Dance With the Enemy (8 page)

Chapter 13

The remainder of the afternoon was spent at the mercy of a woman with graying hair swept into a haphazard bun that served as holder to many of the tools of the trade. She unnerved Elenya to an irrational degree, especially as ill thoughts of her treatment by the men of Zanak simmered just under the surface. Exactly how they should have acted rather escaped her. Had her own words not labeled her as glorified breeding stock? Why then was she angered when the father spoke of her coming together with his son as a
duty
? And why when she thought of the fulfillment of that obligation did her heart race and heat rise to her cheeks? These men! The man whose blood she carried, his father… and that brother of his! His manners toward her were deplorable. It was all so irritating!

She felt herself nearing the end of her endurance when a knock rattled the door just before Tahruk let himself in.

“You nearly knocked me down!” The seamstress glared at him from behind the opened door.

“Then you should bar your door next time or plan to stay out of the way.” He sent her a look that had her scurrying back to the silk draped maiden waiting none too patiently atop the pinning stool. His eyes roved over Elenya before he turned his attention to Nema. “She seems ill prepared so close to the dinner hour. How am I to collect her in
that
?”

Nema’s chuckle had them both glaring at her. “Seems tension reigns all around,” she spoke to a dressmaker’s figurine in the far corner. “I think we shall all be better off once this night is behind us.”

“You try my patience, Nema.”

The older woman shrugged at the warrior’s bark. “I must say you have maintained far greater restraint under the circumstances than one might have expected, my lord.”

Elenya frowned. Nema was the one person she’d thought had understood her and her predicament. Now she was praising the warrior for his ability to maintain his distance. She threw her hands up and stepped off the stool, her actions causing all eyes to be drawn to her.

“What?” she snapped at them before stomping toward the screen where her own clothing had been deposited upon her arrival. “You people act as if I am not even here. And when you do acknowledge me, it’s … it’s only … you treat me as if … Oh!” Again her hands went up. She gave them one more dour look, then mumbling, she disappeared behind the screen.

Tahruk stood dazed for a moment then stalked across the floor ignoring both the older women’s demands for him to halt. Forehead and chin both wrinkled in contemplation, he followed the path of his chosen.

“This space is not nearly big enough for the both of us, my lord.” She whirled to face him then stood, one fist on a shapely hip, the other hand holding up the bodice of her gown not yet where it should be. Chin up, lips pressed tightly together, she glared at him when he failed to retreat. She shook her head and snorted, the loose red curls swishing about her bared shoulders. “Suit yourself, but if you’re going to stay you may as well be of service.” Turning away, she thrust her arms into the sleeves, what little there was of them, then stepped back and pulled her hair away.

Tahruk groaned, closing his eyes against the sight before him. He fought down the urge that flared at the vision of the expanse of flesh flanked by the open back of her dress. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to push the sleeves back off her arms. He imagined the dress pooling at her feet, the feel of her silken skin beneath his hands … He already knew how she tasted, how she smelled …

“The buttons, my lord,” she commanded, her voice steeped in impatience. The toes of her stocking-clad foot thumped against the floor to reinforce her sentiment.

“You would do well to hold your temper, Little One.”

“And you would do well to help me so that this blasted night can commence.” After a charged moment passed without his reacting, she added with a less than demure nod to her head, “My lord.”

“Hellion,” he mumbled, stepping forward, his fingers beginning to work at the buttons. Re-holing the dainty embellishments proved more difficult than their unfastening – a task he much preferred.

A trip back to Tahruk’s chambers was still required for Elenya to quickly change and have her hair properly dressed by a corisan who proved little better than the one assigned on the night of the Dremis celebration. Unlike her predecessor, this girl held nothing of the overt boldness of Ceeda, instead exhibiting a mousy fearfulness that had an already frustrated Elenya taking the brush away from her and finishing the task herself. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done for herself back home.

Home. The thought swept her with sorrow. Nothing seemed to have gone as expected here, and the comfort of her own chambers seemed more a fading dream. She longed for the gaiety of evenings spent with her family, the security of her mother’s arms, Shemek…

“Where is the maiden I found in the dressmaker’s shop -- the one with the fire in her blood and exasperated words threatening to spill from those lovely lips?”

Elenya’s eyes snapped to Tahruk’s reflection framed in full by the length of the gazing glass. Straightening her sagging shoulders, she pushed the last of the jeweled pins into her knotted hair while she studied him. Like Shemek, he was dark haired, his skin bronzed from the hours spent outside training for battle. Both men were toned, muscular, though unlike Shemek’s younger body Tahruk had the physique of a fully developed man. He was quite magnificent, really.

His movement away from the door frame startled her and Elenya jerked her eyes from his advancing form only to be drawn right back. He stopped directly behind her, taking his time to study her reflection.

She jumped when he reached for a strand of hair she’d left loose to cascade over her shoulder. He smiled. “I like it when you leave part of your hair down,” he told her, his voice growing suddenly husky as he began to stroke her shoulder, his fingers trailing up her slender neck and along her jawline. “You look quite lovely, my lady.”

Elenya hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until he bent to press a kiss to the back of her neck and it whooshed out, accompanied by a nearly silent moan.

“If it was anyone but my father at the head of our table, Little One, I would bar the door and ravish you until we were both sated,” he whispered against her ear, eliciting another shudder from her innocent body.

“You seem quite sure of your abilities, my lord.” Her raised brow earned a laugh from the warrior, though he didn’t bother to answer. Instead he stepped back and produced a jeweled box from inside the leather pouch fastened around his waist.

“Have you chosen jewels for this evening?”

Touching her own neck, Elenya gasped remembering the neckpiece she’d removed at the seamstress’ quarters. Eyes wide, she bit at her lower lip while she stared at the warrior’s reflection.

Tahruk laughed, seeming to know exactly what she was thinking. “Rest assured Nema will have taken care of that old piece. Its weight alone makes it impractical, unlike this…” He opened the box to reveal a piece that made her gasp. The combined peach moonstones and pearls were absolutely stunning.

“Oh, my lord. It’s lovely, though it must have cost a fortune.”

Tahruk waved away her concerns and worked to remove the necklace from the velvet lined box. Laying it around her neck he latched the heavy gold clasp then squatted beside her, his reflection even with hers in the mirror. “Its price does not compare to what
you
pay to play pawn in the Masters’ game.”

Elenya tilted her head, her eyes imploring his as she turned to look directly at him.

With a snort, he stole a kiss then rose to his feet. “You seem to bring out a softer side in me, my lady, though if you tell anyone, I shall deny it vehemently then punish you severely. Now come.” He extended a hand to help her up. “Let no man be accused of keeping my father waiting.”

An odd mixture of disappointment and relief warred within the young woman as her warrior led her to the family gathering. She was confused, conflicted. On one hand, she felt rescued by this imposed delay, the thought of their coupling still sending tendrils of fear through her.

On the other hand, she yearned for him, to feel him close. There was no denying the charge between them when he took her in his arms or when his mouth covered hers. His lips and hands seared her flesh with a promise of greater fulfillment. Even now, just thinking about it, fire spread rapidly, engulfing her insides.

He turned to her as they stepped into the dining hall, his eyes moving over her as if he sensed her desire. She jumped when he stretched his hand toward her, his knuckles caressing her cheek before he circled her lips with a fingertip. The sensation was a sensual tickle that drew her closer to him, her head tilted up asking that his mouth replace his hand.

He smiled. Eager to fulfill her wish, he cradled the back of her head in his hand, coaxing her head back farther. Her lips parted when his mouth met hers and his tongue probed. He wasted no time, his desire to taste her overwhelming them both.

“Would have thought your chambers a more suitable location, Brother. Unless, of course, these public displays of yours are merely smoke screens hiding a true lack of desire to fulfill your honor bound duties.”

“Redahn,” Tahruk growled, pulling back just enough so that his forehead rested against Elenya’s. His breath tickled her mouth where their kiss had left her lips moist.

As the others joined them he slipped an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the table where no one sat until Renaine had taken his place at the head of the table and lowered himself into the honored seat. Lady Neria sat at his right, Tahruk at his left with Elenya securely by his side. Redahn’s presence next to his mother, directly across from her, was a cause for unease.

Other family members, including sisters Elenya had met earlier, their husbands whom she had not, and Nema were seated accordingly down the rest of the long table. Elenya’s brows drew down as she watched Nema slip into the seat next to Redahn.

“Your chosen is troubled by many things, my brother. It appears more than your …
inadequate attentions
are giving her cause for concern.”

Elenya didn’t honor Redahn with so much as a glance, turning instead to look at Tahruk. His eyes down, she noted his jaw flexing - a sign she had already learned indicated his anger. Her brows drew deeper.

“Perhaps a
better man
could relax the lines from that pretty face…”

“Enough!” Tahruk exploded from his seat, his fist crashing against the table as he leaned toward his brother.

Several of the women screamed, some of the men stood, only a hand from a rising Renaine against the warrior’s chest saved Redahn who had pulled back as far as his chair would allow. Tahruk had been a finger away from grasping the front of his tunic. It was anyone’s guess what would have happened next, though assuredly it would have involved violence and spilled blood.

Tahruk continued to glare at his brother even as Renaine pressed him back to his seat.

“Aleone has caused dissention within the Zanak Drille for decades.” Renaine leveled his stare at Elenya. “I do not intend a foolish decision by the Masters to tear my family apart.”

Elenya’s eyes widened as they locked with Renaine’s. She tried to swallow, her suddenly parched throat making the task impossible.

“Do not take your ire out on the girl, my lord. The maiden has no fault here. She had no say in the match either.”

Heads turned in the direction of the speaker: Nema. Her glare leveled on the glowering Renaine, Elenya was surprised he did not silence her. “To disavow the Masters’ choice would make us no better than those before us. What happened between Zanak and Aleone must be left in the past.”

Whispers and snorts sounded round the table.

“Leave her be, my lord. Soon enough the strength of her scent will be but a memory and your boys can settle.” She paused, then added quietly, repeating, “She harbors no fault here.”

The table was silent, most of the occupants staring down at their plates, including Elenya. She could see Redahn flicking the corner of his napkin before she cut her eyes toward Renaine whose vision shifted between her and Nema.

Beside her, Tahruk stared at an undefined spot on a distant wall. His brows drawn, he tapped aimlessly at the full lips that had covered hers not so long ago. An unexpected wave of desire rolled through her.
Want me
, she thought, then chided herself for her wantonness when the man hadn’t even defended her honor. She pressed her lips tightly together and lifted her eyes to Renaine’s. Silent moments followed before he cleared his throat and looked at his oldest son.