Dance With the Enemy (5 page)

Tahruk growled and rolled away from her side before slipping from the end of the bed with cat-like stealth. Clipped movements denoted irritation as he wrapped a covering about his waist. Single words and short phrases narrating his belief that women were cursed creatures and the bane of mankind’s existence accompanied his exit from the room.

Dazed, Elenya remained beneath the covers, motionless save for her shallow breaths and her heart beating too fast within her chest. She had been unable to tear her gaze away from the sinewy lines of the warrior’s body, a sight forever imprinted in her young mind and heart.

Chapter 8

“You’d best get up, Miss, unless you expect to disobey your mistress.”

Elenya craned her neck to see another woman slightly older than Tahruk’s mother standing in the doorway. What a busy place this warrior’s bedchamber was! The innocent thought immediately jumped her to an unseemly place. She was sure the room had seen its share of women
.
Like most men, Tahruk would not have remained idle waiting for the one marked for him.

“No need to scowl. You don’t want to wrinkle that unblemished forehead of yours.” She pointed to her own age-wrinkled brow and winked. Elenya could not suppress a giggle. “That’s better.” The matronly figure laughed as she moved, uninvited, into the room to retrieve the robe from the pile of clothing Tahruk’s mother had left on the chair. “I’ve a tub filled with hot water waiting for you. Join me and let’s see if I can find the fair maiden beneath those layers of wounds and grime, the one who has already hooked her talons into the young master’s heart.”

Elenya snorted yet smiled anyway at the woman’s words. How could she not when the tone was so light and playful? She took the offered robe and waited for the woman to leave before rising to slip into the soft fabric. She hoped the parade of people in and out of the bedchamber was not a customary occurrence. Already, being within a strange house was proving to be a more trying experience than she’d hoped for. At least the women seemed unphased at having a daughter of Aleone in their midst. Perhaps they didn’t know.

Self-mocking laughter escaped her as she pulled her curls free of the robe’s collar. Her hair coloring alone spoke volumes, alerting all who saw her of her true identity. With an upward glance, she offered a silent thank you for her potential allies before going to find the older woman.

Fresh scents lured Elenya to a lovely room toward the front of Tahruk’s quarters. A quick survey told her it was most likely a sunroom and she wondered if it always doubled as a bathing chamber. Unlike her warrior’s bedchamber, this room had felt the touch of a woman. She delighted in the lightness of the décor and was awed by the garden beyond that seemed to spill into the room, adding to the already ripe fragrance. Elenya smiled, imagining herself as a garden pixie. Her sisters would have loved such a game of make believe.

The smile faded at the thought of her sisters and the vast distance that separated her from them. She desperately wished they could join her immediately. A single tear slipped down her cheek. Even when her family arrived, life would never be the same. What would happen when her Drille collided with his?

“You’re far too young to carry so much weight on your pretty shoulders, love.” The woman spoke from the corner where she mixed potions for Elenya’s bath.

Elenya wiped away the tear, pressing her lips together to still their quivering. In reality, the weight of the future of her people had always rested squarely on her. So much hope and fanfare had surrounded her preparation for what everyone expected to be a preferred match. She was, after all, the prophesied one, and her marking meant the annulment of the exile. All was to have been forgotten. Elenya should have been guaranteed favoritism.

At least that’s what her family and the leaders who had visited from the Centrehead from time to time throughout the years had led her to believe.

“Climb into the tub, child. Old Nema will be there in a moment. I have but one more …”

The hissing sound Elenya made as she lowered herself into the great tub caused the woman to turn abruptly, forgetting her concoctions.

“Too hot?” she asked moving to Elenya’s side.

Elenya shook her head. “The scrapes. They burn.”

Nema made a tsking sound. “Wasn’t the best decision you made, to run.” She moved back to her concoctions, returning quickly to fill the tub with something from a small bottle. “This will help.” She ignored Elenya’s frown. “Breathe in.”

Elenya did as she was told, breathing deeply, allowing the heavenly scent to soothe her body both inside and out.

“How lovely. It does help. What is it?” Elenya’s moment of irritation was forgotten.

“My own mixture of herbs and florals. Perfected years ago to salve the wounds of battle. For you, I mixed in your lord’s favored essence of Oleander.”

“Oleander!” Elenya was already rising from the tub.

“Be still, child.” The older woman cackled. “The essence will not kill and I don’t expect you will be eating the deadly blossoms. No, the master would have my head should harm come to you.”

“I fear my lord cares little beyond his obligation to procure an heir. I can’t say I blame him for his contempt of my people and the fact that he is forced to mix his blood with them. But they are my people, my family. We have paid long for the wrongs committed by those before us. My marking was to have ended our struggles. Yet I am paired with the enemy.”

Nema didn’t answer, handing her a bar of Oleander scented soap instead after having her wet her hair. Elenya enjoyed the space in the oversized tub, embarrassed by the goose bumps that appeared when she realized it was a tub the warrior had most likely enjoyed many times. She tried not to think of the way his hand had felt on her back or how warm his mouth had been, pressed against the flesh of her bare chest. Lost in thought, she jumped when Nema began to talk, making the other woman chuckle a little.

“The Masters know what they’re doing. You’ll see once the two of you adjust to this pairing. It may take time because he is extremely loyal to his family, your lord is. But I sense that in you as well. It’s why you ran. That’s honorable and your lord knows that. You excite him beyond his need to quench the fires of the marking. I am surprised they remain unfulfilled.”

Elenya’s brows shot up. “How…” she was unsure how to ask her question. Instead, she slumped into the water and bit at her lower lip.

Nema cackled again as she moved in behind the tub and began washing Elenya’s hair. “Had you fulfilled your obligations, your lord would not have been so tense,” she answered, her fingers increasing their pressure against Elenya’s scalp. It took great effort to work the perfumed concoction through the maiden’s thick hair. “Tahruk may be tightly wound, but nothing relaxes a man more so than...”

Elenya covered her ears, earning her a chuckle from the older woman. Talk about the act between a man and woman was not something she was accustomed to -- the kiss she’d received from Shemek and the feelings accompanying it had been the extent of her education. Though the fires her warrior ignited within her made Shemek’s kiss seem more like a spark inadequate to start even the driest of kindling.

Elenya’s eyes popped open sensing the object of her thoughts had entered the room. He strolled in from the garden entrance, watching her unabashedly. His torso bare, save for the knee-length leather breeches carelessly laced about his waist, he looked every bit the god-like creature she and her sisters had made up for her. Her heart stuttered, then went into double time. She wondered if Nema noticed the increased beating.

“Leave the lady to a peaceful bath, my lord.” Nema motioned for him to depart. Instead he moved further into the room.

Elenya’s arms quickly covered her chest barely visible beneath the sudsy water. Tahruk’s mirthful hoot as he stood beside the tub, peering down, only served to tighten his chosen’s lips. Elenya had little choice but to look at him when he placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted. He ran his thumb across the thin line of her mouth. Of their own accord, her lips softened, parting slightly.

“Much better.” He stared at her a moment longer before his dark eyes snapped to Nema whose hands were still entwined in his new mistress’ hair. “I’ll stay,” he informed her before moving to a chair near the unused fireplace. He reached out to capture an opened blossom from a nearby potted rose and tossed it toward the tub. Without thought, Elenya caught it and brought it to her nose, inhaling the fragrant nectar. Her eyes cut toward Tahruk, now lounging, one leg draped carelessly over the chair’s arm. Yes, he was every bit as beautiful as she’d imagined. On the outside, anyway.

“Rinse.” Nema’s voice cut into her thoughts, the older woman’s hands urging her deeper into the water. “We mustn’t delay lest we distress your mistress.”

As Elenya slipped beneath the water an interesting thought flitted through her mind. Tahruk’s mother had not needed to enter her son’s bedchamber. She could have simply sent Nema. Knowing the house mistress had been concerned enough for her well-being to risk her son’s wrath filled her with hope. Perhaps his mother really would be an ally against the man whose very stare threatened to devour her.

Tahruk’s absence when she resurfaced showed Elenya knew as little about the heart of a mother toward her son as she did that man. To her surprise, several more rose blossoms floated in the water around her.

Nema seemed unphased by what had gone on, instead rising to grab a wrap for Elenya. “Come, love. Let’s get you ready. Lady Neria doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I’ll have to dress your hair wet as it is.” She helped Elenya dry and dress in the finest of silks, and had begun to work on her hair before either of them spoke again. Elenya’s loudly expelled breath prompted Nema to stop and turn the girl around.

“Speak, lass. It does you no good to hold it in.”

Averting her eyes, her voice trembling as she spoke, Elenya asked, “Will it be so bad?”

“Bad?”

The thick strands not fully pinned nearly toppled as the maiden nodded her head. “I am afraid…”

Nema shushed her, not wanting tears to mar her beauty. And what a beauty she was! The elders had done well for the young master. She smiled, looking deeply into the green eyes so filled with concern. How much should she share? Her own experience had not been so bad. It had not turned out favorable, in a sense, but … her chosen had been gentle, skilled at the art of love. She knew it was not that way for many a maiden, though. These men were warriors, trained to participate in barbaric acts from an early age. The men of Zanak, some of them at least, were rare, possessing both qualities.

“It is fortunate you were delivered into the young master’s bed, love. Do not fear him, and all will be well.”

Pulling the young woman into a firm hug, she missed the deepened apprehension on Elenya’s face.

Nema pulled away and smiled. “Come before I am blamed for keeping you from your warrior for too long.”

Elenya tried to share her cheerfulness, though her angst kept it in. She wished she could slip into her role within her new family as easily as the tinted leather sandals were slipped on her feet. With a last blossom placed in her hair, she was led out on her journey for proper introductions.

As she faced her new mistress and the slew of family members and servants, Elenya wondered how many of them knew she was not truly a new mistress within the house. Not yet, anyway. Tahruk’s eyes, devouring her from where he sat to the side of the garden diaz, told her his desire was to consummate the relationship as soon as possible, and certainly it would happen quickly once darkness curtained the house of Zanak.

No doubt she would be meeting the elder master of the house before then as well. She wondered where he was. Vaguely she remembered attempting to open her eyes when voices had greeted Tahruk upon their arrival the night before. Her lids had refused to rise, though the house mistress’ voice had sounded familiar when she visited Tahruk’s bedchamber that morning.

Heat crept into her cheeks as she thought about lying against Tahruk’s chest and how good it had felt nestled in his arms after the long run the night before. Only when he’d laid her in his bed and began to remove her clothing had her wits returned. With a gulp, she turned toward him, longing now for the glass of wine he’d offered her then.