by Kiru Taye
Men of Valor, Books 1 – 3
His Treasure
His Strength
His Princess
By
Kiru Taye
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Men of Valor, Books 1 – 3
Smashwords Edition
ISBN: 9781311248985
Copyright© 2015 Kiru Taye
Editor: Kristie L McKinley
Cover Artist: Love Bites and Silk
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
KT Press
www.kirutaye.com
His Treasure
In a time when men ruled their households with firm hands, can a quiet man tame his rebellious wife with persevering love?
Angry at having to marry a man not of her choosing, Adaku stubbornly shuns her new husband on their wedding night. However, she soon discovers there are worse things than giving into a man whose touch awakens her deep desires. In a land where fruitfulness is celebrated, she could soon be labeled a barren woman.
Obinna knows there are several ways to tame a rebellious woman. Patience and perseverance are two of them. Adaku is his treasure and he will never let her go. When her fears push her into his arms, will he be able to convince her to stay with him forever by unleashing the passion within her?
South Eastern Nigeria, pre-colonization.
Stubborn pride was a foolish thing.
Adaku knew that now. It was a shame she hadn’t realized it early enough; when it’d mattered. It would have saved her a lot of headache. Her current troubles wouldn’t have existed. As it was, she was lost down this track of foolish pride she’d chosen. She couldn’t go back and change things. Yet she moved forward with a heavy burden on her shoulders. It was her path. She would walk it with dignity, regardless.
Taking a deep breath, she let out the air slowly, loosening her clenched grip on the basket of farm produce under her arm. The early morning chill had not dissipated, though the sun had ascended. Yet she felt hot like she had a fever. If she didn’t relax, her friend walking with her to the market square would start asking questions Adaku couldn’t answer.
Today, she needed to barter the items in her basket for some game meat. While she raised her own poultry at home, she liked the variety of game meat occasionally. The earliness of the day would assure the variety. The extra bag of cowries in her basket would guarantee she acquired the best on offer.
“I have some news to share.” Ifeoma had a full girly grin on her face when she leaned in to whisper to Adaku.
Ifeoma was her lifelong friend. The only one who still sought her company since Adaku's unfortunate fall from grace. It had been an eye-opener to find out how quickly one could lose friends when one was no longer favored. Still, she had enough to be grateful for. Things could be a lot worse.
However, her friend had a penchant for drama and gossip. Each time they met up, these days it was mostly during the Oye market day, Ifeoma filled her in on the latest news from the village. Oye was the busiest market day in the region. It attracted traders from afar. Occasionally, among them would be the nomadic Fulani tribesmen from the north. They brought with them varied ware including some of the most beautiful fabrics and leather. She was hoping to find a fabric for the New Yam festival to be held in a few weeks.
“Come on then. Let’s hear it. Whose father is taking another wife? Or who was caught under the udara fruit tree with whom?” Adaku attempted a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to her ears. The truth was she was getting tired of hearing stories about other people’s lives. She had problems of her own.
Ifeoma giggled merrily. “Oh, it’s nothing like that this time. Look at me. Do you notice anything different about me?”
Adaku gave her a quick glance and shrugged. Although Ifeoma was a head shorter than her, she had the full bust and round hips that meant she never lacked the gazes of male admirers. Adaku sometimes felt inadequate in her tall, slender frame. She used to feel boyish when she was younger. Thankfully, her breasts and hips had finally flared out, albeit later than her age mates. She couldn’t see any difference in her friend’s appearance except the new fabric she was wearing. It was a pink-and-blue-print sarong, wrapped from her chest and stopping mid-calf. It skimmed her body, showing off her curves.
“Is the outfit new? I haven’t seen it on you before.”
“Yes it’s new but that’s not it. Come on, look closer,” Ifeoma urged her, standing with her hands akimbo and a sheepish smile.
Adaku stopped walking and turned fully to face her friend. Ifeoma wasn’t a classic beauty, but she had very good skin tone—the color of dark wood. Looking closer, Adaku noticed her skin seemed to glow and her eyes glittered. It seemed married life suited Ifeoma well. Though her husband was from a humbler background, she always seemed happy.
As she watched her friend’s eyes sparkle with barely contained amusement, it hit her. “You are pregnant!” The statement slipped out and she had to lower her voice at the last word. She took a quick glance around to ensure she hadn’t been overheard. Though the footpath was busy with people going or coming from the market, there was no one close enough to overhear their conversation.
“Yes!” Ifeoma squealed in laughter as she hugged her friend. “How did you know?”
“I just guessed it.” She pulled back and stared at her friend’s still-flat stomach. As much as she was happy for Ifeoma, she couldn’t help feel the sliver of dread creeping down her back. “I’m so pleased for you. Afam must be overjoyed.”
Afam was Ifeoma’s husband. As the only son of his parents, it was his responsibility to raise heirs to keep the family line alive.
As it is your husband’s duty.
Adaku fingers tightened on her basket again. She mentally shook her head to dismiss the taunting voice whispering in her mind.
“He’s. He bought me this new fabric as a gift. He has promised plenty more gifts and a huge celebration when I deliver the baby.”
Ifeoma danced around on the spot, showing off her new clothes. Adaku was pleased for her friend. Ifeoma deserved the good news after losing her parents as a young girl.
“Very soon, it’ll be your turn, if you’re not already.” Ifeoma winked at her as they resumed walking. “Your husband is so virile. He’s bound to give you twins.”
Adaku nearly choked at her friends words as heat washed over her body. Her husband, Obinna, was virile all right. The best wrestler of the village, he had a body and agility crafted by gods for gods. Still, they were a long way from twins anytime soon.
She forced a bright smile on her face and kept walking.
“If the gods wish it.” She chose to be philosophical rather than share the dark secrets of her married life.
Her marriage was not all it seemed. They had both been bound to their husbands in the same season many moons ago just after the last New Yam festival. Afam had wooed and courted Ifeoma before the marriage rites were finally performed. Adaku had several suitors at the time, but had refused all of them. She’d held out, waiting for the prince to formally propose as he’d promised.
When someone had discovered them together without chaperones, her father had insisted she had to get bound immediately. He’d practically given her away to the next suitor to ask for her hand. All her pleading and tears had fallen on her father’s deaf ears. She would either marry Obinna, a man she barely knew, or be disowned.
Her mother, the second of three wives, could not have borne the disgrace that would have brought to her. Adaku had no choice but to cave in to her parents. But she’d sworn she would never give herself willingly to her husband. Her heart and her body belonged to the prince.
That was almost a year ago. Now her friend, Ifeoma, was pregnant, as were most of the other maidens who had wed at the same time as them. A few had given birth already. Children were a sign of fertility and prosperity. Soon it’d be another New Yam festival; a festival to celebrate fertility and prosperity. And what did she have to celebrate?
Still she couldn’t blame anyone else. She’d sealed her fate with her stubbornness. This was her life. Her pride wouldn’t let her admit to anyone it was far from perfect.
Keeping her chin up, she walked into the already bustling market square.
***
Obinna approached his house, the footpath widening into a clearing at the front. Coming home filled him with mixed feelings. As the oblong, dried-clay structure with thatched roof came into view, his chest expanded with pride. He’d demolished the original structure built by his grandfather and erected this one when his father died. It was now a larger house with enough room for a large family. He’d also built a kitchen extension at the back and a separate bathroom. His intention had always been to marry and have children, as many as the gods saw fit to bless him with. The clearing in front of the house was surrounded by land covered in various trees: mango, palm nut, and coconut. He also had several acres of farmland with yam, cassava, and other staple crops. The vastness of the lands meant he had to employ laborers during the planting and harvesting seasons.
It was all his.
And so was the woman coming out of the bathroom as he walked into the backyard. He chose to stay hidden from her view. He liked to observe her without her knowing it.
She must have just bathed as there were droplets of water glistening on her skin in the late evening sunshine. Her dark skin glowed. Just before she covered it fully with her wrapper, he caught a glimpse of her breasts. Small. Perky. Succulent.
His body reacted the same way it always did since the first time he’d seen her. His heart rate picked up. Heat flooded his body, stirring his manhood, hardening it. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, tall, and slender; her flawless skin of darkest ebony, she had an oval face, dark-brown eyes fringed by long, black lashes, a small nose and a pair of juicy lips. Her hair was twisted in braids and adorned with beads. The decorative markings on her body identified her as the daughter of a titled man.
He ached for his wife. He longed to go to her as she stood drying her body. He wanted to taste her sweet lips, feel her softness against his skin, and sink into her warm depths again and again. Yet he didn’t move, but stood there, watching her get dressed while he wanted to undress her.
This is madness.
If his friends saw him, they would laugh. What man ached for his wife and yet did nothing about it?
A crazy man. That’s what I am.
Yes. It was madness but it was the safer path. He ached for his wife, yet he couldn’t sate that ache. She didn’t want him. She never had. He’d be damned if he would touch her while she rejected him. She had to come to him willingly. Totally. Without reserve. He would never compromise on that.
It seemed they were both condemned to a future together in misery. Because as much as she didn’t want him, he would never let her go. Maybe he was paying for his sins in a previous life. This was his punishment. His torture. To have a woman and never fully claim her.
Pushing his heated body off the cool wall, he walked into the back garden and coughed.
Adaku swiveled round. “My husband, you’re back. Welcome.”
Joy filled his heart just as her sweet voice filled his ears. He put his tools down and waited for her to hug him as he’d hoped she would each time he returned home. He longed to feel her skin against his and inhale her fragrance. Instead, she curtsied formally like she always did, much to his annoyance.
She’d grown up at the royal court. Her father was the chief advisor to the King. So her ways were formal, he knew that. Yet he’d hoped she would have learned to be more casual with him by now.
He also knew she would never have chosen him as her husband. He’d known about her desire for the prince. When her father had accepted his proposal for her hand, no one had been more surprised than Obinna. But Ichie Omemma was a fair man. He hadn’t made huge demands in terms of a bride price. Although Obinna would have sold his lands just to claim this woman. She was worth it all to him.
Each time he saw her, he watched for signs of unhappiness. In her father’s house, she’d had servants catering to her needs. Obinna always tried to make sure her needs were catered for in his house. Yet he could never be sure if she was unhappy. As much as he wanted her, he wanted her to be happy even more.
If she was unhappy, she didn’t show it. Her eyes sparkled with their usual defiance, and her chin was up, exposing her delicate throat. The urge to run his tongue along her neck took hold of him.
“Thank you.” He’d already taken a step toward her when he stopped himself and turned away toward the bathroom. “I’m going to have a wash.”
“I’ll serve your dinner,” Adaku said when he walked into the bathroom.
He longed for a vigorous swim in the river to cool his ardor but hoped the cool water of the bath would be as effective.
***
“My husband, you know the New Yam festival fast approaches,” Adaku said. They were in the main chamber of the house, the sleeping rooms led off directly from it. Seated opposite Obinna at the table while he ate his dinner, she felt a little apprehensive about the topic she wanted to discuss with him and shifted nervously in her chair.
Obinna looked up at her, his eyes fringed by long, dark lashes, a black, expressionless pool she could drown in, always unnerved her. As she couldn’t read his mood, gauging how to tell him what she wanted to say was difficult.
“Yes, say what’s on your mind Adaku,” he said in his usual deep voice, as he licked his long fingers.
Something stirred low within her belly. Her eyes hungrily followed his action, and she got distracted. For a brief moment she wished it was her fingers he was licking.
“That could be arranged.”
Adaku looked up sharply and Obinna’s brow was lifted with amusement. She realized she must have spoken her thought out loud. Embarrassment and heat washed over her as he took hold of her hand in his large one.
Somewhere within her mind something shifted. An awareness of Obinna at a primal level registered in her rapidly hazing brain.
The air suddenly felt warmer and her skin prickled. He took her fingers into his warm mouth in turn, twirling his moist tongue around each. Sensation flooded her body, and she forgot everything else she wanted to say. All she could feel was the stroke of his tongue on her fingers as he sucked and lapped each one.
His touch scorched her straight to her soul.
She gasped and his gaze came up, locking on to her and pinning her to the spot. His eyes were filled with a desire she couldn’t explain. His tongue moved down her skin, searing a path to the spot at the center of her palm before licking it. Then he released her hand, and she realized she was trembling.
She felt a need pulsating in her core, leaving her confused. All he’d done was lick her fingers. Yet it seemed to turn her into a trembling mass, yearning for more of his touch. Prince Emeka’s touch had never elicited such a response from her and she’d thought he was her life mate.
“What was it you wanted to ask me, or have I already fulfilled it?”
Obinna was still watching her intensely. His voice had a husky tinge that rumbled through her. She took awhile to catch her breath before she could speak. Willing her heart rate to return to normal, she stared at her hand, still tingling from his touch.
“I-I just wondered if I could buy some new fabrics in preparation for the festival,” she said with a shaky voice that w
asn’t like her. She’d never been this affected before by his actions.
***
After she’d newly arrived at Obinna’s home, she’d been so focused on her own misery at not being with the prince, her behavior had bordered on rude and childish. When Obinna had given her a trunk load of new fabrics, she’d turned it down. She’d known it was rude to reject her new husband’s gift, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t wanted to marry him anyway. So she’d asked her mother to buy some fabrics for her. When they’d arrived, Obinna had discovered them. Incensed by her bad attitude and disobedience, he’d burned them all. He’d told her to stay naked if she wouldn’t take the fabrics he’d bought.
She’d learned a quick lesson. Her husband was no pushover. She couldn’t throw tantrums like she did in her father’s house and get away with it. She was no longer the over-pampered, first daughter. She was now a wife.
***
“Of course. You can purchase what you need,” he said before returning to his meal.
To be fair to him, he’d always provided whatever she asked for, whenever she’d asked it. The problem was she rarely did. She’d started off refusing to ask him for anything. These days she only asked out of necessity, but it was still difficult to acquiesce to a man she hadn’t accepted as her husband.
Now she wanted him to be her husband in the full sense. However, she was stuck as to how to ask him without losing face.
***
Obinna stood beside the pallet watching his wife sleep. The sky was still dark and gray. The early cock had not crowed yet. He was simply an early riser. He loved to watch his wife sleep. It was the only time she was unguarded. Vulnerable. Open to him.
He watched her. Her chest rose and fell, her long, dark lashes fanned her cheeks. She was beautiful. Alluring. Captivating.
Sometimes he would sit up and watch her for hours while she slept.
Of course it didn’t help that he wanted to do more than just watch her. He wanted to touch her, taste her, fill her, spill into her, and then do it all over again.