WindLegends Saga 9: WindRetriever (34 page)

brew." He didn't see his sister flinch nor did he hear her sharp intake of breath. "Even so much as a sip of it would cause blindness. More..." He sighed. "The Prophetess only knows what more of it could have done to him."

Sybelle stood up, looked around her. "I must be going now, Sajin."

Sajin stared at her. "But you just got here," he protested.

"I have business in Helix," she answered absently. "I must get back." She gathered up her reticule and shawl.

"When will you be back?" Sajin asked, standing up, as well.

"I don't know," she answered and was already heading for the door.

"Sybelle?" Sajin questioned, sensing her sudden worry. He went to her and took her arm.

"Is there something I should know about?"

"No," she was too quick to say. "I have things I must do, Sajin." She reached out and cupped his cheek. "You will be careful now that you are leading this ragtag group of insurrectionists?"

Sajin frowned. "I don't like this, Sybelle. I want to know why you feel you must leave so suddenly."

"Be careful," she repeated, "and I'll come back as soon as I can." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "Lord Khamsin," she laughed, but the sound had not even a modicum of humor in it.

Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 152

PART TWO

Sybelle threw up her hands and cursed, furious. Spinning around, she stood there, arms crossed over her heaving chest, her foot tapping out an angry rhythm on the stone floor.

"You can't do things for yourself anymore, McGregor," she hissed at him. "Can't you see that?"

"I can't see anything," came the soft reply.

"Will you stop it!" she yelled. "This isn't funny!"

There was a faint sigh. "Do you see me laughing, Lady?"

Chaim's lips twitched but he knew he'd damned well better not let his mistress see that he found the situation amusing. His cheek was still bruised from her last attack on him.

"What am I going to do with you, McGregor?" Sybelle sneered from between clenched jaws.

"Why don't you," Conar asked as Kanan and Chaim helped him to his feet, "try tying a bell around my neck so you can keep tabs on me?"

Kanan glanced at Chaim and smiled. At least their guest had not lost his sense of humor along with his sight.

"Get him back to his room!" Sybelle ordered the men, furious at the entire male gender.

"And chain his ankle again until he learns not to go wandering off down stairwells!"

"That's not necessary," Conar told her with as much dignity as he could muster. "I don't think I'm going to try it again."

"Oh," Sybelle cooed at him, "I know you're not, McGregor! Even if I have to spread-eagle you to the pallet!"

"Naked, Sybelle?" Conar mocked her. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Chaim bent down so that his lips were at the Serenian's ear. "Behave, Your Grace. She's angry enough as it is. Unless you want her to order just such a punishment, she ...."

"Strip him, Chaim," Sybelle demanded, the light of battle glowing in her face. "I will want to see how much damage he did to himself when he fell."

"You want to see more than the damage, Sybelle," Conar shot back in an amused tone.

"Why don't you admit you've been itching for a reason to have me bare-assed?"

Chaim groaned, casting an exasperated look at Kanan. Both knew their mistress would not let the challenge go unchecked.

Sybelle's face turned a mottled shade of red. Her dark eyes narrowed dangerously and she walked slowly to where the three men stood, the Serenian wobbling unsteadily between the Kensetti woman's servants.

"McGregor," she began as she reached them, "there's nothing you have that I haven't seen before, used, and..." Her fingers grazed his naked chest. "Discarded."

"I don't doubt that," Conar answered her. "Whores generally know more about a man's body than he knows himself." His head flew to one side as her hand connected hard with his cheek.

"Your Grace!" Chaim warned him. "You've been told not to do that. Don't insult Her Grace."

"Oh, let him insult me all he likes," Sybelle hissed. "He knows how he'll have to pay for it.

Don't you, McGregor?"

Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 153

Conar sighed heavily. Aye, that he did. He slowly turned his head toward her voice. "Why don't you just slit my throat and be done with it, woman?"

"Because I'm not through with you, you Infidel dog!" Sybelle told him. "You've yet to pay for your crimes against me."

They half-dragged him back up the stairs to his chamber for his right leg was all but useless now and his left knee had banged sharply against a riser as he had plummeted down the stairwell earlier. His elbows were scraped. There was a deep scratch on his right forearm and a cut right on the point of his chin.

"You're lucky you didn't break your fool neck," Kanan grumbled as he supported the Serenian's full weight while Chaim opened Conar's chamber door.

"Wish I had," came the mumble.

"No, you don't," Chaim chided their prisoner.

"Try living like this," Conar answered. "See how you like it." His unintended pun made him chuckle darkly as he was helped down to the pallet.

"Can you shuck them breeches?" Kanan asked. He was not as much in awe of the Serenian's station in life as Chaim was and tended not to address their prisoner with much respect.

"I'm blind, Kanan" Conar replied testily. "Not paralyzed."

"Many more trips down that staircase and you will be," Kanan chuckled.

"Why have you not undressed him?" Sybelle snapped at them as she came into the room.

"Your Grace," Chaim pleaded. "Is this really necessary? It will embarrass him and ...."

"Aye!" Sybelle agreed, using the Serenian word of agreement, intending it as an insult. She advanced to the pallet and stood staring down at Conar. "It will em-bare-ass him, won't it, McGregor?"

"Why don't you go pull some wings off flies, woman, and leave me alone?" Conar growled, but his hands had gone to the buttons of his breeches.

"You may leave, Chaim," Sybelle said as she watched Conar lay back on the pallet to slide the cords from his lean hips.

"But Your Grace!" Chaim pleaded. "You should not ...."

"You don't want to embarrass him anymore than he already is, now, do you, Chaim?" she responded sweetly.

"We haven't shackled him, yet," Kanan reminded her.

"I will do it when I am finished with him," Sybelle replied.

"When she's had her fill of me," Conar snorted.

"I loathe you, McGregor," she shot back.

"Get over it," he answered. He pushed his breeches down his taut thighs and kicked them away with his left leg, wishing he hadn't made such a stupid gesture because his left knee began to throb unmercifully.

Sybelle turned her head away from the blatant masculinity that had sprang into view with his undressing. She turned her attention to her two servants and then pointed silently to the door.

Chaim shrugged. Kanan grinned. The door closed soundlessly behind their exit.

There was complete stillness in the room for a long time. Sybelle had turned to look down at the naked man sitting on the pallet. Conar simply sat there, staring sightless ahead of him, waiting for whatever order his jailer gave him.

"Like what you see?" he finally asked, growing tired of the silence.

"I've seen better." Sybelle replied. "Lie down and let me see to that knee."

Conar lay back, putting his hands behind his head. He felt vulnerable, unprotected, and he Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 154

could feel her staring at him and knew it wasn't his knee that was holding her interest, yet he submitted to her petty torture for there was nothing he could do about it.

"You'll be sore come morning," she said, touching his knee. "A just payment for trying to escape."

"I wasn't trying to escape," he countered in a long admonishing drawl. "I was trying to get away from the sweltering heat up here."

Sybelle knew the chamber, facing the west, was hot this time of day and she had meant to leave orders to have him moved to the courtyard room. Most of the time, she was very conscious of his comfort although she still considered him her greatest enemy.

"Turn over," she said, dragging her eyes from the crisp V at the juncture of his thighs and the bold maleness at which she had been avidly staring.

"Don't you get tired of this, woman?" he asked with a heartfelt sigh. It was difficult for him to pull himself over.

"You're getting weaker, aren't you?" she inquired. Her gaze locked on the savage disfigurement of his broad back. The sight never failed to make her feel guilty.

"What do you care, Sybelle?" he asked. He flinched as her hand touched his shoulder then slid softly down to his waist.

"You'll need liniment on both these bruises," she told him. Her hand moved to his right thigh. "And here." Her touch lingered on his flesh.

"I knew you'd get around to putting your hands on me eventually," he said dryly and chuckled when she snatched her hand away. He turned back over, knowing her inspection was finished. He didn't move as he heard the sound of the chain rattling. "Is that really necessary?

Why not just entomb me in your dungeon?"

"We'll see how comical you are after two days of solitude," she spat at him as she snapped the band of the leg iron in place around his ankle.

He'd been expecting that, for solitude was her answer, her punishment for anything he did that displeased her. In the two months since he had been brought to wherever it was she was holding him, he had come to accept her petty spitefulness that was meant to humble him. She had no way of knowing how terrible it was for him to go an entire day without hearing the sound of another human tongue or being near another person. He was already trapped inside his darkness.

Being alone there was a torment he could barely endure. He heard her moving away from him and wanted to prolong the agony of being left alone.

"I don't guess you're going to let me put my breeches back on, huh?" he asked, tilting his face up toward where he thought she was.

"You were hot," she growled. "Maybe this will cool you." She threw a bucket of water over him and smiled with satisfaction as she heard him gasp and saw the instant fury flood his handsome face.

"You bitch," he snarled, wiping the water from his chin with the back of his hand. "One day someone is going to ...."

"Be very careful what you say to me, Infidel," she warned. "You can still experience pain."

Conar growled at her, humiliated that he could do nothing to prevent her from such cruelty.

"Once you're completely unable to move, McGregor," she taunted him, "and believe me that day isn't far off since you grow weaker by the hour, it won't matter if you have on breeches or not!"

She knew that barb would hurt him and she saw that it had.

"Just leave me alone, Sybelle," he whispered, suddenly tired of the cruelty she practiced so unerringly on him every time they came into contact, which was, unfortunately, almost every single Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 155

day.

Sybelle met Chaim on the stairwell and instructed him to see to the Serenian's bruises.

Continuing on her way, she did not see the disappointment and the unease in her servant's gaze.

Chaim winced as he came into Conar's chamber. The room was nearly airless and baking in the late afternoon heat. It was like walking into an oven and he felt the sweat gathering under his arms.

"You shouldn't have baited her, Your Grace," Chaim admonished Conar. "You know how she reacts to it."

"Is there water in here?" Conar asked. He didn't care to discuss Sybelle with Chaim. The servant was loyal to her and never failed to take the woman's side in every situation.

"Here," Chaim said, cupping the back of Conar's head and holding a chalice of tepid water to the prince's lips. His own hand was replaced by Conar's and he let the Serenian hold on to the chalice while he uncorked a bottle of liniment.

"Are you allowed to bring me a jug or two of water before I'm exiled back to hell again?"

Conar asked. If he had to go without water, as he'd been forced to do once before, he would suffocate in this dry, blistering heat.

"I'll see to it." Chaim was still furious with Kanan's thoughtlessness the last time their prisoner was consigned to solitary confinement. The Serenian's lips had parched and he was severely dehydrated before Chaim had come up to bring him the next day's food.

The liniment was cool on his flesh. Although the spots where Chaim rubbed the strong liquid into his flesh were tender and getting more so, Conar appreciated the man's gentle touch.

"Have you traveled much of the world, Your Grace?" Chaim asked. He often questioned Conar when the two of them were alone. Not just because he was curious about the man, but also because he sensed the Serenian's need for companionship and was willing to provide it for him.

"Aye," Conar answered, needing the company and the conversation and willing to talk about the mating habits of horseflies if it would keep Chaim with him longer. "I've been to each of the nine inhabited continents, now. I've not been to either of the poles, but maybe one day I can ….

" He stopped, knowing that day would never come.

Chaim wished he'd kept his question to himself. Once more, not meaning to, he had hurt this man whom Chaim found to be guilty of nothing more than having avenged both the deaths of his baby daughter and his friends at the hands of Prince Jaleel Jaborn. The Princess might hate the Serenian, might actively wish him harm, but Chaim did not. He wished he could help Conar McGregor, but he knew he would not even if given the opportunity. His alliance was to the Kensetti woman.