Knight of a Trillion Stars (22 page)

“Nice going. Remind me to nominate you for a Nobel Peace Prize,” Deana said.

Disgusted with his failure, Lorgin turned and strode from the room. Deana was left with Tumbles. She bent down, softly stroking the ball of fuzz. “Well, aren’t you a revelation, though?”

The little pet rolled against her.

“Don’t you get it, Lorgin?”

“I am getting
it.
I think.” He continued nuzzling her neck.

“No!” She yanked his hair. “Listen to me; he has a pet.”

“So?” He dropped his head back down to the crook of her shoulder, his tongue swirling a pattern across her collarbone.

She pushed at his shoulders. He did not appear happy with the interruption. A frustrated expression crossed his regal features.

“I am listening. He has a pet—I do not see the significance you place upon this.”

She brought her hand up to the side of his face, cupping it. “It has a lot of significance. He
cares
about this little fuzzball.” Lorgin placed his large hand over hers, turning his head to kiss her palm.

“How do you know this?” he mumbled into her hand.

“If you could’ve seen how he was stroking the thing—he was so gentle. Then when he thought it might be hurt, he was really concerned.”

He removed her caressing hand from his face. “So, you were fascinated by the way he strokes the phfiztger, were you? And why were you paying so much attention to this?”

The big idiot was jealous! She balled up her fist, socking him in the stomach. He wasn’t prepared for her punch; he grunted. “Will you get real! I am trying to tell you I think there might be something under all those layers of icy reserve. Oh, and he also got quite angry.”

Lorgin bristled. “With you?”

“No, with you.”

“With me? Why?”

“I don’t know. It was weird—he just sort of blew up after I mentioned that you were taking me back to my world after you were finished with me.”

Lorgin looked at her aghast.
“You what?”
he bellowed.

She put her hand against his chest, totally misinterpreting his anger. “Well, I couldn’t very well tell him about your quest, could I?” He settled down somewhat.

A speculative look came over Lorgin’s face. “Tell me how he reacted.”

“He started spewing off about honor and how could you do that to Krue—What was he blathering about?”

A spark of hope flowed through Lorgin. “Yes. I believe you are right. Traed has not forgotten who he is or his responsibilities.”

“He’s in there, Lorgin. The Traed you knew—I feel it.”

Lorgin looked down at her, considering her words. “I would not discount a woman’s senses in this. Perhaps tomorrow my plan with Rejar will work.”

“What plan?” Lorgin stared down at her; for some reason he was suddenly speechless. “What plan?” she repeated.

He quickly covered her mouth with his own in an attempt to distract her. The
gharta
was not going to be distracted. She broke away from his searching lips.

“Well, I’m waiting.” Sitting up, she crossed her arms over her naked breasts, unknowingly pushing them up. Lorgin’s eyes fell to her chest, sparking pink flames. He pushed her back down onto the bed.

“It is nothing. If it works, you will know.” He covered her with himself. She squirmed out from under him.

“You haven’t cooked up some stupid scheme with Rejar to take the man on a woman hunt, have you?”

His silence was answer enough for her.

“It will never work.”

Lorgin raked his hair back. “Really? You are such an authority on this?”

“I know what I know. It’s the wrong approach with this man.”

“Would you like to wager on this? He is a man; it will work.”

“It won’t.”

He glanced sideways at her, tongue in cheek. “What do you wager?”

It wasn’t as if she had a lot to bet with. She pointed to the barrette he had given her on the bedside table.

“What would I do with it—
when
I win? I have a better idea.”

“What?”

He rolled over to whisper in her ear.

Her eyes widened and she giggled. “It can’t be done that way!” He raised one of his eyebrows. “It can? Okay, you’re on. But what do I get if I win?”

His husky laugh vibrated over her as he lowered his head. “Same thing.”

Seemed like a fair bet to her.

The next evening, the two brothers all but dragged Traed out for a walk with them. Deana had no doubts that Lorgin was trying to put his genius of a plan into motion. She smiled to herself. There was no way it would work. Traed was too tense, too guarded, and too damn smart. They’ll find out, she smirked.

Sitting down on the middle of the main sitting room floor, she carefully unwrapped the cloth which held the clay. Earlier in the day she had told Lorgin she wished to purchase something at the
sacri.
He had simply said, “Of, course,
zira
,” then filled her hand with an assortment of gemstones.

At first, the woman in the sacri was leery of trading with her, but when she realized that Deana was a real customer, the sale went smoothly enough. Now, what to make with the clay? A lascivious thought went through her brain. No, not that. Besides, if memory served her accurately, she didn’t have enough clay to do it justice. She grinned at the idea. Better stick with the little pots she had seen the women making.

Lorgin, Rejar, and Traed strolled around the perimeter of the keep. So far, no one was talking. If Traed wondered at the strange behavior of his companions in insisting on his company, he was silent about it. Lorgin nudged Rejar’s shoulder to get him started. Rejar cleared his throat.

“Traed, what do you do for entertainment here?”

“What do you mean?”

Rejar threw Lorgin an exasperated look with a personal opinion.
{I told you—it is hopeless.}
Lorgin was not of the same mind; he discreetly motioned to his brother to continue. Rejar resignedly turned back to Traed.

“You know—for
entertainment.
”

Traed knew exactly what he meant. Crossing his arms, he rocked back on the heels of his boots. “You cannot find your own amusements?” His voice was distinctly suspicious.

Rejar scratched his chin, at the same time throwing his brother a dirty look. “Yes, of course, Traed. I just thought—”

“What did you think?” Traed’s eyes were now distinctly narrowed.

“I thought you might wish to accompany me this evening. We could have some keeran, and perhaps”—Rejar was floundering under Traed’s glittering green gaze—“perhaps we could reminisce; and then, who knows? The caravan is here. There are many delightful—”

“You thought wrong, Familiar.” Traed turned, swiftly heading back to the keep.

The brothers watched his rapid departure silently.

Then
Lorgin chucked his brother on the head.

“Have you no sense, Rejar! You do not just approach a man like this with your intentions. You were too obvious!”

Rejar’s eyes took on a strange light. He was getting angry.
{And how else was I supposed to do it? Let him guess my meaning?}

“I never should have listened to this foolish idea of yours. Now I will have to devise something else.”

“My idea! What do you mean my idea? It was your idea! If you recall, I wanted no part of it.”

Lorgin threw him a quelling glance before he turned and strutted inside. Rejar followed on his heels, ready to do battle.

They were still arguing when they came into the main sitting room, their voices preceding them. Lorgin was first to enter. Deana, arms elbow deep in clay, looked up from her spot on the floor, a smudge of clay on her face.

Lorgin stopped short.

Rejar, not expecting this, barreled into him.

Both men gazed at her in horror.

Lorgin found his voice. “Adeeann, know you not what this is?” He gestured to the clay covering her.

Deana held her muddy hands up in front of her, shrugging her shoulders.

“It is
prautau…
” He let the sentence drag out meaning-fully, allowing her to make her own conclusions. It didn’t take her long. She jumped to her feet, shrieking.

“Ugh! Are you telling me this is
prautau
poop?!”

Lorgin and Rejar just stared at her, their revulsion plain in their faces for what was all over her hands.

Then the three of them turned amazed faces back to the door.

Traed was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, one leg crossed over the other, and
the man was laughing.
Deep and rich, his laughter echoed across the room, shattering the dark shadows like a door flung open to sunshine.

Lorgin’s eyes lit up. This was the Traed he remembered!

He joined his friend in laughter as he recalled the expression on Adeeann’s face when she realized what she had been molding. Soon Rejar was laughing with them.

Deana looked at them stunned. She didn’t see anything funny about this at all. She only prayed the stuff wouldn’t be too difficult to get off.

It had taken her 45 minutes and two baths to get the wretched stuff off of her. When she got into bed, Lorgin experimentally sniffed her.

“It’s gone.” Her lower lip pouted mutinously, as if she
dared him to rebut the validity of the statement. Lorgin dropped his head, gently suckling that pouting lower lip into his mouth.

“Did you not notice the strange odor, Little Fire?” He smiled against her lips.

“I thought it was just—smelly clay.” Against her will, she felt her eyes start to water. He noticed at once.

“What is this? Do not be foolish.” He wiped away the single tear that had escaped her eye.

“Oh, Lorgin. I can’t believe I did something so stupid! I’m terribly embarrassed.”

He gathered her in his arms, letting her burrow her face into his chest. “Forget this. How could you know?” As he patted her back consolingly, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, not believing what she had done.

“Rejar and Traed must think I’m a nutball,” she mumbled into his chest.

“They do not think you are a—what is it?”

“A nutball,” came the mumbled response.

“They do not think you are a nutball.”

She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. “Are you sure?”

He wiped her face with the back of his hand. “I am sure.”

She sniffed. “Well, how did your scheme with Rejar go? By the way Traed was laughing, I guess I was wrong about that too.”

“No, you were right about that,
zira.
He took affront at Rejar’s suggestions and left us. Rejar and I were discussing it when we came into the room and saw you…”

Deana remembered their raised voices. “You mean you were arguing about it. I bet Rejar didn’t think the plan had any merit either, did he?”

Lorgin stopped rubbing her back, annoyed at her accurate observations. “The point is, it did not work. It was the sight of you covered in your clay that did it.”

At the mention of the humiliating fiasco, her eyes teared up again. “I can imagine how I looked!” Lorgin couldn’t help but smile as he thought about it.

Deana reached around him, grabbing a pillow. She walloped him on the back of the head with it. “Don’t you dare laugh at me again.”

Lorgin raised his hands, palms up in surrender. “I would not, Adeeann. I swear.” He broke his promise immediately by collapsing into laughter.

She went to swing at him again with the pillow, but he neatly fielded it this time. In the blink of an eye, he pinned her to the bed, holding both her wrists over her head.

Bending low, he murmured in her ear, “I noticed you had quite a number of those little pots lined up across Traed’s floor. Perhaps you intended to serve us our keeran in them tomorrow?”

“That’s not funny.” She bucked against him, having no effect on his hold on her whatsoever.

He continued on. “I had not realized how artistic you are until now. This creative genius must not be allowed to lie fallow. I especially admired that one pot which sagged to the left. I said to myself, this is brilliance! What is she saying through her miraculous creations?”

Deana pursed her lips. “Oh, you are terrible! I planned on giving one of those to you as a gift. Now you can forget it.”

He dropped his head forward, as if in humility, his hair swinging onto her chest. “I am deeply moved you would think of me in this manner, Adeeann. I truly do not know how I could repay such thoughtfulness.”

That did it! “Get off of me right now, you ungrateful wretch!” She broke free of his hold while he was laughing. She leaped out of the bed, storming across the floor, her bare feet making slapping sounds on the stone.

“Where are you going?” He grinned at her from the bed.

“I am going downstairs until you get over this little fit you are having at my expense.” She headed for the door.

“Like this?” He gestured to her.

She looked down, gasping when she saw she was buck naked. Lorgin clutched his stomach as he fell back on the bed laughing. Deana’s nostrils flared. Did he think she wouldn’t do it? She threw back her head, her long red hair flowing around her.

“Yes, like this!” She started to open the door. One moment he was on the bed, the next moment, his hand was slamming the door shut from over her shoulder.
The man could move.

His arms came around her, lifting her bodily off the floor; he easily shifted her weight to tuck her under one arm as he headed back to the bed.

“Put me down!” She thrashed against him.

“I think not.”

She turned, trying to nip his waist.

“I would not do this if I were you.”
She stopped immediately. When Lorgin used that tone of voice he meant business.

When he reached the bed, he deposited her back under the covers, getting in himself. He turned to her. “I will not laugh about your pottery. I see it has a disturbing effect on you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, grudgingly throwing in the towel. “All right.”

His arm reached up to pull her down beside him. Running his hands smoothly down her legs, he asked, “What else did you purchase at the
sacri
today,
zira
? A
krilli
robe, perhaps, bright with color and soft to the touch?” He nuzzled her neck as he continued to stroke her.