Far After Gold Read Online Free PDF Page B

Pabaigh, but what Flane suggested was so far from the life she had known at home she hardly knew what to say. He seemed to think what he suggested was perfectly normal. She stared around the three timber walls that made up his bed space, and clutched her arms about herself.
    “What’s wrong with it?” He sounded affronted. “It’s clean and neat, and there’s room for two.”
    “What’s wrong?” Emer couldn’t hold the words back. “There is no curtain to close off the front of the bed space from the hall. I had my own space at home. I had privacy there.”
    He looked at her down his short, straight nose. “Lose that resentful voice, or we won’t do well together.”
    Emer’s insides knotted up at the firmness of his tone. She looked away from his fierce gaze, prodded the mattress, recognised the feel of straw and heather and remained silent.
    “This is a good hall, probably much better than the one on your island, so you can get rid of that pout.”
    Emer schooled her face, but couldn’t quite banish the scowl. Nor could she meet his eyes. “It seems nice. But it is not home.”
    “It soon will be.” He smiled, and joined her on the edge of the bed platform. “Look around. You’ll see the hall is a fair size for the number of people who live here. The slaves sweep it regularly and the fire never goes out. We have ample food, the smoke escapes through those small gaps beneath the eaves, so you won’t be red-eyed all day. The sleeping space is generous, and you’ve already seen the washing place down by the water. Everyone uses it on a regular basis. We’re clean, Emer. What more could you want?”
    Emer looked round. All he said was true. Thick, square pillars of golden wood rose up to meet the rafters, and the roof sloped down to meet the walls at the height of a tall man. Unbleached linen hid the lower portion of walls free of sleeping platforms, and someone’s clever needle had sketched mythical animals around it in coloured wool.
    “It is a fair hall,” she agreed. “But it is not home.”
    Flane sat on the bed, grasped her shoulders and pulled her back to lie on the mattress beside him. He laughed into her wide, shocked eyes. His lips dived to the skin beneath her jaw and nuzzled towards the neckline split in her chemise while his fingers untied the knot that held the strings closed. He parted the fabric and his mouth slid down towards the newly revealed curve of her breast. His bristles rasped against her skin and Emer fended him off with both hands.
    “Don’t! Don’t!”
    He braced one hand to either side of her shoulders and loomed over her. “What’s wrong?”
    Emer gulped. “It isn’t right,” she muttered, unable to meet his steady gaze. She looked across the hall, where children ran about, getting in the way of their elders, and a dog barked as it leapt crazily about his newly returned master. The rest of the world seemed to be going on as normal, and here she was fighting for her virtue. No one cared.
    No one had even noticed.
    Flane chuckled, and she faced him suspiciously. “I can’t think of anything better,” he said. “What’s not right?”
    At his tone, some of her anxiety dispersed. She focussed on his leather jerkin and a part of her brain registered that someone had dressed the leather very well indeed, and threaded small tassels through the shoulder seam. She admired the pale shade, which so nearly matched his hair.
    “Be brave,” he said. “Tell me.”
    He taunted her now. Emer saw the mischief in his eyes, and caution vanished. “I cannot be happy in a place where we are on public view.” She opened her eyes wide and words, unheeded, shot out of her mouth. “And we should be married before you bed me!” Her breath came and went as if she’d been running and warm blood rushed beneath the skin of her throat and face.
    “Really?” His voice betrayed nothing, but his silver brows drew down in a frown. “And how would marriage change anything?”
    Emer