WindSeeker (48 page)

shoved Conar again, staggering him. He shoved again, slamming Conar into the wall.

"If I had my way, I’d turn you over to that virulent disease they call the Domination! I hear they rape

their initiates. Maybe a taste of your own medicine would serve you well!"

"
That is enough
!" King Shaz yelled.

Grice tried to speak again, actually took a step closer to Conar so their bodies were almost touching,

but the King grabbed his son’s arm, yanking him around.

"The matter is over for now, Grice. You have other matters to see to, do you not?"

Grice glared at his father, jerking his arm out of the steely grip. "Nothing is more important than my

sister’s welfare!"

"Nevertheless, there are things I wish you to attend to." He held up his hand to silence another angry

retort. "Now, Griceland!"

Grice clamped his mouth shut. He blazed daggers of hate at Conar, but slammed out of the room, his

boot heels making angry clicks on the marble floor.

Conar heard the King mumble something to Chand and then the door opened and closed. Slowly Conar

raised his head to meet King Shaz’s look.

Shaz started when he saw twin tracks of silent tears flowing down Conar’s stricken face. Embarrassed

him to see such stark misery, Shaz looked away to keep from doing so.

* * *

much to have allowed such evil to be done to him." The King shuddered. "I have heard tales of what is

done to the men who are consecrated to that filth. That Conar was—"

"They don’t have all of him," Medea insisted. "There is much good left in that boy. If he had been

consecrated, his heart would be as black as sin."

"That’s why Anya didn’t want us to go after him."

The Queen sighed. "It was the only way she could protect him. What he did at Boreas, he must have

done under their influence and she realized that."

"But is it over with them? If we allow her to return, will those bastards go after them again?"

Medea’s mouth stretched into a grimace of revenge. "The Great Lady will protect Her own, and Conar

McGregor is one of Hers!" She pulled her husband’s head to her shoulder. "There are over forty of us

left, Shaz," she said, referring to the active members of the Daughterhood of the Multitude, "and between

us, we will help keep Conar and Anya safe!"

* * *

would go to her, but no one had informed him and he was fairly certain she was nowhere near. He closed

his eyes and tried, again, to find her with the senses that were fresh and ever-building within him. He

couldn’t understand why he was having such difficulty locating her.

Then, it came to him in a flash of agonizing pain. She didn’t want him to find her! She was blocking him

out, preventing him from knowing.

He turned onto his side and hugged the pillow. Was that a sign that she would not be going home with

him? He had to admit that she might not, a thought that was nearly unbearable.

* * *

his mouth with his napkin, nodding at the Oceanian cook with pleasure. "That was excellent fare, Sheila."

Sentian shrugged. "I’ve heard nothing." He glanced up at Gezelle.

She shook her head. "She’s said nothing to me. She went with Lord Saur earlier this morn down to the

orphanage in Fealst. I asked if His Grace would be going and she said she thought it best he not be told

she was going with Lord Saur."

Thom whistled beneath his breath. "A wise decision. They never did get along."

An uneasy look passed over Sentian’s face. "Does Conar know where she went?"

"Does he know who she went with, Gezelle?" Storm countered.

"Prince Chand told me he saw His Grace at the window when the lady and Lord Saur rode out. He

wasn’t pleased, but Prince Chand persuaded him not to cause trouble. Prince Chand stayed with him to

make sure." Gezelle’s eyes turned dreamy. "He’s a very considerate man."

"
Ho
!" Marsh Edan laughed, elbowing Storm. "Are we getting sweet on young Prince Wynth, Gezelle?"

He winked at Thom, who grinned broadly at the girl’s flaming face.

Gezelle stared directly at Marsh. "I don’t know, Marsh Edan. Are you getting sweet on the young Prince

Wynth?" She smiled as Marsh’s face turned as red as her own had been.

Sentian raised an eyebrow in unconscious imitation of his Overlord. "It seems that Prince Chand finds it

necessary to speak quite often to you, Gezelle. Why do you think that is?"

She glared up at him. "Leave off, Heil!"

Sentian grinned. "Now, where’d you learn that?"

"I’ve never known any man who could turn away when a pretty girl smiles at him the way you smile at

Prince Chand," Thom added. "I believe I’m jealous."

Gezelle impaled him with a hot glare. "That’s because no woman looks at you that way, Thompson

Loure!" She stomped out of the room.

Thom’s big rubbery face split into a mischievous grin. "Think I pissed off the little darling?"

Sentian nodded. "If you want her, Thommy, why the hell don’t you speak up?"

Thom sobered, the lopsided grin faded. "She wouldn’t have me."

"You’ll never know unless you ask," Marsh warned.

Thom sighed. "I know who she wants and it ain’t me."

The first thing he saw as they entered the drawing room was his wife’s hand held possessively and

lovingly within Brelan Saur’s.

His blue eyes narrowed to angry slits; a muscle bunched in his cheek. His long tapered fingers gripped

the chair arms with enough force to pull open the seams. One forefinger tapped out a silent rhythm on the

chair arm and his face had taken on a look that made the fires of hell look cool.

Brelan’s cloak was thrown about Liza’s shoulders, protecting her from the wet afternoon that had

overtaken them as they had ridden back from Fealst. His arm was draped intimately around her neck to

keep the cloak in place. She was looking at Brelan, while his head was lowered to catch the soft,

laughing retort she had just made to him. There was a merry tinkle of laughter as he answered, and a

sweetness to her face as he pulled her against him in teasing play.

Neither noticed the man who sat silently in the late-afternoon shadows. Nor did they see his furious

gleam.

Brelan removed the cloak, tossing it over a chair to dry, and then joined Liza in front of the blazing

fireplace. Holding his hands in front of him, he briskly rubbed them together, turned his head to smile at

her.

Liza ran her hands over her arms and shuddered, feeling the chill seeping through the cotton sleeves of

her day gown.

"Cold?" he asked.

At her nod, he moved behind her and put his arms around her, drew her against his tall frame. Not

hearing the quiet snort of fury behind him, his strong arms encircled her, one arm at her waist, the other

over her chest as his right hand cupped her cold shoulder.

They didn’t speak. He just held her loosely, lending her the warmth of his body. His chin rested on the

top of her head and he slowly rocked them back and forth, a deep humming in his throat as he crooned

softly.

Conar’s hands turned into claws on the chair arms. His lips were compressed so tightly, there was a

white line around them. Wide nostrils flared with every long breath; his face burned with rage.

Suddenly, Brelan jerked, his arms falling away from Liza. He stepped away from her. A look of total

surprise crossed his handsome face.

"What’s wrong?" Liza asked.

Brelan was staring at the mound of her belly. "Liza, it…it…
moved
!"

Liza laughed, a tinkling chime of pleasure. She touched his cheek. "Of course it did! Babes do that,

Brelan Saur! Have you never felt a babe moving in his mother’s womb?"

"
No
!" he managed to gasp. He was once again staring at her stomach with a look of pure fascination.

"What made it do that?"

Liza laughed. "Perhaps he felt you touching his mother, Milord."

Brelan shook his head. "Did I hurt it?"

"Of course not!"

He cocked his head to one side. "Are you sure?"

"Would you like to feel it move again?" she asked shyly. She felt in some deep woman’s part of her soul

that he would like nothing better.

They didn’t hear the low, menacing growl from the shadows.

Brelan had been careful to sire no babes on the women he took, but he loved children more than most

men. Their trip to the orphanage had delighted him and the children there had been just as excited with

Brelan Saur and his clowning.

"May I?" he whispered, wanting to with all his heart.

When she smiled her answer, he reached out a tentative, shaking hand, and placed it with infinite care on

her stomach. Almost immediately the babe leapt within her, bunching up, turning, and a look of wonder

replaced the fascination on Brelan’s handsome face. His grin stretched his full lips as the movement

intensified, shifting and knotting inside her as though the babe was now aware it had an avid audience.

Liza laughed. "He’s showing off."

A look of concern erased the wonder on Saur’s face when the babe kicked once very hard against his

palm. "Does it hurt you when he does that?"

"No. It feels strange, though."

"Well I know it’s a boy for sure now," he told her with all the arrogance of manhood. "A girl couldn’t

kick like that!"

"As long as the babe is healthy, I care not what it is. They tell me all McGregor babes are healthy.

Conar’s children are as robust as they come."

A shadow flitted across Brelan’s face. Suddenly, he dragged her into his arms, his hold tight and fierce,

protective. He buried one hand in the sleek gloss of her midnight hair, holding her head to his thundering

chest. "I wish to the gods that this babe was mine, Elizabeth!" he said with heartfelt passion.

Across the room in the darkness, Conar slowly, menacingly eased himself from the chair. A feral snarl

replaced the tightly compressed lips on his furious face. He moved as stealthily as a lion after its prey.

"I would give anything if this babe were mine!" Brelan swore. He cupped her chin and lowered his head

to kiss her. "Nothing would make me happier than to give you a child!"

"There’ll never be any babes of yours ever sired if you don’t take your gods-be-damned hands off my

woman, Saur!"

Brelan jumped, turning his head at the sound of the fierce voice. He stiffened as he recognized Conar.

But he made no move to let go of the woman in his arms. He regarded Conar with ill-disguised insult as

the man stepped into a pool of firelight.

"Well if it isn’t the Crown Prince of Serenia," Brelan drawled, his lip twisted with a sneer. "Out slumming

are you, Your Grace?"

"Brelan!" Liza groaned, trying to push away from him.

"Tired of living are you, Saur?" Conar crooned, his fists clenching.

"Tired of whoring are you, McGregor?"

"
Please
!" Liza groaned.

Conar’s face went livid when his brother didn’t move away from Liza. A vein throbbed in the column of

his throat and all he could see was a red haze surrounding the two people who stared back at him. "I said

to let go of my wife!"

Despite Liza’s efforts to ease herself from Brelan’s hold, he gathered her closer still. "Brelan, please! I

want no trouble between the two of you." She pushed against him, looking over her shoulder at her

husband’s catlike, stalking approach. "Brelan, please! Let go."

"You heard her, Saur. Take your hands off her!"

"Brelan, please. Let me go."

"I’ll let you go when I’m damned well ready to, Elizabeth. Not when this pompous ass tells me to!"

Brelan snarled, his eyes on Conar.

Saur had just enough time to step away from Liza before Conar sprang at him, moving in a blur, teeth

drawn back over lips set in a growl of deep-seated fury. The prince leapt forward and caught his brother

around the waist, knocking him backward and onto a small table beside the settee. Coming down hard

on top of Brelan as the two of them fell, Conar grinned at the loud grunt of pain that came from his

brother. Instinctively, Brelan brought up his knee to force Conar off of him. The knee drove hard into

Conar’s groin, sending him twisting to the side, off the table, as burning agony invaded his loins.

"Damn you!" Conar gagged, pulled at Brelan’s leg so that the table toppled and Saur rolled to the floor.

Brelan managed to get to his feet before his brother. He watched with satisfaction as Conar wobbled to

his own feet, agony stamped on his red face. "Get out of here, Elizabeth," Brelan warned, easing around

his brother. "Go, now!"

Liza moved, but not toward the doorway. She gripped Brelan’s arm. "Don’t do this."

"Do as he says, Liza," Conar snapped. "Leave!"

Shaking off Liza’s hold, Brelan lunged at his brother. The two men collided with an audible thud. Conar

staggered backward into the heavy tapestry hanging to the left of the fireplace. The rod and fabric came

crashing down behind him, a corner of the tapestry landing in the roaring flames.

"
No
!" Liza groaned. She raced to the tapestry and pulled it off the hearth, moaning as she caught sight of

the smoldering material. She stamped out the encroaching burn, glanced at the two men, and groaned

again.