“Just to expect that you’ll be down in the dining hall in an hour to receive our guests.”
“Of course, my lord,” she replied softly, bowing her head. “Anything in particular you would like for me to wear?”
“I’m sure that whatever you and Anya pick out will be beautiful,” he said, looking over her shoulder where Anya had reentered the room, leading a small, round woman carrying a mound of cloth. He smiled and leaned into her ear, whispering, “You’re always beautiful.”
Chapter 8
As Lord Ioin Lescoux of Yarik’s carriage approached Monkshood, he realized that his boredom would most likely not be cured by a couple of weeks stay at his old friend’s home. His old, broody friend, Cianan. Was it really so long ago that they’d been young men taking pleasure in running through enemies with their swords and stealing the virtues of innocent barmaids using cunning words and empty promises? He’d felt himself growing more exhausted each year, ever faster wasting away into old age. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a flask of whiskey and took a long pull. The two women on either side of him cooed and took the flask from his fingertips. They passed it between themselves then offered it to the girl sitting opposite. She smiled delicately and took the flask, taking a sip and holding it in her mouth. She slithered across the carriage, offering her lips to Ioin and passing the bitter liquid to him from her tongue.
“Mmmm...the spirits are so much better from your lips, master,” she purred, licking his whiskered chin, her heavy accent inflaming his desire immediately.
“Later, my pet,” he snarled, drawing a fingertip across her lips and sinking back into the seat. “First we must dine with dear Cianan.” At the mention of his name, all three women began to purr beside him. The noises ignited his jealous nature, and he made note of it for their punishments later. “Silly Syban,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your infatuation with my noble friend is so hollow. He rarely accepts your advances and when he does, it is only to take his pleasure, leaving you cold.”
“His skin is so scrumptious. Like ash and salt.” The older of the three sighed. As she said this, her eyes glazed, and Ioin noticed her hand drifting down to her lap. “And those eyes…”
Ioin grasped the slave girl’s wrist tightly, twisting it. “You really mustn’t go on about him in such a way, Neesa,” he said. “Take care that you remember to whom you belong.”
****
They passed through the gates of Monkshood just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Another carriage followed them, carrying several servants and the rest of their belongings. As was the norm, Anya’s expression revealed her displeasure as she stood in the courtyard with Lord Marek, Tristan, and Mr. Kincade. “God in Heaven. Are they coming for a year, my lord?”
Marek smirked, but elbowed Anya’s arm. “Try to be civil, Anya.” She responded with an annoyed grunt. “Where is Sascha?”
“She said she’d be down in just a moment.”
Before he could send her back up, Sascha came flying down the stairs, through the foyer, and out the front door, nearly bowling them over. Marek turned and gave her a stern look to indicate that she should control herself. She smiled sheepishly and took her place, trying not to pant.
****
As the carriage stopped in the courtyard, Sascha’s heart jumped in her chest. She didn’t want to embarrass Lord Marek, but she had no idea what to do. Anya had made her look beautiful on the outside, but she just knew she was going to do something stupid in front of this friend of Lord Marek’s.
“Cianan!” the man shouted as he jumped out of the carriage. “My friend.” The two met and embraced.
“It’s been too long,” Marek answered, knowing he wasn’t really sincere. He still felt friendship toward this man, but it was starting to become evident that he was not aging while Ioin and the rest of his friends grew older each day.
“It has, old friend. Our lives seem to get in the way more often than not.” He turned and motioned for the other occupants of the carriage to emerge.
Several servants came out of the carriage behind and began unloading trunks and bags. Tristan and Mr. Kincade went to help them, and Anya directed them into the house and up the stairs. Sascha watched in amazement as they began carrying things through the doors, wondering indeed how long they were going to stay. She’d never seen so many wondrous things in her entire life. Heavy wooden trunks laden with yards of fine fabric spilling out, wooden furniture of the most exotic shape and design, and even a crate filled with bottles of wine.
“I brought most of the things you asked for in your letter. It really is a shame that Kaspar is so ill-equipped.”
“They are but poor farmers here, Ioin. Simple people with simple tastes.” He smiled as his gaze wandered to the three women that emerged from the main carriage. “I see you’ve brought the whole of your entourage this time.”
“Of course.” Ioin smirked. “I would hate to disappoint them.”
Sascha watched with fascination as they descended from the carriage one by one. The first was tall and muscularly built with dark skin and masses of black hair that fell wildly to her hips. The next, obviously much younger, was small and wiry with silvery-blonde hair and pale skin. Her eyes were everywhere as if she were frightened. The final girl’s eyes fell directly on Sascha as she emerged. Her skin was of the same dark hue as the first, but her hair had been shorn to her shoulders and hung straight against her head. She had beautiful, dark eyes, but there was something so cold about them that Sascha took an immediate dislike to her. All three of them wore gowns that were quite shocking to Sascha’s simplicity. The fronts dipped low, barely concealing their breasts, and the flowing fabric clung to the contours of their generous hips. Each girl stopped and bowed before Ioin and Marek.
“And who is this stunning creature?” Ioin asked, smiling broadly at Sascha.
Marek took her wrist gently and guided her to his side. “This is Sascha. Sascha, say hello to Lord Ioin Lescoux of Yarik.”
“Greetings, my lord,” Sascha said, bowing slightly.
He took her hand, bringing it to his lips with an exaggerated flourish. “How very pleased I am to make your acquaintance, Sascha.” Something about the way he smiled at her gave her a nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was as if she were a rabbit staring into the mouth of the wolf. Marek nudged her to answer.
“Likewise, my lord,” she stammered, trying to smile, but instead making more of a grimace.
Ioin dropped her hand and began following Marek inside, leaving her to walk behind them with the Syban. As they entered the great hall, she couldn’t stop staring at them. She’d never seen anything like them before and she had to admit to a pang of jealousy. How could she possibly compete with them in her simple gown and carefully braided hair? There was something primal and free about them even though they were slaves. Though they were frightening, she couldn’t help but be fascinated.
****
“She’s beautiful, Cianan. I’m so glad you’ve finally come to your senses,” Ioin grinned, pouring two glasses of whiskey and handing him one.
“What do you mean?” he asked, taking the glass.
“Taking a Syban. I’ve been telling you for years that it wasn’t healthy for you to sit up here in this castle like it’s a fucking crypt.”
“I don’t. And she’s not a Syban.”
Ioin put his glass down hard on the table by the chaise he occupied. “Then what is she? Taking another wife?”
Cianan shook his head, exasperated at this line of questioning. “Of course not. She’s a slave, just...not a Syban. It’s complicated.” He shook his head, not really wanting to discuss it. The truth was he didn’t really know how to explain Sascha. Obviously, she wasn’t a regular slave. He hadn’t asked her to do any work and he’d gone to great expense to make a completely new home for her. But the answers weren’t easy, and he had no interest in trying to make Ioin understand.
“Well it seems to me,” Ioin started, “that s
he’s not just any other slave. It seems to me that what you’ve got is an untrained Syban.” He smiled toothily and drained his glass. “But I must say a very wise use of your power.”
“How so?” Cianan asked in a bored tone.
“Taking some random house slave from her owner because you took a fancy…”
“It wasn’t like that,” he grumbled, taking another long swallow.
“Oh it wasn’t?” Ioin chuckled. “You’re very easy to read, old friend. Everyone with eyes can see how anxious you are to bed that one.” He refilled Cianan’s glass again before it was empty. “But take my advice. Break her first.”
“You talk about her like she’s a wild horse.”
“That’s what she is!” he exclaimed. “If you let her run free, soon you’ll find your servant is your master.”
As if on cue, the three Syban entered the bedchamber, giggling and whispering amongst themselves. Upon seeing Ioin, all three cooed, dropping to their knees and crawling to his side. After dinner, they had retired to their quarters to change into sets of silk gauze that barely covered their bodies. When the one closest to him knelt at his feet, she bowed, pressing her lips to the tip of his boot. Ioin smiled hungrily and beckoned her closer.
“Take Vasilia here. She was a spoiled and defiant princess before I bought her in Amshere last winter.” She mewed softly, brushing her blonde locks away from her face to lap at Ioin’s mouth. “Mmmm...but a few weeks of stern discipline over my lap and she’s so much more pliable.”
Cianan turned away, staring into his fireplace and happy that the alcohol haze was descending quickly. “Not to be a pain, Ioin, but I’m very tired. Perhaps we could continue this discussion over breakfast?” He looked toward the door, hoping they would get the hint to leave his chambers quickly.
“She is quite beautiful, Lord Marek,” Neesa purred, kneeling by Cianan’s chair. As the first and most experienced of the Syban, she was free to speak as she saw fit. “Delicate and innocent.” She grinned up at him, nuzzling his hand against her cheek. “So afraid. She will be easy to train.”
He looked down at her, his eyes blurry with drink and fatigue. “She is beautiful.” The light from the fireplace caught glints of gold in Neesa’s curls, and he watched them shimmer. “She reminds me so much of…” He stopped himself before saying her name, praying that no one would ask any further questions of him. But there was little worry with that. His gaze drifted to Ioin who no longer paid him any mind. Vasilia had climbed into his lap and began tracing the cuff of his ear with her tongue. The other, Kali, sat on the floor at his feet, her fingertips sliding up the inside of his leg like a slithering viper ready for the kill. “Ioin... I’m not up for this tonight,” Cianan began.
His protests died on his lips as Neesa moved up, capturing his mouth. Her flavor was bittersweet from strong wine and though he did not want her, his body responded to the caress. He relaxed and opened his mouth, accepting her tongue. Their kiss went on and on, her hands wandering over his body. He shuddered. It had been so long since he’d felt the touch of a woman’s flesh. He bristled, hearing Ioin’s mocking laughter.
“But you will be soon if Neesa has her way.” At the mention of her name, Neesa broke their kiss to purr in agreement. “I think she has a bit of a crush on you after our last visit, Cianan.”
He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the memory of their last meeting. If only Neesa knew how close she’d come to death, she wouldn’t be so keen to arouse his lust again. His condition made his desire burn brightly, leaving bruises and blood in its wake. “Then she must be as reckless and foolish as you, old friend.”
****
Sascha sighed, rolling over in restless aggravation. She’d been trying to get to sleep for hours now without success. Her eyelids were heavy and she wanted to close them, but even when she did, thoughts came faster and faster, always whispering in her ear. She’d watched those three women, the Syban, all through dinner, wondering if she could ever be like them. They were beautiful and refined, yet lustful and teasing. Lord Ioin seemed to hang on their every movement, delighting in their tinkling laughter and gentle fingertips that offered him bits of fruit and bread. She was certain she would never be that sort of slave. Was that what Lord Marek wished her to be?
And then there was Lord Ioin himself. She was certain his eyes never left her throughout the entirety of their dinner together. She tried to look demure and only spoke when spoken to, but he kept looking at her as if she were some wanton goddess. And while the flattery made her cheeks burn with embarrassment, his gaze made her feel uncomfortable. As if she were a doe being chased through the forest by a cunning hunter, she felt preyed upon by those empty brown eyes. It was probably ridiculous. This man was Lord Marek’s friend, and therefore worthy of her trust, but she couldn’t help feeling uneasy.
It was raining again and she could hear the patter of droplets on her window sill. Luckily, there was no thunder tonight, and the rain was relaxing with its regular rhythm. Her gaze alighted on the journal at her side, still shoved halfway under her pillows. She’d been arguing with herself about reading any more of it, having resolved to put it back where it belonged in the morning. Those were Lady Isabella’s private thoughts and she shouldn’t be invading. But she wanted to hear more about her relationship with Cianan. It might offer some clues to how she should behave in his presence. She seemed to be forever igniting his anger. She wanted to make the best of this situation and be friends.
Her curiosity finally got the better of her and she opened the book.
I am writing to you this morning, journal, in absolute bliss. Words cannot express how unbelievably happy I am at this very moment. The sun is barely over the horizon, but I couldn’t keep myself from rushing over and recording every detail. Cianan and I are finally husband and wife and it’s more than I could ever have hoped for. I must admit that from the moment we said I do, I was in abject terror. I couldn’t eat a bite at the beautiful banquet Cianan’s father had prepared for us because my belly churned with feelings of uncertainty. Not about Cianan, of course. Just the night ahead. So I smiled and laughed and pretended to eat. Cianan must have sensed my anxiety, for he never left my side. His hand upon my back was an ever-present reassurance. When we danced, I considered telling him of my fears, but I thought he would think me silly and decided to keep it to myself.
Finally, after several hours of excitement and worry, we were ready to depart for our honeymoon. Cianan had jokingly told me that he was going to squirrel me away someplace secret to have his way with me, but as we rode through the forest astride his stallion, I began to realize he wasn’t jesting. We emerged from the forest into a clearing at the base of the mountain. Instantly, my breath was taken by the beauty of the place. A waterfall rushed down the side of the mountain, feeding the brook below and sending up a spray of mist that nearly obscured the rocks completely. I asked Cianan where we were going to sleep and he laughed and pointed up to the largest great oak tree I’d ever seen. Winding up the trunk was a spiraling staircase that led into the branches. I was in awe as he helped me down from the saddle and led me toward the tree.
I finally decided to let Cianan know of my fears as we reached the little cottage in the trees. I felt so silly and he had to coax it out of me. I blushed red hot as I described the stories Keelah had related and the increasing anxiety she had awakened. In the end, it was the right thing to do. He assured me that I was being ridiculous, letting me know that he would use the greatest of care in handling my body. I was still unsure until he silenced my fears with a passionate kiss. He began softly as he always does, becoming more urgent. I felt his tongue, warm and insistent, pressing into my mouth. I accepted it, wanting to let him in. He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as our kiss went on and on.
Before long, I found myself swept off my feet and carried through the rustic cottage to a bed piled high with pillows and luxurious coverlets. I don’t mind telling you, journal, I was shaking with fear and anticipation. To
my own surprise, when he laid me on the bed and started pulling at the laces of my bodice, I was anxious for him to go on. I couldn’t wait for his fingertips to reach the untouched flesh of my stomach and thighs. When he did, I couldn’t contain the soft whimper that escaped my lips. He smiled in that sweet way of his, and I melted.
Journal, as I write this I can only hope that someday Keelah can find an ounce of the pleasure I’ve had. What she described was horrible. The reality was more wonderful than anything I could have imagined. At first, we talked. About everything and nothing, the wedding, our friends, the coming wars in the Outlands. All the while, he worked carefully, laying open the bodice of my bridal gown until I almost didn’t notice that I lay before him naked. I blush just thinking of it now. Suddenly, his calloused warrior palms lay upon my breast, stroking the puckered center gently as he spoke…
Sascha’s cheeks burned and she pushed the book away as if it were an insect to be squished immediately. These were definitely thoughts more private than she had anticipated. Lady Isabella wrote so descriptively that Sascha felt as if she were looking in on their marriage bed, and though it felt a little like spying, she couldn’t help the fluttering feeling that she felt nestled deep within her sex. It was unlike any sensation she’d ever had. She closed her eyes, seeing what Bella had, feeling as Bella had felt.
His kisses were wet with promises, and I believed him. Every unspoken word. I could see the truth reflecting in his eyes and it made me surrender. I hesitated at first, not sure of what my reactions should be when he placed his hand on the hood of my sex. He lay beside me casually, still speaking in whispers against my ear. He told me to relax. Not to worry, that he would always take care of me. Protect me. And then he said something that I shall remember in my deepest fantasies until the end of my days.
Beast of Burden Page 7
