He grinned. "All right. You get the idea then. I'll share your tent with no expectation of anything. And if you wish, more, though I'll do nothing that could leave you with child."
"I know how babies are made. And I know that precautions can be taken to prevent that, though I suspect we wouldn't have such devices on hand. Unless you carry them around with you."
"Did I mention there might be a discrepancy between my experience and my reputation? I most certainly do not carry any such thing with me. Which means we have the perfect excuse for limiting our nights to--"
"Yes. Now can we stop talking and get to the tent?"
He grinned and led her back.
TWENTY-NINE
Gavril was laying out his sleeping blanket at the campsite.
"Moria will take the tent," Tyrus said.
"As I presumed."
"And I will be bidding her good night. Go ahead and get some sleep." He looked at the proximity between the tent and Gavril's sleeping blanket. "Perhaps you should move to the other side of the fire. The wind seems to be shifting, and you don't want to sleep with a face full of smoke."
"I will," Gavril said. "But I'll not be sleeping yet. After you've spoken to Moria, I'd like to talk to you."
"I . . ." Tyrus glanced at Moria. "I'm rather tired."
"I will be brief. I will rest better if we speak."
Tyrus's shoulders slumped. Moria could see the struggle in his face, wanting to do the right thing . . . and yet truly not wanting to do it, not at this moment.
"Could it possibly wait?" Tyrus began.
"No," Moria said quickly. "Go and speak now. You can say good night to me later."
He took her aside and whispered, "Are you certain? I would truly rather . . ."
"I should certainly hope so," she said. "But I would truly rather have your full attention."
"You shall. I'll keep this as brief as possible." He kissed her cheek and headed off with Gavril.
When Moria first climbed into her sleeping blankets, she congratulated herself on being so selfless, insisting Tyrus speak to Gavril before she got her time with him. As she lay there, though, she began to worry about what Gavril would say. No, she knew what he'd say--an explanation. The question was how Tyrus would react. He'd want to forgive Gavril. It was in his nature, because deep down he still considered him a friend. What if Tyrus couldn't forgive him? What if he returned preoccupied by what Gavril had said?
Could she change his mood if that happened? Distract him from his thoughts with kisses and . . . other things? That would be much easier if she knew what "other things" were. There were kisses and there was sexual congress. That was the extent of her understanding, in spite of all her efforts to expand her knowledge. The furthest she'd ever gone past kissing was with Levi in Edgewood, and that was only rather awkward groping, and entirely one-sided, as he'd grab her breasts and arse through her clothing, rough squeezes that suggested he knew no more than she did.
It was very vexing, to be so ill-informed. There were books, Ashyn had said, blushing madly as she'd admitted to hearing of such things. But they were not to be found in Edgewood. Nor with any of the traders--Moria always checked. Was one expected to simply wait for a lover to demonstrate? And what if neither knew more, like her and Levi?
Moria had explored her own body, but that was no
less frustrating. It felt good and yet, she had the feeling she was trying to get somewhere she could not quite reach. An itch she couldn't scratch, and those explorations left her overheated and feeling rather thwarted.
From Tyrus's hint, she suspected answers were coming. If he was not overly distracted. She could try to refocus his thoughts. Disrobing would help, although, personally, she'd rather disrobe him. But what if she disrobed, and he didn't refocus? That would be a humiliation beyond bearing.
No, the proper thing to do, if he came back distracted, was to remind herself that there would be other nights and to talk to him about Gavril instead. Moria sighed. Sometimes doing the right thing was not nearly as easy as one might think. Which was perhaps why people did the wrong things so often.
Finally, the flap on the tent opened.
"Out you go, Daigo," Tyrus said.
The wildcat growled.
"Someone needs to stand guard."