THE SHADOWLORD (29 page)

"I took my lady for a walk," Jaelan said. "She was growing tired of lying abed."

Tarsis rolled his eyes. "More likely, she was tired of being laid upon."

"Are you here for a reason or to annoy me?" Jaelan asked.

"There's trouble in Yulcuf," Tarsis replied. "The rebels raided a caravan transporting olive oil to Basaraba. We've been ordered to go after them."

"I volunteered to lead the Death Lords," Aluino said, "but since the shipment was destined for the Temple, Gehenna wants you to go."

"He's in no condition to ride," Aradia snapped from her seat at the vanity. When the three men looked at her with varying degrees of admonishment on their faces, she clamped her lips shut. She went back brushing her long hair, studying the men in the mirror.

"When is the troop to leave?" Jaelan asked.

Tarsis folded his arms. "Tomorrow morning. Will you be up to the trek?"

Not sparing his wife a glance, Jaelan nodded. "I'll have my strength back by then."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Aradia mumbled.

Tarsis chuckled. "Going to drain him dry this evening?"

Despite Jaelan's warning growl, Aradia smiled. "He's fairly dry right now, Sir Tarsis."

Jaelan gasped. "Wench!"

"Oh, ho, Ardy!" Aluino said, slapping his leg. "You've made the deadly Shadowlord blush!"

"Out!" Jaelan hissed and stood. "Both of you! Now!"

Tarsis strolled to the door, turning to give Aradia a wink before pushing Aluino ahead of him.

Aradia aside laid her brush. "Do you really think you're well enough to lead your men?"

Jaelan took the brush from the vanity top and gently pulled the bristles through her long tresses. "Do not question my decisions in front of my men,
aziza
. It's not your place to do so." His hand stilled and he caught her eye in the mirror. "Do you understand?"

The chastisement pricked Aradia's ego. She stared into his eyes and sensed their coldness, despite the gentleness of his tone. She nodded, knowing she had overstepped her boundaries. Though she knew he cared for her, perhaps deeply, he was a warrior first, a husband second.

"While I'm gone," he said, returning to brushing her hair, "you're to stay in my quarters with Kafele to serve you. I'll post men at the door and leave orders that no one's disturb you."

"You fear for my safety?"

A frown marred his handsome features. "I'll go to the King before I leave and ask his protection of you. Gehenna will not bother you, but he's not the only enemy I have at Abbadon."

"What if Orithia sends for me?"

He handed her the brush and moved away. "Do you truly desire to see that witch, or are you asking if I intend to curtail your freedom?"

Aradia got up from the vanity bench. "You believe Orithia means me harm?"

"She means
me
harm. You?" He shrugged. "If you get in the way of her having revenge on me, you could get hurt."

"And you think I would not do everything within my power to keep her from obtaining that revenge?"

He studied her for a moment. "What are you planning,
aziza
?"

"Let me go with you to Yulcaf." It annoyed her that, even as she spoke, he started shaking his head. "Why not?"

"It will be dangerous."

"Life is dangerous, warrior. If I can get word to my friend Phillipa, she can get word to my mother and Orithia's."

"How do you propose to get word to your friend? I told her to take the others and leave Rysalia. I made sure she did."

"Through the Daughters of the Multitude," she replied.

"There are no witches--" he began, but at her grin, stopped. "Those women have infiltrated Rysalia?"

"They've been here for as long as the Brotherhood has, warrior. There's no place on this world where you'll not find a Daughter."

His frown deepened. "And they will help you?"

"Aye, because we Amazeens are members of the Multitude. Orithia is doing something the Amazeen will not countenance, so the Daughters will stand with us on the issue. My greedy sister intends to Join with your king and that's against the laws of the Council. To marry a foreign royal would be disastrous. She's not thinking of our tribe. She wants the power her mother holds in Amazeen now and doesn't want to wait to inherit it. The Daughters will understand and act accordingly."

"They would not approve of her bettering her lot? They would prefer her remain a harem slave without status?"

"You and I both know a ransom should've been sent to Amazeen for Orithia's return. She's not the first of ours to be taken prisoner by the Rysalians. Don't you wonder why, warrior?"

"There won't be a ransom demand, now that Hasani's decided to make her his wife. I was ordered to send a message to the Domestic queen telling her of the proposed marriage."

"The Council will never approve the match, and even if your Tribunal allows such a Joining, it will not last forever," she countered. "He'll grow tired of her and cast her off. Either way, there'll be war between Amazeen and Rysalia."

"I imagine so," Jaelan agreed.

"As soon as she receives your message, my aunt will go before the Assembly. Within days, they'll be massing for battle."

"I hope it doesn't come to that."

"We have to see it doesn't, warrior. As I said, despite how enamored your King is of Orithia, that fascination is bound to wear off. If he's offered a goodly sum for her return to Amazeen, do you think he'll take it?"

He folded his arms. "Your mother offered an extravagant amount for your return and the Diabolusian turned it down."

Aradia sensed the jealousy lurking in his remark and lifted her head. "He loved me more than he did gold."

"Loved or desired?"

"It is one and the same, warrior."

"No,
aziza
, it is not." Before she could protest his remark, he shrugged. "Hasani loves gold more than he'll ever love any woman. I believe he'd turn her over and the Joining will never take place. At least not legally."

"What do you mean?"

"Hasani's a devious man. I'd not put it past him to stage a fake ceremony. He's done it before."

"That would serve Orithia right."

"As you say, once the novelty of her wears off, he'll move on to the next captive woman. The money he'll put in the treasury, and he'll be content."

Aradia held his unblinking stare. "If you had been in the Diabolusian's place, would you have accepted my mother's offer?"

"No amount of money will
ever
buy you from this man," he said, a muscle working in his jaw. "If you think to have your mother offer you, she'll be wasting time."

His answer thrilled Aradia. Her heartbeat quickened. She turned and spoke as though no mention had been made of Diabolusia or its King. "If I can get word to Phillipa and suggest a high enough amount of ransom, Orithia's mother will gladly pay for her return."

"Even though she's damaged goods?" Jaelan asked.

"Especially so. I was damaged goods, but they wanted me back just the same."

"And did they treat you as a returning daughter--or as damaged goods?"

In the mirror, she saw a deep furrow creasing his brow. "I fell in love with my captor," she said, not daring to turn around. "Orithia's not in love with Hasani, just using him. There's a difference."

"The difference being you wanted to stay in Diabolusia."

"Aye."

"And now?"

She turned, expecting anger on his face. But what she saw deeply touched her--a little boy's anxiousness to be loved and a grown man's uncertainty that he was.

Aradia placed her hand against his cheek. "I am where I belong. More than that, warrior, I am where I want to be."

He stood rigid as he looked down at her. "You no longer wish you had been allowed to stay with him?"

"I repeat--I am where I
want
to be."

Still he would not unbend. His expression turned hard, his eyes cold. "Do you still have thoughts of him?"

"I have memories of my time in Diabolusia."

"That is not what I asked!"

"Aye," she said, not wanting any lies or secrets between them. "I think of him now and again, but never will I allow my thoughts to turn me away from you. I'll not allow those thoughts to interfere with the life you and I will make together."

"I'm your husband," he said, his voice fierce.

Aradia shivered. "And I'm your wife."

"Damned right you are!"

Jaelan's arms snaked around her, dragging her to him in a crush that took away her breath. She felt the strength of his body from her breasts to her knees. His sword hand, buried in her loose hair, anchored her head for his lips to plunder her mouth. His left hand gripped her buttocks in a punishing clench that molded her lower body to his straining shaft. She opened her lips, resigning herself to the sweet torment his tongue inflicted, surrendering to the rape. Her legs felt weak, unable to hold her, and she sagged against him as she felt the pulse of the bulge at his thighs.

He dipped his knees and slid his arm beneath her legs. He lifted her high against him, cradling her like a trophy of war, and carried her to their bed. After settling her, he shucked off his robe and put his hands on the neckline of her cotton nightgown. In one urgent motion, he shredded the material, revealing her luscious curves to his eager gaze.

Aradia worried over the condition of his back and did not want him to hurt himself, but the look on his face as he covered her body with his stilled any protest she entertained. She welcomed him with a lift of her arms, encircling his broad shoulders and reveling in his weight as he settled atop her.

No words passed their lips as Jaelan spread her legs with his knees. He did not fumble in his attempt to take her, his aim steady and sure. He drove deep into her sweetness as surely as a marksman's arrow. Her grunt of satisfaction as the hilt of his fleshy weapon sank into her sent his hands beneath her buttocks to lift her to him. As Aradia's legs went around his hips, securing him within her, Jaelan began the long, deep stroke that would mark her as his own.

Aradia gloried in the full length of him. His heaviness caused a delicious ache in the center of her womb. She yearned to rake her nails into his back, but that desire would have to wait until after he fully healed. Instead, she lightly sank her teeth into the flesh between his shoulder and neck, and at his harsh indrawn breath, she knew the action thrilled him as much as it did her. She felt him quiver, then smiled as the pistoning of his cock increased in speed and depth of penetration, and she tightened her legs around him, arching her back to meet his frenzied thrusts.

He spoke words she did not understand--love words, sex words, she had no doubt. Their cadence and urgency brought shivers of pleasure down her neck. His wiry chest hair, prickling at her sensitive, straining nipples, added to the erotic enjoyment that rapidly claimed her with talons of hot desire.

Jaelan rushed toward climax, but held back, struggling to see his lady fulfilled before satisfying his own need. Sweat broke out on his forehead, ran down his chest, making their bodies slick where they touched. His thrusts went strong and deep, his arms shaking as he kept a portion of his weight from crushing her. At the moment he felt the ripple of her passion begin, heard her gasp, sensed the depth of her climax, he squeezed his eyes shut, straining hard to deny his own release until hers pulsed around him.

"Jaelan
!" she cried, her inner muscles milking him.

He let go. The spurt of his seed elicited a roar that startled them both. The bed trembled beneath the strength of his released, and he collapsed atop her, panting, his face against her shoulder.

Gently, she embraced him, holding him as though he were an infant. She smoothed the damp hair from his forehead and kissed him on the temple. Pinned beneath him, she knew a contentment she had not experienced for a long time, and never to the depth to which she had been taken. She knew in her heart she had found her life-mate.

"Do you still believe me too weak to do my duty, wench?" he mumbled.

"Mayhap not your husbandly duty, warrior. The other remains to be seen, doesn't it?"

He shifted his weight and rested beside her, his arm draped possessively around her waist. He snuggled his face against the side of her breast, inhaling deeply the musky scent of her passion mixed with his. Her right arm gripped his shoulder, her fingers idly scrolling upon his flesh. The sensation sent prickles of pleasure down his spine.

"Don't ever leave me, Aradia."

"No, warrior, I won't."

"No matter what amount they bid for you," he said, his words slurred with impending sleep.

She knew he thought there would one day come a ransom bid for her, and she knew she should tell him no bid would ever be made. She had gone willingly with him; her people would have disowned her by now. Once, long ago, they'd had no choice but to overlook her liaison with the Diabolusian prince, for she had been young and easily led. But she was older now, understood well what giving herself to a man of her own free will meant amongst the Amazeen. And since her capture five years earlier, the laws of Amazeen had become stricter, and no longer would such liaisons be tolerated. That the man to whom she had allowed her life to be Joined was an enemy far worse than any Diabolusian warrior, would have made the decision to cast her from her tribe easier for her mother and the Council of Elders.

"No matter what amount," she whispered.

His soft snoring voiced that her words had comforted him. He believed her worth something in the eyes of her tribe, though she knew her life was now valueless to them. So long as she had value to him, she could forget she was now an outcast to her people.

Furious, Queen Hyacinth ripped apart the paper, her lips skinned back from her teeth. The harsh red enflaming her face contrasted unbecomingly with her orange-flame hair. After casting the paper scraps into the fire, she turned to her cousin, Queen Erudite, and cursed vehemently.

"Calm yourself, Cousin," Erudite advised. "It is not healthy to allow oneself to become so enraged."

"It is not
your
daughter pinned beneath the slimy bulk of the Rysalian hippopotamus!" Hyacinth shouted.