Imrahil's Daughters

Chapter 14

The corridor outside Éomer's room was deserted, but from the door leading into the main hall came the hum of many voices. Lothíriel took a deep breath as they approached the doorway. Her happiness still felt as fragile as the wings of a freshly hatched butterfly. He had forgiven her! Only moments after the bleak prospect of paying for her mistake for the rest of her life loomed over her...

A strong arm slipped around her waist and an instant later she found herself captured against Éomer's chest. "No need to rush," he murmured, "not when all the servants of Meduseld have made themselves so conveniently scarce."

His lips brushed against hers, calling up the usual alarmingly irregular rhythm in her heart. Lothíriel focused hard on her breathing, but so many sensations flooded her, she found her concentration slipping. Breathe in. Breathe out. Her world narrowed down until only his touch seemed real: firm lips demanding surrender and offering glimpses of unknown pleasures at the same time...warm breath ghosting across her cheek...the stubble of his beard soft under her seeking fingers. His hand pressed against the small of her back, burning through the layers of clothing like a brand.

Then he released her to gaze down at her with definite satisfaction. "Remember, you're mine."

A spark of annoyance rose within her. How could he kiss her and hold a conversation at the same time so effortlessly? It just wasn't fair! "And you're mine," she said, standing up on tiptoe to kiss him back.

The response was immediate. She found herself seized in a grip that allowed no escape – not that she wanted any! Ignoring all maidenly qualms, she buried her fingers in his thick hair. Heat flushed through her at the possessive way he ran his hands over her.

It was Éomer who broke off the kiss in the end. "It's going to be a long three weeks," he croaked, cradling her head against his shoulder. Lothíriel clutched at him for support, but his obvious breathlessness went a long way to make up for her incipient asphyxiation.

He straightened up and stroked a knuckle across one of her cheeks. "Lady of mine, you shouldn't do that."

She wasn't quite sure what she'd done to set him off in such a manner, but she nodded obediently.

"I really need to get that courier on his way," Éomer muttered half to himself. Then he shook his head. "But first the horses."

Lothíriel wondered why he put so much importance on showing her his horses, but perhaps it was the kind of thing for a horselord to do. Having recovered her breath, she smiled her assent. "Very well."

He offered her his arm and they continued down the hall. "There will be talk," he said, his voice low, "but remember, I'm by your side."

She shrugged. "I know." Anyway, the talk here would be as nothing compared to the rumours that would sweep the court at Minas Tirith. She could guess the probable turn they would take at the announcement of such a sudden wedding. But who cared!

Lothíriel threw back her hair. "It's only until the next scandal comes along, then we'll be forgotten again."

He grinned. "That's my girl. You know, perhaps I could talk Ealdred into abducting your aunt. That would upset Gondor's nobility and surely eclipse our small ruckus. What do you think?"

"I think Ivriniel would be more likely to abduct him," Lothíriel answered with a chuckle. She felt herself relaxing. Nothing really mattered except the fact that they had made up their differences; the rest would sort itself out. What had her aunt said – if Éomer really wanted something, nothing would stop him. The sensation might be like that of a swimmer swept along by a strong current, but since the destination suited her, she had no intention of putting up a fight.