The Men of Anderas I: Jardan, the King
Page 14
“Perfect. I know just how you can repay me for making you a cook. But,” she cautioned, glancing around to make sure no one else could hear her conversation, “it has to be our secret.”
Ten minutes later, Melodie headed for the family farm of Klyde, the vegetable gardener, dressed in one of Thomas’ flight suits. The material was stretchy enough to give with her movements and fit her like a coat of paint. She wound her long braid around her head and anchored it with a couple of wooden skewers from the kitchen. Without the restriction of the long gown it would take her no time at all to dig Klyde’s potatoes. That was something she’d done since she was old enough to pull a burlap sack and trail behind her grandfather.
The sun was turning the clouds a beautiful shade of bright pink when she reached the small gate that lead to the garden plot. Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning. A sure sign of rain, if it meant the same on Anderas as it did on Earth. She hoped to have a good bit of the digging done before the rain came. A quickening breeze brought just a hint of coolness from the mountains and Melodie could hear the morning chatter of hundreds of birds in the forest that circled the hamlet of Falcon Tor. This was her favorite time of day. When the noise of daily life was still silent and every living creature -- from smallest plant to the largest war horse -- stirred and stretched, preparing to meet whatever the day held.
A check of the small tool shed near Klyde’s gate found a stack of rough sacks, not burlap but close enough that she knew they were for the early summer harvest. Gathering an armful, she deposited several at the end of ten rows. Going back to the first row, she rolled the top of the bag down until only about a quarter of the sack was open and began pulling at the potato plant just enough to loosen the dirt around it. When the plant gave way, she dug through the loose dirt, retrieving the small potatoes and tossing them into the sack. When she felt certain she had all the potatoes, she moved to the next plant.
It was a slow, back-breaking process and she never felt better in her life. With the sun heating her back and dirt packed beneath her fingernails, she felt useful. Needed. She felt at home. When she filled the first sack, she quickly tied the top with the string attached at the opening before laying the bag beside the completed row. The process continued for a couple of hours when a screech shattered the morning calm.
A woman waddled toward her as fast as her advanced pregnancy would allow. With the racket she was making Melodie wondered if she were in labor and needed help. Wiping her hands on the seat of her borrowed clothes, she hurried in the direction of the young woman.
“What’s wrong? Do you need a doctor?” Melodie’s questions halted the nonstop wailing, but the woman still looked like she’d seen the demons of hell in her garden instead of a woman.
“Princess?” She whispered after staring at Melodie. “What are you doing here? You don’t belong here.”
She was getting so tired of hearing that.
“It’s my fault your husband broke his leg so it’s my responsibility to see that his crop is harvested.”
“But … you can’t! The Prince … the King … oh, my.”
The poor woman looked ready to faint. Melodie took her arm in a gentle grasp and carefully led her over the rough ground to a bench built next to the low stone wall around the field.
“You’re the one who shouldn’t be out here. You should be resting for the birth of your baby.”
“But what will the Prince say when …”
“The Prince will ask his wife what in the name of all the Ancients she’s doing dressed like a man and digging in the dirt?”
“JarDan!” Melodie spun at the sound of his voice. “What are you doing here?” To be such a big man, he sure had a way of sneaking up without a sound. Why did he have to look so wonderfully alive so early in the morning? The sun glistened in the blue-black strands of hair that lay spread across his shoulders. Melodie recognized the leather vest and form-fitting leather pants. He always wore them to the practice field. The flex and give of his powerful thighs brought a bright flush to her face.
“I was about to ask you the same thing, my love.” His softly voiced comment held the unmistakable steel of command. He wanted answers and wasn’t leaving until she satisfied every question he had.
“I assumed you would dispatch one of the other gardeners to do the task. Did I miss the part where you informed me that you would be doing the job?”
“The others already have more work than they can do right now and it’s not fair to add more to their schedules. I’m the only one around here who has nothing to do and knows how to harvest the crop.” Melodie grabbed an empty sack and started back down the partially finished row. As far as she was concerned there was nothing else to discuss, especially with the growing crowd of people outside the low wall. She should have known JarDan wouldn’t share that opinion.
“Melodie,” he called after her, “come back to the castle where we can discuss this in private.”
She heard him following her down through the field, but ignored him and started working on another plant. She waited until the toes of his boots appeared in her line of vision.
“There’s too much to do to stop just to talk. It’s going to rain soon and I want to finish at least this half of the field before then.”
“You aren’t going to finish anything.” He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up to his chest. “Especially dressed like that. By the Beard of the Prophet, Melodie, I can practically count the freckles on your skin through that suit.”
“I don’t have freckles and my pants aren’t as tight as yours.”
“Mine weren’t this tight until I spotted my wife with her delectable derriere wiggling in the air.”
She blushed at his comment, but refused to back down. “JarDan, please try to understand. I’m responsible for Klyde’s injury. That makes me responsible for him until he recovers. I have to take responsibility for my actions the only way I know how. Princess Melodie could send any one of a hundred men here to do the job, but that wouldn’t change my part in this destruction.”
Melodie placed a grimy hand against the butter-soft leather of his vest, some distant part of her heart reveled in the feel of the firm muscles beneath her fingers. “If you thought you were to blame for an injury to one of your warriors would you send someone else to help him -- or would you go yourself?”
“We’re not discussing me, we’re discussing my wife. Women do not …”
“Don’t you dare say it. Women can do anything they want to do and I’ll have you know that I’ve been digging potatoes for twenty years.” She forced her anger away. She would never convince him by fighting with him.
“Please, JarDan,” she begged softly. “I need to do this.” Would he understand her reasoning enough to allow her to continue? Something deep inside her waited -- knowing this was a critical step in their relationship.
After long silent minutes that seemed like hours, JarDan released the breath he was holding and nodded slightly. “Very well, love,” he smiled gently, his blue eyes twinkling with suppressed humor. “Do what you feel you must do. But,” he warned, tipping her chin up with fingertip, “do not work too hard. It wouldn’t be appropriate for the Crown Princess of Tor to fall asleep in her dinner plate.”
Melodie was so happy that she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his smiling lips. A kiss that started out as saying thank you quickly turned into something different -- something deep and hungry. She opened her mouth in invitation and moaned deep in her throat when he gave her what she wanted. When his hands pulled her hips flush against his, she felt the heat of his arousal through the thin flight suit and her knees buckled. If he weren’t holding her so tightly she knew she would be in a puddle at his feet.
“Melodie …” he muttered against her hair when she pulled back from the kiss.
“I have work to do.” She traced his bottom lip with her fingertip, shocked by the dirt she left on his face. “Good grief. You look like you’ve been kissing a pig.”
“That’s the first time you’ve kissed me. I do believe the occasion was worth a little dirt on my face.”
His voice was deep, his smile soft and she wanted to crawl right back into his arms. Instead she forced herself to return to her digging. The last she saw of JarDan was when he escorted Klyde’s wife back into the small cottage.
She had been steadily digging for another hour when she heard someone behind her again. If JarDan was back to stop her, he’d really get the back side of her temper. Instead of her husband, she saw two of the ladies of her court. One she remembered as Dyana, the wife of the armorer; but the other one she didn’t recognize.
“Have you come to gawk at the princess digging in the dirt?” She knew she was being defensive but she’d had enough of trying to be something she wasn’t.
“No, Lady Melodie,” answered Dyana in her soft voice, “but I don’t suppose you’ll believe that. Sibell and I,” she indicated the other woman with her, “would like to help.”
“Why?” This was one time when she wouldn’t make it easy on anyone but herself. The women of her court had not tried to get to know her. Part of that was her fault, she knew, but at least one of them could have made the effort.
Dyana and Sibell exchanged a quick guilty look before meeting Melodie’s gaze. “If you were the woman we were led to believe you were, you wouldn’t be here.” Dyana indicated the field around them. “We owe you an apology but we’d like to do it by helping you, if you will allow it.”
Melodie felt the sting of tears and swallowed hard. For several weeks, she’d suspected Tiana was deliberately keeping her from making friends. She’d prayed she was wrong; after all, the young woman was JarDan’s sister. Dyana’s confession confirmed her suspicions. It was one thing to think Tiana was causing trouble and another to know it was fact. Clearing her throat, Melodie grinned at the two women. “You’re going to ruin your gowns.”
Both women barely glanced at the elegant pastel silks they wore before grabbing the back of their skirts and pulling them up between their legs, tucking the ends beneath the silver belts at their waists.
“I haven’t had a new gown in months,” grinned Sibell. “Looks like we’re going to be busy sewing in a few days.”
It took Melodie almost an hour of instruction before Dyana and Sibell could do justice to the potato plants. Their laughter floated across the field with the breeze as they worked side-by-side down the long rows. If any of the dozens of people who paused to watch their progress questioned the reasoning of the princess and two ladies of her court, they were smart enough to keep silent.
Chapter Fourteen
Melodie ached everywhere. Five weeks flat of her back in the sleep chamber on the trip from Earth and three weeks of doing nothing more than dress and walk around took their toll on her muscles. Even with the pain, she felt wonderful. She, Dyana and Sibell finished Klyde’s harvest before the first raindrop landed on her nose. She managed to commandeer a handful of JarDan’s warriors to transport the heavy sacks to the store houses where the vegetables would be layered with fresh straw to prevent them from rotting during the coming winter. It was a good day’s work and she felt great, even if she did move a little slowly.
“Your bath is ready.” ArDell announced while she gathered a gown from the huge closet.
She smiled at the woman’s back. By the tone of her voice she knew ArDell was still furious with her over her actions today. The opinionated maid spent the last hour lecturing her on the proper behavior of a lady in general and a princess in particular. The fact that Melodie wasn’t alone in her disgrace didn’t impress her one little bit.
Slipping into the hot, bubbling water, Melodie couldn’t stifle the groan of pain and pleasure. Within minutes, the soothing warmth massaged away all the aches and pains of a day spent working in the sun. Leaning back against the cool marble to rest for just a few seconds, Melodie was soon fast asleep.
* * * *
“Princess! Are you out of your mind? You’re going to drown!” ArDell’s bellow was enough to crack eyeballs at a hundred yards.
“I’m not sleeping,” Melodie mumbled, pulling herself into a sitting position. “I was just resting for a second.”
“Well you’ve rested for over an hour. Look at yourself! You’re as wrinkled as an old hag! Now out of there and don’t give me any of your sass about seeing you naked.”
“ArDell, tonight I wouldn’t care who saw me with no clothes. I’m too tired to worry about it.” After allowing the maid to wrap her in the soft towels, Melodie followed her back to the bedroom where her clothes lay spread across the bed. Realizing just how late she was she hurried into the pink and green gown she had worn for her first dinner at the castle. This was still her favorite gown. Partially because she loved the rows of embroidered sweet peas; but mostly because of the way JarDan’s eyes darkened to midnight blue when she wore it. That particular shade of blue spoke of heat and need and kisses laced with promise. Kisses she intended to sample. Soon.
“I don’t think we have time to do more than dry my hair. I’ll wear it loose tonight and you can anchor it back with the circlet.”
Melodie rolled her eyes at the mock surprise on her maid’s face. Okay, so she didn’t usually wear her hair down and she never liked to wear the gold circlet -- the crown worn by the future Queen of Tor. It would be a nice gesture, a way of saying thank you to JarDan for allowing her to take care of Klyde’s harvest. Besides, tonight was special. She wasn’t exactly sure why she felt that way, but something was about to happen, she could feel it.
When she entered the great hall a short while later, the rest of the family sat near the center fireplace. JarDan was standing beside his father’s chair. He looked wonderful in the white tunic he wore over black pants. The soft velvet caressed his wide shoulders with a lover’s touch while the tight pants hugged his powerful thighs and long legs like a second skin before disappearing into the tops of his boots. The only colorful spots on him were the jewels that blinked from the hilt of his dress sword. It used to bother her that these men all wore weapons at the dinner table. Shoot! At Grandpa’s table, you better not even sit down with a cap on your head, much less armed for war. Now, it seemed perfectly natural to see the shorter, more elaborate swords hanging by their sides.
Without slowing her steps, Melodie crossed the room and headed straight for her husband. When he spotted her coming toward him, he extended his hand in welcome and -- for the first time -- she eagerly reached out and slipped her hand into his. When he pulled her close to his side, she acted on impulse and reached up and kissed his cheek.
“Hi.” She whispered softly, grinning at the shock on his face. “Did you get the repairs made to the wall?”
JarDan grinned from ear-to-ear before ducking his head to cover her mouth in a quick kiss that was too much and at the same time not enough. “We should finish the job tomorrow if the rain stops.”
“There would be no need for such extra work,” complained Tiana in her usual petulant whine, “if you had sense enough to stay where you belong.”
“Tiana!” JarDan barked. “If you can’t behave yourself, you can go to your room. I’ve had enough of your rudeness.”
Melodie tightened her grip on JarDan’s hand. She didn’t want Tiana’s spite to spoil the evening. “Good evening, Tiana,” she smiled, hoping to defuse any further barbs. “Is that a new gown? That emerald color is gorgeous on you.”
“Is it true?” The young redhead demanded, ignoring Melodie’s attempt at changing the subject. “Did you really work like a servant in that man’s garden? How can you shame this family like that?”
“Repaying a debt brings shame to no one, Tiana, but if you find my presence such an embarrassment, you’re free to take your meal in your room.”
Melodie heard King Zeth choking and was sure he was trying not to laugh. JarDan wasn�
��t so polite.
“Pull in your claws, Midget.” JarDan warned. “Melodie doesn’t owe anyone but me an explanation of her actions and I was fully aware of where she was and what she was doing.”
“I can’t believe you’re taking her side in this.” Tears pooled effectively in her wide eyes. “You heard her. She’s sending me to my room like a naughty child. She has no right to do that.”
Melodie opened her mouth to deny that she was sending the girl to her room when Zeth stepped up and took Tiana by the arm.
“It’s not a matter of sides, little one.” He told her gently. “It’s a matter of honor and Melodie did what her honor required of her. That’s the best any of us can hope to accomplish.” He pulled the young woman into a tight hug before continuing. “Dinner in your room was an alternative -- not banishment. However, if you do not cease this constant nagging and baiting of Melodie and JarDan, I will do more than send you to your room. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Tears slid down the porcelain perfect cheeks while Tiana glared at the three of them in turn. “It’s not fair!” She cried. “Everything was perfect until she came here. I don’t want her here and if you don’t send her away, I’ll hate you forever!” With a theatrical sob, she ran from the room.
“Well,” breathed Zeth after several awkward moments, “that went fairly well, considering. Don’t you agree?”
Melodie had to smile at the confusion in the older man’s eyes. Did any man ever know how to deal with a woman’s tears? She was suddenly looking forward to growing old with JarDan because he was going to be just like his father. You can’t grow old with him if you leave here. That annoying little voice kept nagging away at her at all times of the day. Well, tonight she was tired of listening to it.
“Will she be all right?” Although Tiana’s thoughtless remarks continued to hurt her, Melodie hated being the cause of so much dissention.
“Certainly. This is just a part of growing up, I assume. I freely admit that JarDan and Dak were much easier to raise. You always know where you stand with both of them. With Tiana …” Zeth shrugged in a gesture familiar to parents of teenagers everywhere.