THE SHADOWLORD (12 page)

"Because?"

"Because her grandmother, the Amazeen queen, will provide for her."

Aradia drew in her breath. "You knew who I was all along."

"I know everything about you, Aradia Lykopis."

"But how?"

He smiled, but the emotion never reached his tawny eyes. "When the smithy finished cutting away the iron bands from my wrists, the Chief Guard told me all I wished to know, though he will not have remembered doing so."

Aradia blushed. "Then you knew I belonged to..." She could not say his name no matter how hard she tried. "The prince?"

Jaelan's jaw tightened. "I knew."

"And you still want me?"

A severe look passed over Jaelan Ben-Ashaman's face. "As I have never wanted another woman."

The surrender was easier than she thought it would be. His declaration stilled the uneasiness in her mind and she relaxed, accepting her fate as the goddess no doubt had intended. Despite her warrioress upbringing and severe indoctrination that regarded men as nothing more than slaves, servants, and breeding potential, a part of her wanted to experience love again, the gentle touch of a kind and generous man. She ached to have a companion, a man to love and cherish her, one with whom she could share the burdens of life as well as the moments of happiness.

"I will do everything within my power to make sure you never regret your bargain, Aradia."

She left the safety of the rock ledge and sat beside him. He lowered his left leg, stretching it out alongside her leg, and entwined his fingers with hers. Her heart missed a beat when he lifted her hand to his lips and sealed their agreement with a gentle kiss upon her knuckles.

"It seems to be raining harder," he commented.

"I never knew it rained so much in the desert countries."

"We are in the middle of our rainy season."

It seemed natural to rest her head on his broad shoulder. She did not grow alarmed when he released her hand and moved his arm behind her, drawing her closer, holding her to his side. Her right hand remained on his taut thigh, feeling the power of the muscles beneath the sleek leather of his breeches. She closed her eyes when he lowered his head to hers. He covered her hand with his, again threading his fingers through hers.

"I feel safe, warrior," she admitted.

His grip on her fingers tightened possessively. "That is how I always want you to feel,
wench
."

She smiled at his deliberate use of the word. To him, it had probably become a term of endearment. When she did not respond, he chuckled. Before sleep claimed her, she heard the patter of rain, felt the warmth of the fire, smelled the cinnamon scent of his after-shave, and ached with the pleasure of having his strong body so close.

"Sleep easy,
aziza
," he whispered, and planted a light kiss on the top of her head.

Orithia had a bruise on her cheek, but the king had a bloody nose. Naked, she stood arms akimbo, moving as he moved, her eyes narrowed as she watched him circling her. His feints made her smile grimly. "Go ahead," she baited. "Try it again and see what it gets you, you wretched cur."

King Hasani Jaleem grinned wickedly. "Patience, my sweet one. We'll get there, you and I."

"The only thing you're going to get, you despicable ass, is a black eye to go with that dripping hawk beak of a nose."

The king had not had so much fun with one of his women since his 35
^th
concubine. None of his 27 wives had ever cared enough to do more than lie docilely beneath him as he took them, and only a handful of the 369 concubines had ever interested him enough to do more than bed them once out of courtesy, then forget they existed. It was only because the 35
^th
had developed a hilarious case of the hiccups as he rutted with her that he had enjoyed the romp. The memory still had the ability to make him laugh. This one was proving to be very entertaining.

"Tell me, little Amazeen," he said, sweeping a hand toward her and growing more amused as she gracefully sidestepped his half-hearted attempt to catch her, "are you one of those females who prefer the touch of a woman to the touch of a man?"

Orithia rolled her eyes. "Amazeen's are not bent in that fashion, you malodorous pig."

"That's good to know. I did not want to waste time seducing you if the effort would be useless."

Snorting her contempt, Orithia swatted away his hand when he had grabbed at her arm. "What part of 'no' don't you understand, you sniveling baboon? You aren't going to seduce me. I won't allow it."

Heaving a long sigh, the king--also as naked as the day he was born--stopped. He spread his hands in a gesture of confusion. "What is it I am, pretty one? A pig, a baboon, a mangy cur? I can't be
all
of them."

Orithia raised her chin and looked down her pretty nose at him. "You are," she said, advancing on him until she stood bare toe to bare toe with his regal person, "a vile, loathsome, repugnant, depraved, contemptible..."

With his arm, the king hooked her around the waist and drew her body to his, the sound of flesh slapping together rang loud in the opulent room. He circled her in his embrace and claimed her mouth with a deep, heady kiss that brought her eyes wide with surprise. When his tongue slipped between her parted lips, she felt her knees grow weak, but it did not stop her from digging her sharp nails into his shoulders. His grunt--muffled by her mouth--amused her, and she dug deeper, drawing blood.

Releasing his captive's lips, the king stared into her beautiful, defiant face and felt something he had not experienced since his teenage years--unbridled, overpowering passion that turned his shaft as hard as stone. He ached with a lust that brought sweat to his upper lip and caused his breath to go shallow and fast in his chest.

"Let me go," Orithia commanded, not really wishing to be released from his strong embrace, but feeling she should protest.

"Marry me."

One fine blonde brow lifted in challenge. "Why would I want to do that?"

"I will make you my number-two wife," he said, breathing hard. "Should Nadira, my first wife, die, I will make you my prime wife with all that implies."

Orithia cocked her head. "And what
does
that imply, you pitiful specimen of a man?"

"Wealth," he said, nibbling her neck. "Freedom such as you would not know if you were a mere concubine or lower-level wife." He flicked his tongue into the spiral of her ear. "Position at the court. Power as no other woman might wield in Rysalia." He moved his lips to her cheek, her forehead, her nose. "Me in your bed every night."

"No."

Stunned, he pulled back, blinking his confusion. "Why not? Do you not understand what it is I am offering you?"

"I don't want any man in my bed every night, you wallowing hippopotamus. Make it two nights a week and we have a deal."

He shook his head. "Five nights."

"Three," she countered, wiggling against the steely shaft poking her thigh.

"Done." He slid his mouth to hers, sealing the bargain.

As he took her to the floor of the silken bedchamber, Orithia grinned her triumph. To her, she had turned an onerous situation into one over which she had some control. Technically she was still a prisoner--albeit, a cosseted one--but also in a position where eventually she might brandish a measure of authority. That she could capture the king's attention had never been in question. That she could carry out her plan to make him her love slave and hold the man's unwavering attention had given her a few moments of doubt.

When first he had entered her silken cell, he had approached her with seeming indifference and had attempted to rape her, no other word for it. When she slapped him, he slapped her back, true anger brewing on his florid face. When she punched him in the nose, he staggered away, holding his wounded appendage, stunned surprise in his black eyes. Surprise turned to intrigue when she continued to elude him and refused to do his bidding. Intrigue turned to amusement, and finally, the amusement to delight.

"I am going to make you love me, you spineless eel," she whispered in his ear, biting the tender lobe to elicit another grunt from his questing mouth.

"You can try," he grated, thrusting inside her to the hilt.

"I'll do more than try." She ignored the stinging pain between her thighs and threw her legs around him, capturing his hips between her legs. If his wild coupling was any indication, she had him exactly where she meant to keep him.

Now, all she had to do was make sure Prime Queen Nadira met her Maker as soon as possible.

Aluino saw the king hobbling down the corridor and bowed. "Good Morning, Majesty."

"As good a morning as I have ever had, Vasquez," the king said hoarsely. "Where is Jaelan this fine day?"

Should he have straightened to his full six-foot, four-inch height, Aluino would have towered over King Hasani Jaleem. Making a conscious effort to slouch so as not to make the difference in stature any more noticeable, the Diabolusian smiled apologetically. "I am not sure, Your Grace. I believe he rode to Daedal last eve."

"In the rain?" The king frowned as he touched his swollen nose.

"You know how he loves such weather, Your Grace. The rain would not have deterred him in a quest for Olufemi's cooking."

"Ah, the caravansary. Aye, I know how he enjoys the company of peasants."

Aluino smiled through clenched teeth. "Do you wish for me to find Lord Jaelan, Sire?"

"I suppose you must, Vasquez, for I need to send a missive to Amazeen regarding my new wife."

Schooling his face not to show shock, Aluino cleared his throat. "Your new wife, Majesty?"

"Find Jaelan and tell him he will need to send a representative to Amazeen with news of my impending nuptials." He waved a dismissive hand. "Ben-Ashaman will know the right person to send. Pray tell him not to bother me with details."

Left standing with mouth open, Aluino stared after the monarch and wondered what ailed him, for he moved gingerly as though he had been injured in the privates. If all Aluino had heard about the Amazeen race--and the captive blonde girl, in particular--was true, he suspected the prospective new bride had shown in spades her protest of the upcoming marriage. That being the case, things might escalate past the point of easy control, if not dealt with immediately. Aluino suspected the captive's family would not be pleased with the news of her forced marriage to an Outlander and would retaliate. It was one thing for the girl to be cast into the seraglio and forgotten, ransomed easily once a request came from her kinsmen. It happened all the time, since the king bedded, then ignored, the women he purchased. Jaelan had been given orders to do with the women as he saw fit.

"I feel like a prophets-be-damned marriage broker," Jaelan had once complained. The Shadowlord was careful to see the discarded women made good matches from among the military men over whom he had authority.

It astounded Aluino that a foreign woman had not only garnered the king's attention, but that he would take her in legal Joining. That had never happened. Each of King Hasani's legal wives had come from Hasdu tribes wishing to make alliances with the House of Jaleem. Not one had come from beyond the Great Sea. Unheard of, and it presented a problem that would surely cause trouble in the Tribunal.

Anxious to find Jaelan and apprise him of this disastrous turn of events, Aluino practically ran for the stables.

"Good morn," Jaelan said as Aradia pushed to a sitting position.

She had spent the night lying beside him, her head in the crook of his shoulder, his arm around her. He had covered them with his still-damp leather jacket, for the fire had gone out long ago.

"Good morn, warrior," she said, unable to look at him. Painfully aware she had shown this man weakness in so easily falling asleep beside him, she got to her feet, brushing the back of her robe.

"That thing reeks of offal," Jaelan commented as he looked up at her.

"It was rubbed with..." She blushed. "Well, you know what it was rubbed with."

Jaelan's left brow quirked. "May I ask why you felt the need to rub body waste on your robe, wench?"

She shrugged. "To keep men from paying any closer attention to us than need be."

Understanding made his tawny eyes sparkle. "I see the wisdom in what you did, if I don't care for the end result."

"I have other clothes on my nag. If I could find a stream in which to..."

"There's a village not far from here with a public bath house. We have time for you to bathe."

"That would be a relief."

He chuckled. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"We can break our fast after you've rid yourself of the stink."

She looked at the cave entrance. "I need to..."

"I'll saddle the horses while you attend to your need," he said, getting to his feet. He swept the sand from his palms. "Be careful and watch for vipers."

"Snakes," Aradia said, shuddering. "I hate snakes."

"Just stay away from low clusters of rocks and you should be fine."

Mumbling as she exited the cave, Aradia shielded her eyes from the harsh sunlight. Heat pressed down from the heavens. From the sun's position, she knew it was well past dawn, and wondered why Jaelan had allowed her to sleep so late. Picking her way over the sharp scree, she avoided the areas Jaelan had warned her about and found a private spot where she hitched up her robe and squatted. She groaned as she relieved her bladder's ache and kept a close watch for any slithering creatures. In the intense heat, the smell from her robe sickened her, and she could well understand why Jaelan had been offended.

By the time Aradia returned to the cave, Jaelan had saddled her horse and had turned his attention to his black stallion.

"He's a gorgeous piece of horseflesh," she commented.

He settled the padding over the mount's back. "He knows it, too. He's from a long line of prize-winning stallions."

Cautiously, she stroked the bridge of the stallion's nose. She gifted the handsome steed with a cube of sugar she found in her robe. "What's his name?"