WINDWEEPER (3 page)

"Else we stay here," Marsh snarled. "Under Oceanian soil, if need be, but we'll take a few of these bastards with us! I'd give my life for her, Milord!"

A lump formed in Conar's throat. "I am honored by your offer, but I gave my word for all of you. Would you shame me before these barbarians?"

Grice threw Conar a challenging look, but remained silent. He was intrigued by the loyalty these men were showing his sister.

"If it is your wish, given without duress, that we go to the ship, then we will. We would never do anything to shame you, Commander," Thom told him.

"Then lay down your weapons and go with these men to the ship." Conar glanced at Grice. "You have His Grace's personal word that no harm will come to you."

Grice nodded.

"And do we have
his
word that no harm will be done to
you
?" Sentian asked Conar.

"He'll be on that ship with you," Grice replied. "I promise."

"Unharmed?" Storm wanted clarified.

"Unchained?" Thom added.

Grice turned to the man he considered the leader. "Aye, Heil. Unharmed, unchained and unlikely to be of any further nuisance to me!"

"Don't count on it," Sentian replied. His dark look glazed with ice. "If his lady doesn't go with us, expect plenty of nuisance."

"He can expect more than nuisance!" Thom put in.

"Don't talk to His Grace like that, you gods-ugly troll!" one of Grice's men snarled, taking a step toward Thom, although the Elite had at least fifty pounds and seven inches in height on him.

"Rest easy, Kristoffer," Grice warned. "Insults are like maggots, they only hurt men who have open wounds." His furious glance went to Conar. "This fellow's toadies haven't even struck blood yet, let alone wounded me."

"I'd say we struck plenty of blood when your man fell," Thom gloated.

"Aye, and anymore blood you shed will see your ass swinging from the highest yardarm!" Petrov, Kristoffer's brother, growled.

"Treat my men well, Wynth, or I promise you'll regret not doing so," Conar warned.

Grice stared at him. "You are nine to my…what?…hundred or more in this keep? Don't threaten me, McGregor!"

Conar's smile returned with a deadly sheen. "It wasn't a threat, Wynth; it was a promise."

* * *

As they made their way to the throne room where the King and Queen of Oceania were awaiting Conar, Grice cast a sidelong glance at his brother-in-law and begrudgingly spoke what was uppermost in his mind. "Your men do you proud."

Conar didn't look at him. "They love me."

"And my sister? Do they love her?"

"Aye, that they do. And they know injustice when they see it, and are willing to fight for what they believe in." He walked through the doorway Grice indicated. "They also recognize spite."

Grice shrugged. "One man's injustice can be another man's retribution; one man's spite, another's vindication. You have atoned for only a small portion of the crimes you have committed against my sister."

Unaware they had entered the throne room, Conar stopped dead and turned to stare hard at the man. "There is no punishment either you or your parents could conceive that would torture me more than does my conscience, Wynth. Rest assured my punishment will last far longer than these scabs!" He held up his wrists and was startled to see Grice look away with what could only be described as shame. "You manacled my body; Liza's pain manacled my heart. Think your punishment the greater of the two?"

Grice turned a scowling face to his brother-in-law. "It would suit my purposes better if you were kept in the dungeon. Then you couldn't hurt my sister ever again! You haven't been punished nearly as much as I would have liked!" He took a step closer to Conar. "But I can promise you, there will come a day when I'll see you pay for all your sins against this family!"

"That's enough!" Grice's mother shouted, her body fairly trembling with anger. "Find your sister, Griceland!"

"He—" Grice began.

"Find your sister! Now! This minute!"

"You didn't tell him, did you, Grice?" his father inquired from the throne.

Grice shook his head and strode angrily away, his shoulders hunched. "He didn't deserve to be told."

"Tell me what?" Conar demanded.

The queen glanced first at Conar's tired face, then his filthy clothing, and she was not pleased with what she saw. Nor what she smelled.

She crinkled her nose. "I shall have a bath prepared on ship for you immediately."

"I think you have a leak in one of your privies, Madame."

Medea's gaze went to his wrists and then to the calm face looking back at her. "You are hurt," she whispered, knowing full well her daughter would be furious.

"I could use some salve. The cuts could become infected."

The queen raised her head, her pride pricked by the condemnation she saw in her son-in-law's azure depths. "I'll use a healing charm—"

"Just some salve will do." His own head raised a fraction. "I will do the rest."

King Shaz frowned. He did not like his son-in-law's tone. "Your stay in jail did nothing to temper your mood, did it?"

Conar switched his steady stare to the king. "Put me there again, if it pleases you. Either imprison me or kill me, for I will never leave this land without my wife."

"You gave your word—" Shaz began.

"That my men would cause no more harm, and they won't. I didn't say anything about me. I won't leave these shores without Liza at my side. You can try to keep her away from me, but I will find a way to get her back. She belongs with me! I will fight for her!"

"And die in the trying?"

"If you think to kill the very heart inside this body by trying to give her to another man, then you had best have me hung, for I can promise you, I will fight to the death to keep her. I have suffered more than you will ever know for the love I fight to keep. What is a little more pain?"

"Medea, will you listen to him? I don't think—"

"Anya will be leaving with you, Conar," Medea announced. "That is her wish, not ours."

"We still have our doubts," Shaz fumed.

Conar smiled, but there was no warmth in that smile. "She wasn't happy with what you did to me, was she?"

"That's neither here nor there," Medea began, but Conar's derisive laugh was brittle.

"Oh, I'd say your words said it all!" He shook his head. "These games you play are dangerous, Medea. One day you may find someone who plays them better!"

Medea blushed. "I did what I thought best for my child."

"Liza is mine. I will brook no more interference from either one of you again. As for Brelan Saur, don't ever again try to put him between Liza and me. If you do, if you try to, I swear before heaven and earth I will make damned sure you never set eyes on her again and you will be mourning at his funereal pyre!"

"Medea!" Shaz gasped. "We cannot allow this! The man is not lucid! Listen to what he threatens!"

"Put no more stumbling blocks in our path, Shaz," Conar warned. "I'll take this bloody keep apart if you do!"

"Go to the ship, Conar," Medea told him, wanting to diffuse the situation before anymore of her furniture was in danger of being destroyed. "She'll be there shortly." When the Prince made no move, she sighed. "You have my word as a Daughter of the Multitude that your wife will be joining you before the sun is set."

Conar bowed slightly. "She had better."

"We are not sailing to Boreas," Liza informed the captain once the
Seachance
was well out to sea. "Go where my husband tells you."

The captain looked from princess to prince, took in the stubborn looks on both young faces, weighed the problems he would have with his king and queen when he returned to Fealst, then took the lesser of two evils.

"To where do you wish us to set sail, Your Grace?" he asked Conar.

Unwilling to have anyone cause them anymore problems, Conar ordered the ship to the southern tip of Oceania where the black-sand beach stretched into the hazy wisps of fog, the beginning of the uncharted seas know as
The Sinisters
. The captain bowed respectfully, looked to the heavens, then ordered his First Mate to change course.

"He wants to go to Montyne Cay," the captain sighed, shaking his head at the First Mate who stared aghast. "Just get us there, man!"

The captain wasn't quite as accommodating when told to dock on the island and remain until Prince Conar decided it was time to leave.

"But when will that be, Your Grace?" the captain asked Liza.

"Whenever my lord deems it time."

Once on the small island—most of whose inhabitants had long since moved on to more populated regions—the crew of the
Seachance
, the men of the Elite, Gezelle who was Liza's maidservant, along with Conar and his lady, made use of the still livable huts and fishing boats left behind.

The living was comfortable, if primitive. The natives were friendly and helpful. Fresh water was taken from an island spring and plenty of fruit trees and wild boar were found about the land. There were vegetables still growing in abandoned gardens and fish practically leapt into the outriggers when the Elite went fishing.

Only a few of the crew—those married or engaged men who did not want to be long away from their families—had left the ship at Hare's Down, the last heavily populated town before reaching Montyne Cay.

When King Gerren, Conar's father, received word of his son's folly, he shouted in fury, punching Hern Arbra on his thick shoulder and reminded the old Master-at-Arms of just how unruly his son had become of late.

"The boy's tetched!" Gerren seethed.

"The boy knows what he's about," Hern countered. "Leave him be."

Only two men were truly angered by Conar's decision to prolong his return to Boreas Keep, the Serenian Capitol. Kaileel Tohre and the Elite guard, whom the High Priest had sent along with Conar. Neither man was willing to let any length of time go by before Conar received the just punishment he so richly deserved.

Unable to utilize the Brotherhood of the Domination's magical powers so near the boundary of The Sinisters—a sort of no-man's-land where Magik did not work—Tohre had no choice but to leave the prince alone.

The Elite in Tohre's employment bided his time as well, fearful of causing mischief. Since the protection stones given to him by Tohre had no power within the Sinisters, the man had no choice but to lay low for fear Sentian or Thom would suspect him.

Peering off into the drifting fog that obscured the rest of the ocean beyond The Sinisters, hiding what dwindling land could be glimpsed, Conar held his wife against him and made a vow. They would stay on this small wisp of land until all was right between them.

* * *

"This was Syn-Jern Sorn's hideout, wasn't it?" Liza asked, thinking of her husband's outlaw ancestor.

"Aye," Conar said, "and this is where he brought his lady-wife so no harm could befall her."

"And their children were born here," she sighed, looking at the little ones playing in the surf.

"Liza, I…" he started, feeling the loss of their own son, but she put a hand to his lips.

"I am tired, Milord," she whispered. "Don't you think we should go to bed?"

Conar grinned at her as he saw the twinkle in her green orbs. "Will I get any sleep, Milady?"

"Maybe. Then again, maybe not. Don't you think we should strive to give Serenia an heir?"

"You think so?"

Liza nodded thoughtfully. "I do."

The Prince of the Wind sighed deeply. "The things I do for my people."

He brought her hand to his lips. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he placed a tender kiss in her palm then lowered her hand and pressed her splayed fingers over his heart.

"We need to talk, Milady." He cupped her cheek with his free hand. "Without the distraction your lovely body causes me in bed."

Blushing, Liza lowered her head. She giggled. "There I go being a distraction again."

Her reference to a conversation they had when they first met made Conar smile. "Far more pleasant than a loud noise or buzzing insect."

She looked up. "You remember that?"

He pulled her to him. "I remember everything that has ever happened between us, Liza-love," he whispered against her hair. "Most things have been sheer bliss, but there have been times when I think you would have been better off never having known me." When she tried to pull away, he would not allow it. "Let me have my say while I have the courage to speak my mind."

She relaxed against him, her cheek pressed to his wide chest. "So long as you do not denigrate the man I love, I'll hear you out."

He rested his chin on top of her head and looked out to sea. The wind blew gently across his face, fanning the thick golden hair and mingling with her raven tresses. The symbolism of the moment was not lost on him.

"You know what I made Gezelle do," he said softly.

Liza closed her eyes. "Aye, Conar. I know."

"She has every right to hate me."

"She does not."

"It was an evil thing I made her do and…"

She pushed away from him. "Do
not
say what you are about to say, Milord!"

"Liza, I was punished for it and you were punished alongside me. I…"

"Stop!" she snapped, tearing free of his arms. "What happened to our child was an accident, Conar McGregor. No one was punishing either of us. It could have happened had you been at Seadrift or not!"

He had often admired the militant gleam in his lady-wife's eyes, and as he looked at her he knew she would always refuse to believe the death of their son was his fault. He also knew he would ever hold himself to blame, but made a silent vow to never bring up the subject again with Liza. He opened his arms.

Liza sniffed disdainfully then went to him, slipping easily into his embrace. "No more such talk, do you hear?"

"Aye, Milady."

"What else?" she mumbled, holding her breath.

"Brelan."

Liza winced. "We are friends and nothing more."

"To him you are more."

"Do you trust me, Conar?"

"Without reservation."

Liza cocked one brow. "Is that why you fought with Bre?"

"I said I trusted you. I did not say I was not jealous of you. You know gods-be-damned well I'm the most jealous man on the face of the earth." His arms tightened painfully around her. "And why do you think that might be, Madame?"

She grinned. "The stables in Ciona might have a tad to do with it, I suppose."

Now he arched a brow. "And the library at Seadrift when that jackass rubbed your belly and declared he wished the babe was his? Might that not have a tad to do with it, as well?"

"It might."

Conar snorted. "It had everything to do with it, woman. If he lays another hand to you, he'll draw it back as a stump."

Liza started to laugh, but her husband lifted her face so he could stare into her eyes. She sobered when she saw his stern expression.

"Of all the men in all the world I do not want you near, Brelan Saur is at the top of the list. Do you understand, Anya Elizabeth?"

When he used her full name, she knew he was being deadly serious. "Aye, Milord, I understand."

"I don't want you to see him. I don't want you to correspond with him. I do not want you to have anything to do with him. Is that understood?"

His fingers were hurting her, but she did not protest. "Aye, Conar."

He relaxed and threaded his hands through her hair to bring her face to his. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, then placed a feather-soft kiss upon her lips. When he lifted his head, he smiled softly, then swept her up in his arms, heading toward the huts.

"Conar!" she protested, laughing.

"I intend to love you well and truly, Liza McGregor," he said as he started down the trail.

"Distraction that I am?" she asked, lowering her head to his shoulder.

He chuckled. "You are a distraction I have learned to enjoy."

Sentian looked up as his Overlord kicked open the door to the hut. The warrior stood, grabbed the mending he'd been doing and darted past the prince and his lady. "Have fun," he said over his shoulder as he closed the door.

"I intend to," Conar called and grinned when he heard Sentian's answering laugh.

With infinite care, he laid his wife on the bed and sat beside her. His gentle smile was filled with peace and pride in the lovely woman who belonged to him.

Liza lifted her arms to him; he stretched out beside her. She drew him to her, molding his long body to hers and pulled his head to her breast.

"I have one request," she said.

Conar looked up from unlacing her gown's bodice. "That being?"

"No more tantrums."

He craned his neck. "I've had none since we've been here, despite Thom annoying me with…"

"I don't know what caused such ill temper, Milord, but I'll have no more of it." She sternly looked at him. "And no more drinking, McGregor. You can not handle it."

He drew in a long breath—his fingers stilled at her bosom—then nodded as he slowly exhaled. "No more liquor." When she arched a black brow, he crossed his heart. "I swear it!"

"And no more dallying where you ought not to be dallying, else I'll relieve you of the ability to dally with that tallywhacker of yours."

Conar's face turned crimson at her use of the vulgar word, but he understood her command.

"Now," she said. "Show me how well this man loves his woman, Milord Conar."

He eased apart the laces of her bodice and slipped his hand inside. Her quick intake of breath as he molded his hand around her breast caused his manhood to leap in anticipation. He pressed her hand to the juncture of his thighs.

"This man loves his woman more than any man has ever loved a woman in the history of time," he whispered.

"You make it hard for me not to appreciate that." She giggled.

Conar laughed and lowered his lips to her breast. "I will," he said, capturing the turgid peak between his teeth and speaking around the sweet obstruction, "make it harder still, Milady."

Liza reveled in her husband's touch as he undressed her. A cool breeze drifted in from the window. For a moment, she worried about a passerby looking in, but as Conar's urgency increased, all thoughts vanished from her mind save the expert ministrations of her husband's sure hands.

There was still sadness in his eyes, she thought as he smiled at her before molding his hard body over hers and nudging apart her thighs. She realized the tragic death of their son had humbled this proud man more than anything that had happened to him over the years. His touch was gentler, calmer, less hurried than in the past. His lovemaking seemed more tender than it had ever been.

And if there was sadness in his azure eyes, then surely time would replace it with happiness when their next child was conceived. Saying a quick prayer to the Goddess, Liza asked that such happiness would not be long in coming for her love.

It was a little more than ten months later that their daughter was born.

* * *

He sat on the beach, staring out to sea. He had been there all day and Liza watched him. There was something disquieting about the way he just sat, his knees drawn up into the safety of his arms, his eyes on the farthest reaches of The Sinisters where the fog was the thickest. Her gaze had gone to him time and again during the day even as she turned away offers of intervention from among the natives and his men.

"He seems to want to be alone," she told them. "Let him." In her heart, she knew if he had wanted her company, he would have invited her to the high rock promontory where he kept his vigil.

Near time for the evening meal, she handed their daughter to Gezelle, took a deep breath, and headed up the winding oyster-shell pathway to the place where her husband sat. He didn't turn his head as she approached, but she knew he was aware of her presence. Hiking up her skirt, she sat beside him and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Worried about me?" he asked, his gaze on the sun as it sank gracefully toward the water.

"No."

He looked at her. One thick golden brow slanted upward.

"Well…maybe a little, Milord." She snuggled under his arm so that he held her against his side. "Is something wrong?"

His attention returned to the sea. "I've been having this feeling all day."

"What kind of feeling?"

He seemed to be weighing his words before he spoke. "I'm afraid."

Her forehead crinkled. "Of what, Milord?"

"That's what concerns me the most. I don't know. It's as though something is warning me to stay here, not to leave tomorrow."

"If you want to stay, we will."

"I can't, Liza. My place is in Serenia." He turned away. "But I fear in my heart that, if we leave, I will wish we hadn't."