Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - Wyndmaster 1 (21 page)

man she loved. “Why would you…?”

“Let it drop, Milady,” Sierran asked softly.

Jillian pretended to find something interesting out her window and silence fell upon the travelers.

Several hours later—after Lord Charles had been interred in the family crypt—and the keep inspected

to make sure the servants were taking care of the estate, Celeste realized her husband was missing when

it was time to leave. After looking for him above stairs, she finally realized where he must have gone and

found him in the dungeon, staring at the bloodstained slab where he had spent torturous hours under her

father's brutal care.

"You should not have come down here," he told her.

"Neither should you," she said, slipping her arm around his waist.

"He was out of his mind, Celeste," he said.

"I know."

"The gods only know how many people died down here."

"I asked Vargas to ride into town and send back a priest to exorcise the evil in this wretched place," she

said. "I have also instructed the staff that these rooms are to be cleaned and stripped of all devices. There

will be nothing left of the wickedness my father wrought."

"It will always be here, sweeting," he said, running a hand through his hair. "The walls are saturated with

the screams of his victims. Can you not hear them?"

"We will lay those poor souls to rest," she said. She reached down to take his hand in hers. "Now, let's

leave this place and return to the ship. I have no desire to stay here a minute longer."

He nodded and began walking with her toward the stone stairs. "Is there anything else here you want to

take with us?"

"Everything that meant anything to me has already been brought to
Vista del Mar
."

The last sight Celeste had of the home in which she'd been born, and in which she'd lived an imprisoned

life, was of the sun setting over it, washing Dragonmoor in blood-red color.

"When are you planning on returning to Argonne, Jillian?" Sierran asked his sister a month later. They

were in the study, waiting for Celeste to come down stairs so they could go in and break their fast.

"Are you that anxious to be rid of me?" Jillian countered.

"Nay, you can stay as long as you like but I am not going to change my mind about going back with you

so you are wasting your time if you think I'm going to cave in," he told her.

"I've come to that realization," Jillian lied. "And I suppose it is time I returned to Edward although this

time of year he spends hours on end hunting." She sighed. "I'll send word tomorrow for Peyton to return

for me."

"Make sure he understands he won't be allowed to come ashore," Sierran reminded her.

Jillian rolled her eyes. "Of course." She picked at a piece of lint on her skirt. "Would you have time to

show me about the island later today?" she asked. "I've yet to see hardly any of it."

The last thing Sierran wanted to do was spend more time with his sister. He found it hard just to be civil

with her when she used her snide, condescending voice or made untoward comments about the staff.

"I don't but perhaps Vargas or Mac…"

"Oh for the love of Alel, Sierran!" his sister exploded. "Would you foist me off on the servants?" She

dug her fingernails into her palms to make tears glisten in her eyes. "At least allow Celeste to accompany

me."

"Accompany you where, Jillian?" Celeste asked as she came into the study.

Jillian sniffed. "All I want is to see the island before I am forced to leave and…"

"No one is forcing you to leave, Jillian," Sierran said with a clenched jaw.

"I've been cooped up here for over a month with only that trip to Dragonmoor to break the monotony.

All I ask is to have a little bit of pleasure before I go." She dabbed at her tearful eyes.

Celeste met Sierran's annoyed look. "If you would allow Seth to drive us, he could show us about the

island. I must admit I'm a bit curious about the rest of Zykanthos and Brent has often invited us to visit

him."

"You've not seen it either!" Jillian gasped. "Why are you keeping her captive here, Sierran?"

Sighing deeply, Sierran shook his head. "I am not keeping her prisoner in her own home, Jillian."

"It seems that way to me!"

"It would," he snapped. He gave his wife a droll look. "If you want to trudge about the island in the

dead of winter, Celeste, you certainly can, but I've no desire to."

"Then Celeste can take me sightseeing?" Jillian pressed, eyes narrowing.

"There is snow on the ground, Jillian," Sierran protested.

"Oh, foo! There's not that much," his sister said. "The roads are clear and we aren't going to be traipsing

inland. We'll stay to the coast roads. Can't she show me the island, Sierran?"

"If she likes and if the weather permits. If 'tis warm enough, I've no objection to you venturing out. If it's

too cool, then no, you won't be going anywhere," Sierran replied. He held his arm out for the women to

precede him to the dining hall.

Standing on tiptoes, Celeste gave her husband's cheek a peck and his arm a squeeze. "Thank you,

dearling," she whispered. "It will get her out of your hair for awhile."

"Don't come crying to me when she proves to be more than you bargained for," Sierran said in a low

voice.

"Is Brent the lawgiver you've mentioned in passing?" Jillian inquired. "The hermit who lives on the north

part of the island?"

"He isn't a hermit," Celeste corrected her. "He just prefers to keep to himself."

Jillian sniffed. "Sounds like a hermit to me."

As they ate, Sierran kept glancing surreptitiously at his sister. Though she was an overbearing and

spoiled brat, he had to admit, she seemed to get along well enough with Celeste. There had been no

open confrontations between the two women, although they were rather cool to one another in his

presence. Apparently Jillian had taken to heart his warning not to insult or slight his wife that first day

when Jillian had arrived at
Vista del Mar
. They had been dutifully polite to one another and that was

encouraging.

"I don't like her and she doesn't like me," Celeste had stated when he asked what she thought of his

sister. "I don't trust her, either. She hates you, dearling."

It was the distrust Sierran felt, as well, that worried him. He didn't think Jillian would do anything to harm

Celeste but he intended to make sure Seth was on alert when he took the women sightseeing.

He had no illusions about how his sister felt toward him. Every question he had asked about his family

had been answered as though she were speaking to an outsider—whom he supposed he was. Some

questions she neatly sidestepped, others she gave only minimal response and some she pointedly ignored

as though to tell him he did not have the right to ask such personal things. Often he caught her glaring at

him with such animosity, it was hard to bear. But then she would smile, he would return the smile

unconsciously, and she'd be gone before he could think long on the expression in her eyes.

Aye,he thought, as he sipped his coffee. He would make gods-be-damned sure Seth watched Celeste

like a hawk while she was in Jillian's dubious company!

* * *

That evening as Sierran undressed to join his wife in their bed, he saw that Celeste was staring at him.

"What?" he asked.

"You are superbly formed, milord," she said, her eyes wandering down his lean frame. "I could just

gobble you up."

"Is that so?" he asked. He kicked off his britches and stood there with his arms outstretched in

invitation. "Feeling hungry are you?"

Celeste patted the bed. "I find I did not get enough supper this eve."

Sierran lowered his arms and walked over to the bed. He stood there and looked at her, his head tilted

to one side. "If memory serves, there was no dessert this night. Why was that, milady?"

His wife threw aside the covers to reveal her nude body. She slid her hand to the soft triangle at the apex

of her thighs. "I've got your dessert right here, milord."

He put one knee on the mattress. "And what kind of dessert is it, Sweeting?"

"A honey cream," she said. "Want a taste?"

He arched his other knee over hers then stretched out so he lay between her legs.

"I am all a'quiver for a taste of ye, wench," he said and he lowered his head.

Reaching up to take hold of the spindles on the head post, Celeste crooked her knees to give her man

better access to the sweetness between her thighs. His lips were suckling her, his tongue thrusting into her

channel, and as he slowly, firmly wedged the thumb of his right hand into her anus, she groaned.

The fingers of his right hand were splayed under her rump and he began to rhythmically move his thumb

in and out of her, the friction of his knuckle grazing the puckered rim of her anus making her moan with

pleasure.

Suckling her, probing her, one hand reaching up to tweak her nipple, Sierran quickly brought her to one,

two, three orgasms before he pushed himself up in the bed and impaled her firmly on his cock.

Her legs came up, wrapped around his waist, and she met him thrust for thrust until they both came with

a hard release that made the bed tremble beneath them.

“I could eat that dessert every night,” he said with a sigh as he rolled over and pulled her atop him.

“I’ll see what I can do, milord,” she agreed.

When they fell asleep, it was with her lying on her husband, his arms wrapped securely around her.

* * *

The day started out bright and warmer than usual. The wind had died down and the sky was crisp and

clear with nary a cloud in sight. It wasn't too chill nor did the sea bring dampness inland. It seemed as

good a day as any to see the sights of Zykanthos Island.

For the women's comfort, Seth had loaded two small metal boxes with perforated holes on a thick sheet

of metal which he laid over the floorboard of the coach. Inside the metal boxes were hot coals that gave

off cheery warmth. Leather roll-down curtains sat above the brougham coach's glass windows—one to

each side and two sliding ones: on the curved front and on the flat panel rear of the cab. Over the curtains

cold be placed quilted canvas liners should it be necessary to block out drafts from the cold. Little brass

catches at the bottom of the window would keep the liners taut against the coach walls but that day the

windows were unobstructed and the view beyond open. The cook had provided jugs of hot, mulled cider

and a basket of sandwiches for the trip. Driving the brougham, Seth was insulated in thick clothing and

gloves with a brazier at his booted feet.

"Comfy, isn't it?" Jillian asked excitedly as she settled on the plush leather seat beside Celeste.

"I suppose so," Celeste said. She had no desire to ride along the coastline so Jillian could see the island

but would in order to keep peace between brother and sister.

"I am most anxious to meet the hermit," Jillian said, tugging her gloves.

Celeste winced. "He is not a hermit, Jillian," she said. "He simply prefers to keep to himself."

"Whatever," Jillian said airily. She was looking out the window as the brougham started forward.

Thankful Jillian didn't need to keep up a running commentary as they toured the coastal road, Celeste

allowed her sister-in-law to view the surroundings in peace, speaking only when Jillian asked for

clarification on something she spied. As they passed village huts close to the shoreline, Jillian seemed to

be very interested in the fishermen, though she had no questions to ask about the men. Nearing the

lawgiver's estate on the north shore of the island, Jillian became very animated.

"What is he like?" she asked Celeste.

"Brenton is a gentleman," Celeste said. "Being a lawgiver, he is well read. I am told he has a vast library

of books."

Jillian looked at Celeste. "Didn’t you say you've never been to his home?"

Celeste nodded. "We don't wish to intrude. On occasion, we invite Brent to dine with us but he is as

likely to decline as he is to accept." She smiled. "With him, you never know."

"So, he minds his own affairs," Jillian remarked.

"Aye, he does."

Just before rounding a large finger of land that jutted out nearly to the waterline and blocked sight of the

lawgiver's property, they passed a rugged lean-to that had been constructed far away from the beach and

close to the overhang of the land. A burly man dressed in many layers of clothing was taking a long string

of fish into the lean-to. He looked up at them as they passed, appearing to glare at them with annoyance,

then ducked into the lean-to with his catch. Beached beside the lean-to was a large fishing boat.

"He must be a hardy soul to be out and about catching fish this time of year," Jillian mumbled, casting

Celeste a quick look.

"A man has to feed his family and his belly," Celeste replied. "There must be good fishing up here from

the looks of his catch."

Jillian shuddered. "But out on the water in this weather?" She took up her reticle and dug around inside

it. "Pray ask the driver to stop, Celeste."

"Why?"

"I would like to give that man a little something."

Surprised that her sister-in-law would be concerned with the locals plight Celeste nevertheless leaned

forward and called out to Seth, asking him to halt the horses.

"Don't you think a golden will get the man a good day's supply of food?" Jillian asked, pulling out a coin.