SECRETS OF THE WIND (2 page)

Shrugging as he let the quill drop from his fingers, the prisoner straightened as best he could. “You won’t put me back in prison if I succeed will you?” he asked.

The warden snorted. “The chances of you taking out a Riezell Guardian are very unlikely but as long as you realize that going into the situation, that’s all that matters.”

“I’ve never been bested by a damned female and I’m not likely to start now,” the prisoner boasted. He shook his wrists as the fetters were removed and contemplated strangling the guard who had squatted down to unlock the prisoner’s ankle restraints. But the look on the warden’s face and the scowling disapproval on the faces of the other five guards standing watch nearby was a very good deterrent for the prisoner not to act upon his natural proclivity.

“You’ll be given a new set of clothing, identity papers and a weapon of your choice,” the warden said. “Until you make contact with Major Neff, you will be required to wear the tracking device being applied now.”

The prisoner glared down at the guard who had removed the shackles from his legs only to slip a tracking anklet in place before he got to his feet. The anklet was tight against his skin and he could feel a slight vibration from the transmitter.

“If you manage to take out Major Neff, the anklet will be removed, and you will be allowed to meld into the crowd and go your way,” the warden reminded the prisoner.

“And not have you hunting me, right?”

“That’s correct. You will be a free man,” the warden agreed. “Until you commit your next crime and end up right back here.”

“Won’t happen,” the prisoner protested.

“We’ll see.”

* * * * *

“The heir-apparent, huh?” Colonel Daniel Brock questioned as he scored the remainder of the thick steak on his trencher. “That should make an interesting assignment.”

“I’ve learned a lot about Ruan Cosaint since this afternoon,” Chas said. “I’m not sure interesting is the right word.”

“He’s a bad-ass,” Daniel remarked. “Met him once.”

Chas looked up from her trencher. “When was this?”

“Right after the war started. I was sent to Sciath to deliver a message from the Tribunal to King Declan.” He stabbed a chunk of steak and popped it into his mouth, speaking around the obstruction. “I remember thinking it was the most beautiful palace I’d ever seen.”

“Beautiful or not, I was looking forward to a little R & R,” Chas pouted.

Daniel took a swallow of his Francach
brandy. “When this assignment is over, I’ll book a passage to that little
an Ghréig
island that you like so well. We can just lie around on the beach and soak up the old rays then take a dip in those beautiful turquoise waters. How’s that?”

“It sounds heavenly,” Chas admitted. “To just laze around with nothing to do in paradise…” She sighed.

Daniel took up his napkin and blotted his lips then neatly folded the linen and tucked it beneath the edge of his trencher. “Ready for dessert?” he inquired.

“I don’t think I could eat another thing,” she replied, repeating his action.

“Well, I’m still starving but it isn’t for food,” he told her quietly.

For the last four years, she and Daniel Brock had been lovers. It was an easy situation for the both of them since it involved little other than the satisfaction of physical needs. Neither had any desire for permanent bonds or Joining or making their relationship mutually exclusive. Daniel took his pleasures where he would, and she made sure her options were always open.

“I might have room for something salty,” she said with a grin.

Daniel got up from the table, walked to her and held her chair as she rose. Taking her hand, he led her to the shadowy confines of his bachelor sleeping room, turning her to face him so he could slowly undo the buttons of her blouse.

“I have been waiting all day for this,” he said in a smoky voice. His fingers were sure on the pearl buttons, his knuckles grazing her breasts as he worked his way down the bodice.

“Be gentle with me, Danny. I am starting to feel that Storian’s love taps,” she said as he pulled the tail of her blouse from her skirt.

“It’ll be worse tomorrow and tomorrow night,” he warned as he slid his hands along her rib cage and pulled her to him, flattening her lace-covered breasts against his chest. He bent his head to nuzzle her neck.

Chas had always enjoyed the foreplay Daniel instigated, though it was always the same each time. The man was very good at foreplay. He had an iron will, it seemed, and could go for an hour merely teasing and stroking her before feeling the need to stretch out atop her and take her in his slow, lazy way. Sometimes his restraint tried her nerves and she’d have much preferred for him to ravage her like a barbarian, but tonight she was glad for his self-control.

“You smell wonderful,” he said, lapping at the tendon along the side of her neck as his hands smoothed up and down her back under the blouse.

“It’s the gardenia perfume you brought back from
an Domhan
your last time out.”

“I’ll buy you a keg of it next time. I love the scent.”

He eased her back from him and slipped the blouse from her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor behind her. Turning his right hand so the fingernails were against the hollow of her throat, he ran them down to the front closure of her bra and with practiced ease, flicked the hook apart with his index finger and thumb. As the garment separated, he hooked both hands in the straps and eased it from her body.

Chas had always been proud of her large breasts. They fit snuggly in Daniel’s large hands and the prominence of her rosy nipples scraped along his palm as he gently massaged the ivory globes.

“You have the most beautiful breasts of any woman I know,” Daniel said a moment before he lowered his mouth to the turgid points.

Their lovemaking was slow—almost choreographed—and while enjoyable, Chas could never call it spontaneous or exciting. There was never any deviation from one bout of sex to the next. She could almost count the exact steps that led to Daniel’s oversized bed.

Unbutton the blouse, nibble the neck, remove the blouse.

Remove the bra, nibble the nipples then run the tongue over them.

Continue lathing the nipples, squeezing the breasts before sliding a hand down to the waistband of her skirt or slacks and cupping her sex through the fabric.

From there things heated up a bit, but they still went entirely too slow and too methodical to be anything other than pleasantly enjoyable. There was never any wild passion to claim either of them. There were no squeals of unbridled fulfillment or bellows of satisfied lust.

As he removed her skirt and panties, she threaded her fingers through his thick salt-and-pepper hair and held on as he went to his knees to worship at the juncture of her thighs.

Breathe lightly against the pubes and flick the tongue to the clitoris.

Part the lips with sure fingers and run the tongue along the folds, ending with a soft suckle at the core of her pleasure.

Insinuate a finger into her rectum, and pull her closer so his warm mouth could latch onto her sex like a giant leech.

That particular visualization never failed to bother Chas. She would squirm as the notion entered her head, and could have sworn she felt slimy
down there
. While his ministrations were highly pleasurable and always culminated in her being hot and ready to be impaled on his stiff cock, the routine of the lovemaking, the predictability of it, no longer brought the enjoyment it once did.

Lying beneath Daniel as he slipped into her, she stared up at the ceiling and tried to imagine being plundered by a brazen corsair from the barbaric coast of
an Tuirc.
She envisioned herself aboard that pirate’s fast
caramusal
, its four sails snapping in the wind, eluding the blazing guns of the patrol boats as he carried her farther away from her home and deep along the wild shores of his. His hard body weighing hers down upon his bunk, his slick, hot cock buried deep in the honeyed folds of her cunt, he would ride her, ravaging her exquisitely until she would release a scream of sheer delight as their sweating bodies climaxed together. Thrilled by the howl of possessiveness that roared from his throat as he marked her his own, she would know true fulfillment.

“I love you, Chas.”

Daniel’s voice brought Chas back from the misty, foggy barbaric lands to the same old, same old trickle of pleasure that invaded her body as she came. It was a ho-hum release but it helped to soothe her aching body and as Daniel settled down beside her, his back to her, his snoring almost automatic as sleep claimed him, Chas lay awake and stared at the ceiling.

To fantasize of a bold pirate who could take her far beyond herself.

Chapter Two

Ruan Cosaint was scowling darkly as he stood in the open-air market at Gaillimh Bay. The sounds of the merchants hawking their wares had given him a brutal headache while the smell of animal feces from the pens caused hot bile to rise up in his gullet. He ignored the lovely woman standing beside him as she prattled on about this rug or that bolt of material, having stopped at numerous stalls to inspect the garish merchandise from time to time.

“Don’t you think this velvet brings out the blue in our eyes, Ruan?”

“If you say so,” he said through clenched teeth. The phrase had become a mantra to him over the course of the last three hours he had been forced to traipse alongside the latest simpering candidate his mother had foisted off on him.

“Just last week, I added several gowns in a variety of blue colors to my dowry, but none of them are this rich a hue,” she continued, oblivious to his answer. “Don’t you love the way the material shimmers beneath the sunlight?”

Ruan growled his answer and dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand. He’d like nothing better than to throw the bitch down, hoist up her skirts, fuck the hell out of her then get up and walk away. He had a feeling she would keep up a running commentary throughout the rape and never miss a beat. The thought made him grin savagely.

“I also have several silk scarves that would make a lovely sash for any gown made from this material. I will take eight yards, Citizen,” she demanded of the merchant.

“Don’t you think you’ve made enough purchases for one day?” Ruan snapped.

“Only a few more stops,” she said and moved on, not bothering to see if he was following. She twirled the white lace parasol she carried to shade her from the hot Gaelachuan sun.

Rolling his eyes skyward, Ruan fell into step behind her and glared at the shapely bottom swinging from side to side in front of him. His hands were thrust into the pockets of his britches, his shoulders hunched with annoyance and his eyes narrowed. He was as miserable as he could ever remember being, and his only desire was to either hit or kill something, or ravage the nearest willing body. He wasn’t particular which he did first.

Although of late, his conquests—entirely too numerous and all too predictable—had left him with a need he could not identify. It wasn’t satiation, for all his partners managed to drain his cock. It was his soul that needed draining and not a one of the willing maids or horny ladies-in-waiting at his mother’s court had been able to do that for many years. Not since he had been a randy fifteen year old had he known the kind of fulfillment he desired. If only he could find a woman who would reawaken the juices that flowed through his hard body…

It wasn’t the scream cut-off in mid-vibrato that alerted Ruan to possible danger. The scream had been low enough to be ignored by most of the shoppers around him. It had been just loud enough to make the Gaelachuan prince turn and look to his right. What garnered his immediate attention was the flash of a blade in the morning light as it struck downward in the deep shadows of the alley beyond.

“I believe I like this corduroy much better for the settee. Don’t you, Ruan?” Lady Siobhan Prentice-Hall inquired as she fingered the rich, nubby burgundy of the material. When no answer met her query, she turned to see the man she considered her soon-to-be-betrothed walking away, his back to her.

“Ruan?” she called out, standing on her tiptoes to try to see around the broad shoulders of the guards left behind to protect her. “Ruan, where are you going?”

Once more, the flash of deadly steel attracted Ruan’s interest and the sound of scuffling in the alley made him increase his step. His hand went to the hilt of the razor sword strapped to his hip, and he closed his fingers around the grip.

From the corner of her eye, Chastain Neff saw a man hurrying toward them. From the Vid-Photo she’d downloaded that morning, she recognized him as being the heir-apparent to the Gaelachuan throne and moved back farther into the alley. The man hired to try to take her out was advancing, thick boning knife raised over his head.

“I’m going to gut you, bitch!” the man who had recently been released from the Riezell prison snarled. He slashed downward once more with the large knife.

“No. All you’re going to do is go to hell,” Chas said softly.

Though she had no weapon, Chas knew she didn’t need one to protect herself against the threat of the prisoner advancing on her. Her hands were registered as lethal weapons with the Fleet Command and she knew her feet to be nearly as quick—and deadly—as her hands. There was no doubt of the outcome of the attack coming her way.