Unexpected Bride (Warlord Series Book 6)

by Michelle Howard

  As the Overlord walked past, warriors dropped to one knee in obeisance, heads bowed. Melane, along with the household servants, formed a single line on the steps leading into the house and lowered her head. Boots thumped by and the smell of sweat wafted on the air with the passing of each man. A heavy scent of musk coated with a touch of dark wood filled her nostrils. She tipped her head up, catching a glimpse of Saran who strode by without a glance in her direction. Bitter tears burned but she blinked them back.

  “Melane, hurry,” Lanna chided, joining her. “We must serve cider immediately. They are parched from the journey and in need of food.”

  Though her heart lurched, Melane straightened. “Yes, Lanna.”

  ***

  The Overlord’s arrival kept everyone busy and Melane didn’t have time to dwell on Warlord Saran. After loading a tray of dirty dishes on the counter to be washed by those assigned the task, she stepped into the hall outside of the kitchen and leaned on the wall for a moment of respite. Damp strands of hair stuck to her face but she only swiped at them, too tired from being on her feet running back and forth throughout the evening.

  “It would seem you are no longer in favor.”

  A chill stole over Melane. She glanced to the side and faced a smirking Warlord Bran. She wasn’t sure why he pressed his suit with her when many wanted him. She pretended to misunderstand his words. “I but take a moment. Lanna has everything in order for now.”

  “Then you are free in more ways than one.” He stood directly in front of her, blocking any attempt for Melane to leave. It also made it difficult to go around without her body touching his.

  She swallowed and folded her arms over her chest to hide their trembling. “What do you have need of, Warlord Bran?”

  If Melane hoped to discourage his attention, she’d chosen the wrong question. A cruel smile slanted across his lips as he leaned forward and braced a forearm on the wall beside her head. The move caged her in further. With his other hand, he traced a finger over her cheek and tapped her mouth. “This is more to my liking.”

  She jerked her face to the side and away from his touch. “You overstep, Warlord!”

  He chuckled and gripped her chin in a rough grasp, turning her back to meet his eyes. “You best have a care. It would seem you no longer share Warlord Saran’s bed. You would do best to be nice to me. I have been known to be generous in bed play.”

  “We would not suit.” Melane hoped to achieve a polite tone but her disdain must have come through.

  Gaze darkening, he emitted a low growl. Melane prepared to be blasted by his ire, her body tensing. To her surprise, he stiffened and released her chin, looking over his shoulder. Voices reached her right before Neera and a laughing servant came around the corner. The women, smiles on their faces, stopped upon seeing them.

  In that moment, Melane realized how compromising it must look. Her back against the wall and the stubborn Warlord pressed onto her front. Cheeks heating, she pushed at his chest, almost crying in relief when he moved.

  Chelle giggled, shooting Warlord Bran a seductive look. “You have the best luck, Melane.”

  Only Neera kept her gaze on Melane’s face, her brows arched in question. Neera knew how she felt about the aggressive Warlord and his unwanted advances. She would not mistake this.

  “I will return to the kitchen. My break is over.”

  Melane eased to the side but Bran grabbed her upper arm. “I am sure Lanna will not mind if you give me more of your time, Melane.”

  Oblivious to the undertones, Chelle waved her hands about. “Go with him, Melane. None will mind and I will cover for you with Lanna.”

  Melane’s fear ratcheted up. The woman thought to help but she missed the color leeching from her face. Melane almost collapsed in relief when Neera added, “I think not. I will join Melane to help. Lanna is a stern task master when the Overlord is in residence.”

  Lies. Lanna worked fair and honest with all inside servants. It made her good in her role and explained why none wished to usurp the position. But Bran would not know this.

  Warlord Bran released Melane’s arm with a glare for Neera but muttered under his breath and rubbed Melane’s cheek again. “I will find you later to finish what we started. You will find me pleasing.”

  Dread rolled over her. Why did the Warlord persist in following her when her lack of desire was obvious? Melane managed to get around his bulk toward Neera though her breasts rubbed along Bran’s bare chest. He leered as they walked back into the safety of the kitchen area.

  “What was that about?” Neera asked as soon as they entered.

  Melane shook off the ugly feeling left behind. “The same.”

  “You must speak of his behavior to Warlord Saran.” They headed for the carving station where cooks prepared the large array of meat for tonight’s festivities.

  “Warlord Saran and I are not together.” Bitterness coated her statement. She’d spoken to her friend of the news first thing this morning. Apparently the gossip spread quickly but she’d held her head up when questioned. “Remember?”

  Neera shook her head, gripping Melane’s hand to keep her from moving away. “He would not like Warlord Bran seeking you out with cruelty. You must know he would speak with him on your behalf.”

  Melane didn’t know what to think any more. Her throat thickened. “I am fine Neera and I thank you for the concern.”

  Her friend stared at her a moment longer. “Promise you will speak to Warlord Saran if this continues.”

  Melane could only nod but she wasn’t sure Saran wished to have anything to do with her. She refused to run to him over every little thing now that they no longer shared invitation. Hopefully Bran would understand and let it be.

  Another shiver coursed over her shoulders and though the pace of the kitchen distracted, Melane never stopped glancing over her shoulder at the door.

  Chapter 5

  Later that night, Saran studied his brother and knew something was amiss. “Is all well, Vaan?”

  “What news of Kuran do you have?” his brother countered.

  Seated to the right of Vaan, Saran wasted no time in answering. “Casin reports that he escaped to the unclaimed lands of Kaban. He runs like the hapfe dung he is.”

  Vaan grunted and propped an arm on his throne like chair to rest his chin. Mikayla, sitting on his other side, leaned over and pressed a hand to Vaan’s thigh. “Don’t dwell on it, Vaan.”

  If anything her words darkened his brother’s expression. Vaan placed his hand on top of hers and Saran noted the squeeze he gave it before releasing her. “Ahal, mate. So be it. It will rest for now. But I will speak with my brother later on this matter.”

  Mikayla rolled her eyes, drawing attention to her lack of brows or lashes. Neither distracted from her interesting features. She stood and kissed Vaan on the temple. “I’m going to speak with Kavan and Balal. The youngling will need to retire soon. The trip here wears on them.”

  Saran didn’t attempt to regain his brother’s attention until Mikayla walked away. She stopped next to the two Warlords who kept their hardened gazes on Erana and Arane as the more curious inched closer to catch a glimpse of them. Both girls seemed unmindful of the attention they drew and happily ate the food on their plate while occasionally throwing clumps of vegetables on the floor and stuffing chunks of meat into their puffy cheeks. Mikayla grimaced and took a seat beside them. She brushed a hand over each of their long black braids.

  Reassured his mate was not far from his sight, Vaan sighed heavily and faced Saran once more. “Know you what bothers me most?”

  The question caught Saran unaware. An expression he couldn’t read crossed the hardened face so like his own. “I know not.”

  “I would take her fear away if I could but alas her worry would still linger.” Vaan leaned back in his chair and once more his gaze went to Mikayla. Almost as if driven by a compulsion he could not resist.

  “When we spoke last, you mentioned a plan for vengeance.”


  His brother grunted and spread his long legs wide. They were close in height but Vaan was taller by mere inches. They favored in looks and none could mistake their bloodline. As sons of Teag Galip, they were larger than many Kabanian warriors and prone to succumbing to the battle rage, Fenal, named after their long dead grandfather.

  “Kavan wishes to mete out the punishment to Kuran and I find his reasons hard to discount.”

  Assigned to guard Mikayla after she and Vaan joined, Warlord Kavan and Warlord Balal applied themselves diligently to their duty. By extension they guarded the youngling from the time of their birth.

  “You speak truth.” It would be the right of Warlord Kavan to demand retribution or Warlord Balal for that matter.

  Neera came over with a dish laden tray, interrupting their speech. She inclined her head to Vaan, then Saran. Her gaze strayed back to his brother and color bloomed in her cheeks as she extended her offerings.

  “Overlord?”

  There was a mixed selection of meats covered in savory spices, side pudding dishes and a bowl of boiled grain. The scent awakened Saran’s appetite. He’d missed the morning and noon meal.

  Vaan shook his head. “My thanks, Neera but my mate saw to my needs.”

  Saran almost missed Neera’s flinch. The corners of her mouth dipped then she recalled her training. “As you wish, Sire.”

  It wasn’t until she faced Saran and extended her tray with much less enthusiasm that he recalled the past Neera shared with Vaan for bed play. Fighting back a grin, he plucked several juicy bits of meat and stuffed them into his mouth before waving her away.

  The moment she left them alone, Saran elbowed Vaan in his side. “Me thinks she is awaiting a sign you will leave your little Raasa and return to her arms.”

  Vaan snorted. “It would be a long wait indeed, brother. She was good sport but holds not my interest. Mikayla is all I have need of.”

  From their vantage point at the front of the room, Saran had a view of everyone. Neera returned to a low side table that ran along one wall of the huge area. Melane walked toward her, carrying an empty tray and their heads bent as they spoke.

  Melane wore the same blue and silver dress as the other female servants present. Curling letters in silver thread formed a row of G’s which ran along the hem of her blue ankle length skirt. Nothing he had not seen before time and again but she stirred him just by crossing his path. His toqa rose in an impressive display and tightened his leathers. Melane may not be what he wished for in his future but his physical response to her could not be denied.

  “You are welcome to Neera, if she has your interest.”

  Vaan’s statement pulled Saran’s attention away from Melane. His brows furrowed. “What say you?”

  “Neera. Have a care not to break her heart though. I owe her a debt for helping Mother save me.” Vaan’s mouth tipped up at the corner. “My memory is not dull and she would receive you if you but spoke of it.”

  Take his brother’s former lover? For whatever reason, his toqa wilted at the thought of the bland Neera and bed play. “You honor me but I must refuse.”

  Vaan nodded at the dark-haired women. “Then mayhap it is the other who draws your eye. Although if memory serves, Melane has always refused all warriors.”

  No longer. Much to Saran’s surprise he had been the first and only warrior to share her bed. The memory continued to have the power to rouse his lust and his toqa lurched and hardened to the point he cupped himself. Vaan roared with laughter, drawing gazes their way.

  When his humor died down, his brother leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Speak truth, Saran. Would you have her to bride?”

  Desire for Melane pulled at him. They no longer shared an invitation though. He needed to start looking for a woman who would stand by his side. “No.”

  Vaan’s brows shot up. “You long for another?”

  “I long for Mikayla.” The words slipped past his lips without thought and by the time he realized how it sounded, it was too late.

  His brother’s fist slammed into his face, knocking Saran from his chair and crashing to the floor. Vaan leaped onto him, reared back his arm and snarled. “You would dare say such to me?”

  Saran remained flat on his back never looking away from Vaan’s burning black eyes. “Hold, Vaan. You mistook my meaning.”

  Vaan lowered his head until his face was inches above Saran and growled, “Your words show a lack of honor. How can I mistake that? Mikayla is mine!”

  This time the fist plowed into his cheekbone and pain exploded inside his skull. Saran’s temper sparked. Fighting was a common place occurrence but a match between the Overlord and his brother would cause much talk.

  “Listen to me,” Saran whispered harshly from flat on his back. “I do not crave your mate. I meant no insult. I wish for one such as her. A bride at my side not behind me as Kabanian females are wont to be.”

  Vaan froze, fist at the ready to deliver another punishing blow. “What?”

  Saran shoved Vaan from his chest and knew he succeeded only because Vaan allowed it. Vaan ended up crouched beside him, glaring at Saran.

  “Vaan!” Mikayla’s shout broke the silence.

  Vaan didn’t look up, holding Saran’s gaze. He raised his arm, palm flat. “Do not come closer, Mikayla. Heed my words, she’ma.”

  Saran risked a glance and noted Mikayla’s path blocked by Kavan and Balal. She strained to peer around their shoulders, green gaze frantic.

  “I would have what you have, brother. Not who you have.” Deeming it safe for the moment, Saran pushed up to a sitting position.

  Vaan studied him a moment longer, anger simmering. At last he stood and reached down to grab Saran’s forearm, yanking him to his feet with a great pull. “Do not jest with me in such a manner again.”

  “Jest!” In retaliation, Saran punched Vaan in the mid-section, pleased when he received a gasp for his efforts. “It was no jest but a simple truth I shared.”

  Vaan smirked, recovering from the blow smoothly. “Your words were not clear.”

  Another punch to Vaan’s gloating face. One Vaan could easily have ducked but his head snapped back on his neck. He chuckled and rubbed at his jaw. A reddish streak marred his cheekbone. “That is two brother. Do not push for more or we will give them a worthy display this night, yes?”

  Anger surged. A fight to take away the feeling of regret crawling through his gut from ending things with Melane. Pain to deflect his mind from circling in search of something he could not find. Saran’s hands clenched, his heart kicked up and the thought had merit.

  “Saran.” Vaan eyed him with arched brows, legs braced and folded his arms over his chest. “You want to fight me?”

  He didn’t. But he did. Or more like he needed the outlet for the growing disquiet which wouldn’t settle. One thing held him back. The sounds of Mikayla struggling and her sudden cry.

  “Vaan!”

  Just his name but enough to send chills down Saran’s back. She spoke his brother’s name with a mix of reverence and love that had no limit. Nothing could describe how much was conveyed in the one word and it drove home all that was lacking in his world.

  He wanted that. But where and how would he find a woman who would give of her heart and express such feelings for him? If only Melane showed the desire to be stronger.

  “Hettel,” Vaan cursed and shoved Saran to the side. “Come to me, Mikayla.”

  Her over protective guards let her through and she ran directly toward Saran instead. He stiffened, eyes flashing to Vaan. When she stopped in front of Saran, her tiny fists pounded his chest. Caught off guard, he barely felt the slight taps.

  He did feel the small dagger she held to his mid-section and the low murmur was clear. “Do not ever attack him again.”

  Next, she launched herself at Vaan and his brother’s rich chuckles spilled forth. “She is a fierce one, my mate.”

  The Overlord who showed no mercy to his enemies hefted her in his a
rms and high above his head with a loud cheer. He held her there, suspended in the air. Mikayla hissed and her split tongue flickered in annoyance but her hands stroked the loosened hair about his face with gentleness. The dagger was once more tucked away in an arm sheath, Saran noted.

  When Vaan lowered her back to her feet, they argued in low tones. Saran tried but was unable to decipher the words. It took but a moment to understand why. They spoke the Raasa tongue. Sibilant words rolled from Vaan’s tongue with an ease that hinted at his fluency in a language he must use often.

  Once more the jarring effect of watching the two interact hit Saran. He was not alone in this. Despite the revelry and drunken state, no one missed the Overlord’s love for the woman in his arms. Against his will, Saran’s gaze sought Melane and received another jolt. She stared directly at him. It was not her usual stare of admiration tinged with desire. The look on her face would disturb him long after this night for many reasons. It spoke of pain and disappointment, tempting Saran to go to her for an explanation though he did not know why.

  Instead, he signaled a passing servant and filled his mug with more cider. “Drink! Long live the Overlord!”

  Mugs were lifted and cheers followed his shout. Tonight he planned to join the masses and drink to oblivion.

  Chapter 6

  Over the next few days of his stay, Saran managed to spend uninterrupted time with Vaan one on one. Growing up apart for their latter years did not sever the bond between them. If anything, it had grown stronger since they reconnected after Thenl’s treachery.

  “Tell me truth, brother. How goes it?” Vaan paused his hapfe when they reached the top of the rise.

  Behind them the land of Kaban was spread out for as far as the eye could see. Most of it under the rule of the Overlord but there were parts where Vaan’s power did not reach. Those small areas were where they believed Kuran hid.