Unexpected Bride (Warlord Series Book 6)

by Michelle Howard

  “Mmm.” Her eyes grew slumberous with a look he recognized all too well. She desired him and made no effort to hide it.

  Unable to deny his growing arousal, Saran growled, “I have need of you.”

  Her eyes twinkled up at him and to his surprise Melane clasped his hand, entwining their fingers. “Let me soothe you of your recent battle, Warlord.”

  ***

  Melane couldn’t hide her relief at Saran’s safe return. Aside from a small cut above his right eyebrow encrusted with dry blood, he appeared unharmed. He ripped his harness off and dropped his sword to a table then shoved his leathers down. By the time he kicked off his boots, Melane had removed her simple skirt and tunic. Her underwear fluttered to the floor on top of her other things as she toed off her shoes.

  “My blood is on fire.” Saran gripped her at the waist and tossed her onto his bed.

  Laughter bubbled forth as Melane lay on her back, arms spread in welcome. Saran crawled onto the bed, his weight coming over her at once. He rubbed his rough jaw over her soft cheek and she pressed closer.

  “Touch me,” he murmured in her ear.

  Needing no further encouragement, her hands flew to his shoulder, his broad chest and down the outside of his sweat slick arms. He smelled of musk, blood and fighting. Scents familiar to her and arousing. His toque probed her entrance and Melane opened her legs wider pleased to give him what he needed but it was more than that. Earlier, they’d discovered a richness to bed play. She wanted more of the same.

  Saran groaned above her and pushed up to his elbows as his toqa slid through her damp folds. “This is different.”

  An embarrassing rush of wetness met his words and her inner muscles clamped on his thrusting length.

  “Yes.” He bowed his head as his hips slapped against hers.

  Remembering what he’d asked before, Melane wrapped her legs around his waist and they both groaned at the change. Melane panted and thrashed about, seeking the delight she’d found the last time. Spiraling from within the tension built inside of her and with it a slight panic at not being able to survive.

  “Be at ease,” he breathed harshly, brows creased to form a point in the middle. Sweat ran down the sides of Saran’s face.

  She wanted to assure him she was fine. She was his for pleasure but the words froze as he stunned Melane even more by withdrawing and sliding down her body. Eyes on hers, he lowered his mouth to kiss her toque. Shock flashed through her followed by sensations she’d never experienced. He kissed and sucked at the folds then licked up the center seam and she almost leaped from the bed.

  “Saran!” She grabbed his hair and tugged.

  He glided back up her body and entered her at the same time. The sounds they made, the slick sheen coating both their bodies added to every touch. Melane felt wicked as she moved against him. Saran seemed to like it and Melane couldn’t stop her hips from pumping if she wanted to. It felt too good. Soon her release was upon her. It was fast. Faster than before.

  Melane screamed, her nails digging into Saran’s shoulders as her head rocked back on the pillow. His big body started to quake. Grunting and groaning, he thrust into her, his movements became frantic. Then his shout filled the room.

  Shoulders shaking, he fell to the side of her and Melane weakly curled her arms about him as they both shuddered in the aftermath. His lips brushed her temple and the caress compelled her to do the same. She very much enjoyed this kissing. It was a tender thing to do with a partner. Even the kisses he’d given her down there. She’d never dreamed the likes.

  Her eyes started to drift close when Saran moved. Not wanting to hinder him, Melane let her arms fall slack. Would he ask her to leave? Dismay colored her thoughts after what they’d shared. Saran climbed from the bed but didn’t go far. He tossed around the ever present tools and blades on the table across the room then selected something and returned.

  “I would give this to you because ever have you had faith in me.”

  Melane sat up and pushed her hair back from her face. His serious expression let her know this was important. “I have no need for gifts, Saran.”

  Having him was gift enough.

  “This is not my best.” A dark look flashed across his face as he held out his right hand with its crooked fingers. “I may never be able to create knives with the same skill as before but I want you to have this.”

  Melane glanced down at the crudely made dagger he held out. No it was nothing like the works of art she’d seen him create in the past. Knicks dotted the hilt where his hand must have slipped, small gouges marred the perfection but her heart turned over in her chest. This meant more than any words of love.

  Though she had not the skill to wield it, Melane accepted the dangerous weapon and clutched it carefully to her chest. “Thank you, Saran. I will cherish it.”

  He shrugged in awkward silence then slid the blade from her hand and placed it beneath her pillow. “I have another way for you to thank me.”

  When she took his meaning, Melane burst into chuckles and lay back in the bed. “I am willing.”

  Chapter 22

  At the celebration the next evening, Helin proved to be more forward than any Kabanian woman Saran knew. Beneath the table, her hands continued to touch his thigh closest to her. She’d trailed her fingers down his arm and over his shoulders during conversation. When he met her gaze, she leaned into him. “They say the Overlord is fond of the meeting of the mouths. Do you take part in this strange practice called kissing?”

  He did. But with Melane. Only ever would it be her.

  Saran removed her fingers from him. Helin did not hide her interest in wanting invitation from him but he held no interest in another. Her question also crossed into the personal. He met her eager stare with one of firm disapproval. She flushed and shifted in her chair, her attention going elsewhere.

  As the meal progressed, Saran found her hand touching him to reach for a food platter, brushing his chest as she leaned around him and other actions one could consider accidental. Each time he met her gaze to see the intent of her behavior, she sent him a sly smile that made his anger begin a slow burn.

  Casin cleared his throat and shot daggers across the table at Saran before addressing Helin. “Do you worry for the warrior you left behind, Helin?”

  Helin jolted in her seat, spine going straight and dropping her food utensil with a clatter. Fear then annoyance flashed. She picked up her utensil again and poked at her food. When she faced Casin, her serene mask was back in place.

  “We parted ways. It was best.”

  Not a direct answer, Saran noted as he briefly met Casin’s eyes.

  “Are you pleased with your return to Kaban then?”

  She glared but the question drew the attention of a few others at their table, who turned to hear her answer. “Yes. It feels good to be home.”

  She leaned into Saran beside her and before he knew her plan, she kissed him.

  Stunned to the point he could not move, Saran stayed seated as her lips pressed to his then his jaw. He questioned why she would be so bold in the face of his obvious refusal. While he tried to process her reasoning, a tingle rolled down his back. A sense of danger. Casin’s frown grew dark and he leaped to his feet. Saran jerked back and pushed Helin away on a snarl as he sought to increase the distance between them.

  “Melane, no. Hettle!”

  At Casin yeling her name, Saran spun around only to catch the back of Melane’s figure as she turned to leave. But not before he witnessed the despair in her disappointed gaze. Saran was on his feet shoving back in his seat and rushing after her. She disappeared through the doors before he could catch her and he slammed into Bran who suddenly shifted into his path.

  “Hold, Saran.” The brawny Warlord placed a hand on Saran’s chest.

  He snarled and yanked from the touch. “You will move, else I go through you, Bran.”

  Bran leaned forward, darting a quick look about. “She makes a fool of you, Saran. Think.”


  “I think you best stand aside.” Saran’s blood boiled. He had to reach Melane.

  “You are of the same mind as me.” Bran wore a triumphant expression, confusing him further while the urge to chase after Melane pressed on him.

  “What say you?”

  “You can use Helin to help with Kuran.”

  Saran didn’t need to hear more of what Bran wanted. It was evident in the sudden excitement and the change in his stance. “No.”

  “Only a pretense, Warlord Saran. Enough she spills Kuran’s whereabouts.”

  “I offered Melane invitation.”

  Bran grunted, waving off the statement in dismissal. “You have been in her bed before.”

  Saran spun around and locked his uninjured hand about Bran’s throat. “I want her to bride.”

  Bran swallowed the move restricted by Saran’s hold. “For a few days only, Saran. My vow. It will not be longer. Helin makes no secret of her interest in you.”

  And that very detail had caused his current problem. Saran couldn’t do it. To touch or tease the other woman would break Melane’s faith in him. He’d worked too hard to get it back and would not endanger it for a foolish effort.

  “No,” he said in a firmer tone.

  “I would think after the...odd kissing you shared you would be more open to a way of stopping Kuran. It would prove to Kaban your ability to replace the Overlord considering...the accident.” Bran added, a pointed look at Saran’s right hand.

  A muscle in his jaw jumped. For the first time since the durvish attack, his injury had been the last thing on his mind. Even now his hand didn’t cramp after the taxing day of fighting. Saran let Bran go watching as the Warlord stumbled then grasped at the dark red stain forming about his neck.

  “I am a Warlord. I have no need to prove anything.”

  “My apologies, Saran”

  Fingers to his cheek, Saran only wished he could rub away the memory as easy as he scrubbed the lip dye from his skin. He needed to go after Melane but something about her posture as she’d departed warned he best tread with a care to her temper.

  First he needed to settle this with Bran and any others who might feel the same way. “Kuran will be stopped, my vow. But I will not play to Helin and risk hurting Melane.”

  She meant too much to him. Not waiting for a response from the Warlord, Saran stepped around him and hurried to find Melane.

  He glanced down the outer hall, his gaze scanning the stairs which led to the upper level. He feared she would head to her own room lacking in privacy since she shared it with others. Holding back a growl of frustration, Saran turned toward the hall leading to the servants section.

  Halfway down the hall, he stopped at the sight of Melane leaning against the wall, head down. Saran didn’t know what to say. She must have heard his boot steps because her head lifted in shock. Then resignation cast a shadow over her brown eyes.

  “Are you going to end things between us again?”

  The question was given in a bland monotone. Saran rocked back on his feet. She looked defeated and nothing could have angered Saran more. Had he done this? Was she accustomed to his rejection because he let his fears rule too long and now expected him to walk away? Either answer made him more sorry for his actions in the past. No one should take the brightness away from Melane.

  “I understand,” she mumbled at his prolonged quiet then braced to leave.

  “Wait,” he barked. “Please.”

  Melane froze.

  Heart slamming against his chest, Saran reached for her hand. “Let me explain.”

  Admitting his feelings came with its own pain. Bran had the right of it. A Warlord did not admit emotion. To do so weakened him before others. Except Melane deserved the truth.

  The only thing keeping Saran’s hope up was the stricken look on her face and the plea in her pretty eyes for him to make this right. Muscles twitching, he wanted to move toward her but Melane shook her head frantically and he gave in.

  “What is there to explain, Warlord?”

  He flinched and squeezed her hand tight. “Don’t. Don’t take that away from me. The sound of my name on your lips is a pleasure I did not expect.”

  ***

  Melane swallowed back the pain. She wanted to cry. She wanted to crumble to the floor in a ball and sob. Didn’t she deserve happiness? Why did this keep happening to her? How many times would she let Saran drag her love through the ground?

  “Melane,” he drawled out her name and tugged her close. This time she didn’t resist. “You hold my heart, no other.”

  She wanted to believe him but her mind tried to remind her of how much it hurt. She pushed the words past her tight throat. “You speak truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want to believe you, Saran.”

  But their past stood in the way. On an angry snarl he snatched her to his chest with one arm around her waist, locking their lower half together. “Never have I had cause to pay attention to women but I pay attention to you, Melane. I know how you nibble your lips when in deep thought. The way your eyes light up when you are happy and how they tip down in the corners when you are sad.”

  He paused and gently tapped her mouth. “I have made you sad way too much and it is my hope to avoid doing so in the future.”

  Melane pushed back and he allowed the small sliver of distance. She twisted her hands before her. “This does not prove...”

  Saran cut her off and grabbed her fingers. His voice dropped. “When you are scared and anxious you wring your hands. I know you, Melane and I know you are the one I want for my bride.”

  Did he say he wanted her for his bride? It would be easier to believe if she had not walked into the dining hall to witness her friend pressing her mouth to Saran. She thought the kissing was something they only shared together. “And Helin?”

  His lip curled. “There is no Helin.”

  Melane burst into tears. “She kissed you, Saran.”

  “And I am sorry for it. I will need make amends. As a warrior she should not have surprised me.”

  Melane blinked. He was sincere. She snickered. Witnessing Helin touch and kiss Saran felt like the worst betrayal. Never did Melane think she’d laugh after having her very heart ripped from her chest.

  He bowed his head over hers and murmured, “You are mine and I am yours.”

  “I love you, Saran,”

  She threw herself into his arms. Saran caught her mid-jump, a chuckle escaping. Despite the blush staining her cheeks, she licked her lips and demanded, “Tell me.”

  He exhaled on a rough breath. “I have strong feelings for you, Melane.”

  She’d take it for now.

  “You will return to the evening meal with me?” Another brush of his hand.

  “Yes.” She trusted him and all was not lost.

  They returned to the hall, loud shouts and drunken laughter setting the tone of everyone’s mood. Melane’s steps grew hesitant but Saran kept a firm hold on her hand and led her back to his table. Helin still occupied the seat to the left of his.

  Saran dropped into his chair. When Melane sought to sit across from him because there was no more seats, Saran tugged on her fingers causing her to fall into his lap. The Warlords at his table smiled in acceptance of her presence and a few chuckled.

  Melane twisted about, her cheeks flaming red but Saran curved his arms about her waist to still her struggles and leaned close, his nose running up the slim column of her neck. He was not one for public gestures but he clearly didn’t want her far from him. “This is where I want you.”

  She relaxed into his hold. “Then this is where I will be.”

  Melane stayed as long as she could until a yawn caught her off guard. Many of the Warlords and warriors were well into their drink. Saran enjoyed an enthusiastic talk with the warrior across from him and Casin would comment here and there. Whenever she shifted her weight or tried to take the chair next to them, Saran would growl without breaking off his conversation and
squeeze her to remain seated upon his lap.

  A part of her wanted to be embarrassed by her position but instead she felt cherished. Saran’s arms about her, and the gentle grip of his hands showed a depth of caring she never expected to have from him. She might never get the words she longed to hear but today he said he was hers and she would not doubt him again.

  .

  Chapter 23

  When Melane’s head swayed for the third time, Saran kissed her forehead and let her get up from his lap. When he patted her rear as she walked by, she shot him a saucy look. He leaned over and whispered, “I will see you in my room shortly.”

  Melane planned to return to her room to freshen up then await Saran in his room on the upper levels but changed her mind at the last minute. She would use the washroom down here before retiring for the night.

  Neera passed her on her way to the kitchen. She’d been busy all night with the excitement of today and Melane was glad she had not been needed to work.

  “Somebody looks very happy.”

  Her chuckle was light hearted. “Yes. I am happy and scared.”

  “Scared?”

  Melane bit her lip then confessed. “It is everything I wished for. To have Saran is my dream but I fear it could be snatched away.”

  Neera glanced around to make sure they were alone before leaning forward. “You are deserving, Melane. It is the talk among us for what you have done. Warlord Saran cares for you and it is clear you care for him. None could doubt it.”

  “Thank you, Neera. You have ever been a good friend to me.”

  Neera’s mouth twisted. “And do not let Helin cause you concern. Warlord Saran is yours and you must fight to keep him so his head does not turn.”

  Fight? It was an outlandish thought but Melane tapped the pocket of her skirt and the form of the knife Saran designed for her brought a smile to her mouth. “Helin and I were once friends. Her time away has changed her. I will miss the friendship we shared.”

  Helin had not been forward with warriors or Warlords before preferring to maintain her quiet and easy going demeanor. Melane did not share this with Neera, who looked on the verge of saying nasty things about Helin.