Memories Revised Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Memories Revised

  ISBN # 9781419908033

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Memories Revised Copyright© 2007 Cricket Starr

  Edited by Ann Leveille.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Electronic book Publication: January 2007

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Content Advisory:

  S – ENSUOUS

  E – ROTIC

  X - TREME

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic.

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. E-rated titles might contain material that some readers find objectionable—in other words, almost anything goes, sexually. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry in terms of both sexual language and descriptiveness in these works of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Stories designated with the letter X tend to contain difficult or controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  Memories Revised

  Cricket Starr

  Chapter One

  Just at the first moment of deep twilight Talia lit a candle and set it before the shrine dedicated to Gillian. Sitting on the sand-covered floor, she drew her shawl up to cover her red-gold hair and waved her hands once, twice, over the low flame. Scent from the candle hovered in the small low-ceilinged village temple and drifted into her face. She breathed deeply of the warm perfumed air then lit a second candle and a third.

  Three candles made with her finest beeswax, all embedded with precious fragrant herbs carefully prepared from her garden. Rarely did Talia make such a generous offering, but it wasn’t every day she came to the temple on a visit of such urgency. She seriously needed marital advice from the goddess of the hearth and harvest.

  Carefully she composed her mind, letting it clear of all other thoughts. When she was ready, she began. “Mighty Goddess, I beseech you. It has been long since I’ve asked anything of you, but now I have need of your guidance.”

  Talia took a deep breath and raised her eyes to those of the statue sitting in its wall niche behind the offerings. About half her height, it was made of carved wood, but as was traditional was not the true figure of a woman—merely a shaped form of curves with recognizable breasts and limbs and a head of heavily detailed, carved hair. The face, like the body, could have been that of any woman’s, but sometimes, like now, Talia saw a hint of color in the copper-colored wood used for the figure. For a moment green eyes seemed to stare back at her and she hesitated under their icy regard.

  In her head she thought she heard a voice. “Guidance?” the voice said, the word drawn out with cold amusement.

  “Yes… G-goddess…” Excited and a little fearful, Talia tripped over her words. In all the years she’d prayed at the shrine, she’d never had an experience like this. It was as if the goddess was actually here in the temple.

  “I’m to marry and I don’t know which man to choose…”

  The eyes in the copper wood seemed to spark brighter. “Marry? Choose?”

  “I’ve had two offers and I don’t know which man to pick to be my husband. I’ve known them both all my life, we’ve grown up together, and I find it hard to choose between them.”

  The green eyes dimmed a little as if confused by her answer. “Marry the one you love.”

  Talia sighed and shook her head. “But I don’t love either of them…not that way at least.”

  Immediately the goddess’s eyes seemed to blaze to life. “No love?”

  “No. I like them, but I don’t love either of them. They are nice men, like brothers to me.”

  Before her the goddess’s image seemed to flicker in the smoke from the candles. Again she heard the voice in her head. “Then marry the one you desire most.”

  Desire? The goddess was speaking of passion, the sexual desire of men and women. Talia shook her head. She was a good woman who didn’t feel that way about men.

  The figure on the shrine wavered and grew to twice its size, and as Talia sat back in shock, the copper-colored wood seemed to come to life, shifting and changing color. The carved hair turned red-gold in the candlelight and green eyes blazed at her from the carved face, the expression of the features twisting from one that was benign to glare furiously at her.

  Talia put her hand to her mouth in horror, wishing she could take back her wish to get the goddess’s advice. Gillian had heard her thoughts and was not happy. Fearful, she bowed her head to the angry goddess.

  “And what,” Gillian said with contempt, speaking aloud through her wooden lips and no longer in Talia’s head, “makes you think that only bad people feel passion? Passion is a gift of the gods…it is my gift to my people. It provides joy to a man or a woman when in the arms of their lover.”

  “I’m…I’m sorry, goddess,” Talia stammered out. “I did not mean to offend. But I have never felt that passion you speak of.”

  “Oh really. Never?” In the goddess’s voice Talia heard more than the question. There was a challenge in it. It was like she was prompting Talia to remember…

  And then Talia did remember. One day, years ago, there had been a man…and she’d felt something she hadn’t felt before—or since.

  It had been a terrible day when the army had arrived in her village. It was their ruler’s army, sworn to protect their lands, but the soldiers had spread through the streets and taken what they wanted without paying for it, their commanders not stopping the looting…and worse.

  Talia had been out delivering her weaving and was caught by three of the soldiers bent on “worse”. She’d screamed and cried and fought the men, but they had been larger and stronger and she’d been overpowered.

  Her arms bound by a rope, she’d been dragged into an alley and pushed to the wall. One had held her while a second lifted her skirt. The third was pulling off his pants when he had arrived. All she’d seen was a shadow move in the open end of the alley, then the man with his pants down had been tossed against the wall, his head smacking into it with a sickening hollow sound. He’d crumpled to the ground, stunned but breathing.

  The two men on either side of her had gasped, and the one holding up her skirt dropped it to draw his sword. “She’s ours, Remak. Go find your own woman to fuck,” he said, threatening with his weapon.

  “I don’t take what isn’t given freely,” the new man had said quietly, pulling the short sword at his side. He’d swung with the flat side of the blade and the blow hit the other man’s arm hard.

  The ugly man had dropped his sword, cried out in agony and cradled his arm. “I think you broke it.” His face showed his pain.

  The other man’s face had remained in shadow, his voice enigmatic. “Then find a healer to fix it. And on your way, tell the other men that I said to leave these people alone or they’ll answer to me. Those in this village aren’t our enemies and we shouldn’t be theirs.”

  The one holding her let her go and she’d
stumbled back into the wall, using it for support while the uninjured man helped his semiconscious friend to his feet and followed the one holding his arm into the street. She’d been left in the alley with her rescuer.

  For a moment she’d stared at him, stunned by her near rape. Then he’d moved toward her, sword in hand, and she’d shied away, tripping on the uneven ground. With her wrists still bound she’d have fallen, but he’d caught her with one muscular arm and cradled her against his body. For a moment she’d lain against his chest, gazing into eyes that had blazed at her.

  Now she tried to remember. What color had they been, those eyes that had thrown such heat at her that she could still feel it now in her flesh? Brown? Maybe, but not the muddy color that brown eyes usually had. Instead his eyes had golden lights that brightened them, gold like the streaks that highlighted his dark hair. The latter was bound at the nape of his neck with a cord, but some long strands had escaped to trail down his neck and onto his chest.

  She’d wanted her hands free of the rope, just to touch those wayward strands and see if they were as soft as they looked, as soft as the yarn she used in her weaving.

  His face could never have been called handsome, but there was something arresting about it anyway. It was all hard lines and planes, featuring a nose with a ridge across it from where some blow had broken it. A face well used, like the body holding her.

  This was a man who’d lived most of his life outdoors, bronzed by the sun and hardened by the elements. Hardened by a life of fighting as well, with his massive fists and the sharp sword he still carried in his other hand.

  A hard man. A soldier. And yet the arm that held her did so carefully, as if afraid she’d break against him. He was a man who’d saved her from his fellows and even warned them to stop the harassment of her village or answer to him.

  A man unlike any she’d ever known, and she’d imagined how it would be to kiss him. For long moments they’d stared at each other and she’d wondered as his lips pressed together if he could know her thoughts. Would he kiss her? Would she like it?

  In the pit of her stomach something clenched and then far lower another part of her woke and she grew warm and wanting. Wanting his kiss. Wanting more than a kiss.

  In the present-day temple Talia remembered that feeling and now knew what it was. Desire. Passion. That was why the goddess had challenged her. She had felt passion that day lying with arms bound against a stranger’s chest. She’d wanted his kiss and his touch. She’d wanted him.

  But it was not to be.

  The moment had passed and he’d put her on her feet, releasing her from his hold. With one thrust of his blade he’d parted the rope and set her free. They’d stared at each other for one more instant and then he’d stepped away, giving her access to the alley’s entrance.

  “Go and find a secure place until the army moves on,” he’d told her, his voice gruff and dismissive. “It isn’t safe for a nice woman to be out on the streets.”

  It wasn’t safe—that was true. She wasn’t safe from the soldiers, but also—she wasn’t safe from herself with him.

  Talia had taken his advice and run that day to a friend’s home and they’d stayed inside until word had come that the army had gone off to battle their enemies, the Tarlons.

  The army hadn’t come this way again and she’d never seen her rescuer another time. His effect had been known, however. There had been less looting than usual in the village and no rapes, although the village women whose services were easy to obtain had been kept busy.

  For a while Talia had wondered if her rescuer had found release with them for the passion she’d seen in his eyes, and she remembered experiencing pain at the thought. Such silliness, she’d later scolded herself. Jealousy of a man she hadn’t even kissed.

  She’d put the thought aside and hadn’t asked anyone about Remak. With time the memory of him had faded away. Until now.

  Now she wondered which of two men she should marry when she felt no desire for either of them and when she asked for help, the goddess had moved her to remember the one time she’d felt passion.

  Talia stared at the figure in front of her, no longer a half-sized wooden statue but a living, breathing being who filled the temple with her copper skin, cold green eyes and hair so similar to her own.

  The goddess had a smug, knowing expression on her face. “You asked me for help in making your decision. You wish to choose a husband…I say you must choose the man you feel the most desire for.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It seems an easy decision to make to me. You must choose the soldier Remak.”

  Talia couldn’t help a bitter laugh. “You think I should say no to the two men who seek my hand and instead look for a man I met once years ago? A man who has not asked for me, who never showed interest in me past that one moment?”

  The goddess’s eyes narrowed. “There should have been more to that moment than you or he permitted. If there had been, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. There was attraction and yet you didn’t act on it.”

  Talia flushed. “What was I supposed to do? I’m not the kind of woman who beds with a man just because I find him attractive.”

  “And when else have you found a man attractive?”

  “Never. But that’s not who I am, goddess. Except for that once, I haven’t felt that way. Perhaps I can’t.”

  The goddess shook her head. “All women are capable of passion, Talia. Even you.”

  “Then perhaps it will come to me when needed. I will bed with a man when I marry. Perhaps I will learn to feel that way about my husband.”

  Gillian looked unconvinced. “When a man does not stir a woman, he makes a poor lover.” She tapped her foot and pointed her finger at Talia. “But telling you this doesn’t seem to be working. Showing you would be more effective.”

  Talia lifted her hands in supplication. Asking the goddess for help had definitely not been a good idea. “How do you plan to do that?”

  The goddess smiled. “I’ve watched you a long time, Talia. You are a good woman but timid when it comes to taking chances. You’ve lived all your life in this village, never traveling as far as a neighboring town. Sometimes you’ve dreamt about exploring new places and meeting people you haven’t known all your life, but in reality don’t dare to do so.”

  What could she say to that, Talia thought with dismay? The goddess was right about her fear of unknown places and people. She was also right in that sometimes she did have dreams that took her beyond her village.

  “Truthfully,” the goddess said, “you’ve lived more in your sleep than when awake.”

  “So what should I do?”

  The goddess’s smile turned mischievous. “I say go home, Talia, and sleep on your decision. Perhaps you will dream a solution…if you have the courage for it.” There was a challenge in the goddess’s eyes. “Something that at the moment I question.”

  Gillian clapped her hands and a wind blew through the temple. The candles before Talia flared up, momentarily blinding her. When she drew her hands away from her eyes the candles were blown out, and all she could see in the resulting gloom was the wooden statue of the goddess as it had been, half-sized and solid. The temple was empty of any other presence.

  Outside, dark had descended, leaving nothing but shadows. Talia whispered a quick final prayer and rose to make her way home.

  Chapter Two

  That night Talia slept and dreamed. She knew she dreamed because she was in the past, once again in the alley with the warrior who’d rescued her. Her arms were bound, she was in his arms and again she gazed up into his face, seeing the heat in his eyes. She breathed heavily, taking in his scent of sweat and the old leather of his armor. But there was another smell as well. That of a man—an aroused man.

  Again Talia felt that strange clenching of her body and her limbs grew heavy against him. Without meaning to she leaned into him, letting herself enjoy the richness of his smell.

  Something passed in his face—want, need, finally r
esignation. He put her from him and cut the rope from her arms. “Go and find a secure place until the army moves on,” he said, just as he had before. “It isn’t safe for a nice woman to be out on the streets.”

  But Talia didn’t run. She’d felt the goddess’s challenge…did she have the courage to act on her desires? Suddenly a foreign boldness came to her. The man, Remak, stood so close. All she had to do was reach out and touch him.

  So she did. Her hand caressed the dark leather armor that spanned his broad chest. It was smooth and hard under her fingers. “I owe you for saving me.”

  He moved just a little away, leaving her fingers to dangle in midair. “No reason for that.” She thought he looked uncomfortable, as if he weren’t used to someone’s gratitude. Or maybe he just wasn’t used to it from someone like her.

  She moved closer and reached again to him. This time she grabbed some of his hair. As she’d expected, the strands were silky smooth. She wondered if that were the only part of him she’d find soft. “But I want to. Please.”

  With a growl, Remak grabbed her hand and held it firm. His eyes narrowed at her. There was still desire in his gaze, but irritation was there as well. “Be careful what you stir. It’s been a long time since my last woman and I’m not a man to toy with.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  He growled louder, the sound harsh in his throat, and stepped toward her rather than away. Without thinking, Talia moved backward, startled by the intensity of his reaction.

  Something like relief swept across his face. “Go, woman. Find a place that’s safe.”

  “But I’m safe with you.”

  She tried to stay bold but he seemed to see how nervous she was. “You should go. I’m not that different from my fellows.”

  He turned to walk away from her. Probably he had his mind set on the tavern and the women and drink he could find there. How could she tempt a man like him to spend his short time in town with her? It wasn’t like she could compete with the tavern wenches who knew how best to please a man. Flirtation had failed, how else could she convince him to come to her home?