Caelan's Captive (Limani Warriors Book 1)

by Faye Avalon

  She broke away so sharply he needed a minute to regain his sense of surroundings.

  “I do not wish for this to proceed.”

  Her face was flushed, her eyes slumberous, her mouth and breasts swollen with his attentions. Vaguely, he realized that she had allowed him to go only so far before calling a halt to proceedings. All part of her plan to tempt him? To win him over? By the gods he’d known women like her. Manipulators. Temptresses. Sirens. Hell bent on tricking a man. Discovering his secrets. Making him desire her beyond all reason.

  He didn’t want to consider that if she hadn’t brought him to his senses, he may well have fallen foul to her considerable skills.

  He thought of his father, of his father’s weaknesses. He had been a great leader of his people, strong and unyielding, until a woman had ensnared him. A woman who had put her own greedy desires above the interests of her homeland … and had ultimately cost Limani its freedom.

  Damned if Caelan would suffer such weakness of the flesh, of the senses. This vixen had met her match. He knew her game. Knew what she wanted of him. Unlike his father, Caelan’s eyes were well and truly open and ready to fight such female manipulation.

  His eyes were also open to the effect their little prelude had on her. She struggled to catch her breath, something for which he had sympathy since his own was none too steady. Her breasts were swollen, the nipples peaked. He took one last lingering look before covering them with the fabric of her dress, safe in the knowledge that they would be his again to taunt, to devour. And soon. Very soon.

  Contrary to popular rumor, when the occasion called for it, he could be a patient man.

  ****

  Lahna didn’t know what was happening. She felt disoriented, dizzy. Her body was acting so strangely, and this man seemed to think that he had a right to do things to her that made her feel even more unsteady.

  She refused to consider that she had wanted him to continue the strange and unsettling things he was doing to her body. When his mouth had closed on her breast and his tongue had teased her peak, she thought she might faint. She had barely been able to gasp for air, her chest had felt so tight, her body so hot.

  Even now, with her breasts covered from his gaze once more, she remained unbalanced, and she couldn’t seem to stop looking at that powerful mouth and wishing for more of its explorations. Oh, Goddess of the Night, what was happening to her?

  “Doing those things to me was unseemly,” she said, raising her chin and seeking a confidence that she sorely lacked right then.

  His grin only heightened the swaying of her stomach and the weakness in her legs. “I heard little complaint while I was so engaged.”

  “You took me by surprise. I have never experienced such shameful actions.”

  He cocked his head, his strong brow creasing. “And yet you allowed those shameful actions to continue for quite some time before deciding to make your objections known.”

  “You manhandled me. What was I to do?”

  “It seemed you were enjoying it. Until, for some reason known only to yourself, you decided to call a halt. Why was that, Lahna?”

  He gave her the distinct impression that he was toying with her in the manner a cat toyed with a bird before making its final, fatal move. Did he plan to have his way with her? Make her tarnished goods, before sending her back to the king?

  Once again, she thought of the rumors that surrounded girls who had tried to escape the king. She had a vision of being thrown into the dungeons and used as a plaything by all manner of debauched men whose fate had been to spend their days in those awful places.

  Remembering tales of such things, Lahna forced her thoughts to cease. She knew only that her escape was becoming more crucial with each passing moment. She had to focus her attentions on that.

  “I’m tired,” she said firmly. “I wish to return to my rooms.”

  He leaned lazily against a nearby balustrade. “May I remind you that they are my rooms?”

  “Of course.” She wanted to tell him that if he would allow her a small boat and supplies she would be happy to leave by first light and he would be welcome to have his rooms back. But that wouldn’t happen, of course. She was his captive. One he planned to use to his advantage by sending her back to the king and, in exchange, obtain privileges for the island and its people.

  She was simply a pawn in his game.

  He stepped aside, allowing her access to the passageway that would take her back to the royal quarters. She was painfully aware of him as he accompanied her down the candlelit corridor, his strong presence beside her making her even more aware of how difficult her task was to escape him. Until she could do so, her best chance of keeping him on side was not to antagonize him further than she already had.

  At the door to her quarters, she turned to face him. “Thank you for your kind hospitality, my lord. I wish you a good night.”

  He leaned in. “Do I get a kiss for my kind hospitality?”

  She looked at his mouth, remembering the devastation it had caused to her normally sane and sensible self. Oh, but she wanted to feel that again. Wanted to feel his lips on hers, his tongue doing amazing things to her mouth and to her breasts.

  It seemed she hesitated a moment too long, because his mouth touched hers before she could act. She knew it now. Knew its warmth, its strength, its potency. But knowing it, bracing for it, didn’t help the onslaught of feeling that ripped through her. How was it that a simple kiss—a mouth touching another mouth—could cause such a chaotic scrambling of her nerves?

  This time it was Prince Caelan who drew back, leaving her bereft and a little irritated by his retreat.

  “I bid you a good night, Lahna. Sleep well.”

  With which he turned and strode down the corridor toward his temporary accommodations. She swallowed hard as she watched him go. He moved with the assurance of the big cats that roamed the Zomotian forests, his long powerful legs eating up his steps and brooking no intrusion along the route. His dark hair flowed around his wide shoulders and teased his muscular back. She remembered how safe she’d felt embraced in his arms, how much she’d wanted to remain there and for everything to be different so that she wasn’t his captive, she wasn’t on the run from the king, and he wasn’t plotting to use her for his own ends.

  Pensive and a little miserable, she closed the door to her room and slipped out of her dress. Pleased that the maids weren’t around to fuss over her, she poured water into the bowl on the stand and splashed her heated face before picking up the nearby cloth and soaking it in the cooling water. She ran the cloth over her neck, down her throat and her arms. Slowly, she circled it around her breasts, remembering Caelan’s touch. The combination of the cool cloth, and memories of Caelan’s heated mouth, heightened the feeling in her breasts again, making the peaks harden as they had beneath his touch.

  Those same strange feelings she had experienced with Caelan pulled at her stomach, and heat flooded between her legs. She felt wet there, her legs strangely weak again. Was she sickening for something? Had some malady assuaged her? She didn’t think so because although the feelings were strange they were not at all unpleasant. In fact, she found herself smiling gently as she continued to sweep the cloth slowly around her breasts, then down across her ribcage, over her stomach.

  She hesitated, her face burning as her thoughts took a sinful turn. Remembering hushed discussions with her friends, whispered laughter as they’d talked of those sinful things, Lahna sighed. They’d spoken of the things that young men did to girls, and that girls could do to themselves, to their own bodies. The kind of things that the young men did.

  Despite being intrigued and more than a little curious, Lahna had never felt entirely comfortable touching herself there. Hadn’t she heard tales of the goddesses punishing such carnal activities? The warnings of the old crones who preached that girls who did such a thing were no more than whores who would be punished by the goddesses, that once touched by human hand the secret place between a woman’
s thighs was tarnished and therefore of little use to a man who prized, and owned, such a gift.

  Lahna had often wondered why her body should be owned by another, but she hadn’t questioned it unduly until her uncle had made a bargain with the king for Lahna to join his harem. It had made her sick to her stomach to think of the king’s hands on her. His fingers were long, thin and bony…

  But Caelan’s hands…

  She slid the cloth between her legs, feeling her stomach tighten as she did so. Oh, but it felt good. Closing her eyes, she imagined it was Caelan’s hands sliding back and forth, slowly and purposefully.

  Her breath deepened, the muscles tightening deep in her pelvis until they clenched so tight and went into a kind of spasm. The room began to swim, and she had to put out her free hand to stop herself from collapsing in a heap on the floor.

  The spasms continued as everything swam and floated and lifted behind her eyes. Then as quickly as they’d begun the contractions stopped and she seemed to float down again.

  She dropped the cloth to the floor and braced both hands on the dressing stand. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t seem to stand straight.

  It had felt good. In the same way that Caelan touching her had felt good. Was she now tarnished? Ruined for a man? Part of her hoped she was, and that the king wouldn’t want her now.

  But still the dungeons beckoned. The king didn’t simply allow something or someone he considered that he owned to escape his clutches. She remembered the leering way he had looked her over, the way he had licked his lips. The way he had told her uncle that yes, she would do well for him. That he would enjoy her untouched body and would school her in the ways of a courtesan until she was to his liking.

  Lahna hadn’t really understood the depths to which his comments applied, but now, beneath Caelan’s hands and beneath her own, she had some idea. It sickened her to think of the king doing those things to her. And it reinforced that she needed to escape sooner rather than later.

  Tomorrow night, she thought. Under the cover of darkness, she would make her escape. She would add to the meager supplies she had already hidden and stored away in a blanket beneath the huge bed. She would go down to the inlet where she had found the boats and she would steal away in the night.

  This time she would succeed. This time she would be free.

  Chapter Six

  Lahna had expected that Caelan would rescind his offer to show her the island, or at the very least would designate the duty to a servant. She was barely able to hide her surprise when, having been given a message from one of the maids, she found him waiting for her in the royal gardens a little after sunrise the next morning.

  Two horses stood at the end of the path, loosely tied to a post.

  “I trust you ride?”

  “A little.”

  He led her down the pathway and unfastened one of the ties. “This is Daria. She is gentle and obedient and will serve you well.”

  Lahna reached up to stroke the horse, its eyes meeting hers for only a moment, but Lahna saw that gentleness, that obedience in their dark depths. “She’s beautiful,” she said, stroking the horse’s mane. “Aren’t you beautiful, Daria? Such a sweet girl.”

  A smile on her face, Lahna turned to face Caelan and caught the assessing look on his handsome face. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head as if to dismiss some unanswered question. “We should get going. I have much to show you.”

  Caelan moved across to assist Lahna onto Daria. He wrapped his hands around her waist, lifted her side-saddle onto the horse. She couldn’t help the rapid beat of her heart or the way blood swept heatedly through her limbs at his touch.

  “What’s the name of your horse?” she asked, watching as Caelan untied his own mount. “He’s magnificent.”

  “His name is Thunder. Named because he makes no secret of his displeasure and uses his hooves to make his feelings known.”

  Lahna smiled and, despite the horse’s personality having been outlined, couldn’t resist reaching across to introduce herself to the stallion. “You’re a beauty, too, aren’t you? And why shouldn’t you let vent to your feelings? A horse as magnificent as you deserves to have everyone pander to your needs.”

  They cantered out of the gardens and toward the dust road that would lead them to the nearby shoreline. Exhilarated at being on horseback while the gentle breeze moved through her hair and brushed her skin and the warmth of the early morning sun penetrated her flesh, Lahna closed her eyes. The soft pad of the horses on the damp sand of the shoreline, and the gentle lap of water washing gently over their hooves, added to the almost surreal nature of the occasion.

  “You seem much at home on a horse,” Caelan said beside her. “It seems you were being unduly modest.”

  She opened her eyes and glanced at him. The wind lifted his hair from his broad shoulders, the simple black sleeveless tunic he wore highlighting the play of muscles along his forearms, while the sun licked his skin with a golden hue.

  “I used to love riding,” she admitted.

  “Used to?”

  She nodded. “When my father was alive I rode with him in the forest near our home. After he died, and my mother and I went to live with my uncle, it was forbidden. My uncle said it wasn’t a fitting pursuit for a young woman.”

  “How old were you? When your father died.”

  “Twelve.”

  “You were close?”

  “Yes. Very.”

  “How did he die?”

  “He was in the Battle of Dernick. His wounds festered badly and he died short of a month after returning home.”

  Caelan nodded thoughtfully. “It was a harsh battle. Made worse by the journey there and back. The seas to the north are brutal even for experienced sailors.”

  “My father wasn’t a lover of the seas. He preferred solid ground.”

  “So where did you get your skills? Of the seas?”

  He referred to her disastrous journey from Zomotia to Limanish. “I have none, bar watching fisherman and sailors prepare to journey out on the ocean. But I preferred to take my chances rather than suffer the fate my uncle had subjected me to.”

  “The sea holds many perils. Surely you were aware you could have been killed on numerous occasions.”

  “To be honest, I gave it little thought. All I knew was that I wanted to be free. I’d heard about life in the king’s harem and knew I would rather die than face such a future.”

  He looked thoughtful, then his eyes narrowed slightly.

  Lahna wondered if she’d revealed too much, that he wouldn’t care at all that she faced such a horrid existence, especially when weighed against the potential benefits to him of returning her to the king. But she knew she had to take every chance to appeal to his sense of honor, of integrity. Deep down she sensed he had both.

  “Are you intending to send me back?”

  His eyes narrowed even more, his jaw tightening. “Why would I do that?”

  “To gain favor with the king. We both know he would pay highly for a woman who dared escape from his grasp. He sees people as commodities, as prizes. He doesn’t take lightly anyone who would dare dishonor him in such a fashion.”

  When he said nothing, Lahna knew she had to press the issue and tell him just what was at stake for her. “Do you know what happens to women who dare oppose him?”

  He looked at her. “I have some idea.”

  “At best, they’re sentenced to a life servicing his guards,” she said, her voice trembling as she tried to plead to his compassionate side. “At worst, they’re thrown into the dungeons to become the playthings of criminals.”

  “And what would you have me do?” Caelan said, seemingly unaffected by her distress. “If you stay here, what makes you think a better fate awaits you?”

  “I… I thought that I could perhaps become a servant in the royal quarters. I know how to work hard.”

  “Becoming a servant in the royal quarters is considered an honor. One that
is bestowed only on people who have earned it in some way. Should you stay here there would be limited choices available to you. And those choices, I am certain, would not be particularly palatable.”

  Lahna knew whatever they were, they would be preferable to being sent back to Zomotia. “What are they?”

  He shrugged. “Since the king decided to plunder the islands of our young women, my warriors are denied a suitable outlet for their requirements. You could take up duties in the Doe Park.”

  She brought Daria to a halt. “Surely you aren’t suggesting—”

  “My warriors are starved of women, and they are all too aware that a young available woman resides in my court who is now almost cured of her injuries. The consensus is that she should be taken to the Park to swell the ranks of available women.”

  Lahna swallowed.

  “A life spent servicing my warriors would be a sight better than the life you have suggested awaits you back in Zomotia.”

  “How dare you.”

  He’d journeyed ahead a few feet, but now brought his own horse to a stop and turned to look over his shoulder. “It is the most feasible solution to your problem … and mine.”

  “It is outrageous. I am no whore.”

  With ease, he turned the horse and came back to draw up beside her. “As I said, you have limited choices. Whatever fate you choose to accept, it seems that is exactly what you will be.”

  Her face burned and her stomach churned. She wanted to refute his awful statement, but it was true. Whatever she did, becoming a whore seemed to be what her future entailed. Either in the king’s court, in his dungeons, or on this insufferable man’s island.

  Except…

  “You said I had limited choices if you allowed me to remain here. You’ve outlined one, what are the others?”

  He shrugged those powerful shoulders. “Perhaps the fishermen could use you for menial tasks, but I imagine being flat on your back would be one of your duties even then.”