WINDWEEPER (40 page)

"Sounds like a nice guy," Tyne mumbled.

"I'm serious, Brell. Deadly serious. If you act stupid and subservient, if you don't call attention to yourself, chances are he won't mess with you." He turned to the tall man who had joined him. "How badly is he hurt this time?"

"Can't say for sure. I think the bastard broke a couple of his fingers." Sentian started to growl like a cornered animal. The tall one glanced at him and flinched. "Do you remember me?" he asked, shyly.

Sentian was glaring at the man with a hateful, repelled look. "I remember you well! You're Galen McGregor's bastard brother, Jah-Ma-El!"

The man gazed at Sentian with a sad, ironic twist to his large mouth. "Just Galen's bastard brother?"

"Jah-Ma-El is a friend, Sentian," Roget told him. "He's been a great help to me. He loved his country and he loved the Crown Prince of that country, else he wouldn't be here."

Sentian pointed a finger at Jah-Ma-El. "Aye, he loved his prince, all right! The reason he was sent here was because he helped kidnap the princess! And he helped that hell-spawned brother of his keep her against her will!"

"He had his reasons," was Roget's reply.

"Reasons or not, he caused Prince Conar…" Sentian's shout was stopped by Jah-Ma-El's soft whimper of agony.

"A lot of pain. Believe me, I know what I helped do to him."

Roget stared hard at Sentian. He could see why Conar had once chosen this young man to be one of his Elite. There was fire in the young man even though there was currently ice in his eyes. There was courage and strength in his proud body and honor blazed on his handsome face.

"There's a lot you don't know yet, Sentian," Roget warned.

"I know if I get the chance, this son-of-a-bitch will pay for all he did!"

Jah-Ma-El sighed. "I am paying. More than you know. Every day of my life."

One of the guards from the compound walked past, glancing at Sentian. He winked.

Roget wanted to groan. Obviously others had also evaluated Sentian Heil. The man's thick chestnut hair and flashing white teeth, his full lips set in a softly rounded face were just feminine enough to have caught the guard's eye. He had to stop Sentian from calling attention to himself.

"There are men here who will jump you in a heartbeat, and I don't mean to beat you, although that will be part of it. Understand?"

Sentian blanched.

"Understand?" Roget repeated and saw Sentian nod, his face now suffused with a deep scarlet. "Then keep your mouth shut, your eyes down, and don't open your mouth unless you're spoken to. Cause no trouble, make no demands, and above all, keep as low a profile as possible."

Liza stood with her hands gripping the wrought iron of the balcony, intent on the courtyard below the King's master suite. A slight breeze ruffled her long black hair, billowing it out behind her in stray wisps. There was a slight paleness to her ivory complexion with its dusting of rosy blush on the high cheekbones. She looked at her bare feet and thought how cool the stone was.

Raising her head, she stared at the tall wooden structure that dominated the courtyard below. It had become a symbol to her over the last five years. It was something tangible, real, easily seen. Something she could go to and touch when she felt the need. Although no one liked to see her do that—especially Legion—she could not seem to stop herself from periodically making her pilgrimage.

She turned to glance at her husband as he slept. He looked much younger than his thirty-three years. One arm was flung out on her side of the bed; the other lay beside his head, tangled in the pillowcase. There was a slight smile on his face; his eyes moved rapidly back and forth beneath his closed lids with their faint bluish cast. Whatever he dreamed, it was pleasant, for his smile widened and he sighed as though something delicious had been placed before him at his meal.

Once more she looked at the structure in the Tribunal Square. How she wished the damnable thing had never come into being! Legion told her he would have it torn down, but she had pleaded with him to leave it as it was. It was a symbol. When he looked at her, she saw his tears gathering. He nodded once and the structure had not been mentioned again.

True, the thing was useless, had not been used for more than five years, not since
that
day. And it was ugly. It was a sore point with most of their people. Those who passed it would shudder. Those who dared to look at it for any length of time, and few ever did, were vividly reminded.

Liza wanted his people to never forget. Not for one moment did she want them to ignore what had happened there, nor the man to whom it had happened.

"Come away, Dearling," Legion softly ordered.

Liza jumped at his deep voice. She turned. "Did I wake you?"

"The damned cold breeze did coming in through the door." He patted the bed and she closed the door, then padded over to him as he propped himself up. "You spoil me as it is. I should have been up an hour ago." He entwined his fingers with hers, brought her cool hand to his lips.

"And if I didn't spoil you, Milord, who would?" She snuggled against him, laid her head on his broad shoulder.

"Gezelle, more than likely. Or any other lady traipsing about." He wagged his brows.

"Pooh!" she admonished in mock anger. "No other woman would have you, Milord." She dug her elbow into his ribs. "You're too lazy. Look at you…lying in bed at this time of morning!"

Legion shrugged. "I'm supposed to be catered to, woman. I am your King!"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "It's because we all pity you that we take your kingship so seriously."

"Pity, is it?" He flipped his body to the opposite side of the bed, rolling her beneath him. He put his hands on her ribcage, then lowered his head.

"Legion!" she yelped, giggling as he ran his bearded chin down the column of her neck as his fingers playfully dug into her ribs. "Don't!"

"Do you pity me, still, lady?" He chuckled down at her puckered, laughing face.

"
Aye!
" she screeched, trying to pry his fingers from her.

"Good!" he taunted as he wiggled his chin up and down her neck and shoulder.

"
Stop it!
" Her belly twisted in helpless laughter, her chin tingled. She was nearly choking on her ticklishness. He always seemed to know just the right spots to attack.

"Give?" he asked, his tongue flicking out to send her into fresh spasms of uncontrollable laughter.

"
No!
"

"Are you sure?" He thrust his tongue in her ear.

"
Aye!
" she shouted, her left side tingling all the way to her toes. "
I give! I give!"

He turned over, dragging her with him, holding her tightly as he stared into her lovely face. His generous mouth stretched into a slow, conquering, self-satisfied smile. The brows wagged again for good measure.

"Faith, man," she pouted, "you near rubbed the skin off my neck with that scouring pad of yours!" She scraped her hand over her sensitive flesh. "I should have Brelan hold you down while I shave you!"

"Oh, but you loved it, though." He tangled his hand in the ebony spill of her hair. He stared at her until her eyes met his. For a long moment they looked at one another, then he began to pull her head toward him. He gave her a soft, easy kiss, tasting the sweetness of her lips, could feel her answering kiss before he withdrew his lips. He let her pull away, but he kept his fingers in her hair.

"Are you happy?" he asked.

"I am, Milord." A shadow passed over her face, but she smiled to let him know her pain had nothing to do with him. "You make me happy."

"I love you."

"And I love you, Milord."

"You do." There was amazement in his voice as though he could still not believe it was true. A kind of wondrous, childlike disbelief lit his face. "You really do, don't you? You're not just saying what you think I want to hear. You really do love me."

"I really do. You have been dear to me since the day you first threatened me."

Legion's eyebrows shot up. "When did I ever threaten you, lady?"

Liza shrugged. "As I recall, it was by the pond near Lake Myria. If memory serves, you said: 'I will not allow you to hurt him, lady.'"

Legion smiled. "That was the day Rayle, Teal, and I got drunk. 'Twas not a threat, sweeting."

"I took it as such. And what you said on mine and Conar's wedding night certainly was a threat."

"Enlighten me," he grunted.

"Oh, that went something like: 'If anything happens to my brother, you will have me to deal with.'" She smiled sadly. "And when I asked if that meant you would actually do me harm if I should harm him, you said you would, even knowing you'd hang."

"I do remember saying that, but I thought I was talking to The Toad. Had I known it was you, Liza-love, I'd have helped you do harm to him that eve." He chuckled. "If my memory serves, I wanted to beat the shit outta him as it was."

"As did your papa." Liza giggled.

They looked at one another. Other, more painful, memories intruded. Each looked away, silent for a long time.

"It was hard for me to love again, Legion," she said softly, breaking their silence. "I never thought to again."

"I know how much you loved him. I know you always will. It has never been my intention to usurp that love or be in competition with it. I hope you know that."

She claimed his lips, pressed her breasts into the thick matting of hair on his chest. "I understand that, Milord. That is a great part of the reason I have grown to love you so deeply and so truly. You love him, too, and neither of us has ever wanted to let that love fade."

"He wanted us to be together."

"He told me once that, should anything happen to him, he wanted me to go to you. He knew you would protect me."

"He knew how much I loved you," Legion whispered. "That was no secret."

"I know he is watching over us, happy that we are happy, and wishing us well. I have to believe he is content that the woman he loved is in love with the brother he loved most."

"I will love you for as long as there is time, Liza A'Lex," he vowed, his voice gruff. "And even beyond."

Her small hands moved to his bearded face. She cupped his cheeks, pulled him closer to her questing mouth.

Her kiss deepened. He felt the flare of his manhood as it strained toward her. With a low groan in his throat, he eased her over until he was atop her, tangling his legs in the bed covers and very effectively denying that part of him which needed her most from touching her. He struggled with the covers, trying to be suave and controlled, but the more he fought, the more he became entangled in their clutch.

"Damn it!" he spat, kicking at the offending impediment with as much effect as before. He caught one heel in the edge of the coverlet and with a vicious kick, shot it away from one leg. But with dawning exasperation, he realized he couldn't do the same with the other leg, for both Liza and her gown were blocking him, tightly wedged over his thigh. He tried yanking the gown away from him, but it held tight. He tried to roll from it and managed to ensnare his other leg again in the rumpled sheet. With a howl of frustration, he flopped down on the bed, arms flung out, and let out a tremendous sigh of surrender. "Why me?"

Liza raised one brow. "Having troubles, My Liege?"

A wicked grin touched his mouth.

Her eyes widened and she had time enough for a soft, "Oh!" before he grabbed a handful of the coverlet and ripped it away, rolling her onto her belly so he could free his other leg.

Liza landed face down in one overstuffed pillow, her arms under her. She tried to heave herself up only to have him throw one leg over her and sit gently on her upturned rump. She dropped to the mattress with a soft grunt. His big hands went to her shoulders and he began to ease her gown down the creamy expanse of her arms.

"Ah, Liza," he mumbled deep in his throat as he started to plant soft, fleeting kisses down her bare neck and back, over her shoulder blades. Her gown was caught on the peaks of her breasts and would go no further, but he didn't seem to mind. He grinned at her small groan of protest as he continued to kiss the outreaches of her shoulders and upper arms.

"Get…off…me…you…oaf!"

He bit her tenderly on the side of the neck, sending chills and tingles through her belly. "What'd you say?" he asked.

She giggled as his tongue spiraled down the side of her face. "Get off! Get off of me!"

"Okay," he said nonchalantly.

He rolled off her, lay on his side, his head propped on one fist. Liza saw the challenge on his face and flipped over, flinging her arms out beside her and spreading her legs wide. "I am helpless, oh mighty brute. Do with me as you will!" she said dramatically.

Legion covered his mouth with his hand, patting his yawning lips in a broad gesture of unconcern and boredom. "I find I am no longer in the mood." He sprang out of bed and stooped to retrieve the coverlet. Wrapping it around him like a toga, he went to stand at the open door to the balcony. "Do you not think it a lovely day?" he asked in a cultured, kingly tone.

"Oh, Legion," she sang to him.

"We could do with a spot of rain."

"Legion!" came the staccato burst, whispered with force.

He turned and his breath caught in his throat. She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, leaning back on one hand. There was a teasing smile on her full lips and she was stark naked. She crooked her finger at him. "Come here," she whispered, her voice a husky challenge.

She watched the gleam in his eyes grow red hot; her smile deepened. She had him now. But to make damn sure she did, she looked down at her body, then back at him, lingering on that section of his naked anatomy just below center. She could have sworn she saw the coverlet pulse forward as she ran her tongue over her parted lips.

Legion stood transfixed. He took in the wildly tousled hair, the swollen lips, the straining points of her coral breasts, the softly flaring hips, the long tapered legs. He watched her fling her long hair over one creamy shoulder and his eyes flew to the jiggle of her bare breasts. Silently, he opened the coverlet wide, holding out his arms to her, and waited.

"Ho, hum," she sighed and she got off the bed. "If I must, I must." With head lowered, feet dragging, she ambled forward.

"Woman," Legion warned, one thick brow lifted. "If you make me come get you…"

He had no time to finish his threat. She ran at him, flung her arms around his neck and hungrily claimed his mouth.

* * *

Brelan sat on the edge of the platform in the Tribunal Square. He, too, had a need to regularly visit it, though he wished Legion had torn down the damned thing, burned it, scattered the ashes to the Four Winds and beyond. For some dark, unrelenting reason, he found his way here today and wondered why he felt so close to Conar at this spot, and why he should even want to.

He looked away from the gallows to the right and up at the whipping post. Neither rain nor snow nor buffeting winds nor peeling heat had stripped the beam of those terrible stains. He felt a chill go through him.

A movement in the King's master suite caught his attention. There in the window of the balcony stood Legion. For a brief moment, their eyes met, held, and then Legion turned.

He sat watching his brother, puzzled by the man's odd behavior. When Legion opened his arms, flinging the quilt wide, and just stood there, Brelan's nose wrinkled. "The man's gone stark, raving mad," he whispered.

Standing, Brelan stared up at the queer antics of a man he had always thought rather intelligent and normal.

When the quilt closed forward, he caught a sheen of blue-black hair peeking out, just under his brother's chin, and understood. His heart lurched painfully in his chest.

He was happy for her, of course. At least, that was what he tried to tell himself. She had found great happiness with Legion, with his brother. With Conar's brother. She could laugh again. She had found her life again.

As though to underline that thought, a female's childish giggle drifted down to him. He turned, his gaze going automatically to the whipping post. That was no better, so he started back to the keep.

He wondered what bothered him the most. Liza's newfound love; the sight of Legion with the woman Brelan loved more than life itself; not being allowed to claim his daughter; or the whipping post that had taken away the brother he had loved so dearly…

Brelan stopped dead in the middle of the courtyard. The hair along his neck prickled. Sweat in his suddenly damp hands scalded him. His hands trembled; his heart thudded. He knew if he looked into a mirror, he would see a ghastly white face devoid of its natural ruddy color.

"The brother I loved so dearly?" he questioned. "Where did that thought come from?"