The Men of Anderas I: Jardan, the King

by C. J. Johnson

  “JarDan!” She yelled as she launched herself into his waiting arms. Oblivious of the grinning warriors, she clung to his neck with all her strength.

  “Easy, love,” he whispered against her neck, holding her just as tightly as she held him, “or you’ll have me fainting from lack of oxygen.”

  She released him enough to lean back and look at him, searching for any injury. “I was so worried.” She whispered before his lips covered hers in a soft, gentle kiss that was over much too soon.

  “There was no need.”

  His words offered assurance, but the husky pitch of his voice told her how her public demonstration of affection pleased him.

  “Come, love,” JarDan broke their embrace but kept her close against his side, “there is much I must tell my father and the Council of Elders and I desperately need a hot bath before we can continue this conversation in a more private location.”

  “You go talk to Zeth and I’ll get your bath ready for you.” With a quick kiss, she pulled free of his embrace and hurried into the castle.

  Melodie sent ArDell to the kitchen with instructions to serve dinner upstairs, knowing the woman wouldn’t come back until morning unless called.

  Candles and natural sunlight rather than the energy ore lighted the bedrooms, unlike the public areas of the castle. In the gathering dusk, she set candles on every available flat surface. Short, squatty, fat ones and tall, skinny ones spread their soft glow through the bedroom and the open doors of the bath. Even the small fire blazing in the fireplace added to the soft, romantic atmosphere.

  In the bathroom she placed towels on the warming rods and poured her favorite oil into the constantly bubbling water. JarDan would probably prefer something a little less flowery but he hadn’t yet moved his personal items from Dak’s room and with the upheaval in the castle the past several days, she hadn’t thought to do it herself.

  Melodie would never, in her wildest fantasies, have described herself as a sensuous person, but there was something very special about her fondness for this elaborate tub. The steady temperature came from the energy ore -- which she understood. There were no faucets to add water or any drain to get rid of the water; yet, somehow, the water was always fresh. She couldn’t get a straight answer to her questions about that process from anyone. Trailing her fingers through the frothy bubbles, she grinned. Her plans for the evening did not include a lesson in plumbing.

  Not sure how long she had before JarDan finished his report to the Council of Elders, Melodie quickly set a decanter of the wine he favored and a silver goblet on the small table beside his chair. The dark red wine tended to make her queasy and that was another thing she didn’t want to include with her plans for the night. She had just finished turning back the bedding when a knock at the door announced the arrival of their dinner.

  The large tray filled with slices of cold roast meat, fresh fruits, assorted cheeses and sliced bread took up the entire end of JarDan’s desk. Satisfied that there wasn’t anything that would spoil if she delayed their dinner for a while, she turned her attention to herself.

  Releasing the ribbon from the end of her braid, she combed out her hair, still amazed at the waves that sprang to life. All her life she thought her hair was straight-as-a-board as her grandfather so often told her. Satisfied that JarDan would like the resulting cascade of curls, she stripped off her gown and underdress. With only a slight hesitation from lingering modesty, she removed the rest of her clothes and slipped into one of the diaphanous scraps of material left by Talley. She was several inches taller than either of JarDan’s ex-bathers and the garment designed to reach to mid-thigh, barely covered the dark curls at the top of her legs. With a soft smile, she turned from the mirror for one final check of the stage she’d set for seduction.

  Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps in the hall, she climbed into the tub to wait for her unsuspecting husband.

  JarDan’s gaze took in the candles, turned back bedding and tray of food in one glance. Reaching behind him, he slid the bolt into place, locking the rest of the world out -- at least for tonight. His official report to the Council of Elders covered only what they found on the mountain trail. He and Dak would tell the king about the traitor tomorrow. Dak needed time to locate a safe place for them to talk. Tonight -- tonight he’d have Melodie to ease the strain and worry from his shoulders.

  “Your bath is ready.”

  The sound of her soft voice floated to him through the mist from the open doors of the bathroom. The heavy thudding of his heart echoed in his ears. She was waiting for him -- only him. Wife. The word didn’t come close to describing his wife. His warm-hearted, generous wife who never thought of herself first. His strong, courageous wife who faced a killer storm. His beautiful, exciting wife who aroused him with just a smile.

  With a slow, measured pace, he followed the sound of Melodie’s voice. The light from dozens of candles reflected in the mirrored wall, their light creating miniature rainbows in the mist from the tub. When he stepped through the door, Melodie rose from the water.

  The sight of her nearly nude body, draped in nothing more than the filmy bathing garment, brought his manhood to instant attention.

  “Now that’s a sight worth coming home to.” He drawled, leaning against the door jamb.

  “You look so tired; I figured you might need a little help washing your back -- or something.”

  JarDan grinned at the blush spreading up her neck. “Define the or something.”

  Her blush deepened but she never broke eye contact as she reached into the soap dish, scooped out a small amount of the soft cream and slowly rubbed it between her hands. “I guess that depends on just how tired you are.”

  The sight of all that lather filling her hands and wondering just where she intended to use it took his breath away. Swallowing hard, he had to clear his throat -- twice -- before he could manage to speak.

  “Give me five minutes to shave?”

  “Take your time. I’ll be waiting right here.”

  JarDan was amazed that he didn’t cut his throat. Every time he glanced at Melodie in the mirror she was still rubbing that soap into thick lather. He was shaking like an innocent boy and all he could think about was embarrassing himself by exploding as soon as he removed his pants. Wiping the last of the shaving soap from his face, he turned to face Melodie.

  Slowly, praying he could survive the next few minutes, JarDan unlaced the leather vest, slipping it from his shoulders. When he reached for the fastening at his waist, Melodie’s eyes widened. The candlelight was too dim to see her eyes, but he knew they were purple -- darkened from desire.

  “I thought about you while I was away.” His husky whisper betrayed his own arousal. “The ground wasn’t hard enough to erase the memory of your softness.” He stroked his arousal through his pants, pushing his already strained control a little further. It was worth it to watch her nipples tighten beneath the damp fabric. “Your heat warmed me through the cold night.”

  He released his aroused flesh -- and the breath he’d been holding. He didn’t explode but he was damn close.

  “What do you have planned for all that lather you’re making, love?”

  “Come here and find out.”

  JarDan peeled the tight, black leather down his legs until he reached his boots, kicking them and pants off and out of the way. Climbing into the tub with his wife was a torture in itself. The churning water caressed his skin like a thousand teasing fingers. When he reached for Melodie, she backed out of his reach, sitting on the edge of the tub.

  “Not yet. Turn around and dunk you head in the water.”

  JarDan raised an eyebrow, but did as she requested. Surely she hadn’t gone to all this trouble to actually give him a bath -- and nothing more. As soon as his head came out of the water she was there with her hands full of the fragrant lather. He groaned at the sensual luxury of her fingers massaging his scalp.

  She loved his hair. Almost as long as hers was now, it covered his sh
oulders like a thick, soft blanket. She smiled when he relaxed against her knees with a heavy sigh. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, my mighty warrior. When she was certain his hair was squeaky clean, she pushed him under the water to rinse the soap away. Allowing him time to wipe the water from his face, she pushed the hair over his shoulders, baring his back. Another scoop of the soap and she started rubbing the tense muscles along his neck. The man actually purred like a giant cat!

  Working her way down his back, she used the soap as an excuse to pet and stroke her husband to her heart’s content. Muscles, strong and firm from constant exercise, softened and relaxed beneath her hands.

  “Give me your hand.” When he did as she asked, she soaped each finger separately before moving past his palm and up his arm. She discovered he was ticklish in the bend of his elbow and filed that bit of knowledge away for another time. It took both hands to completely circle his bicep but no amount of massage softened that bulge. The soft hair beneath his arm was soon as clean as that on his head.

  “Now the other arm.” She repeated the process on that arm, giggling at the increased moans and groans coming from him. “If I’m hurting you I can stop.” She asked tongue-in-cheek, sliding back into the tub behind him. She couldn’t understand all of his mumbled response -- something about throwing her from the window. “Guess that means you want more?”

  “Mmmmm.”

  Supporting his upper body against hers, Melodie reached over his shoulders and soaped his chest, lingering on the tight male nipples until his breathing increased. Combing her fingers through the thick hair, she traced each rib from top to bottom and back again. Placing her hand against his heart, she felt the thundering beats so at odds with his relaxed attitude.

  “You’re supposed to be relaxing. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode.”

  Sliding his hands up her arms, JarDan tried to pull her around into his lap. “It’s not my heart that’s ready to explode.”

  “Not until you finish your bath.” She argued, pulling out of his grip. “I need you to stand up.”

  “Stand? Are you insane? I’m lucky I can move at all.”

  “Please? It won’t take long, I promise.” She whispered her plea in his ear, tracing the whorls with her tongue.

  “The pleasure of this bath may kill me, my love, but I’ll do as you ask.” He lifted himself from the water, turning to face her.

  Melodie knelt in the bubbling water at his feet, eye level with the strong proof of his desire. The water was knee deep on him so she tapped on his ankle until he lifted his foot to the edge of the tub. Rubbing more soap on her hand, she looked up at him and winked. She washed each toe, massaged the arch of his foot, working the soap up his calf past his knee. He was a little slower to change to the other foot. When she reached the same place above that knee she leaned back on her heels.

  “Okay, turn around.”

  His expression was almost comical. “Turn around? But I thought … aren’t you …” Shaking his head in resignation, he did as she asked -- again.

  She knew by his sharply inhaled breath when he realized he was staring at himself in the mirror. Pulling herself to her knees, her head even with the side of his hip, she reached around her husband. Continuing with where she stopped just above his knees, Melodie worked the smooth lather higher and higher with each stroke. JarDan’s right hand flexed in her hair, his left hand tightly fisted by his side. She didn’t think he even knew what he was doing. By the time she reached his groin, his breathing was ragged.

  Catching his gaze in the mirrored wall, she slowly soaped the hard length of his erection with one hand and gently cupped the sac beneath with the other. It took only a few strokes before he grabbed her hands.

  “Stop, Melodie!” He demanded sharply.

  She shook her head. “I’m not finished with your bath. Let go.” Her whisper was more plea than demand.

  Closing his eyes, he released her hand. “I can’t hold on much longer, love. I’m going to come.”

  “I know,” she whispered softly, increasing the tempo of her strokes. “Right …” she kissed the soft flesh just above his hipbone, “… now.”

  JarDan emptied his seed into her hands, his body convulsing in orgasmic surrender. Melodie released him, pulling him down into her arms beneath the swirling water. When his breathing slowed to almost normal, she kissed him gently on his shoulder. “I love you.” She whispered.

  He pulled her around into his lap. “I knew you were my destiny.”

  She waited for him to say the words to her, pushing the pain away when he didn’t. She would be as patient with him as he had been with her. He cared for her, she was certain of that. Sooner or later, he’d admit it -- to himself and her. Until then, she’d savor each and every moment they had together.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” It was time to get on with the seduction of her husband.

  With a deep laugh, JarDan scooped her up in his arms, stepping from the tub. “Excellent idea. Eat hearty, love. You’re going to need all your energy. Next time,” he kissed her deeply, pushing his renewed erection against her, “I get to give you a bath.”

  “I don’t know …” Melodie purred in his ear “… I’ve got all kinds of things planned.”

  “This gets better and better.” He sat her on the thick rug near the heat of the fire while he retrieved the tray of food from his desk.

  She took advantage of his distraction and removed the wet garment and pulled her robe round her. He didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned with parading around naked but she wasn’t quite that brave -- yet.

  Settling himself close beside her on the rug, he asked, “Very well, love, what’s next?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was well after midnight of the day after the scouting party returned before the last of villagers left the castle for their own homes and the main hall was again cleaned and virtually empty. A small fire blazed in the central hearth creating a comfortable area for relaxed conversations. Melodie didn’t believe for an instant that the men were relaxed. She couldn’t point to anything specific and say that’s it, that’s what’s wrong. She just had a feeling this whole scene was staged.

  JarDan sat on the thick rug, his back braced against the front of her chair. One hand, propped against a raised knee, held a glass of warmed wine while the other arm rested possessively across her lap. Dak sat, cross-legged, across from JarDan and Zeth leaned casually against the high back of his chair. It looked like a quiet family gathering.

  JarDan refused to let her out of his sight and any other time that would make her feel very special. Maybe it was the way Dak watched everyone who came near them, barely breathing until they completed whatever duty brought them close and the person moved away. Or the fact that JarDan hadn’t taken one sip of the wine he requested. Other than a very brief account of their journey and an announcement to the villagers concerning the funeral services for the deceased miners, there was no mention of their trip up the mountain road.

  And Zeth. Since their meeting in the rose garden yesterday morning, Melodie had caught her father-in-law staring at her with the same intensity he now focused on JarDan. She was worried about him.

  When Dak leaned back and examined the chimney for the third time in ten minutes, she decided it was time to do something. “Are there cobwebs in the chimney, Dak?” She asked with a slight drawl. “Or are you watching for Santa Claus?” She grinned at the dark flush staining Dak’s face. “You’re all acting strange tonight. What’s up?”

  When all three men began shifting positions, clearing their throats and looking everywhere but at each other, it was all she could do not to shout ah ha!

  “Okay,” she said, using the same tone of voice she used on Tiana’s little group of troublemakers, “out with it. I’m tired. We’re all tired; but it’s obvious no one will be getting any sleep until you get this,” she waved her hand to encompass the three of them, “whatever it is out of the way. Now, who’s first?
”

  JarDan’s raised eyebrow and questioning expression were probably very useful in dealing with one of his men. She wasn’t impressed. He looked every inch the affronted monarch, until he ruined the effect with his slow, sexy wink. She giggled, remembering their long night of passion, and punched the arm still resting across her thighs.

  “Have you found a suitable room?” JarDan asked turning back to Dak.

  Dak shook his head before allowing his eyes to close. Melodie was fairly sure that was as close to acknowledging defeat as Dak would ever come and his actions scared her more than anything JarDan and Zeth had done all night. She reached for JarDan’s hand, grateful when he closed his fingers around hers.

  “There’s not any room here that doesn’t have at least one window or a chimney. From the towers to the dungeon, there’s nowhere we can be assured of complete privacy.” Dak looked at JarDan and shrugged.

  “Am I to assume there is information so critical that you require unquestioned security for the disclosure?” Zeth waited until JarDan and Dak nodded in agreement before continuing. “In that case, use the language of our ancestors.”

  That had all three men grinning like idiots.

  “Of course.” JarDan agreed. “We don’t …”

  “No,” Melodie argued before he could continue. “If you do that, then I won’t know what you’re talking about.” A sudden thought brought an unusual tightness to her chest. Since she was the only one around she must be the reason for their continued silence.

  “If you will excuse me.” She whispered, trying to pull free of JarDan’s grip. “I’ll leave you to your secrets.” She tried not to let it hurt, after all hadn’t she accused JarDan of the same thing?

  JarDan increased the pressure of his arm across her lap until she quit fighting to get free. When she glared at him, her eyes were unnaturally bright. Bringing her hand to his mouth, JarDan whispered against her skin.