The Scarlet Empress (28 page)

Her sarcastic humor amused him. He was surprised she was taking this as well as she was.

Then Cam’s mouth tipped irritably. “You never answered my requests to see you. I asked a dozen times, Kublai.”

“Kyber,” he corrected patiently.

“Kyber. You ignored me. You blew me off.”

He struggled to make sense of her twenty-first-century slang. “Your requests for an audience—I handled them poorly, I know.”

“I was pissed. I still am!”

“I didn’t know what to do, Cam. Never in my life have I chosen a direction that’s left me so unsure of the outcome. I was comfortable as Kublai, but the thought of being myself around you made me falter.”

She gave a soft whistle. “You’re saying what
you
think.”

“Ah, and that, too—this saying whatever comes to mind. It comes from too much time in your company, I suspect.”

“But it feels good, right?”

Like repeated kicks to the solar plexus,
he thought. “As for your requesting to see me, I knew you’d ask about Banzai’s disappearance, of which I know no more than you, and that only made it worse.”

The affectionate smile she wore faded. “You’re serious about that last part. You really don’t know where she is.”

“No. And not from lack of trying. I didn’t want you to suffer the same fate, which is why you’re here now. My goal was to treat you entirely different from Banzai, allowing you the freedom to come and go from the palace, so that you wouldn’t feel restricted and thus be tempted to leave.”

“Bree can get prickly about that. Feeling confined.”

“Yes,” he said. “She can.”

Cam quieted, turning her gaze away to study her hands, which she’d clasped in front of her. She had a way of carrying herself that was naturally regal. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have guessed she was born to royalty, and like him a victim of a childhood of etiquette lessons and lectures on personal appearance. “It’s wonderful to find such a steadfast protector,” she said finally, looking up. “But why are you so protective over two pilots, two American pilots, whom you’ve never met?”

“Why?” He thought on it. “Why . . . I don’t know why, exactly. Perhaps because you were found here in my kingdom, both of you. And because it was the actions of a group who once ruled over a region here that caused you to be shot down—and I felt compelled to atone for it.” He thought some more. “And because it seemed like the right thing to do.”

Cam touched his hand. “That’s so selfless. So admirable.”

“And because I hate the UCE with every last molecule of my being. Imperialist pigs. Bastards. You cannot trust them. They do not deserve you or Banzai.”

He brushed past her, driving his hands through his hair. “And so here we are, Cam. I hope I can salvage the mess I’ve made of this.” Why? Since the question was
being asked, he might as well answer it, if only to himself. He wanted Cam in his life—in what way, exactly, still baffled him, but he wanted her all the same. “When it comes to lying, I’ve learned all too well that the longer you dig the hole, the deeper it gets. I brought you here because I want to end the dishonesty.”

She closed the distance between them with a few steps. “It’s done, Kublai—
Kyber
. Mercy, it’s going to be difficult getting used to that name, but you got over Scarlet, so I can do this, too. And I’m sure you’ve heard it before, but your eyes are the most arresting shade of gray. Let’s not belabor this. We’re mature adults with a heck of an evening to look forward to, so let’s do that and forget that you lied your pants off, and that I can’t trust you farther than I can throw you.” Her hands came up at his expression, which was surely one of intense dismay. “Kidding.”

Chuckling with relief, he gathered her close, smoothing a hand over her tousled hair.

“You’re still Kublai the Rim Rider to me,” she murmured. “Just with a few more responsibilities.”

“A few,” he agreed dryly, and she smiled up at him.

“The prince of Asia.” She shook her head. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

He slipped a hand behind her head and brought her close for a thorough kiss.

“So was
that,
” she whispered, her eyes still closed and her chin tipped up.

“Come.” He took her by the hand and led her into his sitting room, enjoying her pleased reaction to the massive rugged fireplace, where an enormous white wool rug commanded a place of honor. “Here, Cam, I will make thorough and delicious love to you—”

He stopped short. Cam crashed into him from behind. Peeking around his back, she joined him in staring agape at the rug, where a nude woman slept, sprawled on her stomach.

The woman rolled over and sat up sleepily. “Your Highness.” Undisturbed by Cam’s presence, she struck a come-hither pose.

Would nothing go his way tonight? First Niko, then this concubine. He didn’t dare glance at Cam’s face for fear of what he’d find there.

“Out,” Kyber said to the concubine. “Out now.”

“It’s okay,” Cam pleaded under her breath as the woman gathered her robe and slippers. “She was probably told to come here.”

“I am sure she was!” Hadn’t he ordered the staff to cease sending women to his chambers? Maybe he’d forgotten. Since returning from the Rim, he’d noticed his mind had been in disarray. And he knew precisely whom to blame.

As the woman hurried from the room, Kyber combed his hands through his hair and faced Cam. What next? “Never a dull moment,” he offered somewhat sheepishly.

“I can see that.” The color was high in her cheeks—he couldn’t tell if it was due to embarrassment, anger, or both. “If I sleep with you, are you going to keep sleeping with them?”

He practically stuttered, something he didn’t believe he’d done once his entire life. “I haven’t given it any thought.”

Cam spoke slowly in that Southern drawl of hers. “Did you think I’d be so impressed by all the wealth, all the luxury, and the attention of a handsome prince that
nothing else would matter? That I wouldn’t care if you kept your life just the way you liked it, having sex with these women whenever you weren’t having sex with me?”

He started to reply in the negative, but his own inner voice stopped him. Hadn’t some part of him wished Cam wouldn’t care? That he wouldn’t have to change a thing, and he could keep her in his life?

Hurt flickered in her eyes. She replied before he could. “You can’t even answer that one simple question. You know what? The Mongolians were wrong about you. You don’t eat human flesh; you break women’s hearts.”

“I didn’t think a heart could break unless it was given.”

She gave him a scathing look. “You’re right. I haven’t handed over the whole thing yet, but I’ve given up a pretty big chunk. It happened the night you gave me that massage. You were there for me. You didn’t ask for anything in return. You were kind and generous and funny, and . . . Oh, forget it.”

She turned on her heel and strode back to the open French doors. Then, realizing it would make for a quicker escape, she veered toward the hallway door.

And collided with him. “Cam . . . wait. I didn’t mean any offense.”

“For a man with dozens of women at his beck and call, you know surprisingly little about them.”

“You’re right.”

She appeared as surprised as he was that he’d admitted such a thing.

“I don’t have a lot of experience with women—not in an adult relationship as equals. Wait, that’s not correct; I have absolutely no experience with such matters.”

“How old are you?”

He prayed it wasn’t a trick question. “Thirty years.”

“And, uh, what have you been doing all this time? Ruling?”

“More or less. Providing for my people, hunting down assassins, throwing my brother in jail, only to learn that my mother betrayed us all.”

She blanched. “The story about your father being poisoned is true. Only he was the emperor.”

“Of course it’s true. I know it may be hard to believe, but the only untruth I’ve perpetuated with you is that of my identity.”

“Don’t dress it up with fancy words. Perpetuating untruths is lying.”

He took her hand in his and plunged to one knee. “I have to build your trust all over again, I see.”

“Kyber . . .” Cam appeared uneasy with his stance of contrition.

“Let me begin with the concubines. Yes, they’re at the palace for all the reasons you suspect. For my entire adult life I have indulged in their services.” Even during Banzai’s stay at the palace, he realized, when he thought he fancied the pilot, he’d called a concubine to his chambers every night. “The staff sends them here because they know no different, Cam, but I haven’t so much as touched one since I returned from the Rim.”

“No kisses?”

“No kisses.”

She lifted a brow. “Massages?”

He could feel a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “No. Nothing. By now the staff no doubt believes me afflicted with a rare personal ailment.”

Whose symptoms include focusing on one woman,
he
thought.
Wanting her company only.
Perhaps he ought to get treatment for this malady, lest he begin to entertain thoughts of monogamy and commitment overly much.

“I have not been with a woman since I met you, Cam. I have not kissed a woman, touched, smelled, or tasted one, since I returned from the Rim. I haven’t wanted anyone else but you. Now, will you please let me make love to you, so that I can get you out of my system? Lord knows I’ve waited long enough.” He climbed back to his feet as she threw back her head and laughed.

“You’re irredeemable,” she accused. “Impossible.” He caught a glimpse of her blue eyes sparkling before she leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth. “And in rebuttal to what you said, it’s been me who’s been waiting, me who’s had to put up with your relentless I-wantyou, I-don’t-want-you behavior, me who’s—”

He swept her off her feet. “You who will not have to complain about a lack of intimate attention after this night!”

He carried her, laughing, toward the white rug, then stopped, remembering the woman they’d found there. Turning, he strode with Cam in his arms to his bed. And then he remembered the manicurist who’d last stretched out on those covers. He realized then that he didn’t want his first time with Cam to be where he’d been before with other women. That ruled out the baths, the balcony, and the swimming pool, too.

Cam appeared bemused by his indecision. “Can’t decide where to drop me?”

“No, I have decided.” He strode with her in his arms, uncaring of the amused stares of the few servants out and about this late hour in the residential wing.

“Where? The museum?”

He snorted. “No. Though it’d be an apt location for a relic like you.”

“A relic!” she protested.

“A sexy, beautiful relic.”

He laughed at her delighted outrage. He couldn’t remember a time since his father’s sickness that he’d felt this lighthearted. He certainly couldn’t recall feeling this way with a woman, as if they were actually . . . friends.

He carried Cam all the way to the kitchen wing, through the double swinging doors out to the small herb garden, and on to the door of a soaring glass building.

“A greenhouse?” Cam asked with clear anticipation. “I like it. It’ll be hot and humid. Just like home.”

“Not the greenhouse, though it would be suitable.” He wanted something more than suitable, however. He wanted a place as special as the woman.

Behind the greenhouse was a long, low-roofed building over 150 years old. He carried Cam inside. Like the greenhouse, it was heated, moist and warm, but not uncomfortably so. “This place was a favorite of mine when I was a boy.” He lowered Cam to her feet and watched her take in the scents and sights: the lush landscaping, the thousands of blooms in every shape and color, and the thousands of slumbering butterflies that clung to the stems and leaves.

“By day they fill the air,” he said. “Their wings make a soft, incessant sound, like a sea of dry, rustling paper.”

“This is incredible.” Cam spoke in hushed tones, as if loath to disturb them. “I feel like I’ve stepped into a storybook—a fantasy story.”

He locked the door securely behind them and led her
deeper into the butterfly preserve, following a path he could find with his eyes closed. The thick foliage opened to a small meadow with precisely cut grass, as soft to the touch as his fur blankets. There were chairs to sit on and watch the butterflies, but he chose the lawn.

There he turned to gaze down at Cam’s upturned face. He ran his fingers down her skin. Then he took the butterfly he held between his fingers and let it flutter its wings against her cheek. She laughed softly and closed her eyes. “Butterfly kisses.”

He set the butterfly free, replacing its light caresses with his own. With his fingers he explored the contours of her face and throat, savoring her, learning her. Had he taken her the night of the massage, it would have been swift and hard and driven by hunger. Tonight, though his desire was powerful, he was determined to take his time.

Turning her head into his exploration, she took his fingertip in her mouth and suckled gently. Heat flared in his loins and a soft groan escaped his locked jaw.

They ended up on the grass, though he didn’t quite remember at what point in their kiss the repositioning happened, or who initiated it.

Their clothes came off, his heavier Rim Rider gear and her gauzier blouse and pants. And then she was stretched out on the grass, her curves glowing in the muted overhead light.

He snatched an unwitting butterfly out of the air and held it, wings fluttering, over Cam, letting the tiny creature beat its wings against her bared body. She laughed, her toned stomach muscles flexing. She was long, slender, and athletic, her breasts small, her hips narrow: to him, the most heartrendingly perfect woman he’d ever seen.

“You’re beautiful, Cam,” he told her, pressing his lips to her throat as he inhaled her scent.

“So are you,” she whispered back.

He chuckled. “I have been called many things, but never that.”

She flattened her hands on his chest. “Well, you are,” she said huskily, smoothing her palms over the contours of his torso, his ribs and abs, and then trailing her fingertip from his navel and lower. There, in her quiet yet uninhibited way, she took hold of him, and caressed him along his entire length.