Lady Danya glanced at her tent and then at the shadowed forest beyond. “I’m not tired,” she said, a touch of fear in her soft voice.
“Still . . .”
“I’ll only toss and turn and disturb Fai’s sleep.”
“I’m sure you’ll settle down quickly and find sleep, and your maid will never know of your unease. She was quite exhausted when she retired.” Hours ago.
Why did he care if this challenging woman slept or not? Why did he care if she dozed and fell out of her saddle tomorrow after spending a sleepless night staring into the fire? All he had to do was deliver her to the palace. No one had mentioned the condition she was required to be in upon delivery.
Though he assumed it was implied that she be well cared for.
“You need your rest,” he said.
“Have you ever done something truly horrible?” the lady asked, interrupting Rainer’s gentle nudge toward retreat to her tent.
“I don’t believe so, no,” Rainer answered. With his talents he might’ve, but his grandfather had taught him that to use what God had given him for his own gain or amusement or power would be hideously wrong. “Have you? Is that why you cannot sleep?” Did she have a conscience that plagued her for giving a wife’s gifts to her sister’s husband?
“Not yet, no,” she whispered, again looking to the forest.
What was she afraid of? Rainer did not wish to be intrigued, but he could not help but be curious.
“Is a horrible act performed for honorable reasons as damning as one done out of evil, do you think?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Can you be more specific?”
“No,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
It was obvious that the woman had something troubling on her mind. Perhaps her concerns were more disquieting than the sore backside and mussed hair she’d complained about earlier in the day. “I should not do this,” he said, sitting down beside her—not too close, given that she would one day perhaps be empress.
Her eyes narrowed. “Should not do what?” she asked with evident suspicion.
“Tell me what is bothering you,” he said, “and I will swear to keep the knowledge here.” He patted his heart, which beat steadily beneath the jacket of his best traveling outfit.
Lady Danya shook her head quickly and decisively.
Rainer sighed. “I believe I already know.”
The woman glared at him, her eyes wide and terrified. “That’s not possible, unless you have used your magic on me.”
“I used no magic, Lady Danya, but I did overhear you and your brother-in-law speaking. You had improper relations with your sister’s husband,” he said bluntly, “and obviously the guilt weighs upon your heart.”
“How much did you hear?” she asked sharply.
“Enough,” he whispered.
With his well-meaning words he roused an anger in her, and that anger looked healthier upon her than her sadness had. Color flooded her cheeks and her dark eyes flashed. “I did not behave inappropriately with my sister’s husband,” she declared. “Yes, I was foolish enough to allow myself to be seduced, but Ennis and I became involved three years ago, before Ennis asked Vida to be his wife. I thought he was going to propose to me,” she confessed, losing her anger and dropping her chin. “I thought he loved me.” Tears ran down her cheeks and glistened in the firelight. “And now you will tell the emperor that I am a ruined woman and he will send me home long before the First Night of the Summer Festival.”
“You were little more than a child three years ago,” Rainer observed. In truth, she was young now. She was certainly too young to know such pain and guilt.
“Young and stupid,” Lady Danya whispered.
“Young and naive,” Rainer said. “I doubt you have ever been stupid.”
She looked at him with suspicious eyes. “You sound almost as if you understand.”
He did not know how anyone could’ve been duped by one such as Ennis, but she had been very young. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to the lady, who took it and quickly wiped the tears from her face. “You were duped by an immoral, conniving man, and if I had known the whole story of your shared past, he’d still have a bloodied nose.”
“But that doesn’t change the facts. I have given myself to another man. Once the emperor knows, he will not choose me.” Her lips trembled and she clutched at the damp handkerchief. “I can’t go home, Deputy Rainer. I can’t sit across the table from Ennis for years and years to come, and pretend nothing ever happened. I can’t smile at him for the sake of the family, when in my heart I despise him.” She looked away from him. “Even more, I despise myself for being weak and foolish.”
Rainer was surprised to find that he felt sympathy for the girl. “I told you any secrets you share with me tonight will be well kept. That has not changed.”
Her eyes went wide. “You truly won’t tell the emperor of my mistakes?”
Rainer smiled. “There’s no reason. Emperor Jahn has made a few mistakes himself, or so I hear.” Well, that decision was made. He would not reveal to anyone that Lady Danya had been seduced by an older man who had connived and tricked her out of her innocence. That long-ago past was not relevant. Perhaps now she would stop crying and moping about. It was likely she had a pleasant smile—though he’d never had occasion to see it.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and in that moment, in the firelight and with an expression of true gratitude on her face, she was breathtaking. Rainer held his breath for a moment. The harshness he sometimes saw in her was entirely absent, though she was obviously still worried.
“Now, get some sleep,” Rainer said, pushing himself to his feet. He could not afford to note the beauty of this woman who might one day be empress. She offered him the handkerchief, and he shook his head. “Keep it.” Given her volatile state, she might need it more than he would.
Again she looked to the forest, and Rainer was struck by the certainty that even though she had poured out her heart to him, he did not know all of Lady Danya’s secrets.
MORGANA prepared herself for Jahn’s return, which would surely be soon. The sun was up, and he had been at the palace all night. He would surely be tired and in need of sleep, but first he would need some tending to.
His friends, who had remained in the tavern all night, had been remarkably amenable and helpful. All she had to do was open the door, and one or more of them came running to see what she required. A warm bath—which had once been hot—sat waiting, as did a morning meal of corn cakes and fruit and cider. One of the men had fetched her a broom and a feather duster, and she’d done what she could to clean the room—as much to expend her own pent-up energy as to prepare the place for Jahn.
All the while, she’d worn a strange smile on her face. It had come to her in shocking fashion, as she’d watched the day come to life as sunlight broke through the window, that for the first time in years, she was truly happy. There was no weight at all on her heart, no worry about what tomorrow would bring. How odd!
The sun had not been up very long when she heard a familiar footstep on the stairs. She did not wait for Jahn to reach the door, but opened it herself and met her husband with a smile. “Good morning,” she said. “Did you have a good night at work?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What have you done with Lady Morgana?”
“She is not here,” Morgana said, “but Ana Devlyn is present.”
Jahn shook his head and walked into the room, closing the door behind him. Down the stairs, his four friends watched with a great deal of interest, their heads lifted and their eyes bright.
“We must talk,” Jahn said ominously.
“You should take a bath first,” she said, “before the water cools any more than it already has.” She picked up the razor she had just sharpened.
Jahn looked at the razor and his eyes widened. “What’s this?”
“I am determined to discover if you have a proper chin or not.”
“And if I don’t
?” he asked.
“Then I shall have to leave you for another man,” she teased, “one who will produce children with strong, dominant chins that speak of fine character.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I’m not serious,” she said. “Can you not take a small joke?”
“Not about my chin,” he responded. “It’s a very sensitive subject.”
She waggled the razor in his direction. “Take off those clothes and get in the bath,” she ordered. “Once you’re clean, we’ll see about a shave and your morning meal.”
He looked at the razor as he began to undress. “You leave me no choice.”
As he took off his uniform, Morgana readied the soap and a cloth for scrubbing, implements which his friends had so obligingly collected for her. “What did you wish to talk about?” she asked, not feeling entirely comfortable looking directly at him as he shed his clothes, though she did take frequent peeks. Oh, he was fine! Lean and well-muscled, shaped as a man should be shaped, strong and quite lovely, in a masculine way.
“I’d like to know why you decided to remain married to me when, now that we are in Arthes, you have other options.”
“Such as?” she queried.
“You could go to the emperor and beg his forgiveness for rejecting his offer.”
“You said he would not accept an apology,” she argued.
“I could be wrong,” he muttered. “And I did suggest that you try begging.”
“What other options do I have, in your opinion?”
“Surely a man such as Almund Ramsden has business connections in the city. You could seek them out, ask if you might stay with them for a while, and then send your father a letter begging for his forgiveness.”
“All of your options include me begging for forgiveness,” she said, wondering why she had not thought yesterday of searching for one of her stepfather’s many friends in the city. Now it was too late; she did not care to go home.
“This is true,” he said, stepping into the warm water.
Morgana glanced at her husband more boldly as he lowered himself into the bathwater. Though she had nothing to compare him to, he certainly seemed to be a fine specimen of a man. He was lean and well muscled, long limbed and obviously strong. And the length and hardness of his penis were extraordinary. Just that glimpse made her shudder in a place she had never before shuddered—until last night.
When he was seated, Morgana took the rag and dipped it into the water, then briskly ran it over the soap, making a generous lather. “If you must know, I have been thinking about some of the things you said.”
“Such as?” he said, closing his eyes and allowing her to scrub his chest and shoulders.
“I rather like the idea of marriage being a partnership, rather than a love match.”
“So, you do not love me?”
“Of course not!” She laughed a bit nervously. “How could I? We barely know one another.”
“After last night I’d say we know one another very well,” he whispered.
“Not really,” she said thoughtfully. “What happened last night was lovely and pleasurable and I would like to continue, but is love really required for sexual pleasure?”
“No,” he conceded rather quickly.
“And it’s not as if you love me,” she continued. He did not immediately agree. The hand which had been so gently washing his chest stopped in midstroke.
“No, no, of course not,” he said, then added, “but I do like you quite a lot.”
“And I like you,” she said, resuming her chore of bathing her husband. “That’s a wonderful way to start a life together, don’t you think?”
“I suppose,” he said grudgingly.
“Lean forward and I will scrub your back.” He did as she asked, and she scrubbed the long, strong muscles as she spoke. “If we were in love, then there would be unreasonable expectations and fiery emotions and disappointments and the horrible possibility that we might one day fall out of love, which would be painful.” Morgana took a deep breath. “Sadly, I have come to believe that my mother was wrong when she advised that I wait for love to come along. An emotionless, practical, well-planned life together, a union as if we were two soldiers going to war side by side, would suit us both very well.” There, she’d said it. “With lots of sex, of course,” she added. “I like the heat your touch arouses in me,” she confessed, telling as much of the truth as she dared. “I like the warmth that settles within me when you hold me, when you make me tremble with wanting.” That warmth might one day entirely chase away the seed of ice in her heart. Jahn might be able to end the curse which had caused Morgana to take a man’s life, the curse which had, just a few weeks earlier, made her feel as if she had no choice but to live her life alone.
This bearded, simple, strong man might be the answer to all her prayers.
She rinsed the soap from his back and he reclined in the tub once again. “Let’s make this marriage a real one,” she said softly. “Make me hot again, Jahn.” She knew that he wanted her; that was as evident this morning as it had been last night, so why did he hesitate to do what needed to be done? “I can be a good wife. I will be everything you want me to be.”
Instead of making a similar declaration of his own, Jahn sighed tiredly. “You might change your mind about remaining married, and if it is too late . . .”
“I will not change my mind.”
“Not so long ago you were determined not to be a sentinel’s wife, if you will recall. I still don’t understand how or why you changed your mind so quickly about that,” he said, “so how can I believe that you will not change your mind again?”
“You do not need to understand; you only need to accept,” she argued.
“But if you change your mind, you will hate me for taking advantage of you in such a vulnerable . . .”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Morgana stood, and Jahn looked almost relieved. She tossed the washcloth into the water, where it landed with a splash he ignored. Did he truly think she’d change her mind once it was too late to do so, or was he having second thoughts of his own? Did he think she had made her decision based on fear and loneliness? She would simply have to show him that she had no intention of changing her mind again. “I did not expect you to be so stubborn,” she said as she began to unbutton her bodice.
“What are you . . .” Jahn began, pointing to her fumbling fingers.
Her hands shook, and the buttons were extremely uncooperative, and Jahn looked as if he were about to leave the bath and walk away. She had not expected that he would be so difficult to convince.
“Blast!” Morgana said angrily, dropping her hands and shaking them fiercely. Then, before Jahn had a chance to stand or she had a chance to change her mind, she stepped into the water and sat down, facing her husband. Her skirt was quickly soaked, and the fabric floated on the surface of the water and stuck to Jahn’s chest and legs. She pushed the bulk of the fabric out of the way. “I am your wife, Jahn Devlyn, or will be very shortly. You claimed me, and now I claim you.”
“You’re saying these things only because I was the first man to offer you a woman’s pleasure.” His blue eyes, such a fine color, narrowed.
“No,” she said with certainty. “Whatever this is, it began long before last night.”
“This is such a terrible idea,” he said softly, but when Morgana reached between their bodies and grasped his incredibly hard length, she was quite sure he did not think it was a terrible idea at all.
Morgana smiled as she boldly caressed and aroused her husband. The expression on his face was one of bliss and pain combined, of pleasure and surrender. This boldness, this need to take what she had decided she wanted, was so unlike her. At least, it was unlike the woman she had pretended to be for all her adult life. She had lived all her days caught up in what was expected of her. What her mother wanted her to be, what her stepfather wanted her to be . . . she had never stopped to ask herself what she wanted to be until Jahn had claimed her.
Not so long ago she’d been so sure that she was meant to be forever alone, that she could count on no one, and now it seemed that another—a very unexpected other—would be the one to save her.
As angry as she had been since Jahn had taken her from home, as hotly as she had argued with him, as helpless as she had felt . . . she had not sensed even a sliver of ice inside her until she’d made the mistake of leaving him. And now, instead of cold in her heart she felt a wonderful, growing heat.
JAHN had intended to return to this room and immediately tell Morgana of his true identity. She’d be angry, but perhaps she’d forgive him. Eventually. He was not foolish enough to tell her that he’d lied while she was standing there with a straight razor in her hand.
And now here he was, immersed in a cooling bath with the woman on top of him, bringing their bodies closer together, touching him with innocent and unskilled fingers that were more arousing than anything he’d ever felt until this moment.
He had come here with the best of intentions, but he was not a saint. Not by a long shot.
If he gave Morgana what she was asking for, his choice of empress would truly be made. After last night he already considered that to be so, but this took the matter a step further. He could not lie with one of the bridal candidates and then send her home rejected. He could not make her his wife in this primitive way and then take another by imperial law.
Not that he wanted another. Morgana would make a fine wife, for a sentinel or an emperor. She was strong, she was beautiful, and more—he liked her. He had not even expected that much when he’d begun his search for a bride. He liked her, he wanted her . . . and in an odd way she already felt like a wife.
The fact that she had her hand on his cock had a little something to do with that, he supposed.
“Are you sure?” he asked again.
Morgana rubbed her wet and mostly clothed body against his. “I am. I have never been more sure of anything.”
She leaned toward him, and he latched his mouth onto her throat, and in that moment his decision was made. Her flesh tasted so sweet, and she clung to him so well. He had to have her, here and now. He could not wait to slip inside her wet heat and make her scream with pleasure, to ease the pain that had been plaguing him for days. No other would do, no one but this woman would suit. He wanted to feel Morgana’s muscles clench around him and he wanted to find release inside her.
Bride By Command Page 10
