open-mindedness of this new King we would not be where we are today. He has been more than generous and even on this trip has brought wagon loads of surplus as we continue to regain our footing in this new Age. It is with great friendship and respect that I welcome King Elessar into our home. I hope you will all show him our gratitude and joy at his presence."
There was light applause, not what I was used to receiving at home, but it would seem that Mareke and I's roles had changed while in the City of Serpents.
"Now let us show him what a Haradrim celebration is truly about!" Hashad clapped twice and music unlike anything I had ever heard before began playing from a corner of the room. The drums alone drove the rhythm and there were only a few instruments accompanying them. A few pipes and flutes that I had never seen and a stringed instrument with a rounded belly that a man was strumming on.
I looked over to Mareke, wanting to dance, but feeling too embarrassed to go and try her steps with her. It mattered not though because Baran was striding back toward the table, glaring daggers at me. I imagined he did not like much the praise Hashad had bestowed upon me.
I knew he was displeased when he spoke so that I could understand him. He was kneeling behind Mareke, both hands planted on either side of her so that they were very very close. She did not turn to meet his gaze, but sat still, caged in by his thick muscular arms. He spoke to her just loud enough so that I could hear him.
"Dance with me, Mareke," he said. "Show your people that you are still Haradrim," he murmured into her ear.
I bit my tongue from reminding them both that she looked every bit the Haradrim princess in her outfit of the evening.
She swivelled around to look at him and something passed between them that I could not lay a name to.
Mareke quickly turned to me. "Do you mind?"
I shook my head. "Of course not," I replied, though I very much wanted to retort differently.
Baran stood and pulled Mareke to her feet as well. Before she was even fully on the floor her hips were moving rhythmically and I could not take my eyes from her. The movement travelled from her hips to her waist to her shoulders. Her arms were moving as though they were liquid; wrists turning and moving from her sides to above her head and back down again.
Baran hardly moved, but watched her closely, taking one of her hands and letting her twirl underneath his arm.
To my chagrin, they moved as though they had been born to do it and by the end of the song, Mareke was flush against him, looking up into his dark eyes that matched hers and the irritation I had been feeling since we arrived turned into envy so strong I could taste it. Thoughts I did not enjoy rolled through my mind and I found myself wondering to what extent their relationship had gone after her husband's death and before her move to Minas Tirith. As I watched the pair, it looked as though they had spent a lifetime together.
My wife did not return to the high table to take her seat next to me. She was pulled back into a group of women. I found myself smiling as she laughed with them and watched as she flitted from one group to another spread out all over the hall. In Minas Tirith, she was lucky to have two people who would speak to her at any given celebration, but in her home there was no one who would not speak to her it seemed.
Legolas and Gimli had scooted closer to me since everyone next to me had disappeared.
"That was quite the dance," Gimli said.
"Indeed," I replied shortly, reaching for my recently refilled glass of the sweet liquor. I could feel Legolas staring at me, but did not meet his gaze. I had no desire to hear his Elvish wisdom on how I had wasted so much time being apathetic to my wife only to come here and see that there were those who loved her very much, both friends, family, and others.
Hashad vacated his seat next to me, but it was quickly occupied by the man who had taken my wife onto the dance floor. "You probably do not recognize Mareke as the same woman you married," he said quietly, but there was a venomous tone in his voice. "I did not recognize her when you brought her back from your White City yesterday. She looked very old and very careworn."
I knew that he was implying that it was my fault that she seemed so tired and depressed upon our arrival, but I refused to rise to the bait.
"Here," he continued on, "she is not some exotic object to be stared at. She is not the dark wife of the King to be whispered about. In her home, she is merely one our girls and her smile can brighten any room and lift anyone's spirits."
"I am glad to see her so happy here," I said mildly, not even looking at the brash, young man next to me.
"As you should be," he said harshly. "And keep it in mind that she was only given to you because I was away settling things after the War. Had I been present I would have prevented such diplomatic terms and she would not be your wife now."
Baran stood and left nearly just as quickly as he had arrived.
"That lad has quite the chip on his shoulder, Aragorn. I would be careful with him," Gimli said, having overheard the conversation.
I waved him away. "He is hotheaded and young."
"Those can be the most dangerous when they get it in their head to be," Legolas said, joining the Dwarf in cautioning me.
"We shall see."
I watched Baran join the group that Mareke was talking to and she looked up at him as he spoke and there was a smile on her face. He had been right, of course. She looked years younger than when she had been in Minas Tirith and it seemed that in Harad she had no worries. She trusted so completely in her brother-in-law that even the threat from her own brother against her son could not dampen her attitude.
Baran departed from her group a moment later and then came back with a sleeping Adnan in one of his arms. It was much past his bedtime and he was sleeping hard. I could not imagine where he had gone off to to fall asleep. He had been known to find a sofa or crawl under a table to find respite from a celebration and drift off to sleep.
The envy returned fiercely. The child was growing too big for his mother and in Minas Tirith I had taken great pleasure in lifting his limp, sleeping form into my own arms to lay him down in his bed. The warm weight of him was always a comfort.
Baran's free hand splayed itself over Mareke's large flower tattoo and she reached out to stroke her son's back, not moving out of the other man's reach. I feared that she enjoyed his touch, that she had known it intimately before becoming my wife. After all of the times I had gone to her rooms for the less than mediocre attempts at creating an heir, how could I compete with the passion those two might have shared in the wake of their mutual tragedy.
Without removing his hand, he led Mareke towards the doors, Adnan soundly asleep on his shoulder.
I stood from my spot, but Mareke waved me away. "We can handle it," she said.
I hated the 'we.' Before leaving for Harad, I had flattered myself thinking that I was part of that 'we.' Many nights we had put Adnan to bed together, but when she arrived home, it seemed that I was all too easy to replace.
"No, no," I replied, refusing to mope. "I want to come with you."
I followed the pair out of the hall and noticed some of the tattoos on Baran's body. He had the same rings on his arm, though I could not count how many there were as he moved, the snake was on his shoulder blade, there was a curved blade on one of his forearms.
When we made it to Mareke's chambers, I stood awkwardly in the sitting room as Baran and Mareke took Adnan into the nursery. I moved into her bedroom and stood waiting for her to return.
I was looking out of the window at her private gardens and pool when I heard the door creak open.
I turned to see her alone and a flush came to my cheeks at having her there to myself, dressed as she was. Her very difference was drawing me to her.
"Where is Baran?" I asked.
"I told him that we would return to the celebration and to go on ahead. Do you want to return?" She asked.
I shook my head. "Not particularly."
"Then what are you going to do?"
"I would like to stay here with you if that is alright," I said. I did not wait for a response and instead took long strides to reach her across the room.
My hand went into her wild curls and the other touched the bare skin of her lower back. Touching her heated my body all the way through. Without preamble, I bent and put my lips to hers, all chastity gone as I ran my tongue along her bottom lip. She had gone stiff in my arms, but as I coaxed her along her body relaxed and she made soft mewling sounds against my mouth and pressed her body against mine.
Though I did not want to, I pulled away. "I should have said that you looked more than different tonight. I should have told you that you look absolutely breathtaking, that you are intoxicating in that very difference and I adore it."
Her dark arms snaked around my neck and she pushed me back toward the bed, until it caught behind my lower legs and I pulled her on top of me as I fell. Mareke kissed me hard, bruising my lips.
That side of her that was filled with the heat of Harad was something I could never have guessed at in Minas Tirith. She took my visits to her room in stride, but in that instant as she straddled my hips, I could see that I had not even come close to tapping into the passionate side of her.
My head lolled back on the low, soft mattress as she fiddled with my breeches, not even bothering to remove my boots or tunic. She had only to move aside her own skirt, made easier by the slits in it, to join us together. I could feel the heat of her so close to enveloping me when we were interrupted.
"Mama," the small, tired voice said. "What are you doing?"
Mareke leapt off of me with a sharp intake of breath and I sat up with a groan thinking of how close I had been to really knowing Mareke. I ran my hands through my hair and looked at the little boy.
"Nothing," she said quickly, going to him. "What is the matter?"
"I cannot sleep," he whined and I could see that he was close to tears.
"You let yourself get too tired," she said gently, taking his small hand in hers.
"Will you read to me?" He asked, rubbing his cheek on her bare forearm.
"Of course," she replied.
Mareke looked over her shoulder and gave me an apologetic shrug. In an instant she had gone from a passionate woman to a mother. The two had collided and the mother had won.
They disappeared towards the nursery and Mareke did not return before I fell into a deep sleep, though I tried to fight it.
There you go! I hope you loved it! Please let me know what you think! I love all reviews, especially the detailed ones! Please give me your rambling thoughts, they make me so happy!
Happy reading,
Avonmora