His comments dampened the good spirits of moments before. “We are dead men if we return to Schalome,” Haig said finally.
“Not if Simon is ready to lead us,” Audric said grimly. “He need only show himself and an army will spring up on every shore to crush that upstart Jaelen into dust!”
Rama frowned. “I do not doubt that for a moment, but he would not believe, before, that his brother was after the throne else we would not be here now. I love Simon as much as any of you, but I know him well, too. Regardless of what Jaelen has done, he is still Simon’s brother. Simon may think he wants to kill him for what he did to Evangeline, but I do not believe that Simon can bring himself to kill his brother and if he does not, then we will have it to do all over again. Given time, he would raise another army of mercenaries and enemies of Schalome, just as he did before, and the results would likely be the same--except that Jaelen will not make the same mistake twice. If he has to fight Simon for the throne again, he will make certain it is the last time. He will suffer no qualms about killing Simon, you may be sure. He would not have allowed Simon to live the last time except that he feared the people would revolt.
“They were enraged enough when he tossed Simon in that stinking hole for nigh two years and then dragged him through the streets and had him whipped like a common felon. I believe he thought that doing so would show them that Simon was merely a dracon--no god to be worshipped--but he miscalculated the depth of love the people feel for Simon. He will not do that again. I will not say it is a weakness, but there have been times when I have felt that Simon has too much heart and not nearly enough ruthlessness to be a sovereign.”
“He can be ruthless when he needs to be,” Audric ground out. “Never doubt that. But I think you may be right about his brother. I do not like to think what it might do to Simon if he was forced to kill his brother anyway--he has too much conscience. If he could have gotten to Jaelen that day, I think he would have torn him limb from limb with his bare hands, but afterwards ….” He shook his head. “I will take care of it myself when and if the time comes … and I will be sure that Simon has no inkling that it is an assassination. I do not want to test his ruthlessness myself.”
Haig studied him thoughtfully. “You think this woman is what we need?”
“I thought this woman was what we needed,” Audric responded. “Now I am not completely easy in my mind. We will have a hell of a mess on our hands if he becomes too attached to her.”
Jorell frowned. “Do you think there is any real danger of that? I will admit she looks like a tasty morsel--but no more than a mouthful--and she is human. He will not forget that. He can not forget that, or where his duty lies. For myself, I had begun to make plans for when he has lost interest in her and set her aside.”
Audric shook his head. “He is worried, and that makes me nervous.”
Rama shrugged. “Then we will set out to seduce her ourselves. He will be less vulnerable to her if he knows that she has shared herself with any or all of us.”
“Do not even try to make that sound like a sacrifice! You want her as much as I do or you would not have thought up that idiotic plan! That is not likely to make a straw’s worth of difference to Simon anyway,” Audric snapped. “Evangeline was no stranger to men when she came to him.”
They all looked taken aback.
“How do you know?” Haig demanded.
“Because I was her lover before him--and he knew it--and she was no virgin when I took her to my bed. You should not believe everything that he says. He is too fair minded to hold that against a woman when he has been such a cocksman himself, and too arrogant--and with good reason--to worry himself that his woman will stray if he chooses her. He was only spouting all that nonsense about whores to convince himself that she is not worth his time. If he believed that he would not be in the basement pounding out his rage on the bags.
“I will seduce Raina,” he added after a moment.
“And we are to back off only because you say so?” Rama ground out.
Audric narrowed his eyes at his long time friend. “You will back off because this is what is best for Simon--and what is best for Simon is best for Schalome. I only dangled Raina in front of him to remind him that he is a dracon, and he is alive. It will not serve us if he becomes so smitten that he loses all interest in returning home and reclaiming what is rightfully his, and we will be exiled forever.”
“So you will ‘sacrifice’ yourself? I do not see the difference.”
“You do. You just do not want to because you are ‘ripe’ for herself yourself. But the difference, if you must have it explained, is that Simon loves me. He is well aware that I loved Evangeline and he took her from me because he could not help himself … and he still hated himself for it. For a time I hated him for it, until I realized that no one can take what you did not have to start with. If she had truly loved me, she would not have looked at Simon. She could no more help falling in love with him than I could help falling in love with her.
“He will fight harder if he believes that I care for her. That will give him two very good reasons to keep his distance--self-preservation for the heart he has already had broken once, and a reluctance to hurt me again.
“Please the gods, that will be enough, because I must pretend to be smitten with her or he will not hesitate to strike when his blood reaches full boil--and I am not at all certain that I can pretend and protect my own heart at the same time. In fact, I am afraid I can not … and it will be a sacrifice for me either way.
“If we succeed and Simon turns his sights upon Schalome again, even if for no other reason than his need for a suitable mate, I will have to leave her.
“And if Simon can not contain his desire for her, then I am fairly certain that I will not be able to hold her to me anymore than I could hold on to Evangeline.
“The gods must hate me as much as they love Simon, else they would either have given me the same ‘gift’ with women that they did my half-brother, or they would not have given me the same taste in women,” he said tiredly.
Elden draped an arm over his friend’s shoulder, planting a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek, and then laughing uproariously when Audric glared at him and shoved him away. “I love you, Audric! I will save you from yourself by seducing Raina away from you before you can loose your heart to her!”
Audric gave him a look. “Such a sacrifice will not be necessary on my account!”
All of the men chuckled at that.
“I love you, too, brother!” Jorell announced with a grin. “I will gladly throw myself into the breach!”
Chapter Five
Simon was appalled to realize, once he had beat the edge off his fury, that every muscle in his body was screaming in protest and he was breathing as heavily as if he had sprinted five miles. He had worked out diligently for most of the years he had been in exile, all except the first anyway when he had been so weak and ill from prison and Jaelen’s attempts to break him, in the beginning because his companions would give him no peace if he didn’t, later mostly because it had become a habit--never once because it mattered to him that he keep in good fighting shape.
He was either getting old, or he had simply not pushed himself as he once did.
He frowned over that thought--both doubts.
He had not given any thought to his appearance or the years in so long he couldn’t remember the last time it had occurred to him to wonder if a woman might not find him appealing.
Not that he was wondering--or cared. It had only occurred to him to think of it because of Audric’s comment about the woman finding him appealing. He scrubbed a hand over the faint bristles along his jaw, wincing as the gesture reminded him, sharply, that he’d beat the bag barehanded until his knuckles were raw and bleeding.
That had been unwise, he thought, studying them wryly. It was going to be hell working out now, until they healed.
He frowned as his stomach growled and he realized he was starving.
He coul
dn’t remember the last time that had happened either. Mostly he ate because he knew he needed to, not because he had any enthusiasm for it. His ‘enthusiasm’ was back with a vengeance, however. He discovered he couldn’t ignore the grumbling as he generally did and finally yielded to the demands of his belly and left the basement gym.
He paused when he reached the first floor and heard the tone that announced that dinner was served. He’d broken a sweat and he hadn’t changed since that morning. Ordinarily, he would never have considered sitting down to eat as he was--unshaven, unwashed, completely disheveled. Resentment filled him, though, when he realized a part of his reluctance now--the biggest part of it--was a disinclination for ‘that woman’ to see him as he was.
“To hell with her,” he muttered to himself. He was not likely to see her, or she him. She would eat with Mrs. Higgenbottom in the kitchen.
And, in any case, he didn’t give a flying fuck what she thought about him.
He probably smelled like a naybst--the furry beasts they rode into battle on Schalome--that had been run into the ground, but if he didn’t mind his stench he saw no reason why she should. Setting his jaw, he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his shirt and left it hanging open. He was too damned hot to fasten it up and tuck it in. He combed his fingers through his hair to bring some order to it and then abandoned his unconscious efforts at grooming abruptly, leaving his hair hanging about his shoulders.
The glasses were another matter. Removing them from his pocket, he put them on.
Just one more reason to resent the woman’s presence! He could not go about without the damned things because she was human and was liable to faint at the sight of his alien eyes … and then run screaming to the authorities that aliens were in residence on Milton Island.
Audric looked him over disapprovingly when he had sprawled in his chair at the head of the table. Simon regarded his half-brother broodingly, almost hoping he would make some snide remark so that he could feel justified in knocking his teeth down his throat.
“I would not worry about the glasses,” Audric finally said mildly, refusing to take the bait he saw in Simon’s eyes. “She has seen my eyes … and yours. If she has not fainted, screamed, or taken off running by now, she is not likely to.”
Simon snatched his glasses off and pitched them across the room.
It was unfortunate that that little fit of temper happened to coincide with Raina’s entrance into the dining room. She jumped as the glasses hit the wall next to her, rattling the dishes on the tray she was carrying.
Simon felt dull color creep into his cheeks as she flashed wide, startled eyes in his direction. Clearing his throat, he glared pointedly at Jorell, who was sitting next to him. Jorell stared back at him blankly and then whirled his head abruptly to look at Riana guiltily.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
Simon dropped his elbow to the arm of his chair, cupping his chin in his hand and pressing his index finger along his lips to curb the urge to smile.
“It was not I!” Jorell snapped.
Simon chuckled. “She can not understand Draconian. And I do not think she would believe you if you could think of the words to say in her language. You looked far too guilty when you looked at her.”
Jorell sent him a resentful glare. “You did that on purpose!” he said accusingly.
Simon shrugged. “I did,” he responded coolly. “It was an unprincely thing to do. You did not expect me to take the blame, surely?” he added provokingly.
Letting out a huff of irritation, Jorell focused on Raina as she carefully balanced the tray on one hip and tried to lift one bowl of soup from the tray without spilling everything else.
“Pardon, lady,” Jorell said in his best English, pointing at Simon. “He did!”
Raina frowned in concentration until she’d managed to settle the bowl of soup and successfully redistribute the weight on the tray. She flicked a look at Mr. Black--she thought he was the one Mrs. Higgenbottom had told her was Mr. Black--and then looked at Simon Draken. His gaze was focused on the plate in front of him, but she thought she detected a faint smile hovering around his hard mouth.
She wished the man hadn’t directed her attention to Simon. She was already having heart palpitations just being this close and dreading having to serve him. She was going to pitch the tray and run like hell if she spilled soup in his lap.
It was just as well she hadn’t gotten the full impact of the man when she’d first met him or she would’ve passed out and rolled down the stairs. She’d had the impression, then, that he was gorgeous. Now, with all that long, black silky hair hanging around his head in disarray, the hint of a five o’clock shadow on his hard jaw and chin, and the opened shirt that displayed the most beautiful chest she’d ever gotten the chance to look at, she could feel her kegel muscles clenching frantically and she had the horrible suspicion that her panties were damp.
She could feel the man’s pheromones bouncing off of her in waves.
Ignoring Mr. Black’s juvenile excuse for throwing something at her, like an--undisciplined juvenile delinquent--she sucked in a sustaining breath and moved around to Simon. The dishes on the tray were rattling from the shakes running through her. Color climbed into her cheeks as he very casually shifted in his chair to put some distance between them as she leaned to set his bowl on the table. She didn’t know if it was because he was afraid she was going to spill the soup in his lap, or if it was a conscious or unconscious dislike of her close proximity, but she felt snubbed anyway. Moving around to Mr. Black, she gave him a narrow eyed look and plunked his bowl down in front of him hard enough to slosh soup over the edge.
Someone at the table chuckled and then tried to make it sound like a cough. She wasn’t sure which one of them it was, but she suspected Mr. Smith. He was grinning at her when she flicked a glance in his direction. Turning her nose up at him, she stalked down the table and settled the last bowl of soup and then marched out of the dining room.
Mrs. Higgenbottom was glaring at her when she returned to the kitchen, her lips pursed. “You are to serve Mr. Draken first,” she said coldly. “The others in order of their station.”
Raina gaped at her. “Station?”
Raina wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Mrs. Higgenbottom’s expression turned even more sour. “Mr. Draken first. And then Mr. Smith, Mr. Black, Mr. Jones, Mr. Green, and finally Mr. White.”
Raina stared at her in disbelief. She was already irritated that the woman had told her she was ‘off’ for the day and then, when she’d come down to eat, had informed her that she had to serve first. Then someone, one of them, had pitched something at her when she’d gone in to serve their soup, almost making her drop the damned tray. And on top of that, she didn’t know the first thing about serving and, if the woman hadn’t noticed, she was clumsy, especially when she was nervous, and she knew she was going to make a mess before the dinner was over.
Especially since she couldn’t come within ten feet of Simon Draken without turning to jelly.
“Look, lady! I can’t tell one of the Quints from the other!”
Mrs. Higgenbottom’s eyes narrowed. “You know Mr. Draken, do you not?” she demanded testily.
Raina realized abruptly that she was thoroughly pissing the woman off and also that she didn’t give a damn if she was. “Tall guy? Boobs bigger than mine?--Wait! They’re all tall and they all have boobs bigger than mine! Dark hair? No that isn’t going to work either!”
“They do not look anything alike!”
“Well! You told me not to look at them at all! Especially Mr. Draken! I’d have to actually see their faces to tell them apart, damn it! Otherwise I can’t tell the forest from the trees because all I can tell is that they’re all really, really tall--really, really big, and they all have long dark hair, and they all wear those damned sunglasses, which cover half their face anyway! Maybe I should examine their damned belly buttons and see if I can tell them apart!”
“Mayhap you could try
being a little more observant? They are not wearing their sunglasses now!”
“No, because one of them threw their damned glasses at me when I went in with the soup and I’m not taking anything else in there if they’re going to be throwing things at me because I’m slow in bringing on the chow!”
“I did not throw my glasses at you.”
Riana’s knees turned to pure water as the deep, masculine voice rolled over her. Her head whipped around so quickly at the sound that she felt a bone in her neck pop.
‘The god’ was standing at the door between the kitchen and dining room, leaning negligently against the door frame, his arms folded over his broad chest, making all those lovely muscles bulge. Her mouth watered. He reddened faintly when she gaped at him.
“It was a churlish thing to do--and I beg pardon--but you were never an intended target.”
Riana averted her gaze, struggling to regain her equilibrium, feeling so weak she thought for several moments that she was going to do something really embarrassing--like faint. “Oh,” she mumbled, resisting the urge to fan herself.
Mrs. Higgenbottom stepped into the breach, and although Riana didn’t delude herself that it was intended for her benefit, she could’ve kissed the woman for distracting him from his intent study of her. She thought he’d been looking at her. She felt like he had been.
“Are you ready for the next course, my lor…Mr. Draken?”
Apparently he nodded and returned to the dining room. He didn’t say anything else, thankfully. Riana might have embarrassed herself by coming at the sound of his voice.
Dragon Lord Page 6
