by Chris Lange
“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?”
Chapter Seven
A spear pierced her stomach. She felt her extremities drained of blood, her body struck by the viciousness of his statement.
‘You’re going to the...”
She couldn’t bring herself to end the sentence. Not because he mentioned an establishment people only whispered about, but because imagining him lying with naked women pinched her heart.
Why did she suffer from these bouts of irrationality when she had no claim over him? Opposite her, he looked impatient.
“Yes, I’m going to the brothel. The house of prostitution. The place where women give their favours for a few coins.”
She stared at his cold eyes, at the scar on his cheek. She didn’t want him to go there but had no right to tell him. As conflicted emotions battled inside her, he crooked a finger and beckoned to her.
“Don’t take off your cloak, Ariana. You’re coming with me.”
“What? Really, my lord, I can’t accompany you to such a colourful place. It wouldn’t be proper.”
“Why not? Male prostitutes are also on display over there, so, who knows, you might find a young buck to your liking.”
Was he serious, or did he take pleasure in torturing her? A day earlier, he’d saved her from the hurtful grip of chains, yet now he seemed to rejoice in shocking and distressing her.
“I’ll be happy to settle here until your return.”
“I’m sure you will, but I won’t accept it.”
Without waiting for her to argue her case, he opened the door, and stepped aside with a flourish of his arm.
“Come on, Ariana, out you go.”
He didn’t fool her, in spite of his irreproachable manners. If she didn’t follow him in the next few heartbeats, he’d command her anyway. Still, she couldn’t hold back a last attempt.
“Why?”
“So you can see for yourself what a depraved man I am.”
She must have looked stunned and wide-eyed because he uttered a bark of laughter. No other option coming to mind, she stepped out, climbed down the stairs, and found herself back in the main room of the tavern. Men leered at her and licked their lips as if they hadn’t eaten for days.
The sight of their coveting stares gave her the shivers. Strangely enough, they all averted their gaze when the Lord of the Clans appeared behind her and seized her arm. Although he ignored them, she wondered why they looked reluctant to cross him. Respect? Fear?
“Innkeeper!”
The owner of the establishment rushed toward them. A large smile spread over his face, he grabbed the purse handed to him.
“I’ll be back shortly. Have everything ready.”
“I’ll carry out your instructions myself, my lord.”
“Good man.”
They were out of the inn an instant later. Once in the street, he let go of her arm and started walking toward a large square resembling a marketplace. She kept up with his pace despite the increasing rhythm of her breathing, glad she also possessed long legs.
People strolled in the square, dogs scavenged the gutters for food scraps, and the evening air held the promise of spring.
They rounded a corner to take a downhill street. A cat meowed while the sound of their booted feet echoed in the quiet night. As she observed a woman in the process of ushering two children into a home, he slowed down without reason but kept his attention ahead.
“Coreen bears no grudge against you.”
“It certainly doesn’t feel that way.”
He stopped dead in his tracks, and she had to swerve to avoid bumping into him. Although he caught her shoulder to steady her, she didn’t care much for the air on his face. He leant toward her.
“Aren’t you a self-centred child.”
His mild scolding affected her more than she’d have liked, given that she didn’t mean to speak ill of his dear tribeswoman. When she didn’t answer, he straightened up and started walking again.
“Five years ago, not too far from the city of Borgom, I found Coreen in the dungeons of a fortress belonging to the king. I was riding past, on my way home to the Longrocks Mountains after a long journey, when I heard cries coming from a vent below the castle. The place was abandoned, probably after an armed conflict, so I followed the sounds.”
His voice reflected a sorrow she didn’t know existed in him. Hooked on his story, she walked abreast of him and listened.
“I discovered over fifty prisoners locked in those dungeons, and a few children among them. Some were clan people, others came from the territories of Palance and Moonstill, but they had all been captured, tortured and then left to die. Coreen was one of them. I don’t know what kind of information they tried to extract from her, but I’m sure she didn’t talk.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because they’d ripped her tongue out. It’s the customary punishment for prisoners who won’t spill the beans.”
Bile rose up her throat. Compassion flooded her, immediately followed by an intense sense of guilt.
Coreen didn’t seem eager to talk to her, yet misinterpreting her odd behaviour might have been avoided if she hadn’t judged the tribeswoman on appearances without even taking a moment to consider other possibilities. No wonder he thought her selfish and immature.
“I’m sorry, I had no idea.”
He shrugged without breaking his stride. As they rounded another corner she noticed this street looked brighter, with blinking signs above front doors. She had the impression they neared their destination, but first she wanted to hear the end of the harsh tale.
“Did you set them free?”
“I couldn’t without tools, so they shared the food and water I carried with me. There wasn’t much, but enough for them to hang on until I rode home and came back with my men.”
He paused, his gaze lost into the night. She wanted to ask details, but she let him resume without interrupting.
“We broke them out of their cells, gave them supplies, and treated their injuries. In spite of our efforts, five of them died within the hour. I believe they’d contracted a disease in those wretched dungeons.”
“Dear Gods!”
“Anyway, I offered them free sanctuary in the Longrocks Mountains. They all accepted, although some went to fetch their relatives. They’ve been living with us since then, and I like to think they’ve found some measure of peace. They certainly are committed to me.”
Who wouldn’t be after being rescued by the Lord of the Clans himself? In the light of his story, she got a better grasp of the principles he lived by. P
eople spoke of his merits, recounted his achievements, and felt attracted to this incredible man for good reasons. He was a fair, dedicated ruler and the weakest would always come first in his mind.
A feeling of admiration washed over her. As she breathed hard to keep the strong sensation in check, he halted in front of a red door.
“Here we are. Stay beside me.”
A small woman only wearing a thin, pink negligee opened the entrance of the house of pleasure. She appeared to recognise him, yet she eyed her up and down before letting them in.
“Welcome back, my lord.”
“Good evening, Lorelei. I trust you are well.”
“Indeed, my lord. If you’d follow me, the person is waiting for you in the purple boudoir.”
She didn’t move like a tribeswoman. She widely swung her hips from left to right, and stuck her butt out to the point where she might break her spine.
Still, the ridiculous walk seemed to please him as he watched the flowing curves of her body with evident satisfaction.
The sensuous nymph led them across a sitting room. Bright, loose draperies hung from the walls, along with paintings depicting naked people in the act of mating. In some of the more graphic drawings, several men and women even appeared tangled together.
She averted her eyes to glance toward the other side of the salon. Dressed in transparent attire similar to their host’s, beautiful girls and young men sat on plush couches. They smiled at her.
She moved closer to her lord. Either he sensed her uneasiness, or he expected everyone to acknowledge who she belonged to, but he folded his hand over hers. A simple touch and goose bumps broke out all over her body. Sparks roused in her belly as they headed toward an archway.
They passed under, and the nymph indicated an armchair. Empty for now, the antechamber featured three closed doors. When their host advanced toward the purple one, he let go of her hand.
“Sit tight. I won’t be long.”
She watched him disappear behind the door while the nymph ignored her as she went back to the lounge they had just left.
Alone, she disregarded the offered, comfortable-looking armchair. What she wanted to do was wrong, but she couldn’t help the rising need to spy on him. What was he doing in that boudoir? Who could he meet in such secrecy, but a woman? So, why bring her?
Unable to resist the temptation, she crept toward the purple panel. The Creators must be willing to grant her wishes this day because she spotted the crack between the door and the jamb at once.
She had just enough room to peek inside. Although they spoke too low for her to catch their words, she watched.
The Lord of the Clans delivered a rather long speech while the tall man opposite him only listened. His unfamiliar face expressed worry at some point, but the fleeting emotion didn’t last.
When all appeared to be said, the stranger fished a large purse from his pocket and handed it to Cameron.
A loud noise from the lounge made her heart stutter. Before she could see if he accepted the purse, she ran to the armchair, sat down, and pretended to button up her cloak. But nobody entered the antechamber.
An instant later, the Lord of the Clans came out of the boudoir and signalled her to come to him.
“Let’s go.”
The whole scene felt somehow unreal. Intrigued, she stood up to follow him back to the sitting room, yet kept on mulling over the fact that the stranger hadn’t shown himself.
Things and people didn’t look the same on the other side of the archway. Three newcomers studied the gorgeous, barely dressed women while a fourth already climbed up the stairs with a giggling girl on his arm. If the men knew each other, they kept it to themselves.
What a strange place where people came and went with the same motive, but without exchanging more than a few sentences. Ignoring the transactions going on right under his nose, the Lord of the Clans winked at her and cocked his head toward the top of the stairs.
“Would you like to go upstairs with me?”
What for? She had no particular desire to visit this house, however exotic it might be, and... His meaning sank in.
She gasped. Mouth open, she stared at him while his genuine laughter filled the lounge, and grated on her nerves. Then she shivered when he leant in to whisper in her ear.
“Thank you, Ariana.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t think I’d also find entertainment here tonight.”
Mortified, she let him steer her toward the entrance. The nymph waited by the open door, probably on the lookout for customers. She offered him a dazzling smile as they came up to her.
“Won’t you stay a while, my lord?”
The picture of the perfect gentleman, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers.
“My dear Lorelei, have I ever?”
“I still hold the hope to change your mind.”
“And may hope always be in your heart.”
She grinned as he released her hand. “Goodnight, my Lord. I trust we’ll have the pleasure of seeing you soon.”
Relief flooded her, even though he didn’t reply. Copulating in the brothel wasn’t a habit of his and she felt like thanking the Creators.
At the same time, she got annoyed with herself for reacting this way. He didn’t belong to her, so he had the right to do whatever he pleased in places he wanted to be. Yet all the way back to the tavern, she walked as if a burden had been lifted off her shoulders.
The tumult of excited conversation cranked down a notch when they reached the counter. Always ready to indulge important guests, the innkeeper bobbed his head in a respectful manner.
“I hope everything will be to your satisfaction, my lord.”
“Thank you. Have a good night.”
Without even a glance at the loud surroundings, the Lord of the Clans rushed up the stairs as if driven by an irresistible urge. She climbed the steps after him, but didn’t catch up before he disappeared into their room. What prompted this sudden odd behaviour?
As soon as she crossed the threshold and shut the door behind her, she understood what kind of instructions the innkeeper carried out for him. A lively, warm fire burned in the hearth. Candles lit the four corners of the room. The table had been set for two, and the food looked savoury. A tub full of steaming water sat in front of the fireplace.
He had already thrown his sheepskin coat over the back of a chair. He kicked off his boots while she studied the new settings, then he stretched his arms like a warrior in need of a moment of peace.
“By the Mighty Gods, I’ve been waiting for this since sunset.”
He flung his shirt over his head. The fabric fell to the floor as she realised he meant to bathe in front of her.
As much as she wanted to look away, the sight of his broad shoulders and bulging muscles held her in thrall. She longed to stroke his taut chest, to glide her hand over the tattoo on his hard belly.
Yet reality caught up with her when he dropped his pants. Cheeks so hot they must have turned crimson, she spun round to face anywhere but the place where he stood naked. He chuckled at her back, and his words sent her spiralling into a whole new whirlpool of humiliation.
“Oh, please, don’t put on your righteous looks. Not after handling my cock for half the night.”
Chapter Eight
She prayed to be struck by the wrath of the Creators. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she wished they’d swallow her forever. Spirit her away from the derisive gaze burning the back of her head. Deliver her from the intolerable ordeal of facing him after what she had done.
He’d played her all along. Although she recalled the sound of his regular breathing and his motionless body against hers, he had feigned sleep and let her tamper with his manhood. Why would he do that? To achieve what? Searching for answers wouldn’t help her right now, and she’d better find a way out of her misery. She blinked and tried to control her voice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”
No sound of splashing water came from behind her. In all likelihood, he still stood naked beside the tub. She laced her hands together and squeezed her fingers when she heard his amused chortle.
“Look at me.”
She couldn’t do that. Not when her mind didn’t understand his request. Not when her legs refused to move, and her feet felt made of lead. Besides, she still had a good half of the opposite wall to observe.
“Ariana, look at me.”
Did he make a living out of being annoying? Why wouldn’t he let it go, just pretend the disgraceful scene never happened? She attempted to move, but her numb body failed to respond.
“I will command you if I have to.”
The harsher tone of his voice fractured her trance. Now he probably thought her slow in the brain, on top of being ridiculous. Drawing air through her clenched teeth, she turned round. His intense gaze hit her full force as she used all her strength to withstand it.
“Did you really imagine in that pretty head of yours that I wouldn’t notice your hand around my cock? You masturbated me.”
“But not half the night.”
Did this statement stand as her best defence? He expected an apology, yet all she seemed able to focus on was the duration of the act. She might as well tell him that a part of her had enjoyed the shameful contact while she was at it. After all, the position she found herself in wouldn’t get worse.
“I humbly apologise, my lord. I didn’t mean to...” She waved a hand toward the top of his thighs. “It’s true I woke up holding you, but in no way have I ever intended to disturb your sleep.”
“Yet you troubled me greatly.”
Was he trying to tell her he hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after her indiscretion? That he lost hours of much needed rest because she couldn’t keep her hands to herself? She gnawed at her bottom lip. If only he’d get into that tub and conceal his nudity.
The ease with which he discarded his clothes in public stupefied her. How could anyone enjoy disclosing his private parts, and parading like a stallion? She figured the possibility that he knew he looked magnificent must help. As though her pondering reached him, his cock hardened.