Free The Pillars Of The World by Anne Bishop Page A
Authors: Anne Bishop
bargain—and to assure the girl that she was desirable.
He told himself that he would refrain so that Ari would realize he wasn’t like Royce, that she mattered to him far too much for him to take advantage of love magic that gave her no choice. He needed to have her make that choice. If she didn’t, if she just tolerated him in her bed because she had to ...
If she gave you the fancy, you’d be spending as much time in her bed as you could before the bargain ended. And if her belly swelled with your child because of it. . .
Neall closed his eyes. Even if he got her with child, she wouldn’t necessarily agree to stand with him at Midsummer and say the pledge that would make them husband and wife. And if she didn’t agree, she would be facing those months, and the birth that would come after, alone. He couldn’t do that to her.
And he couldn’t stand by and not take advantage of anything that might bind her to him.
“Prey isn’t usually so obliging as to stand waiting for an arrow in the heart,” a rusty voice said quietly.
Neall stiffened but made no other movement. As he opened his eyes, he turned his head slowly in the direction of the voice.
The small man was no taller than the length of Neall’s arm, a stout little man dressed in the brown and gray clothing that would make him invisible in the woods. An arrow was loosely nocked in the bow he held.
“The Mother’s blessings be upon you,” Neall said softly. When the man didn’t respond to the greeting, Neall’s chest tightened. He’d always been courteous and careful not to give offense whenever he and one of the Small Folk crossed paths. They didn’t wield the power the Fae did, but their mischief magic could make a person’s life difficult, and if they were sufficiently riled, they could be deadly. But he knew this one, had spoken with him any number of times, so he didn’t understand the anger filling the air between them now.
“What brings you to Brightwood tonight, young Lord?” the small man asked.
Ah. So that was it. “The same thing as you,” Neall replied, giving the man a bit of a smile.
“I think not.”
Neall’s smile faded. “What I do here is none of your business.” Then he added angrily, “You’re not the only one who cares about Brightwood and the witches who live here.”
“Witch,” the small man said with a trace of bitterness. “There’s only one left now, isn’t there?”
Before Neall could reply, they heard a horse cantering down the road. Neall crouched down. His eyes flicked from the piece of the road he could see to the dark cottage.
Royce came into view, reining in hard enough to set his horse on its haunches. He studied the cottage for a long moment before dismounting and striding toward the front door.
“No lights,” the small man said, now standing beside Neall. “No smoke rising from the hearth. No reason for anyone to think she’s home.”
That was what worried him. He’d seen no flicker of a candle or lamp since he’d arrived, and he’d seen no sign of Ari. But she must know she couldn’t thwart the fancy that way. And where else could she be?
The small man said, “If she keeps the door bolted—”
“Love magic doesn’t work that way,” Neall snapped. “If she tries to defy it, it will turn against her.”
“A convenient spell, that,” the small man said with deadly softness.
They heard Royce pounding on the front door, watched him circle round the cottage and pound the kitchen door. His curses reached them clearly.
But no light flickered at any of the windows, no shutter moved to indicate someone might be peering out.
“You bitch! ” Royce shouted. He threw his weight against the door again and again until the lock broke and the door swung inward. ”You’ll give me what I came for, one way or another.“
Royce tried to take a step forward, and ended up taking a step back. He tried several times, but couldn’t cross the threshold. “ Bitch !” He spun around,
He told himself that he would refrain so that Ari would realize he wasn’t like Royce, that she mattered to him far too much for him to take advantage of love magic that gave her no choice. He needed to have her make that choice. If she didn’t, if she just tolerated him in her bed because she had to ...
If she gave you the fancy, you’d be spending as much time in her bed as you could before the bargain ended. And if her belly swelled with your child because of it. . .
Neall closed his eyes. Even if he got her with child, she wouldn’t necessarily agree to stand with him at Midsummer and say the pledge that would make them husband and wife. And if she didn’t agree, she would be facing those months, and the birth that would come after, alone. He couldn’t do that to her.
And he couldn’t stand by and not take advantage of anything that might bind her to him.
“Prey isn’t usually so obliging as to stand waiting for an arrow in the heart,” a rusty voice said quietly.
Neall stiffened but made no other movement. As he opened his eyes, he turned his head slowly in the direction of the voice.
The small man was no taller than the length of Neall’s arm, a stout little man dressed in the brown and gray clothing that would make him invisible in the woods. An arrow was loosely nocked in the bow he held.
“The Mother’s blessings be upon you,” Neall said softly. When the man didn’t respond to the greeting, Neall’s chest tightened. He’d always been courteous and careful not to give offense whenever he and one of the Small Folk crossed paths. They didn’t wield the power the Fae did, but their mischief magic could make a person’s life difficult, and if they were sufficiently riled, they could be deadly. But he knew this one, had spoken with him any number of times, so he didn’t understand the anger filling the air between them now.
“What brings you to Brightwood tonight, young Lord?” the small man asked.
Ah. So that was it. “The same thing as you,” Neall replied, giving the man a bit of a smile.
“I think not.”
Neall’s smile faded. “What I do here is none of your business.” Then he added angrily, “You’re not the only one who cares about Brightwood and the witches who live here.”
“Witch,” the small man said with a trace of bitterness. “There’s only one left now, isn’t there?”
Before Neall could reply, they heard a horse cantering down the road. Neall crouched down. His eyes flicked from the piece of the road he could see to the dark cottage.
Royce came into view, reining in hard enough to set his horse on its haunches. He studied the cottage for a long moment before dismounting and striding toward the front door.
“No lights,” the small man said, now standing beside Neall. “No smoke rising from the hearth. No reason for anyone to think she’s home.”
That was what worried him. He’d seen no flicker of a candle or lamp since he’d arrived, and he’d seen no sign of Ari. But she must know she couldn’t thwart the fancy that way. And where else could she be?
The small man said, “If she keeps the door bolted—”
“Love magic doesn’t work that way,” Neall snapped. “If she tries to defy it, it will turn against her.”
“A convenient spell, that,” the small man said with deadly softness.
They heard Royce pounding on the front door, watched him circle round the cottage and pound the kitchen door. His curses reached them clearly.
But no light flickered at any of the windows, no shutter moved to indicate someone might be peering out.
“You bitch! ” Royce shouted. He threw his weight against the door again and again until the lock broke and the door swung inward. ”You’ll give me what I came for, one way or another.“
Royce tried to take a step forward, and ended up taking a step back. He tried several times, but couldn’t cross the threshold. “ Bitch !” He spun around,