A RETURN
Glenna felt a sweet warmth flow through her body. She stirred, shifting. She was on something soft and pillowing and she could feel her fingers and toes. She felt a sudden stabbing ache in her head and remembered.
Terror. Pain. Shock. And then...
Images came to her disjointedly. The cottage in the woods. The sight of a man with a sword, roaring in hate and loathing. The feeling of terror and then suddenly the silence, and falling...
She remembered something else, too. Something more dreamlike and insubstantial. Conn, riding with her in the forest. Conn with his arms around her, holding her close. The sweet warmth of his body on hers as they rode. His lips, speaking her name over and over and over.
Glenna.
She shook her head, half-unsure whether it was a memory or if he was here, now, somewhere, calling her. She opened one eye.
Where am I?
The warm orange of firelight spilled across her vision. She winced, focusing her eyes. Heavens, but it hurts! She closed her eyes, then, slitting them against the brightness of the light, opened them once again. She had to find out where she was! What if the vision of Conn was just a dream, her reality the brutish horror of before?
Just then, she heard a soft sigh. She turned her head painfully and stared.
The firelight played softly over pale auburn hair, the color of sunset on wheat growing abundantly in the fields. She stared at him. Asleep, he was so at peace. Vulnerable, almost. The contours of his face were soft and fine, those red lips slightly parted as he drew breath.
Conn! Her heart leaped. Here he was, asleep across from her. She wondered, then, if she was truly seeing him or if she dreamed still. She shifted, testing her legs. Then she stood.
“Conn?” She whispered his name, moving slowly across the floor. She sank down in front of the chest he sat on, looking up into his face. He was so still that, for a moment, she thought he might not even breathe. A cruel trick, to bring her here to him only to find him dead.
She sat watching him, noting that he breathed. She reached out a hand and touched his, then tensed as his eyelids fluttered. His green eyes opened then. Focused slowly on her face. He smiled.
“Glenna.”
He said her name so gently, caressing it with his lips. She shivered. This was so, so different. It was a world away from that brute-like, pawing nightmare of before. This was love.
“Conn,” she murmured.
His hand tightened around hers. He shifted to sitting, his fingers gently gripping hers. Then his other hand reached out and stroked the side of her face gently.
She flinched as he stroked her, her mind still attuned to expecting violence, even though her heart was rejoicing in him being here. His face fell and he withdrew his hand.
“I...I'm sorry,” he murmured. He moved back and, slowly, it seemed a realization came to them. They were together in a bedchamber, she in her shift. There was no one else near them.
She stared at him. Her heart thumped. In here, with him, alone, all those feelings and urges she had felt for so long suddenly gathered and grew, taking wing. Her hand gripped his and he gripped hers in return. His palms felt hot and she saw the thoughts affecting her mirror in his eyes.
Gently, tenderly, tentatively, their lips met. Glenna sighed as his hard mouth nibbled at her soft one. Slowly, hesitatingly, his tongue protruded and pushed insistently but cautiously into her mouth. She parted her lips slightly and allowed it entry.
She heard Conn sigh as his tongue slowly, deliciously, explored the wet cave of her lips. She let the feeling it summoned slowly filter through her body, tingling and pressing through her and making her ache with sweet desire. This was so different.
His hands moved down her back and she shifted. He slid off the box and sat with her on the floor, arms reaching for her to hold her close. Her heart was pounding like a bass-drum as he drew her into his arms and held her hard against him. His lips tasted her own.
Her breasts were crushed against the muscle of his chest, but it was not a frightening thing. Rather, the blood leaped within her loins, making her feel that strange, sweet need to push her body closer...
“Glenna!”
Conn gasped, breaking the kiss.
Glenna felt her own eyes fly open in sweet confusion. “Conn?”
He was flushed and panting, his face contorted with something that looked tormented.
Glenna frowned, suddenly fearful for him. What was happening? “Conn?”
He smiled at her, breath rasping in his throat. “Sorry, my dear,” he whispered. “I had no wish to startle you. I was just...we mustn't, you know.”
Glenna blushed. Her cheeks flamed. She knew what he meant.
The talk of how babies came to be was fairly well-repeated in the servants' rooms. She had heard and seen things her body understood even if her mind had but rudimentary knowing. All the same, it seemed her body was knowledgeable and had a need to increase its knowledge on this topic. Her loins flared with need as he stroked soft touches down her back, and then sat back.
“I...” He grinned. “Glenna, I think I should say what I have been longing to say for far too long now. It's essential.”
Glenna frowned. Her heart thumped. Apprehension warred with fear, which warred with sweet joy. “Yes?”
“Glenna,” he said and smiled, handsome face somewhat nervous. “I want to ask...I would understand if you said no, of course. I am utterly unworthy. I know that. But...would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Glenna stared at him. I am utterly unworthy. I know.
Then, abruptly, she started to laugh. And cry. All sorts of emotions – amazement, bafflement and sweet wonder – filled her.
“Conn!” she said. Then she was laughing more than crying and his arms were around her and he held her close. “Yes. I will indeed.”