The Devil's Concubine (14 page)

remember anything else very clearly. It had almost taken the very last of his strength to pull the arrows from himself so that his wounds could close and he’d been the next thing to unconscious when she’d begun to weep over him and carry on as if he was dying.

He had, in fact, wondered for several unnerving minutes if she knew something

he didn’t.

It had been stupid to squander so much of his little remaining strength to shift,

particularly since he healed far faster in his beast form, but he had not been thinking clearly at all. All he’d been able to think about, in fact, was that Aliya was repulsed by his beast form.

And she was crying over him as if she was devastated to think he might die.

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60

Which had moved him to nearly make it so by shifting before his wounds had

even completely closed. He wasn’t particularly worried about it. He felt stronger now, sore, but certainly well enough to be up and about his business. He could shift if he felt the need to make his body heal faster.

He would have shifted back, because he
was
in pain and he was still far weaker than he liked, except for one thing.

In the interim, between collapsing in the dirt and being carried to his bed, he had

finally tumbled to the fact that Aliya was thinking of him as a man child, as if he was as fragile as her own kind was. By the time he’d come to his senses enough to figure that out, unfortunately, things had gotten way out of hand.

More awkward still he couldn’t even put it all down to his weakness of the

moment, not unless he included a weakness of the mind, because he had been well aware something wasn’t quite right. He was just enjoying having Aliya taking on over him so much that he hadn’t considered reassuring her that she had no reason to be so upset or fearful for him.

What the hell was he supposed to do now, he wondered? He knew damned little

about the man children--except that they were weak. The simplest wound could kill

them. Was a day long enough for recovery? Two?

He was going to be mad if he had to remain tied to the bed by his inadvertent lies

for more than a day or two, especially if Aliya was determined to fondle him every time she came over to check his condition.

Aroused, was what he was, damn it to hell! Which she was bound to figure out

the next time she decided to check his wounded thigh.

The alternative was to admit that his life was not in danger, but he discovered that

he was almost as reluctant to face the rage that would entail as he was to give up the tender care Aliya seemed inclined to lavish upon him.

And the worst of it was that the longer he perpetuated her misconception of the

situation, the more enraged she was likely to be once she found out.

For that matter, he didn’t at all care for the deadly glances the two she-cats he’d

brought Aliya kept sending his way whenever they thought Aliya wouldn’t notice. If

Aliya did lose her temper, she would have plenty of willing help to slit his throat and that was not the sort of wound even a man beast recovered from very often.

Not that he was particularly worried that they could manage it. He was weak, but

not that weak. He was more concerned about the consequences of having to fight them

off. As furious as Aliya had been about him binding them, she was not going to take it well if he had to forcefully subdue them.

Toward sunset someone tapped on the door. When Lady Beatrice answered it, his

captain, Solly, poked his head around the door and peered toward the bed. Relieved at the distraction, Talin struggled upright, motioning for the man to approach him. The moment he did so, Aliya was out of her chair like a shot, pressing him back against the pillows. “You must be still and rest,” she said chidingly.

Grimacing at her in a parody of a smile, Talin reluctantly settled back against the

pillows, giving Solly a stern look and shaking his head ever so slightly. When she’d moved away finally and sat in her chair again, Solly looked Talin over questioningly. “I

… uh … beg pardon for disturbing you, Sire, but I had news and felt that it could not wait.”

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61

“What?” Talin whispered harshly, abruptly completely focused on his captain.

“The men you sent to spy upon the man children have not returned.”

Talin frowned, trying to calculate how much time had passed. “It may be nothing

more than that they are finding it difficult to gather information,” he said slowly. “But you were right to come. They are generally dependable?”

Solly nodded. “Two of my best, Sire. I can not be easy that they have not

returned.”

“If they have not returned by morning, I will go myself,” he said finally.

Solly’s brows rose. “Are you fit?”

Talin glared at the man, but he could feel his face reddening. “Well enough,” he

said firmly.

“Still, if you will forgive me, Sire, there is no reason why you should take such a

risk, and every reason why you should not. You are weakened from your wounds, and

you are needed by your people. I will go myself.”

“I am not weak,” Talin ground out in a hissing whisper.

Surprise flickered over Solly’s features. “Then why are you abed?” he whispered

back.

Talin felt his face darken with color again. “It is hard to explain,” he said testily.

Solly stared at him for several moments. Finally, an unholy grin split his usually

somber features. “It is because of your lady?” he asked intuitively.

“I am glad you find this so humorous,” Talin snarled at him.

The smile vanished instantly, but Solly’s eyes still gleamed with suppressed

laughter. “She will be outdone when she discovers you have no lasting hurt,” he said hesitantly.

“You think?” Talin growled irritably. “But that puts me in mind--give me your

blade. Carefully, mind you.”

Solly looked startled. “You think you will have need of it?”

Talin glanced away uncomfortably. “My wounds have closed. She will think that

odd when she decides to change the bandages.”

Solly’s jaw dropped. “She will try to saw your head off with the thing if she

discovers your deception.”

“What do you suggest then?” Talin demanded testily.

“If I may be blunt?”

“You have been nothing else that I have seen!”

“Confess and beg forgiveness for not being near death,” Solly responded

promptly, his grin returning. “Else you might live to regret it.”

Shrugging when Talin merely glared at him, he leaned down closer, allowing

Talin to slip his blade from its sheath and tuck it beneath the pillow. “I am not that anxious to have her looking upon me again as if I am some sort of monster,” Talin

muttered.

Uneasiness went through him when Aliya rose and followed Solly to the door,

speaking to him in a low voice. Nodding, Solly sent him an amused glance and left.

He watched her intently as she returned to the chair, wondering what they had

discussed, resisting the urge to summon her and demand to be told. For perhaps thirty minutes, he stewed over it. Finally, the door opened and two maids trooped inside. One carried a tray upon which sat a bowl.

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62

His stomach instantly clenched with hunger.

Aliya and her ladies rose from where they’d been seated. Her two ladies followed

the other maid out of the room. Aliya, after glancing around as if looking for something, grabbed the edge of one of the smaller tables and dragged it to the side of the bed nearest him. The surprised maid followed her with the tray.

Taking it, Aliya smiled at her and waved her away.

Talin struggled up on one elbow to see what the bowl held.

“It’s gruel,” Aliya said in answer to the look on his face. “You lost a great deal of blood. This will help you in your recovery.”

“I would far rather have real food,” Talin retorted sullenly.

She smiled. “You must already be on the mend to be so cross.”

He sent her a quick glance. “I am. I want real food.”

“Tomorrow--if you’re feeling better,” she said chidingly, reaching for the pillow

beside him and tucking it beneath his head.

Grinding his teeth, Talin sat glaring at her petulantly while she spoon fed him the

noxious, thick broth, grimacing with distaste every time he swallowed.

“I am still hungry,” he complained when he had managed to drain the bowl.

She looked at him in surprise. “I can send for more,” she said hesitantly.

Immediately feeling faintly ill, Talin shook his head, settled back on the pillows,

and draped an arm across his eyes, trying to get his mind off of his stomach, which

alternately growled, demanding real food, and sloshed with the liquid she’d already

poured down him.

As far as he could see the unpleasant side of this invalid business was rapidly

beginning to outweigh any advantages. True, Aliya seemed to have not only lost all fear of him, but even to enjoy caressing him affectionately, but that was almost the worst of it.

If he truly had been ill and weak, he might not have noticed. As it was, his mind told him it was merely to soothe, and his body told him something else entirely.

There must be
some
way to escape this tangle unscathed, he thought irritably, wracking his brain for an answer and coming up empty … again.

“You have sent your maids away,” he said, more because he was bored stiff than

because he had any real interest in where they’d gone or why.

“They were still very frightened,” she said quietly, “and worn out from--

everything that had happened. I thought it best if they went to rest. You should try to sleep.”

Would that he could! He said nothing, though, because he was busy rehearsing

possible scenarios in his mind for a confession that would free him from her tender

clutches and still allow him to escape with his hide--and possibly his dignity--intact. He had always thought he was very nimble minded, but each time he tried to form some sort of explanation, he came up blank.

‘I am feeling much better now’ sounded like a promising beginning, but he had

little hope that he could escape without saying more than that. ‘It was only flesh wounds, barely a scratch’ sounded even better to his mind until he recalled that she had examined him fairly thoroughly and stuffed those stinking herbs into the holes. Somehow, he

didn’t think he could convince her that she had been mistaken.

Into his jumbled thoughts, sounds intruded, quiet footsteps that were not Aliya’s

and the scrape of something on the floor. He ignored it, still pondering his dilemma, until THE DEVIL’S CONCUBINE

Jaide Fox

63

he heard the distinctive splash of water. The moment he did, his mind instantly put the previous sound together with tub and bath.

For him? Or for her?

His cock had no preference. He instantly went hard. Lifting his arm fractionally,

he blinked a couple of times to clear his vision and peered in the direction of the sound just in time to see Aliya step into the tub of steaming water. His throat closed, nearly strangling him as she lifted first one leg and then the other over the side, giving him a very good view of his heart’s desire--his soldier’s desire, anyway, for ‘he’ came instantly to full attention.

Shifting onto his side before she could notice the tent his soldier had erected, he

lowered his arm fractionally.

She had gone as still as a statue, staring at him.

More than half expecting her to leap from the tub and race over to make him lie

on his back again, he braced himself, trying to tamp the image that instantly leapt into his mind of grabbing her and tossing her on to the bed on her back. Mildly disappointed

when she didn’t, he nevertheless relaxed fractionally, trying to control his breathing before she realized he wasn’t asleep and decided
not
to give him the show he hoped for.

When he heard the trickle of water again, he opened his eyes a fraction.

Apparently, she’d decided he was asleep, but she looked nervous and she bathed

quickly instead of lingering as he had hoped.

Even so, he was in pure torment by the time she climbed out of the tub, dried

herself off and pulled a gown over her head. The gown, he discovered, didn’t help. His mind was filled with the image of her nakedness and it refused to be banished.

When he’d lain on his side until he was in agony from the blood still pounding

through his veins, tightening his testicles until they felt like they were in vice, and engorging his manhood, he decided he had feigned sleep as long as he could stand it and rolled over onto his other side, putting his back to her. It was some relief. Not much, but some, for he managed to regain a modicum of control and ceased to feel like he was

suffering the torments of the damned.

He didn’t realize he’d been muttering curses beneath his breath until she appeared

at the bedside and leaned over him. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she laid a cool hand on his brow.

“You are hot,” she murmured, more to herself, he thought, than to him.

He was, but he doubted she would be willing to give him what he needed to cool

down. The water from the tub, maybe, he amended, but not what he needed.

“You do not feel so feverish as to be delirious, though,” she added thoughtfully.

He
was
delirious, he thought indignantly, and if she didn’t stop stroking him she was going to find out just how far gone he was!

He relaxed when she moved away again listening as the maids cleaned up from

her bath and finally left. The creak of the chair told him Aliya had returned to sit in the chair. Abruptly, he rolled onto his back and sat up. “You do not mean to try to sleep in that chair?”

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