The Lord of the Clans (4 page)

Chapter Six

A violent burst of excitement dizzied her as she caught sight of him. His teasing tone was music to her ears and she stared at the formidable man who seemed to crowd the room just by standing in it.

She thought her knees might buckle when his steely gaze touched her face, caressed her neckline and invaded the gap between the lapels of her cloak. As he admired the shape of her legs, she felt like spreading them open.

For him, the powerful and legendary Lord of the Clans.
For the hard shaft she had involuntarily stroked last night.

Oh, dear Gods, how could she be thinking of his thick cock now? Her heart expanding with a surge of guilt and happiness, she racked her brain to find an appropriate answer to his question.

What was his query again?
Something to do with the tribeswoman and directions?
The past instant eluded her and she just blurted out the first thing that popped into her mind.

“How is your leg, my lord?”

He tilted his head. As though she enquired about the fate of the Four Kingdoms, he narrowed his eyes.

“Fine.
So well, as a matter of fact, that you have some explaining to do.”

“What do you mean?”

He walked to the door without any effort, as though his wound and limp never existed. Brushing past her, he addressed Coreen who still waited on the other side of the threshold.

“Will you be all right?”

She nodded and shut the door. Did she leave to get herself another room, or to ride back home to the Longrocks Mountains? Her quick departure suggested that he had intended this encounter, but why?

Alone with the man she’d spent the afternoon missing and daydreaming about, she repressed a shiver. He stood so close to her that she felt dwarfed by his stature.

As one of the tallest people of her tribe, she was used to lowering her face when conversing. She did it with all the women as well as most men. Not so with him. Well, she’d have to get used to the weirdness of feeling small. Yet she flinched when he took her chin between his fingers.

“Am I frightening you?”

“No.”

Hiding her inner turmoil seemed to become second nature whenever she was around him. As well as concealing her desire for him. Whether he believed her or not, he released her with a sigh.

“Good, because I have better things to do than scaring off girls.
First of all, I want to know all about your treatments and how, in the name of the Mighty Gods, you healed me so well.”

“There’s not much to tell. Save for my shaman, I’m the best healer of my tribe. I said you could trust me.”

“And I’m glad I did, but it still doesn’t explain such a quick recovery. You see, I don’t put much faith in mud and herbs. They don’t have the power to cure an injury like mine, especially considering that my medicine man wanted to cut off my leg. Come on, Ariana, out with it.”

Although he clearly knew nothing about the true potency of plants and roots, she wondered about the nature of his accusation. What did he want her to confess? Should she lie to satisfy his misplaced suspicions?

“I’m not sure what you expect from me. I treated you to the best of my abilities, and that’s all there is to it.”

He took hold of her chin again. Tilting her face up, he drilled his gaze into hers. The room faded into the background. The constant drone of male voices from downstairs winked out. She plunged into the gray deepness pulling her in and let herself drown in pleasure.

He held her forever. Ashy flickers swam in his eyes, shadows of temptation drawing her into infinite depths. A breath away from his tantalising mouth, she parted her lips. The thudding of her pulse hurt. The knocking of her heart brushed her soul. She sank into him.

The power of his gaze crushed her very core as he brought his face down. Charged blood rushed in her veins. The closeness of his mouth flooded her with the violent need to melt into him, his imperious stare enslaved her. Just out of her reach, his lips became the tether of her fantasies.

She yearned to be kissed by the Lord of the Clans, by the man who overpowered her reason. Her whole body cried for his touch, but he let go of her chin and stepped back.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

He stood barely apart from her, yet the gap between them reminded her of a bottomless void. Coldness crept into her and she choked on the bitter emotions generated by his sudden withdrawal.

Did she really look duplicitous? Why were he and his people so quick to presume her a deceptive person? What did she do to raise their suspicions? He stared at her, and she drew in a silent breath.

“My lord, if my actions indicated treachery of any kind, I apologise. Lying isn’t a habit of mine, and I pray you will see the truth of my words. My shaman once told me I was born with the gift of healing. I trust his judgement. I only hope you can also place your confidence in him.”

She delivered her humble speech in a soft voice. Obviously puzzled by her conviction, he creased his brow.

“I’m not accusing you, Ariana, but I am a sceptical man and I don’t accept intriguing acts or behaviours at face value. Would you deprive me of my right to question mysterious happenstances?”

“I’d never entertain so preposterous a notion. I am but your loyal subject and my life is yours to command.”

The hint of a mischievous grin brushed the scar on his cheek when she spoke with such solemnity.

His dominating gaze felt too heavy to sustain as he towered over her, and she dropped her eyes. But in spite of the fact that she looked at his boots, she couldn’t escape his voice.

“In that case, there’s something you will do for me.”

“Anything, my lord.”

She instantly regretted her burst of allegiance. Her skin prickled with edginess as he closed the small gap separating them. How did she manage to always rouse the tension lurking between them? In need of air, she drew in a breath when he raised his hand to tuck a stray of hair behind her ear.

“Anything?
Honestly?”

Snared in a trap of her own making, she just stared at the wide shoulders shutting off her line of vision. Her insides throbbed as he followed the line of her jaw with the ball of his thumb.

Her lungs burned from deprivation, causing her to inhale sharply when he broke contact and moved away from her to settle down on the biggest armchair of the room. Looking pleased with himself, he stretched his long legs in front of him, and crossed his hands over his stomach.

“Call me Cameron.”

She hadn’t been brought up that way, and the mere idea of calling him by his first name rattled her foundations. The tribe people revered their lord. He represented the power they lived by, above kings and queens.

His unexpected request startled her, but although unsure she should fulfil his requirement, she nodded.

“As you wish, and thank you for asking Coreen to be my guide to Frahern. My aunt’s village is far away. I don’t think I can find it by myself.”

“It’s the least I can do considering that you saved me from becoming a one-legged cripple. I don’t want you going all the way to the border of Agravar without any protection.”

He moved his leg up and down while he watched the workings of his perfect limb with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Coreen brought you to this town at my request because I happen to have a small business to take care of here. Quite a coincidence, isn’t it? But she isn’t your guide to Frahern. I am.”

Days and nights alone with him.
Mornings, afternoons, and evenings in his sole company.

She had just wasted half a day convincing herself she meant nothing to him because he didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye. She also believed she’d never see him again.

Yet, there he sat, proud as a king, and offering her the protection of the Lord of the Clans himself throughout a perilous journey. Her heart burst with joy, and she wished for the right expression to convey her gratefulness, but words eluded her. He tilted his head.

“You may thank me, Ariana.”

Yes, she knew that. She would, as soon as the knot in her throat loosened and her brain ceased running in the ethers.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Didn’t I ask you to call me Cameron?”

He did. For the love of the Creators, she really needed to make an effort to control her emotions better than a five-year-old child. By the way, what was she so happy about?

Although his intense gaze, lips, voice, and body turned her into a vibrant flame, she still didn’t have the right to act on her desires. Not with Kelton waiting for her at home. Not with the pledge they had taken.

Why had she never felt excited like this around Kelton? His company pleased her, and she rather enjoyed his kisses while he rubbed her insides with his manhood. But what of the frenzied sensations she experienced whenever the Lord of the Clans glanced her way?

Kelton was big and strong too. He might not be a warrior in the true sense, but he could certainly wield a sword with speed and efficiency.

So how come he didn’t make her heart bang like the hooves of a hundred galloping horses? Why didn’t he stir in her the desperate longing pulling at her guts every time Lord Cameron approached her?

No logical reason sprang to mind. In all likelihood, the explanation for her inner turmoil lay in the fact that she’d never left home before. She discovered many new things and people on the way and probably needed a little time to adjust.

Nothing to worry about.

Still, a conjecture nagged at her mind. Now that he appeared content with her healing, she broached the troublesome topic.

“Where’s Coreen?”

“She’s gone back home.”

“Is she your mate?”

He arched an eyebrow. The smug smile he favoured when asked personal questions tugged at his lip.

“Aren’t you curious all of a sudden? I wonder what may have brought this on.
Unless you’re coming to like me.”

Her cheeks frizzled with a rush of heat while a satisfied air muffled his hard features. As the proverb “embarrassment killed the beaver” took on a whole new meaning, she looked down at the round curve of her boots.

“My trade is to heal, not to like. I’m just trying to understand why she seems to bear a grudge against me.”

His chortle scraped at her courage. She’d forgotten her place once more and talked to him like an ordinary person. Straightening her shoulders in anticipation of a severe retort, she tensed.

“Let me guess. Coreen hasn’t said a word to you since your impromptu arrival last night, from which you inferred that she was my mate and resented your being in my pallet. How am I doing so far?”

Too well.
So well, in fact, that his insightfulness prompted her to wonder if he possessed the ability to read her mind.
Before she could think of a way to extract herself from this awkward position, he stood up.

“Intriguing perspective, I must say. But you see, Ariana, the Lord of the Clans doesn’t have to justify himself. He takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants. Am I making myself clear?”

She nodded, the knot in her throat blocking her windpipe. What would she have replied anyway?

He grabbed his sheepskin coat from the back of a chair, and threw it over his shoulders in a swift movement.

“I’m glad we understand each other. Now if you’ll excuse me, we’ll finish this conversation when I get back.”

As he strode toward the door, she realised she’d remain alone in strange surroundings, one floor above a tavern room full of horny men. Apprehension squeezed her stomach, urging her to disregard the fact that he had just reprimanded her, and the question flew out of her mouth.

“Where are you going?”

He turned toward her. With a feigned, innocent look painted on his usually severe features–a reminder of the immorality she accused him of–he raised his hands, palms up.

“To the brothel.
Where else?”