“I have decided,” she said, running her fingers through a strand of his oddly streaked hair. She wondered if their children would have his remarkable hair.
“You have decided what?” he asked numbly.
How specific did she have to be? Her husband had not struck her as dense until this moment. “I will be your wife; I will have your children. I choose to live in this room rather than to seek a place in the palace with the emperor.”
“This is an important decision, Ana,” he said, strangely uncooperative. “It should not be made while you are recovering from a frightening experience. We should wait awhile longer.”
Jahn had no idea how frightening her experience had been. He didn’t know that she had come close to destroying a portion of this city with her fear, or that he had been the one to save her.
Though Morgana had never lain with a man, she was not ignorant. She reached down and touched Jahn’s straining trousers. “You cannot say that you do not want me.”
“No, I cannot.”
And she wanted him. She knew that now, as a flood of desire washed through her. She would not call it love, but if they were physically compatible, as they appeared to be, then was that not a fine start to a lifetime of marriage? She took his hand and led it to a breast which seemed oddly hungry for his touch. He did not pull his hand away, but caressed her through the fabric of her once lovely gown, a gown which was now travel-weary and faded.
She leaned into Jahn and placed her mouth on his neck, where he tasted warm and salty and male on her tongue. She’d never known anything like it, could not have imagined that she’d enjoy the taste of a man’s skin so much. He moaned, and she was glad of it. Perhaps he felt as she did, that this was a good beginning to a strangely begun marriage. “Please,” she whispered, “make me a wife. Warm my heart and soul. Take me, Jahn.”
Jahn did not argue with her again, but instead slipped his hand along her leg and up her skirt. He spread her legs, and she allowed him to do so. She trembled, as much with desire as with uncertainty, and when his fingers found her most intimate place, she gasped and lurched. What a magnificent feeling, and how unexpected. This must be the pleasure married women sometimes spoke of. This warmth must be the fulfillment of which they spoke. Why had she waited so long to claim it as her own?
Morgana had made her mother a promise that she would wait for love before marriage. But what was love, really? Intense wanting? Warmth to the pit of a soul? Safety? All this time, had she been waiting for Jahn? No other man had ever made her feel safe, or secure, or warm. Was he the man she had been longing for in the depths of her soul? Was he the promise Morgana had made to her mother?
Jahn stroked, and the newly found pleasure continued. He was so gentle, so easy . . . and yet this encounter was not easy at all. It was powerful, and she was quickly carried away by his touch. She subtly changed positions often, trying to get comfortable, but at her core Morgana was decidedly prickly—decidedly wanting and restless. If he kissed her deeper, if he touched her there, all would be well. She wanted more, so much more.
Soon enough Jahn would roll on top of her and fill her, but in spite of the fidgetiness, Morgana was in no hurry for that to happen. The sensation of falling and fidgeting was oddly exciting. She had always imagined the act of joining would be somewhat unpleasant and painful, but the more they kissed, the more she squirmed, the less she worried about the actual workings of the end of this encounter. She did not think having Jahn inside her would be unpleasant at all. It would be exciting and inevitable, and she could not wait to be his wife.
He moved. Ah, yes, this was it. He pushed her skirt higher and lifted her leg and placed his mouth on the back of her knee. She shuddered from the top of her head to her toes, the sensation was so great. Her body throbbed, and she wanted the end to this. She wanted him inside her.
He continued to kiss his way up her leg. It was totally unacceptable to have a man, even a husband, kissing her thigh while she trembled at his touch, and yet she did not once think of pushing him away. No, she would not do such a thing, not even when he trailed his tongue along her inner thigh, moving slowly and tasting her as if she were dessert on his personal buffet. Not even when his warm hands reached up to cup her rear end and pull her down the mattress, while his mouth traveled up.
He gently forced her legs farther apart, and then he kissed her there, where she was wet and needful, where she twitched and throbbed. Her breath would hardly come, her body seemed to have a will of its own as it moved in a gentle rhythm against Jahn’s mouth. Something was happening, something was coming. Her hips moved faster and she dug her fingers into the sheets beneath her. Jahn’s tongue flicked against her harder than before and Morgana felt awash in sensations she had never imagined. She moaned. Her back rose off the bed and she shook to the core of her being. The intense pleasure whipped through her body, heat and delight and an unexpected sensation of being a part of someone else, at least for this moment. She gasped as her body lurched and sensations she had never even imagined took control.
What she’d felt earlier, that warm pleasure, had been only a hint of what being a wife offered.
There was no trace of a chill remaining in her body, and hadn’t been for quite some time. She was satisfied and content in a way she had never been before. She was boneless and shaking and happy . . .
And they were not yet done. Jahn had shown her pleasure and release but had not yet entered her body, as he would. Soon. Heaven above, she could not wait. As Jahn rose up, she touched his head. One of these days she would shave off his beard and see if he had a proper chin under there or not. Not that she cared . . .
“I have to go,” he said, leaping from the bed as if he could not escape fast enough.
Much of Morgana’s pleasure faded. “Why?”
“I‘m needed at the palace. I came here only to check on you and tell you that I’ll be working at night for a few days. You were not here, and now I have no time left for pleasurable activities.” He did not sound at all pleased.
“When will you be back?”
“In the morning,” he said.
“You’re leaving me here alone?” she asked, caught between heretofore unknown satisfaction and disappointment.
Jahn sighed. “Not entirely. Some friends of mine will be in the tavern below when I am not here. No one will bother you. Did I not tell you that I would take care of you, that I would keep you safe?”
“You did.” The truth dawned on her. “The men who were following me this afternoon, were they your friends?”
“Most likely,” he mumbled.
And she had almost destroyed them. “You must not keep secrets from me, Jahn,” she said softly. “That is not the way of a real marriage.”
“A real marriage,” he said. “You know, we haven’t yet properly consummated our union. By the time I return you will likely have changed your mind and will be glad there was no time . . .”
“When you return, I will be waiting for you, husband,” she said. She could not tell him why she had come to her decision, not without telling him everything. No secrets, she had said, but in this case she was certainly justified. He did not need to know. She did not want him to know.
Jahn must’ve been running late, because he left as if a demon were at his heels.
Chapter Five
THAT had not been in the plan. Jahn ran down the stairs, catching the eye of the senior sentinel on duty. At a nod, the man rose and hurried to meet his emperor.
Did these sentinels, like Morgana, consider him to be a poor emperor who had done nothing to earn his position? Did they see him as a wastrel, a worthless ruler, a lucky bastard? He did his best in the position he had fallen into, but in truth he had not done anything to earn his place in the palace. He was in power thanks to the blood in his veins and nothing more. Were his best efforts at proving worthy good enough?
“She does not leave the tavern tonight,” Jahn said tersely as the sentinel neared.
“But, My
Lord, if she . . .”
“I don’t care if you have to physically restrain her, she will not leave!” Jahn snapped, his passions and fury roused on so many levels he did not dare to ponder them all. He was almost certain it had been his sentinels following Morgana this afternoon, but if he was wrong, if she was in danger thanks to his little game, he would never forgive himself. Almost certain was not good enough.
The sentinel bowed in compliance, and Jahn pushed his way into the early evening air, taking a deep breath and slowing his pace. Though he did not think anyone would recognize him in his current state of dress and dishevelment, one of the sentinels followed, an escort to the palace. That sentinel would return to the tavern as soon as Jahn was safely in his quarters, as it was clear Lady Morgana needed a full contingent of guards at all times.
Jahn mumbled to himself in a constant one-sided conversation. Anyone who saw him would likely take him for an insane beggar, between the beard and the mumbling. He did not care. Why had he not left the bed the moment Morgana had asked him to warm her? Why had he not refused her unexpected request, or come up with an excuse to leave the room, or—now here’s a thought—why had he not told her the fucking truth?
No, no, they were now far past the time for his telling the truth without dire consequence. So much for his initial plan to make her grovel in appreciation of his position. So much for teaching her a lesson in humility and then sending her home. So much for taking her down a peg and making her appreciate the blessed life to which she’d been born. This amusement—for that was how it had begun, as a lark—had turned into so much more.
On the First Night of the Summer Festival—a mere six weeks away—he would have no choice but to choose Lady Morgana as his empress, he supposed. Now that he’d had his head up her skirt and had tasted her amazing response, now that he’d made her shudder and moan beneath him, he could hardly send her home as inadequate. Ramsden would have a valid grievance if he did so. At least he had not been foolish enough to find his own release inside her, tempted as he had been to give her all that she had asked for. No, that would never do.
Running up the palace stairs to his private chambers, Jahn momentarily thought of calling Melusina or Anrid or both. Those lovely and willing and uncomplicated women would make him forget the lady he’d left lying in a tavern bed. They’d make the pain of his sacrifice go away, and for a while they would wipe clean his muddled mind. They would ease the throb, if not his conscience.
How could the most simple of entertaining plans go so terribly awry?
At the door to his bedchamber he ordered a sentinel to fetch his two favorite women, but before the young man had taken two steps, Jahn stopped him and rescinded the order. Tempted as he was to lose himself in the warmth of a willing and familiar woman, he could not do it. It wasn’t right—he was no longer entirely free in that respect or any other. And to be honest, he had the sinking feeling no other woman would ease this particular ache.
After learning more than he’d wanted to know about his true past and his real father, Jahn’s greatest fear had been becoming like the man who had so selfishly taken whatever he had desired, damn the cost to those around him. Perhaps in the end Sebestyen had loved his wife, Liane—Alix and Jahn’s mother—but before he had loved her, he had stolen her from her family, broken her spirit, and ultimately broken her heart. He had owned her and he had degraded her. From all Jahn had heard, Sebestyen Beckyt had never been faithful to anyone or anything.
At this moment, Lady Morgana considered herself his wife. In a way she was. He had claimed her, after all, and she had succumbed.
When the door was closed behind him and he was finally alone, Jahn sank into a comfortable chair and dropped his head into his hands. Dear God, he was just like his father. His worst fears had come to pass. Though his intentions had not been entirely dishonorable, he had stolen Morgana away from her family, and he had done his best to break her spirit. Judging by the expression on her face as he’d left her lying in his bed, before it was all over, he was certain to break her heart.
After a cursory knock, Blane entered the room. “Minister Calvyno has been asking for you all day. He’s quite insistent. Someone must’ve seen you on the stairway and told him where you are, because Calvyno is in the hallway and he says he’s not leaving until he sees you.”
“Give me a moment before you show him in.” With a curse Jahn grabbed a blasted imperial robe and donned it, taking the time to remove only his sentinel’s vest, then hiding the uniform under volumes of crimson. That small change would have to do for a long overdue meeting with his minister of foreign affairs.
Jahn had reclaimed his seat by the time Calvyno was shown into the room. The older man was pale and anxious, but that was not unusual. “You’re feeling better, I pray?” he asked crisply.
“Much,” Jahn said. “Thank you for your concern.”
Calvyno nodded, then stared pointedly and with obvious disapproval. “The beard is . . . temporary?”
Jahn stroked the ever-growing length. “I like the beard. I’m thinking of keeping it for a while longer.”
“I see,” Calvyno said in obvious distress.
“Surely you’re not here to discuss the state of my facial hair.”
“No.” Calvyno nodded, happy, as usual, to turn to business. “I have heard, through one of your most trusted sentinels, that those sent to fetch Lady Morgana Ramsden have returned with the message that she refused your offer.”
Jahn sighed. So much for escaping his current troubles with mundane matters of state! Morgana was everywhere, it seemed. “Yes, she did.” Blane was too efficient. Now that it seemed Morgana would be empress, after all, they would have to explain away her initial refusal and ultimate acceptance . . . but that problem could wait for another time. He searched his memory of the night when he had set this contest into motion. “Who was it that suggested Lady Morgana as a candidate?”
Calvyno wrinkled his long nose. “General Hydd, I believe. He’s mentioned her name several times in the past few months, whenever the subject of a much-needed empress arose. He will be distressed to learn that she has declined. I believe he had great hopes for her.”
General Hydd, Jahn’s minister of defense, was a good and loyal soldier, a tested veteran of the battle with Ciro. Jahn found himself wondering how the general had come to recommend Morgana. Were they somehow related? Was Hydd friends with Almund Ramsden? The suggested women had all been hailed as the most beautiful or most gifted or most well connected. What had Hydd said about Morgana? He could not remember all the details of that night. Insistent voices had been talking too loudly and too fast and all at once.
Jahn knew that he could, with a minimum of effort, spread the word that Lady Morgana had changed her mind and would be participating in the contest. After all, women changed their minds all the time. No one would think twice about such a change of heart. But he said nothing. For now, he wanted Morgana all to himself. She was his, and he was not ready to give her up.
He could be a selfish bastard.
LONG past the time they’d stopped for the night, Rainer was certain something was wrong with Lady Danya Calliste. Something beyond the usual pettiness and silliness which seemed to be so much a part of her. She was beautiful, and annoyingly she drew his awareness more often than she should. But he did not like her, and fortunately, he did not have to like her in order to complete this task. Still, he was bothered by the change in her. Since they’d stopped that afternoon, she had not been the same.
Rainer possessed a healthy bit of magical abilities which had been inherited from his grandfather, much to the dismay of his down-to-earth farming parents. Reading minds and knowing the future were not among his talents, so he could not use his abilities now to discern what was wrong with Lady Danya. He could start a fire with a flick of his fingers; he could cause pain with the gentlest touch of his hand; he could grab the wind or rushing water and make it his own, for a short while; he could give pleasure with the same touch, sl
ightly altered. Energy, his grandfather had said, was at the center of their powers, as it was at the center of all others’. Some who were gifted could control only one sort of energy or another, but Rainer could capture energy of many types and make it his own. Now and then he could read energy in a person, if it was very strong.
None of his talents would answer his questions about Lady Danya.
He shouldn’t care. She was conceited, vain, and more than a little bit troublesome. He couldn’t imagine the emperor choosing such a woman for the important position of empress, but he could be wrong. The others vying for the position might be just as bothersome, for all he knew. Still, they likely did not possess the same sort of sordid secrets.
Should he tell someone, anyone, what he’d overheard the night before their departure? The fact that she’d once been lovers with her brother-in-law was unsavory, but not particularly relevant. Still, it did speak to her character. Having met the man, however briefly, Rainer also thought Lady Danya’s choice of a sexual partner showed a startling lapse in judgment.
Was that why she had taken to shedding silent tears as they traveled toward Arthes? Had she actually loved the unworthy man she’d left behind?
As the night wore on, and Lady Danya continued to sit by the fire rather than retiring to the small tent she shared with her maid, Rainer became more and more restless. He couldn’t go to sleep and leave her in such a state. One of the three sentinels would be on watch at all times, but the woman was his responsibility. She was his assignment, his first as a deputy minister.
Her head snapped up as he walked toward her, and he was struck—not for the first time—by her incredible beauty. It was somehow wrong that a creation so flawless, so pleasing to the eye, could also be so bothersome. Perhaps it was a kind of balance in nature. The most beautiful insects and snakes were often the most deadly.
“We will depart very early in the morning,” he said, his voice and his manner remaining detached. “You should get some sleep.”
Bride By Command Page 9
