Lion's Bride (8 page)

“And brought the younger women here to be his lemen,” Thea said dryly.

“Well, why not? He never demands a woman who is wed or a girl who has never known a man. Our women come eagerly to Dundragon. He uses them only for a few months before he sends them back with enough gold to assure that they’ll have suitors aplenty.”

“Is that what will happen to Tasza?”

“No!” Jasmine said quickly. “Tasza is different. She will stay here. She knows how to please him in ways the others cannot. He won’t grow tired of her.”

“It’s true she is very beautiful.”

Jasmine proudly lifted her chin. “Yes, and I taught her to play the lyre. She’s not very clever, but she has a good heart and is very determined. She will see that he chooses to keep her here and send the others away.”

“She does not want the dowry?”

Jasmine abruptly turned away. “Take off your gown and try on this one. Since Tasza is bigger in the hips, it may need an adjustment.”

Thea shook her head. “I could not take her gown without her permission.”

“You have my permission. It is enough.”

Thea shook her head again.

Jasmine stared at her in exasperation. “You’re very stubborn. I have the right to give you the gown. Tasza would not even be here if I hadn’t brought her to my lord’s attention.”

“It is still her gown and not yours.”

“Tasza would give you the gown if I told her to do so. She’s a good, obedient daughter.”

Thea’s eyes widened in shock. “She’s your daughter?”

Jasmine nodded curtly. “Now, try on the gown.”

Thea abstractedly stripped off her white gown and slipped the blue one over her head. “And you brought her to Lord Ware’s bed?”

“You think I made a whore of my own daughter.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to say it,” Jasmine said bitterly. “You don’t know what it is to be so poor that you can’t find even a bit of bread to put on the table. I didn’t make Tasza a whore. I didn’t even know she had sold herself on the streets of Jedha until it was done. She did it to make sure that we would both survive.” She paused. “She had not even reached her twelfth year.”

Thea felt sick. “There was nothing you could do?”

“My husband died the year after she was born, and we had no man to help us. There was only one kind of work available for a woman alone in Jedha.” She stared defiantly into Thea’s eyes. “I also sold myself, but I grew older and men like young, smooth bodies. Tasza decided it was her duty to help me as I had helped her.”

“I am sorry,” Thea said gently. “I meant no offense.”

“I’m not offended. I’m proud of my Tasza. I don’t care that the women of the village flinch from us as if we were lepers.” She pinched the material of the gown on either side of Thea’s waist. “As I thought, it will need to be pinned. Take it off again.”

Thea obeyed and handed her the gown. “Does Lord Ware know she is your daughter?”

Jasmine shook her head. “At first I feared he might think my judgment clouded when I called her to his attention. Now it would not matter, but he does not need to know.”

“What will you do if Lord Ware does send her back to the village?”

“It will not happen. It cannot happen.”

Thea was not as sure as she remembered the offhand manner with which he had spoken to Tasza. “But you said he would give her a fine dowry.”

“Are you stupid?” Jasmine asked fiercely. “She’s not like those other women. She’s a
whore.
Men do not wed whores, no matter how high the dowry. She could only live on it until it was gone and then go back to the streets. She must stay here, where she’s safe.”

Safe with Ware of Dundragon? The woman was truly grasping at straws, but Thea could hardly blame her. Thea had never thought of her own lot as fortunate, but she had never been hungry, and she had learned a way to earn her bread that wasn’t dependent on selling her body. She had never realized how sheltered she had been at the House of Nicholas. “I hope she will be safe wherever she is.”

Jasmine took the gown and draped it over her arm. “I will see that she’s safe.” She moved toward the door. “I will have the gown ready for tomorrow.”

“But ask Tasza if I may have it.”

Jasmine frowned in disgust. “Very well. Though it’s a waste of time. She always does what I tell her.”

“I meant it, you know.” Ware bit into a wing. “You should leave Dundragon. You’ve been here too long.”

Kadar shook his head. “I’ve not been here long enough. If I had, your manners would be too polished to try to cast me out so rudely. You clearly still have need of me.”

“I don’t need anyone.” Ware pushed the plate away and leaned back in his chair. “Where’s the woman?”

“She declined the honor of our presence. She prefers to eat in her chamber. You must have been particularly surly to our guest. She was only trying to help you.”

“I wasn’t surly.” He thought about it and then added, “For me.”

“Which doesn’t say a great deal.” Kadar reached for his wine. “Did she help you?”

“Yes.” By the time she had finished, his muscles had felt so soft and melting, he had thought he would dissolve into the water. But that had changed in the space of a heartbeat after he had taken her hand. By the saints, he had not been soft then. “But Tasza helped me more.” It was not true. Tasza had eased his lust, but he had been left curiously unsatisfied. “I want you to take the Greek woman to Damascus day after tomorrow. Find her a place in a fine shop and stay with her until you’re sure she’s safely established.” He took a drink of wine. “And then go your own way. Don’t come back here.”

“This is a fine wine,” Kadar said. “I don’t think I could be content with a lesser stock now.” He moved to the hearth and curled up in his favorite place before the fire. “I taught Thea to play chess today. She’s very clever but has curious gaps in learning. She can cipher and read and write. She speaks Greek, Arabic, and French. Yet she has never learned to play a game, never heard a troubadour tell a tale, never seen anyone dance or danced herself. She knows what is going on in the world, but it’s as if she learned it behind the walls of a convent.”

Ware’s hand tightened on the goblet as he remembered Thea’s matter-of-fact words regarding her work on the carpets at the House of Nicholas. “Not unless the good sisters’ discipline is crueler than I can imagine.”

“And I’ve told you I think she’s running away from something,” Kadar said. “If she’s as skilled as she claims, she might be considered valuable enough to follow.”

“Once she’s safe in Damascus, she’s no longer my responsibility. I’ll cut all ties.”

“Some ties cannot be broken. You saved her life.”

“I’ll cut all ties,” he repeated.

“Vaden held his hand,” Kadar said softly. “It could mean the danger is over.”

Ware knew that Kadar didn’t understand. He had tried to warn him without telling him too much but had succeeded only in making Kadar believe the threat less than it was. The danger would never be over, even when Ware was dead. “Go away from Dundragon. Go to Egypt. Go north to China. Just get away from me.”

As if he hadn’t spoken, Kadar said, “I think we must find out what threatens her before I take her to Damascus. It should take at least a week. I would hate to have you be forced to go rescue her at some later time.”

“I would not be forced to—” He broke off as he met Kadar’s bland gaze. It was no use, he realized in frustration. Kadar would think and do exactly as he pleased. “You’re leaving day after tomorrow.” He pushed his chair back and stood up. “I’m going to the battlements.”

“And I’ll stay here by the fire and drink this fine wine.” He leaned back against the stones of the fireplace. “And plan how to convince Thea it’s safe to confide in us…in the next week.”

No fire burned on the third mountain.

Ware’s hands slowly clenched into fists at his sides as he looked out into the darkness.

Something was wrong.

Kadar would have said Vaden’s absence was proof that the danger was lessening.

He would have been wrong. The danger never lessened, it only changed.

Where had Vaden gone?

“I’m disappointed in you.” Grand Master Gerard de Ridfort frowned. “There has been no opportunity?”

Vaden didn’t answer directly. “He keeps himself surrounded by soldiers. Wouldn’t you?”

“Every day that he lives the threat grows. He must have already told this Kadar.”

“Perhaps.”

“And what of the other members of the household?”

Vaden shrugged. “No danger. Ware’s officers fear him—they don’t love him. He keeps women at the castle for use but never longer than three months. Then they’re sent back to their village with a handsome reward. He keeps himself distant from the servants. He keeps himself distant from everyone.”

“There
is
danger,” he muttered. “Then you have nothing new to report?”

For a fleeting instant Vaden remembered the puzzling branches lying on the ground before he shook his head. “Everything is the same.”

The Grand Master’s fist crashed down on the table. “It must not remain the same. Do you hear me? He must be killed. It’s been two years. It should have been done by now. I chose you because I thought you his match. I didn’t know you were a fool.”

“A fool?” Vaden said softly.

“A fool and an ill-bred whoreson who—” He broke off as he met Vaden’s gaze. He took a step back. “You dare to threaten me?”

“Threaten? Have I uttered threats? I’m merely standing here.” Vaden inclined his head in mock obeisance and turned on his heel. “But now I must return to my duty. I’m sure Ware misses me when I’m gone.”

“Don’t disappoint me again, Vaden,” Gerard de Ridfort snarled. “It’s been too long.”

“Then set someone else to play cat to the mouse.”

“You know I cannot. The matter is too delicate to give to anyone else.” He paused. “Your father will be very proud of you if you succeed in this task.”

“I will succeed in time. My time.” Vaden left the tent.

He paused outside to breathe deep of the clean, cool air. He always felt suffocated when in the Grand Master’s presence. By all the saints, de Ridfort was a vainglorious fool, full of fanaticism and pride. Did he think Vaden would be swayed by that last remark? He was not doing this for the Temple or for his father. He was doing it because it had to be done. God help them all if Ware’s death was left in the hands of the Grand Master.

The Grand Master threw himself into a chair and gazed broodingly at the door through which Vaden had just passed.

Arrogant whoreson. How dare he speak to him with such a lack of respect? He was the Grand Master. Kings and princes curried Gerard de Ridfort’s favor, and this knight with no heritage or name had looked at him with contempt.

After Ware was dead, Vaden would follow.

Vaden’s father might question the death, but it would be explained as a necessary thing—that Vaden knew too much and had become careless….

But at the moment Ware of Dundragon was the problem. It was maddeningly irritating that the Grand Master himself could not touch the traitor. Ware was a thorn pricking him, and he would no longer tolerate it.

Dundragon might be too powerful to be overcome at this time, but de Ridfort must do something to show that bastard that he was not out of reach of the temple.

THE FIRE BURNED BRIGHTLY on the third mountain.

Vaden was back.

Ware’s hands closed on the stone wall of the battlement. He should not feel this relief. Vaden was always a threat.

But it was a threat to which he had grown accustomed. Vaden was as much as part of the fabric of his life now as in the past. He had grown almost comfortable with the knowledge that Vaden would be there, watching, waiting.

Until the time he decided to attack.

Well, that time was not now. After three days’ absence Vaden had returned to the mountain.

Laughter.

He turned to look down into the courtyard. He had noticed that Thea and Kadar had made a habit of taking a stroll in the courtyard in the cool of the evening. They were now standing talking to the young boy whose task was to light the torches. The boy…He remembered he had intended to send the lad home but had been distracted. He called, “Abdul.”

His sergeant broke off his conversation with one of the guards and hurried forward from the other end of the battlement.

Ware gestured to the boy. “He’s too young. Send him home.”

“Haroun is a good lad. I thought—His father is dead. He needs the money to support his mother.”

Ware scowled. “I can’t be expected to support the entire village. Am I now to take babies away from their mothers? Send him home.”

Abdul nodded and turned away.

“Tell him he can come back in a few years’ time.”

Abdul nodded again.

“And see that his mother doesn’t want until he reaches the proper age.”

A broad grin lit Abdul’s face. “Yes, my lord.”

“And don’t do this again. No younger than ten and six.”

“Yes, my lord.” Abdul hurried back to the soldier on the battlements.

Laughter again.

He glanced down at the courtyard. She was smiling at Haroun, and he was looking at her as if she burned as bright as that torch in his hand.

He might well be right. She exuded a fire and strength he had never seen in another woman. Even in her most vulnerable moments she had shown a courage he would have applauded in any of his soldiers.

She and Kadar were walking with Haroun to light the torches by the front door.

Even her walk was different from that of other women. Her stride was graceful but purposeful, with a touch of almost militant boldness. What life had shaped that boldness?

He frowned as he realized where his thoughts had led him. Let Kadar wonder about her, he would not. He would keep her at the same distance as he did everyone else.

She threw back her head and laughed again. The sound carried full-bodied and rich on the evening air. She never laughed when in his presence. She was always wary and tense, as if she were afraid he’d spring at her. Perhaps she should be wary. He
wanted
to spring on her. He wanted to loosen her braid and cover his naked body with that fair, silky hair. He wanted to cup her breasts in his hands and spread her thighs and go deep within her.

Christ, he was hardening just thinking about it.

So he would not think about it. She was only a woman, like any other. He would call for a woman to sooth his lust and dismiss the Greek from his mind.

“Today I only light the torches, but someday I shall be a great soldier,” Haroun boasted. “Just like Lord Ware.”

Thea smiled indulgently. The boy was truly irresistible, with those burning dark eyes and endearing smile. “I’m sure you’re a very great lighter of torches. There’s time for the rest.”

His smile vanished and he shook his head. “I must do it right away. I have responsibilities.”

“And one of them is lighting the torches,” Kadar said. “Abdul will not be pleased if they’re not lit by the time darkness has fallen.”

Haroun gave him a stricken glance. “At once, Lord Kadar.”

A smile still lingered on Thea’s lips as she watched the young boy dash away to the ladder leading to the battlement. She enjoyed the few minutes’ chat with Haroun every evening. He was so proud of his place in this grim fortress.

“We should go in,” Kadar said. “It grows cool.”

“In a moment.” Her gaze followed Haroun as he went from torch to torch, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Children always left brightness where they passed. She murmured, “He reminds me of Selene.”

“Who is Selene?”

The question brought her abruptly back to the present. She turned and started up the steps. “You’re right, it’s growing cool.”

“Do you think I’m going to ride off and capture this Selene if you tell me who she is?” Kadar asked as he followed her. “What must I say to prove I wish only what is best for you? Am I not the most charming and kindhearted of men?”

He was both of those things, but he was also the most persistent man she had ever met. During the past three days he had found a way to insinuate at least one subtle inquiry into every conversation. “If you were as kindhearted as you claim, you wouldn’t plague me with questions I don’t wish to answer.”

“But that’s only an example of my kindness. If you were as old and experienced as me, you’d realize that you should rely on my judgment in this.”

She snorted. “You’re perhaps two years older than I am.”

“Ah, Thea, I was older than you when I was in the cradle.”

She opened her lips to argue with him and then shut them again. In spite of his flippant remarks and smiling face, she still sometimes caught a glimpse of the Kadar she had seen when he had shown her his falcons.

Kadar chuckled. “If I’d
had
a cradle. We were too poor. I slept on the floor of our cottage, wrapped in a blanket. I think that was why I walked so soon. I was afraid the rats would eat me if I didn’t run away from them.”

She shivered. “That is not funny.”

“No, but it’s better to laugh at such things than dwell on them.” He paused. “Did you worry about the rats when you were a child, Thea?”

“No.” Nicholas would have been enraged if there had been any rats near his beautiful silks. She suddenly realized he had done it again—slipped another question into the conversation. She asked in exasperation, “When will you take me to Damascus? I’m well now.”

“Soon. There is no hurry.”

He might not be in a hurry, but Selene was still in Constantinople. The longer Thea took to establish herself, the longer Selene would have to bear the life at Nicholas’s house.

“I wish to leave tomorrow.”

“We will see. Would you like to start a game of chess before you go to bed?”

“No.” She cast a glance at Haroun, who had just finished lighting the last torch on the battlements. He smiled and waved at her. She felt another pang as she lifted her hand in response. She wanted Selene here now. She wanted to see her smile and know she was well and happy.

No, she was lying to herself. She was also being selfish. Selene was the only person she loved, and she needed someone to love in this alien land.

“You look sad.” Kadar urged softly, “Tell me your thoughts.”

The man would not stop.

“I will
not
tell you my thoughts.” She strode into the castle. “I’m going to bed.”

Two nights later she noticed it was not Haroun who was lighting the torches but one of the soldiers.

“He is gone,” Kadar answered when she asked about it. “He went back to his village last night. Ware wasn’t pleased with him. He was too young.”

“But he was so proud….” Anger flared through her. “How old would he have to be to light the torches and run errands?”

“He was too young,” Kadar repeated. “This is not a place for children.”

No, she thought bitterly, it was a place where women were kept only to couple and serve and men were taught to wage war. “He should not have sent him away.”

Kadar shrugged. “He thought it best.”

Her gaze lifted to the shadowy figure on the battlements. Ware was always there this time of evening, looking out at the mountains.

Ware had thought it best, and a boy’s life had been changed. Ware felt lust, and a woman rushed to his bed. Ware refused permission, and the gates would not be opened for her.

By the saints, she could do nothing about altering his power over the others, but she would not let him hold her there.

She turned and ran across the courtyard.

“Where are you going?” Kadar called, startled.

She didn’t answer as she flew through the hall, then up the steps and finally the long, twisting stairway.

She threw open the door and strode out onto the battlements. She stopped for a moment before approaching him, catching her breath and gathering her arguments.

Sweet Jesus, he looked alone. She could almost touch the wall of terrible isolation that surrounded him.

Well, if he was alone, it was his own doing. A man could expect nothing else if he pushed everyone away from him. She would not feel sorry for him. She had her own worries and he was one of them.

She strode forward until she stood beside him.

“I must talk to you,” Thea said.

Ware’s gaze never left the mountains. “It’s late. Go to your bed.”

“It’s not late. It’s been
five
days. Why are you keeping me here?”

He still didn’t look at her. “Kadar says you’re not healed.”

She snorted. “Even my burn is gone.” She moved closer to him. “I cannot linger here any longer. I must start my work.”

He didn’t answer.

She wanted to shake him. “Why not let me go? You don’t want me here. I’ve scarcely seen you since you brought me my mulberry leaves.”

He glanced at her. “Did you wish me to amuse you?”

She spoke through clenched teeth. “No, I don’t wish you to amuse me. You wouldn’t know how. All you know is war and coupling.”

“War is not amusing, but coupling can be—” He shook his head. “No, that’s not amusing either. When the need is upon me, it’s too intense to smile about.”

He seldom smiled at anything but Kadar’s quips. Yet he had smiled that night she had come upon him with Tasza. Did only drunkenness rid him of grimness? No, even that night she had been aware of bitterness surrounding him like a dark cloud.

“If you want amusement, go to Kadar,” he said. “Stay away from me.”

“I’ll
not
stay away from you. Not until you tell Kadar to take me to Damascus.”

“He wants you here. He thinks you’ll not be safe until he knows everything about you. Tell him what he wants to know and you’ll go to Damascus the next day.” He met her stare. “As for me, I don’t care where you came from or what dangers you face. You don’t belong here. You’re right, I know only war and coupling. You cannot fight for me, and that only leaves one use.” His gaze went to her breasts, and he said without inflection, “I grow hard when I look at you. If you stay here much longer, I’ll probably take you to my bed.”

The crude boldness shocked her, but no more than her own physical response. Her breasts were swelling beneath his gaze as if he were stroking her. She could feel her nipples hardening, pressing against the soft cotton of her gown. Could he see that betraying response in the bright flare of the torches? she wondered. Probably. His gaze was narrowing, his mouth curving with that same heavy sensuality she had seen in the hall that night.

“Every time I take a woman now, I want it to be you. At first I thought it because I was growing bored with Tasza, but I’ve tried two others and it’s the same.” He said thickly, “I want them all to be you. I want you to open your thighs and let me stroke you. I remember how soft your woman’s fleece looked. I want to feel it against me as I move in and out of—”

“Stop.” Her voice was strangled. “This is not…decent.”

“Look at yourself. You want it.”

“No, I don’t.” She tried to steady her voice. “I’ll not be one of your women. I won’t be any man’s property. I’m going to have my own embroidery house and be free to live life as I please.”

His gaze at last lifted from her breasts to her face. “Then stay away from me.” He turned back to the mountains. “And tell Kadar what he wants to know. I’ve let Kadar have his way in this, but I’ve little patience. If you stay much longer, I will have
my
way.”

“It’s none of your concern what life I left behind me. If you don’t let me go, I’ll find a way of leaving anyway. I’ll not let you—What is that glow?”

His gaze never left the third mountain. “Just a campfire.”

The answer barely registered as she leaned over the battlement to see better. “No, not there. To the south.”

He stiffened. “My God.” He turned on his heel and strode toward the door leading off the battlement.

She hurried after him. “What is it?”

“Jedha. The village is burning.”

“The village…”

The families of all the soldiers who guarded this fortress lived in the village.

He had sent Haroun back to Jedha.

She flew down the steps after him. “I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“I’m
going
.”

He turned to look at her. “I’ve no time for this. Do what you wish. God knows, you may be as safe there as here.”

“I’ll get salves and linens.” She ran down the corridor to the scullery. “Jasmine!”

The courtyard was filled with armored soldiers and milling horses when Thea rushed out the door a short time later.