“Know that I am here for you. I must return to work.” Neera patted her shoulder and after they exchanged goodbyes she continued on her way.
Melane reached the washroom without another interruption. The doorknob twisted before she could open it and she came face to face with Helin. Remembering how familiar her friend was with Saran, Melane huffed and sidestepped around her, determined not to let anger run her tongue.
Helin blocked her by sidling over. What had changed her friend? Anger twisted her face, ruining her natural beauty. It was clear she did not regard Melane with affection any longer. The person before her was not the one who spent time riding hapfe with Melane for the joy of one another’s company nor was she the woman who held Melane after the loss of her parents.
“You think he is yours?” Helin hissed the words in Melane’s direction and even in distress Melane sensed more beneath the question her friend asked. Well, friend no longer. Their years apart seemed to have created a wide bridge between them now.
“I don’t wish to discuss Saran with you, Helin.”
Helin laughed in her face, sharp and mean spirited. “Has he asked you to bride? I bet not. A Warlord like him needs a woman who will understand his needs.”
Melane’s neck prickled. She didn’t like where this was headed. Her stomach began to churn. “I understand Saran well.”
Helin stepped closer, forcing Melane back. “I have been with a powerful Warlord. You can not be what Warlord Saran needs.”
Melane realized that Helin hoped to play on her fears and doubts. Doubts which Melane allowed because Saran had hurt her in the past. She straightened her shoulders and shoved at Helin, causing her to trip. “Stay out of my way, Helin. And stay away from Saran.”
A rush of power rolled over her as she made her way into the washroom, leaving behind a stunned Helin as the door closed behind her.
***
Bran’s argument was pushing Saran to the limits of his patience. He faced the handful of remaining Warlords at the table in the dining hall with them. “We have our best chance to catch Kuran but Saran will not even listen.”
Saran locked his jaw to keep from denying his words. He refused to let any of them make him agree to pretend to offer Helin invitation. All he wanted to do was follow Melane upstairs and lose himself in her softness.
“How will Helin help us to catch Kuran? She just returned here,” another Warlord asked.
Triumph gleamed in Bran’s eyes. “After the attack, I discovered she shared bed play with him. It is possible she knows where he and his warriors hide.”
Several grumbles of agreement followed though none of them dared to meet Saran’s eyes.
“I believe what Bran asks may give us the answers we want.”
Saran leaned back in his chair, fists clenched in his lap as Casin voiced his opinion. He thought his friend held more care for Melane. Casin had to know how this would affect her. “You would have me betray Melane?”
“No.”
Bran prepared to jump in but stopped at the look Casin shot him. Bran settled back in his seat and crossed his arms. The more Saran studied the Warlord, the more Saran believed Casin had the right of it to say he needed watching. Never had Saran had reason to think Bran any but an honorable warrior of Kaban. His insistency on this plan with Helin made little sense.
“I believe we should question Helin,” Casin continued. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table separating them. “We need not use trickery. She is a woman and will answer to a Warlord.”
Saran contained his snort. His estimation of women was changing. They were not simple creatures in any way.
“And if she lies?” Bran still wore a belligerent frown.
Casin shrugged. “We will move on. She is Kabanian by birth and welcome here. Until she shows intent to harm on behalf of Kuran we will respect her.”
Bran slammed his hands down on the table. “This is foolish. We delay when we can prove to the Overlord all is well.”
Vaan wasn’t worried and had yet to speak of a concern about how Saran handled Kaban. “My brother has a care for women. He would stand by my decision. I agree with Casin about questioning Helin. But it will not be through lies.”
Stare for stare their gazes clashed until Bran broke first. With a last mutter, he stormed out out of the room. Saran shifted his attention to Casin. He trusted no other by his side if Helin told them something of import. “Have someone summon Helin. I want you with me for the questions.”
The message was delivered quickly and with Casin at his side, Saran headed for his office to wait. Behind closed doors, Casin took one of the extra chairs while Saran paced.
“What bothers you, Saran?”
Continuing his trek from his desk to the window, Saran said, “You understand my reasoning, yes?”
“Of course. You have the right of it. Melane and Helin would be hurt for different reasons if you followed the path Bran wished.”
Saran nodded. “My thoughts as well. Will the others see this or find my actions weak?”
It was a tougher question. Saran held up his mangled right hand. “Speak truth.”
“Those who saw you fight today believe you to be worthy. I was impressed and I knew the training progressed well. Word spread as soon as we arrived and many now look on you with more respect than before. What you accomplished was not easy and no one will gain say you.”
Saran paused, head lowered and took a deep breath to still the frantic beat of his heart. He had fought well today, the sword in his left hand felt natural.
Chapter 24
Melane glanced at her reflection as she rinsed her hands and noted the satisfaction glowing in her eyes. She had stood her ground. Tonight she would speak with Saran about Helin and find out why she was back in Kaban. Her taunt about being with another Warlord bothered her. She’d left to live with a friend and settled with a gentle warrior. Helin never mentioned interest in anyone else afterwards. Who had she been with and why were they apart now?
It stood to reason one of them ended the invitation but who would not want the beautiful Helin? Deep in her thoughts, Melane didn’t pay attention as she thrust the door wide open to step into the hall. Before she crossed the threshold, someone rushed at her. Surprised, she fell back. Gasping for air, her arms swirled about until she hit the floor in a sitting position.
She caught the wall with one hand, preventing her head from following suit. The door slammed shut, blocking her cry of pain. A flurry of motions to her right and then the room went dark, the lighting doused.
A heavy weight landed on top of her, slamming her back to the floor. The front of her dress tore as the material caught in the hand grabbing her.
“Who...what are you about?” She thrust her hands up and met a solid, firm chest.
“You are more trouble than a woman is worth.”
Harsh and low, the mutter terrorized Melane. This was no accident. She struggled in true fear as a thigh roughly parted her legs and a calloused palm cupped her breasts. His fingers dug into tender flesh.
“Please. Release me.”
“Why does he favor you so highly?”
The voice, a man, sounded familiar. Something about the gravelly texture reminded her of a person she’d been in contact with recently. Not a fellow servant. The body pinning her to the floor was made of solid muscles and possessed a strength she could hardly combat. She parted her lips to scream for help and a hand slapped over her mouth with such force her teeth cut into her inner lip.
Tears pricked her eyes as she cried out beneath his palm.
“You do not wish to do such or I will kill whoever comes through the door and then you.”
Melane’s gaze shot up but she could only make out the outline of a large man above her. She sobbed and twisted about. He increased his weight by laying completely on her. With his free hand, he pushed at her skirts, avoiding her wildly kicking legs.
Screams bubbled but came out as choked off cries. The fingers at her mo
uth squeezed, biting into the skin of her face. Pain radiated. She hurt everywhere.
Then his rough hand gripped her thigh and squeezed. Melane pounded her fists at his shoulders in despair.
He laughed and nuzzled her neck. Melane cringed. Fury roared to the forefront. He found her struggles funny. He thought her an easy conquest. Using everything as a potential weapon, she widened her jaw and bit down on the hand covering her mouth.
Jerking back with a curse, he released her. Melane shifted and rolled to the side but he smacked her shoulder, knocking her back. The knife from Saran clinked in her skirt, its weight, reminding her of its presence. The warrior fondled her breasts and grabbed at her cloth covered toque.
“I knew you would fight. Long have I wanted to taste what Saran enjoyed.”
Melane froze, her thought process stilted. Suddenly she recognized him and knew exactly who sought to force himself on her. “Warlord Bran!”
He chuckled again and swiveled his hips for her to feel the hardened length of his toqa between her thighs. Disgusted Melane renewed her struggle but this time she worked to free her right hand. Sliding it down to the pocket of her skirt, she dug around for what she searched for.
“I hoped you would not know but this will be worth whatever price.”
With one hand she tried to scratch at his face, hoping to hold him off. With the other her fingers closed over the hilt of the blade. The nicks and gouges almost sent her into a round of crazed laughter and relief.
“You are full of dishonor.” Waiting for the right moment, Melane allowed her body to go slack.
Bran snorted. “I always knew your refusal was not truth. You want me as well.”
“I hold no affection for you. It is and has always been only Saran for me.” She turned to the side but Bran gripped her chin and yanked her face back around.
The outline of his head leaned toward her surrounded by the darkness. It served as an apt reflection of his nature. Panting breath ghosted over her cheeks. His nails would leave marks so tight was his grip.
“Saran has been lenient with you. I am a Warlord of note and you will treat me accordingly.”
“You are nothing to me.” He would never be more than a Warlord who’d lost his way. He would never equal the one who held her heart. Holding tight to the knife, Melane swung her arm in a wide arc.
Bran was too good a Warlord for her to actually strike him but her action caused him to arch back on a snarl full of rage. Melane took the opportunity to buck out from under him. She tried to crawl away, rocking to her knees and scrambling across the slick tile of the floor.
The distraction worked until he roared out and reached to grab her ankle. Pressure followed and Melane screamed. “Help! Please!”
Her skin burned as she twisted in the painful grip.
“You will be mine if only for this moment. Each time you lay with him, you will remember my touch.”
Nausea rolled in her stomach at the sick imagery he created. “No!”
Melane kicked and felt the give in his hold. Another kick but with less power as she used her strength to keep hold of the knife and arched upward to lash out again.
Bran cursed but never let her loose. With one pull, he dragged Melane all the way back toward him. He laughed the entire time. Melane screamed. Not once but twice and Bran landed a punch to her left cheek. Her head jerked from the blow and blood spit from her mouth as she gasped in pain. Still nothing would make her give up.
Enraged, her swings became wilder as she slashed about with her knife. This time, she must have sliced him because he tensed and sucked in air. Her breath froze as she went still as well. Then his fist smashed into her wrist. The knife spun from her numb grip with a clatter. Unimaginable pain spiraled up her right arm. Every breath held a whimper as she crumpled.
“Now I’m going to show you what it is like with a real Warlord.”
Bran grabbed her hair and twisted the locks in his fist. Pain shot up her scalp and Melane had a moment to worry he’d rip the strands from the roots. She weakly scratched at his forearm but it didn’t take him long to have her subdued and on her back again.
He crouched over her, legs bracketing her hips and Melane had nothing left with which to combat him except words. “Sara...Saran will kill you for this.”
Of that she had no doubt. Saran would see to it Bran suffered for hurting her this day.
“Is anyone in here?” Someone knocked on the door. The doorknob rattled. “The door is locked. What is amiss?”
Bran growled and grabbed her head, ramming it on the floor several times. More harsh whispers and she recognized Neera’s voice. Sweet, dear Neera. Knowing Bran would kill her friend if she entered alone, Melane bit down hard on the desperate desire to cry out and beg for help.
“I will fetch a key.” Neera’s footsteps faded away.
Dizzy, Melane almost missed Bran leaping to his feet and running out of the washroom. Voices carried in the distance, returning in her direction. Unable to stifle a whimper, shivers racked her body. Holding the front of her dress, she managed to get to her knees and swayed. Everything hurt.
The doorknob rattled and fearing Bran returned to finish what he started, Melane frantically groped the floor for the knife she’d lost.
The door burst open. Light flickering to life, illuminating the dark space. “Melane!”
***
Though she cried several times, Helin answered each of Casin’s questions. Elbows planted on his thighs, Saran studied her mutinous expression from behind the desk of his office. He let Casin lead the questioning. His friend knew he had not the liking or stomach for the task of threatening women.
For all Casin’s gentle ways, he suffered no weakness for harming those who would harm Kaban.
Helin claimed not to know where Kuran hid. She’d had no contact with him since they parted ways and no he did not send her. Lastly, she confessed to worry he might look for her which was why she begged to come home, believing it safer to be surrounded by warriors and Warlords.
“I speak truth,” she added when Saran and Casin said no more after the final question.
Since tears glistened in her eyes and she sat on the edge of her seat body quivering, Saran believed her. Her fear of them was not feigned.
“Why did he leave you?” Casin squatted beside her chair and tapped the knife sheathed at his thigh.
Her gaze dropped then lifted. She licked her lips and hiccupped. “I—I left him. Kuran began to travel a dark path. I wanted no parts.”
“If we find you lie, Saran will not be the one who comes for you.”
Color drained from her face. “Truth only, Warlord Casin. I vow it.”
Another question hovered in Saran’s thoughts but the door to his office burst open to reveal a disheveled Neera. Saran glanced behind her, expecting to see Melane.
Neera stopped in the doorway, chest heaving and eyes wide. “Warlord Saran, come quick. Warlord Bran has attacked Melane and this time I fear he has hurt her in a bad way.”
Attacked? Melane? Two words guaranteed to get a reaction from Saran. He was already coming to his feet as he tried to process what Neera said. Leaving Helin in the chair, Saran followed after Neera. They ran from one side of their home to the other, Casin on his heels. As they approached the servants section, Saran wondered why Melane was here when he’d encouraged her to seek his bed this night. Surely she understood he wanted to be with her.
Neera slowed and Bran appeared in the hall. Casin closed in behind Saran. Tension rose in waves as the three stood around.
“I will see to Melane. I left Lanna inside with her to get you.” Neera kept walking, taking a long circle around to avoid Bran’s reach as she entered the door, leading to a washroom a few feet behind him.
More than anything Saran wished to go after her. Why was Melane in there with Lanna? “What is amiss, Bran?”
Smoothing his hair back, Bran rested his hands on his hips and shook his head with a rueful grin. “I did nothing to her.
A simple argument. Melane overstepped when I informed her you were busy questioning Helin. I tried to explain but she ran into the washroom.”
Saran bristled. Talk of the other woman would be a sensitive subject for Melane.
“Lie,” Casin snapped. “Melane is ever respectful to all here. Even those who seek to betray her friendship.”
The last was aimed at Helin, who joined the growing crowd. She cringed at Casin’s glare.
A small cut trickled blood on the side of Bran’s face. Saran grew intent and watched him. “You bleed, Warlord. How were you hurt?
Bran swiped at the blood, smearing it in a gruesome display. “An accident earlier.”
Servants ventured out to see what caused the commotion. Warriors lingered about to watch the spectacle.
“Lie!” Casin said and unsheathed his sword from his back.
“I have no need to lie.” Bran stated his position with conviction. “Melane is one for games.”
Definitely a lie. Saran made his tone curt and chilling as he spoke to Bran. “You know not what you speak. If I find you have caused Melane harm I will punish you in a way you will not soon forget.”
“She means much to you? I am a Warlord, yet you place a woman between us.”
Were those scratches on Bran’s arms? A chill rolled down Saran’s back. He circled the Warlord as he continued. “Melane is not between us, Bran. She is by my side where I can protect her always.”
Bran’s gaze shifted, keeping Saran in his line of sight. He tried for jovial when he smiled and relaxed his stance. “I offer my apology, Saran. My intent was not to offend.”
He spoke lies as Casin said. Saran knew now Bran cared not for a woman’s safe keeping and bore watching. He stopped in front of him, smelling the sour scent emanating from Bran. A familiar odor in the midst of battle.
“Have you need to fear, Warlord?”
Smile not so affable, Bran shrugged drawing attention to more scratches and...blood on his hand?
“What have you done?” Saran roared withdrawing his sword. “Truth only!”
Unexpected Bride (Warlord Series Book 6) Page 17
