WindLegends Saga 9: WindRetriever (45 page)

"You wanted me?" he asked.

Sybelle could not believe a man's look could be so brutal as what she was seeing as she gazed into Conar McGregor's face. His gleaming eyes bore an intensity of hate so malignant it was palpable, beyond human comprehension. Her beating him had done more damage than she had intended. Not only to his flesh, but to the fragile ember of trust she had so carefully nurtured over the last few weeks. He was standing there, his face impassive, emotionless, but there was murderous rage shooting back at her. Blue steel impaled her with a savagery that she found terrifying.

"My brother is on his way here," she said, annoyed that her voice was not as to the point and sharp as she had intended that it be.

"So?" he snapped. Over the last few months several of her brothers had come calling. He'd just stayed out of their way, at her command, for her family had yet to learn of her marriage to him.

"My brother Sajin," she qualified, searching his face very carefully for any sign of mutiny.

She watched as his rapier-quick intellect assimilated her words. She was not fooled by his careless shrug of indifference.

"Am I suppose to beg you to let me see him?" Conar scoffed.

"It wouldn't do you any good," she responded. She narrowed her gaze as she informed him that he had kinsmen who were accompanying Sajin.

Unease shot through Conar's gut. "Who?"

Sybelle lifted her chin. "Two of your brothers, I am told."

He took a step toward her, his hands clenching into fists. "Who?" he nearly shouted at her.

She thought of refusing to tell him, but could see he'd be difficult if she didn't. "One called Nicholas, the other named Nathan."

Nothing she could have said could have stunned him more. He literally staggered beneath the weight of her words and bumped into the door behind him. He stared at her, unable to believe Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 201

he had heard her right. Nick? Nate? Here in the Inner Kingdom? How could that be?

"You will, of course, not be speaking to them," she told him.

His gaze searched the floor in front of him, giving his mind time to accept what she had said. "You must have heard wrong," he said although he hadn't really been speaking to her.

"Chaim is not mistaken. His information is accurate, McGregor." She arched a thin brow as he looked up at her. "You did not know they were here?"

He shook his head. "I haven't seen them in …." He squeezed his lids shut, then opened them, unaware that he was looking at her with pleading. "Sybelle, please."

"No," she said holding up a hand. "Do not even ask it."

"But I haven't seen my brothers in over twenty-five years!" he protested, walking toward her, his hand out.

"And you will not see them now!" she stated firmly.

"Sybelle, please!" he begged her.

"No!" She crossed her arms over her ample breasts. "I told you no, McGregor, and no is exactly what I meant."

She watched the anger building in his body. "As a matter of fact, I think it would be best if you were sent back to the dunjon until they leave." Her smile was nasty. "That way you won't be tempted to create a problem, now, will you?"

"I hate you, Sybelle," he whispered.

"Get over it," she told him.

"Not in this lifetime," he spat and turned on his heel, wanting to put as much distance between them as he could. He knew it wouldn't be long before she sent men to drag him back to the dunjon.

"Bitch!" he fumed as he flung himself down in the chair by the garden door. "Fucking spiteful bitch!"

He could not remember hating even Raja De Lyle as much as he hated Sybelle. The woman meant to sever the ties that held him to his world, to the life he had once known. To cut him off from every source of peace and pleasure he had ever experienced. Until his attempted 'escape', he thought with bitter helplessness, things had not been so bad between them. He had managed to endure her nightly couplings with detached calm, but now he doubted if he would ever be able to have her touch him again without wanting to strangle her.

Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 202

The meal was excellent, the conversation entertaining, the company congenial. The wine was like nectar flowing over the tongue and the pungent Janusk tobacco the princess provided for his pipe was most enjoyable. Nick sat back in his chair, contemplating the glowing bowl of his long pipe as he puffed. Hazy white smoke drifted about his head and the aroma of vanilla bean wafted through the air.

"A beautiful place you have here, Majesty," Azalon remarked as he accepted a tumbler of fruit juice from a serving girl. He smiled his thanks to the pretty, almond-eyed girl.

"I am at peace here," Sybelle acknowledged. She turned her attention once more to the massive shoulders of Nicholas Beriault and wondered, not for the first time that night, what his weight upon her body would feel like.

"Such luxury is wasted out here in the middle of nowhere," Sajin grumbled. "You don't entertain enough to make the price you paid for this keep worth having it, Sybelle."

Sybelle turned away from her regard of Nick's thick hands to look at her brother. "I enjoy my solitude and my comfort, Sajin. I would not care for one without the other." Her gaze went back to Nick. "What do you think of my home, Captain Beriault?"

"When you get use to a hard bunk on a bobbing ship," Nick remarked with a chuckle,

"anything is a luxury." He let his sensuous gaze slide down the Kensetti woman. "Don't you get lonely way out here, Your Grace?"

"Sometimes," she answered, letting her attention wander down to the juncture of his thighs.

Nick's mouth lifted up at one corner as he looked at her. The woman was his for the taking if he wanted her. She had been boldly stripping him with her stare since she'd laid eyes on him earlier that day. She'd even made it possible for him to sit beside her at supper, her knee accidentally touching his now and again as they ate. Each time their glances met, she'd look at his lips, or his crotch he thought with humor, then wet her full, sensuous lips in invitation. If the group decided to take her up on the offer of spending the night, he had no doubt where he'd be passing his time.

Sajin had not missed the glances between Conar's brother and his sister. He didn't like it, but Sybelle was a grown woman. And a smart one. A dalliance with Beriault would be just that and nothing more for Sajin had made damned sure before supper that he had informed Sybelle of Nick's bastardy.

"It doesn't matter on which side of the blanket a man was born, Sajin," Sybelle had said with a wicked gleam. "What matters is how well he performs under that blanket!"

Sajin had no illusions about his sister's morals. After all, she'd been Jaleel Jaborn's mistress, something Sajin still had trouble accepting. That she turned her charms on any man she found appealing never failed to both annoy and shame Sajin, but there was little, if anything, he could do about her numerous affairs. Like the rest of his brothers, he turned a blind eye to her goings on in the hope that she would one day find a suitable man to take her in hand.

Unfortunately, Sajin doubted any man could control his temperamental sister for long.

"How are things with the Samiel?" Sybelle asked her brother, sensing his disapproval and hoping to stir the conversation along lines that would take his mind from the dark thoughts that had turned her brother's face stony.

"We have managed to crush most of Mahmed Allajon's resistance although there are still a Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 203

few pockets of slavery left." Sajin, looking down into the wine, twirled the wineglass between his thumb and index finger. "I miss Conar more every time we free a group of slaves."

"You still don't know where he is?" Sybelle questioned. Her attention wandered to the man sitting across from Asher Stone and she found Nick's brother staring at her. She felt acutely uncomfortable and looked away.

"We've searched every monastery within three hundred miles!" Nick answered for Sajin.

"It's like that little bastard just vanished into thin air."

"Asher believes our brother might have been kidnapped," Nate said softly, his gaze never leaving the beautiful woman's face. He threaded his fingers together and rested his chin on the tips.

"What do you think, milady?"

Sybelle felt a chill go down her spine. She was unaware of the heat which had crept to her cheeks. Her laugh was forced although she doubted anyone noticed.

"I'm sure I wouldn't know, Sir. I am not that well acquainted with the prince, nor with his enemies."

"You knew one of his enemies quite well, didn't you, Your Grace?" Nate pressed, ignoring the warning look Nick shot at him.

Sybelle's blush deepened and she looked at her brother, but Sajin was regarding her with a glance that said "I told you so" and she tore her gaze from him.

"If you mean Jaleel ...," she started to say, but Nate cut her off.

"He murdered my brother's daughter." Nate's voice was hard. "I doubt a man could have a more fierce enemy than that, can you, Your Grace?"

Sajin's brows shot up. Was the man baiting Sybelle? If so, he supposed he should intervene although he had as much enmity toward the dead Hasdu prince as Newkern seemed to.

"What is your point, Nathan?" he asked.

Nate turned his glance to Sajin. "Perhaps your sister might shed some light on where we might look for Conar."

"I have told you I don't know the man well enough to be privy to his affairs, Captain Newkern," Sybelle replied.

"Aye, but if you knew one of Conar's enemies, you might know another." Nate smiled.

"Isn't that so?"

"Leave off, Nathan," Nick ordered, annoyed at his younger brother's probing. "She says she don't know anything about the brat."

"The brat?" Sybelle questioned, swinging her attention back to the burly seaman.

"Conar," Nick grinned. "We all call him that."

Sybelle smiled. "How endearing. Were you very close as children?"

Sajin sensed an undercurrent flowing not only between his sister and Nick Beriault, but a stronger, more potent one between her and Nate. But that current definitely wasn't of a sexual nature, he thought. Whatever leapt between Nate and Sybelle, it was certainly not friendly.

Rupine had much the same feeling as he watched Nathan Newkern watching the Kensetti princess. There was a look on the young man's face that spoke of intense mistrust and infinite dislike. Such a look baffled the old physician. Her Grace had done nothing to cause such immediate antipathy on Nate's part. The woman had been nothing but graciousness, itself. Her manner had been both forthright and cordial, and frankly, Rupine was at a loss to understand the grimace of distaste on Nate's face. How could a woman so lovely, so pleasing of form, have caused such ill regard in a man who had just met her?

"But why can't you spend the night, Sajin?" Rupine heard the princess whine. He shook Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 204

himself away from his thoughts and turned his attention to Sajin.

"We've a long way to travel and if we get a head start this evening, we won't bake quite so horribly as we did today, Sybelle."

"Surely you know travel in the desert at night is dangerous, Sajin," Sybelle reminded him.

"There's a full moon out," Sajin sighed, knowing why his sister wanted them to spend the night. "We can get another fifteen miles at least before it sets."

Nick chuckled to himself. It wasn't that he wasn't willing to try the woman's charms. He was. He and Legion A'Lex had that little peccadillo in common. But he liked the thrill of the chase and the woman sitting across the room from him had posed no challenge at all. Let her stew in her own passionate juices, he thought as he took a sip of his brandy. The next time I see her, she'll be all the more anxious to have me take her.

Sybelle's pout as she walked them to the door was not a pretense. She was greatly disappointed that she would not be able to compare Nick's lovemaking to his brother's. Her eyes lingered on that part of him she wanted to test and then slowly crept up to meet his. She grinned at his long, hopeless sigh of disappointment.

"Another time, milady?" he whispered to her as he lifted her hand to his lips in farewell.

His tongue darted very lightly over her wrist before he released his grip on her hand.

Sybelle's womb clenched inside her and she felt her womanly juices seeping from her.

"Aye," she answered in a husky affirmation of his intent.

Nick tossed his thick golden braid over his shoulder and strutted away, swinging up on his mount as though the beast were little more than a drawing room chair upon which he came to rest.

He winked at the luscious woman gazing back at him from the doorway, then tugged on the stallion's reins, kicking the hapless steed in the ribs to make it prance.

"Fool!" Nate hissed at him, annoyed that his brother was trying to show off for Ben-Alkazar's whore of a sister. He kicked his own mount and headed for the open expanse of desert beyond the keep. He was barely aware of Rupine's cantering beast coming up alongside his own as they ventured out past the glow of the keep's lights.

"He was there, wasn't he?" Rupine asked, drawing a startled glance from Nate.

"Who?" Newkern asked although he knew damned well who the physician was speaking about.

"Khamsin," Rupine replied. "Your brother Conar. He was back there at her keep."

Nate frowned. "I believe so."

Rupine nodded, glancing back as the others galloped after them. "Is he in danger?"

"I sensed no real danger. Only the threat of violence." Nate wanted time alone to think about what he'd felt back at the keep.

"What better place for him to hide than right under Sajin's nose," Rupine stated. "That is the last place we would have thought to seek him out."