Was she married or in love? Have a family of her own? He may never know. All he did know was he'd failed to protect her by failing to dispatch the assassin at the stream before his half-brother Sandread spirited her away. Now who knew what affliction beset her mind. Jalomar grunted, reveling in the assailant's final breath as he collapsed into the water with a sword stuck in his chest—one less henchman.
Ramona moaned and rolled onto her back, exposing the smooth flesh above the swell of her breasts. Jalomar watched her chest rise and fall. She was naked beneath the covers. Having caught a glimpse of her charms at the stream, he couldn’t help but reach out to pull the covers aside for a full view. His hand faltered as his conscience warned him to pull away, but the alcohol quickly suppressed any reservation he may have had sober. Ever so gently, he peeled back the layers of the cocoon hiding her splendor.
Taut, pink nipples met his gaze. His shaft hardened instantly, painfully aware that nothing more than a peek would occur this night. Yet he couldn’t help but will his touch to wake her. When she didn’t respond, his fingers dared to dip further and circle her belly button. He stripped the rest of the covers down to her feet. A thatch of dark curls covered her mons. “The fate of mankind lies here in my bed, and all I can do is watch you dream.”
Ramona once again moaned; her legs twitched. “Jalo...”
He stroked her sweat dampened hair, tucking the much shortened strands behind her ears. She felt just as hot as before, if not hotter. She whined his name for a third time. Whatever she dreamt disturbed her immensely. Her anxious cries turned into pants and moans...of pleasure? He cupped her chin and brought his face to hers. “I am here, my petite,” he murmured against her mouth.
“Sandread...please... Take me!”
Ramona's breath quickened; her head tossed from side to side as if she struggled against someone. Had Sandread defiled her before she’d escaped? He'd kill the bastard.
Nay.
Betrayal boiled his blood. She was moaning and louder than before. He grit his teeth against the realization. He may have been the one to find the maiden, but she was not to be his. He quit the room in silent rage, leaving her to dream of her lover alone.
Chapter Sixteen
Ramona rested her head against the tub’s iron rim and inhaled the deep scent of lavender as Breandra scrubbed the fragrant shampoo deep into her scalp. Her body relaxed, almost to the point of comatose. She sighed as she sank down into the welcoming water.
“I am so glad you're home. The last couple of days have been totally weird,” Breandra said.
“How so? Everyone treated you well, right?”
“Oh yes. That’s exactly what’s so weird. Mrs. Steele has been with me and my sister every day. It’s like she’s become a freaking shadow.”
The old bat was being nice to the children? Yeah. That was definitely weird. She bit back a nasty retort about the old crone’s character. Regardless of her dislike of Clarissa Steele, she'd not spoil Breandra's innocent view of people. “I'm sure she was already a nice person, just scared and confused like most of us. She just…reacted differently. Now she's had time to adjust and rethink her situation and attitude.”
Ramona slid beneath the water to rinse the suds in her hair away. Convinced she was finally clean enough, she climbed from the tub and grabbed the cotton drying sheet draped across the nearby stand and wrapped herself tightly. “Do me a favor. Can you get my brush from the nightstand?”
The chill air in the room guided Ramona to the fireplace. She held her hand out when she heard Breandra come up from behind. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
A throaty grunt replied.
Ramona clutched the sheet to her bosom and turned around slowly. “Lord Jalomar,” she acknowledged. He stared, but said nothing. As if someone controlled the strings to her arms, she opened the wraparound to expose her nudity. What the hell am I doing? The cool air hit her damp skin, causing a rush of goosebumps to cover her flesh. She willed her arms to close and conceal her nudity, yet her limbs refused to cooperate. Heat flushed her cheeks. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” she murmured as she turned her head away from his scrutinizing gaze. The weight of her arms returned as if the puppet master had finally released the strings. She hurriedly rewrapped the sheet around her body.
Jalomar crushed her against him. His chain mail chaffed the tender flesh of her hardened nipples through the thin fabric as his hands roamed the exposed skin of her back and shoulders, and trailed down to the curve of her buttocks. He flicked the tip of his tongue against her gasping mouth, tracing the contour of her lips. Her knees buckled as his warm breath caressed her neck. His mouth devoured hers, and she temporarily forgot he was Lord Jackass.
Perverse laughter filled the room. “What do we have here?”
Jalomar thrust Ramona behind him and unsheathed the sword at his side. “How did you gain access to my castle?”
Sandread snarled. “Your pathetic excuse for guards still live, if that’s what you mean. I imagine the headache they will awaken with might serve as some form of punishment.”
“What do you want?”
“I come for the woman, brother.” Sandread wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something offensive. “The very woman I find you spoiling with your foul touch.”
Ramona slowly backed away. Brothers? Her gaze bounced between the two men. With the exception of their eyes, their coloring and build was nearly identical. How could she have missed something so important, so obvious?
Jalomar spoke through gritted teeth. “She is mine. It will be over my dead body you take her from me!”
“I was hoping it would come to such.” He withdrew his sword and lunged for Jalomar.
Ramona watched openmouthed from the corner. Sandread drew first blood, slicing Jalomar's thigh open inches above his knee. Jalomar psyched a left thrust, rounded about and grazed Sandread's chest with the tip of his blade.
Sandread laughed as blood seeped through his chainmail. “Is that all you have? I've received more crippling wounds practicing with the children of Dika!”
Jalomar ignored the insult and concentrated on each blow. Sandread continued to jeer as they circled one other, thrusting and parrying. “Did she tell you she wanted me? I could have taken her the other day on the cold, hard filthy ground.”
Jalomar's nostrils flared.
“Ask her, Jalomar. I tasted the fruit first, and she responded to me like a moth to the flame, brother.”
She lowered her head to hide the rising heat in her cheeks. He wasn't technically lying. She'd led him on, nearly falling to her own deceit. “Shut up, you jerk!” she yelled from the corner.
Jalomar’s head snapped her direction—a mistake realized too late.
Using the distraction to his advantage, Sandread leapt at Jalomar and succumbed his brother with the butt of his sword to a temple. Jalomar crumpled to the floor.
Ramona threw herself on top of Jalomar, covering as much of his massive frame as she could with her body. “Sandread...please...take me!”
“Take you for what?” Sandread asked as he licked his lips.
“Take me in exchange. I'll come willingly. Please don't kill him.”
“Stand up,” he ordered.
Ramona hesitated, but when he waved the pointed end of his steel above Jalomar’s chest, she obliged.
“Drop the sheet, my gem.”
She shook her head no.
He rubbed his jaw. “You said you’d come willingly. So far, I'm failing to see any compliance.” He shrugged. “I could simply slit his throat and take you anyway.”
Would he dare? Bad guy. Duh. She closed her eyes, dropped the sheet, and awaited his ravishment. Nothing came. She counted to one hundred and then opened her eyes. The room had been replaced by forestry, and she was no longer naked and vulnerable.
The pink silk caressed her skin like a gentle breeze, and she couldn't resist running her hands down the length of her torso. The low-cut bodice and puffy sleeves made her feel like a p
rincess from a fairytale. I am dreaming. Gladys had often preached the importance of listening to one’s dreams; they were a way into the soul.
Ramona examined the immediate environment, looking for any small clue as to what this part of her dream may be trying to tell her. A cave off in the distance peeked out from behind a thin curtain of shrubbery and vines, catching her interest. She followed the rocky path laid out in front of her. Squeezing her shoulders together, she pushed herself through the narrow cave opening. Iridescent blue walls shimmered against the darkness. She ran her hand along the jagged stone; it felt like velvet. A squared, stone altar rested in the center. No other exit or entrance could be seen. She approached the altar with caution. A neatly wrapped blanket wiggled, but she couldn’t see what moved beneath. Curiosity lulled her closer. An infant’s cry came from the platform. “No!” She ran the last few steps, and snatched up the bundle. Nothing but an empty blanket. “What the hell?” Her own mind was playing a cruel joke on her. She threw her head back and screamed, “What do you want from me? I can't help you if you can't help me!”
A soothing hum filled the cave, its melodic lullaby reverberating off the walls. A circle of fire ignited and surrounded the altar, trapping Ramona inside. On the other side of the fire, she saw Jalomar searching for something as he dug through a substantial amount of rubble. His image flickered, dissipating into nothingness as if he'd been an imprint of a ghost momentarily lapsing into her reality. The fire died, and Ramona was left in complete darkness. Two small lights in the far corner moved toward her at a slow and steady pace.
They resembled animal eyes at first, like a wild tiger stalking its prey. Cruel, female laughter accompanied them and grew louder as they closed in, assuring her they belonged to a person. The cave lit up with one brilliant flash, and Ramona was able to glance at the owner of those perturbing eyes. Even though the woman she saw was beautiful, her physical loveliness did nothing to hide the evil that resounded from her soul. She instantly knew this mysterious woman would cause her harm.
“Wake up, Ramona!”
Ramona recognized the voices as friendly, but was unable to associate a face or name. “Ramona, we need you to wake up!”
The pleas faded into the background, slowly quieting like the end of a song was wont to do. Ramona stood one-on-one with the unknown female. The woman's red gown came to life. Tentacles of fabric snapped out and cut into Ramona's skin, leaving bloody welts in their wake.
The woman reached for Ramona, an ugly snarl distorting her features. “Give me the child!”
Chapter Seventeen
The dim candlelight proved devastating to the throbbing in Ramona’s head, making her reconsider the idea of waking as she struggled to keep her eyes open.
“Welcome back, milady,” Greselda said softly. “You gave us a cause for scare.”
Managing a weak smile, Ramona pulled herself to a sitting position. Everything blurred together. The little bits she did see weren’t familiar. “Where the hell am I?”
“You be in Lord Jalomar's chamber.”
Jalomar…
Flashbacks of Jalomar’s hands roaming her body had her blushing beneath Greselda’s scrutiny. She cleared her throat. “Where is Lord Jalomar then?”
“You don't want to bother the lord at this hour. He's not proper company anyway. The idiot has taken to the cups, and has locked himself in the library since you fell into the fevered sleep three days ago.”
Three days? How could she have slept for three days? She tried to swallow, but a lack of saliva caused her to gag on what felt like a cork at the back of her throat. “Could I have some water?”
Greselda poured her a goblet of water from a ceramic pitcher on the nightstand beside the bed. “That's a good lass. Plenty of drink over the next few days. You're going to need all you can take in to recover from the fever. That and plenty of bed rest.”
Bed rest? Not. No time for bed rest. She had to find Jalo and tell him about her dream…well, parts of it anyway. He needed to be warned about the woman in red and the baby on the altar, which she was even more certain was Breandra’s baby sister. She sent Greselda a pointed glance. “I need to see Jalomar. Immediately.”
“Drink the water,” Greselda said with hands on hips. “Please, milady.”
Ramona downed the water. The coldness soothed her throat. She held out the empty cup for a refill. It was obvious the aged housekeeper wasn’t going to let her up anytime soon. Maybe she could negotiate? “Can you fetch Jalomar for me then, Gressy? Tell him it's super important that I speak with him.”
The matron tsked her tongue as she refilled Ramona's cup. “I told you he's not to be disturbed. I am sure whatever it is can wait until the morrow.”
Ramona pouted. “But what if it can't? What I have to tell him is extremely—”
Greselda clapped her hands together, interrupting Ramona midsentence. “Drink your water, milady.”
Bathed and dressed in a fresh linen nightgown, Ramona allowed Greselda to tuck her into bed as if she were a child, while Megan snored blissfully unaware beside her. The bossy chamberlain had refused to lift the bedridden restriction, but conceded in letting Ramona return to her own bedroom. Though she had no intention of remaining, only long enough to ensure Greselda's retreat down the hall.
Ramona’s bare feet slapped against the stone floor as she navigated her way through the winding corridors of the sleeping castle and headed for the west wing. She’d paid careful attention to the route Greselda had taken, and was confident she could find her way back with ease. Her vision couldn’t wait any longer. She hoped with Jalomar’s knowledge of the prophesy, he'd be able to help her interpret its meaning.
Several wrong turns later, Ramona found the correct hall leading to Jalomar's personal annex. She stepped lightly in fear of alerting any nearby guards. She most definitely wasn’t in the mood to argue and push her way through one of his watchdogs. Light peeked from beneath the library's thick oaken door, attesting to someone’s presence. She knocked softly. When no answer came, she gave the door a little shove and poked her head inside.
Wearing nothing but a pair of pants, Jalomar sat at the desk, leaning over a pile of books and papers. Her heart fluttered at the sight of his wide shoulders. A single white scar beneath his left shoulder blade popped out against the deep tan of his skin. Had he gotten it in battle? Ramona swallowed the question. Focus. She stepped inside and shut the door. “Hey. Can we talk?”
“What do you want?” he asked without even an upward glance.
Enter the return of Lord Jackass. “Why, yes, Jalo. I am feeling much better. Thank you for asking.”
He grunted. The chair screeched against the stone floor as he pushed himself away from the desk. Their eyes clashed in a cold staring contest. “Aye, Greselda told me of your recovery. It pleases me to know you are well. Why are you here?”
“I actually came to talk to you about…my dreams.” Fresh heat sprang to her face as she debated on telling him the part where they were about to do the nasty…the horizontal mamba…bump uglies. A sneer teased the corner of his pressed lips. She took a deep breath. Nevermind. It’s not like it would ever really happen, right? “I…I…well you see…dreamt of you at first, and then the man who took me, Sandread. Your brother?”
Jalomar’s jaw set. “Aye, he is my older half-brother.”
Damn. She’d almost hoped it had been a farfetched hallucination brought on by fever. She found herself comparing Jalomar to Sandread. Almost identical, with the exception of their eyes. It was no wonder her subconscious had pieced it together. As for their subtle differences, Jalomar held a more rugged appeal. Sandread’s leaner frame indicated a higher degree of agility and swiftness as compared to Jalomar’s stature of physical brute strength—like a barbarian. His intense stare urged her to continue. “After that, I found myself in the woods. There was a—”
Forced, angry laughter erupted from Jalomar. With two strides, he crushed her body into his, cupping her face and forcing her t
o strain her neck to look up at him. “I think you’re avoiding some parts, Ramona. Fill me in on the pieces of your dreams that made you moan. Begging for your lover while you slept in my bed.”
She gulped, paralyzed by the knowledge that he might have an inkling to the perversions she’d conjured while trapped inside her mind. She was known to talk in her sleep at times.
He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. His breath smelled of sweet peaches and alcohol. She tried to push him away, but his grip tightened. Bewilderment stole her senses, and she couldn’t help but remain in his embrace.
“Tell me what you want. I can give it to you, if you’ll let me.”
Her legs buckled with the weight of Jalomar’s words. He does know. Waves of excitement rushed her body. The flimsy nightgown did little to hinder the feel of his naked chest against hers. The same unexpected waves of pleasure from her dreams shot through her body. Standing on tiptoes, she raised her lips to his expectantly. She shivered when their breaths combined, and waited for him to make the next move.
“Do not tempt me,” he warned, his body tensing.
If only he knew it was he who tempted her, seducing her during comatose dreams. An uncanny notion occurred to her. What if her newest visions had been sent by the Vespa? They apparently liked to communicate that way. Was Jalomar destined to be more than her guardian? What if…shit! What about Sandread? She had to tell Jalomar about her interaction with the dark, albeit handsome, villain. About his…er, slightly provoked advances and promises to return.
Jalomar continued to stare down at her, his hold tightening when she dared to pull back. “I need to tell you something about Sandread,” she said with a calm her body refuted.
His scowl deepened to match the darkening of his eyes. “May the Vespa spare you if you utter that bastard’s name one more time, Maiden.” He gave her a shake. “I demand you tell me what transpired between you two in the forest.”
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