She lifted her chin to a defiant tilt. "By your definition of the word, guilty. By my own, not."
Mutters of shock drifted around her. Did she not realize the severity of her actions? How could she continue to flaunt authority in the face of banishment?
"So be it." Her father tapped his staff against the marble floor. "Rhiannon of the Seventh House of Ba-lark of the First Order of Juron, I find you guilty of treason. You shall suffer the fate of others foolhardy enough to have followed this path. Banishment. The full measure. To be carried out immediately."
Gasps raced around the hall. The full measure. Twenty-five strokes of the four-whip.
Rhiannon prayed the potion would help with what was about to happen.
The handler rolled the rack into place before her. The four-whip dangled from a hook above it. Ropes head and toe would spread and bind her limbs. She would be naked and publicly humiliated for her crime. At some point, she'd soil herself. With any luck, she'd pass out. And she'd be scarred for life. For her people, her world, and the death of Taroog.
The handler stepped up to her. "Disrobe."
She glanced up his long body. The man refused to make eye contact with her. She couldn't blame him. He was the one who'd plucked her from the trees she'd climbed in childhood.
Rhiannon reached for the clasp at her throat. The sooner they got this done, the better.
"Hold!"
Heads whipped around as Barron marched into the hall. "I have a claim to make."
"Do so," her father said.
"As her Chosen, she has shamed my family as well. We shall have to bear the stigma of her actions forever. Twenty-five strokes are hardly enough. I demand fifty!"
Gasps exploded through the hall. None compared to Rhiannon's. Wide-eyed, she stared in disbelief at the man who had spent the night loving her.
"Fifty it is," her father decreed.
Mute with shock, all she could do was stare from one to the other as tears filled her eyes.
Barron clutched his hands behind him and gave her his back. "Another request, your highness."
"That is?"
"I deliver the punishment...privately. I seek total retribution from her for the wrongs done the crown and my family. It is my right. But I want no witness to say I mercilessly tortured a woman. After all, I hope to wed another one day. Before I can, there is much the prisoner and I have to settle."
"Agreed. Do with her as you will. When you are finished, you can dump her at Taroog's feet for all I care."
The handler passed the whip to Barron. Smiling with evil intent, he weighed it in his hand. His gaze clicked up to hers.
"Come here, wench."
Rhiannon's feet refused to move. Fear choked her.
"I said come here."
He snapped the whip out. It curled around her waist, capturing her firmly in its grip. Rhiannon blessed the gods there was no pain. Even with the potion, she couldn't bear a lash wielded by him.
Barron tugged. She had no choice but to obey. When she neared, he caught a handful of her hair and yanked her face close to his.
"We have a long day ahead of us, my beauty."
Just as quickly he shoved her away. "Take her to my rooms. I want her stripped and ready when I arrive. See I have food and water to last the day and night. I want no interruptions."
His gaze zeroed in on her once more. "Scream to the heavens, love. There won't be a soul to help you."
A jerk of his head brought two women to the forefront. Each captured an arm in a gentle hold and slowly pulled her away.
It was a nightmare. It had to be. By the time Rhiannon reached Barron's rooms, tears streamed down her cheeks. She tried not to sob. It was impossible. How could he do this to her after loving her so sweetly the night before?
The women said nothing, merely dragged her across the threshold. Once there, one slipped the knot on her robes. It fell in a puddle of fleece at her feet.
"Lord Barron wants you there." The older woman pointed to the arch between sitting room and bedroom.
Silken ropes dangled from iron hooks at the top and bottom. Barron had planned for this.
Taking her position, Rhiannon let them bind her, spread wide between the restraints. The younger one pinned her hair up, then spurted oil on her hands. She reached for Rhiannon's breasts.
Rhiannon pulled back. Her bonds kept her in place. "Did Lord Barron tell you to oil me up, too?"
"He was most specific about it," the older one said from behind.
She closed her eyes. They were thorough. She'd give them that. Too thorough. And they took their time about it, rubbing oil more than once over the most intimate areas of her body.
The older one locked the door to the bedroom and scooted around her as she left through the other.
Once alone, the younger one leaned closer. "You look good enough to eat." She closed her lips over Rhiannon's nipple and tugged gently.
The door to the room slammed open. Flushed red, the girl jumped back.
"What the hell?" Barron roared.
She scurried to the exit muttering an apology as she did so. Barron snagged her arm and swung her against the wall.
"I should take the lash to you! Did I not make myself clear? She is for me!" He cracked the whip in the air.
The girl fell to hers knees. "Please, lord, I meant no harm."
"Out!" He hauled her up by the hair and shoved her into the corridor.
He seated the lock with a solid thrust. Tossing the whip to the floor, he crossed his arms over his chest and rocked on the balls of his feet. A slow smile spread over his face.
"By the gods, love, you make a beautiful sacrifice."
She blinked away tears. "Don't toy with me, Barron. You want to wield the whip? Do it. The sooner this is over--"
He was before her in three strides, capturing her face in his face. "Do you really think I could take a whip to your tender flesh? Or bear to have another do it? My stars, Rhiannon, I love you. You're the bravest woman I know. You are my woman, my love, my life, and my Chosen One. No one will ever hurt you as long as I have breath in my body."
"But..."
He smothered her protest under a kiss. "I went to your father this morning. This is what we've planned. No one shall be the wiser."
"Only Taroog when he sees no evidence of punishment."
He smiled again. "But he will."
He walked to the desk where a small crock rested beside a well of brushes. "The juice of Arbonian berries--"
"Have a ghastly taste."
"Only if not prepared correctly. These come from Piranian Forest on Mount Rasi. From the deepest valleys of the highest peaks."
She cast her gaze heavenward. "That sounds like the beginning of an over-told legend."
He laughed lightly as he walked toward her. "I just want you to understand their true worth. When applied with a catalyst, they stain the skin much as a wound or a bruise. They fade with the same speed and coloration as a bruise."
Rhiannon smiled. "The oil?"
He nodded.
She tugged at the silken ropes that bound her. "Then untie me and let's get this done."
"Oh...no, no, no. I get to have a little fun here, don't I?" With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he dipped the brush into the juice. "Now...where shall I start? I have fifty strokes. Each stroke lays four. We could be here a while."
"Barron, I don't think--"
He drew a line that criss-crossed her buttocks. Rhiannon shivered from the sensation.
"Yes, love." Another line followed down the crack. He added a flick upward at the curve. Two parallel designs followed.
Rhiannon's body pulsed between her legs. "This is torture."
He arched a brow. "Is it?"
"You know it is."
He cupped his hand to her furry mound. "Then I'll let you get even later." One finger parted her wetness. He flicked the little nodule to life, to the very edge of her endurance...then stopped.
Rhiannon sagged against her bonds and mutter
ed a curse. "I swear if you keep this up, I just might take that whip to you."
He chuckled and lifted his brush once more. A soft groan tore from her lips as he danced the bristles over her breasts.
He responded with a grunt. "If you keep that up, we'll never get done here."
"I cry foul. You should be naked as well."
"Very well." He stripped to nothing. His erection bounced hard and heavy before him.
Rhiannon pulled in a breath and licked her lips.
"All right. You win...partially. And only because I'm so hard I hurt."
A flick of his wrists freed her feet. That's as far as Barron went with her release. Grabbing her hips, he hoisted her onto him and stabbed his flesh deep into hers.
She tossed back a groan. He seized her nipple and sucked it deep into his mouth.
Rhiannon wrapped her legs around his waist. He thrust hard and deep as if they'd been parted weeks instead of hours. A simultaneous orgasm ripped from them both. As the spasms passed, he set her gently on her feet and grabbed up his torture device once more.
But each stroke of his brush raised her need to a fever pitch. Across her back, down to her buttocks and around. Into the crack, under the bottom. Over her thighs and between. Down to her calves. Until the hint of a touch made her shudder with anticipation. Then he moved to the front.
He was hard again. Wanting her as much as she wanted him. This time he would not be distracted.
His brush swooped over her pebbled nipples, yanking moans from deep within her core. One, two, three, and a fourth. Again and again until her breasts were laced with cool berry juice.
Her stomach was next. Here he marked "Xs" staking his claim. Her body quivered and blood pumped to her womanhood. It throbbed and ached for attention as he danced the brush lower and lower.
Then her thighs. Unbidden she spread her legs wide. Bristles flicked across her inner thighs. Low and high. Up, down. Up, up, then...
"Oooo..."
"Hmmm..."
He flicked the tip over the hard center. Rhiannon twitched with every stroke, revealing in her captivity, praying for sexual release. It washed over her without warning. She strained against the bonds that held her, then collapsed, only the silk ropes around her wrists holding her upright.
Barron knelt before her, raining kisses over her stomach, her thighs, then nuzzled his face in her musky scent. Sensitive, she pulled away. He captured her hips and held her in place. A few swipes of his tongue and she melted into the caress. She pumped against his face as she would his body until another orgasm shuddered through her.
Only then did he release her.
She fell into his arms, sealing their lips with a kiss. Cradling her, Barron carried her to his bed and plunged into her heat. He took her hard, and he took her long. He took her in such a way she'd never have cause to ever doubt his love. He took her to drown out the future memory of anything Taroog would ever do to her. To give her some sweet escape to cling to on the horrible nights when she'd lay with the enemy.
And when he came, he cried out her name and his love.
Rhiannon clutched his face and kissed him hard. "I'll love you always, my sweet, sweet, Barron."
They fell asleep wrapped in each other's embrace. Hours later, a knock pulled them awake. Darkness was here, and with it, her departure.
"I'll take you to Primadyl."
She shook her head. "It's too risky. We can't have you captured. The A-bot is in the glen nearby. Father can show you. The remote to open the hatch is in the pack in my room."
She slipped from bed. He pulled her back. Rhiannon straddled his lap and seated herself on him. Their joining was quick. Release held none of the joy of their previous times.
She butted her forehead against his. "I do love you."
"I'll miss you."
"But you mustn't worry."
"I won't."
She laughed lightly. "Yes, you will."
He wouldn't dispute that.
"I have one more favor."
He pulled her closer. "Anything and it's yours."
"Come get me when it's time. I'll leave with no one but you. I'll trust no one but you."
Barron squeezed his eyes shut against the pain of their parting. "We'll hurry things along."
"Please do."
Chapter 4
Rescue
* * *
Barron stood outside the second floor windows of Taroog's primary residence. A balcony all around gave him easy access. The cloaking device he wore allowed him to do so undetected. Rhiannon would be pleased to know her breakthrough in the technology helped them develop it. Not only did it protect the wearer, but also anyone with whom he had physical contact. Getting her out would be easy. Getting in to get her was another problem.
Three years of planning, training, and research had culminated in this invasion. Even as he picked his way from window to window, the fleet and ground forces moved in on Primadyl. Taroog would never know what hit him. He and all associated with him would be killed or captured.
The king and queen of Juron, with Barron at their side, had passed word to their generals of Rhiannon's true role. Once a pariah, now she was touted a heroine. Battle cries sang her virtues. Flags bearing her likeness were emblazoned on ships, uniforms, and all else. It wouldn't be long before Taroog learned the truth, too. Movement in a far window caught his eye. He hurried in that direction. A bird roosting on the eaves never budged. He was perfectly cloaked. Then he saw her.
She sat before a mirror, dressed in a silk gown of forest green.
She'd grown more beautiful, if that were possible. And also sadder. No light sparkled in her blue eyes. A sigh lifted her shoulders. She picked up a hairbrush and drew it through her flame red hair.
By the gods, Barron knew she'd been through hell the last three years. Taroog had wasted no time taking her in and making her his when the Juronians had dropped her on Primadyl. Within months, word had filtered through their warring worlds that she carried his child. The very thought sickened Barron. It was all he could do to not storm the doors and drag her to safety. Only his vow to her kept him away.
Rhiannon set the brush aside as she stood. She stretched her arms high over head. Her breasts were fuller than he remembered and provided more evidence of having birthed a child. Not any child--Taroog's miracle child. It had survived and thrived.
A clear indication, so Taroog claimed, of his right to rule both Juron and Primadyl. The gods had blessed their union. A child of royal blood from the House of Ba-lark.
Some claimed it had to be an abomination. Juronians and Primadylians weren't compatible. Others claimed it was a true miracle child. Barron didn't know how either faction could know for certain. The child had never been photographed or drawn or seen in public. Stories again claimed the mother refused for the child's protection. But Barron had to admit he often wondered if it was her shame that caused her stand.
Rhiannon brushed her arms, as if chilled, and wandered to the windowed doors leading to the balcony. Instinctively, Barron took a step back. He still didn't know if she was alone. Then he realized his folly. No one could see him. It was a hard concept to get used to.
She leaned against the sill and stared at the stars above. A tear trickled down her cheek, followed in quick succession by another. It was more than he could bear. He grabbed the handle, ready to charge to her rescue.
Something else spurred her to action. Rhiannon snapped upright and flicked the tears from her cheeks. Barron paused. The door opened behind her. Pasting on a bright smile, she turned and faced Taroog.
The man was just as ugly as Barron recalled. He had a snout rather than a nose, a wattle for a chin. His nails were long and sharpened like claws. His long, scraggly, dark hair was pulled back in a braid, revealing holes where Juronians would have ears.
"You are not prepared. Why?" his voice thundered across the room.
Rhiannon laced her fingers before her. "Forgive me, my lord. I lost track of the hours."
"Hmph." He took a menacing step in her direction.
Rhiannon held her ground. "Shall I make ready now?"
His wattle shook with his nod.
Gaze unwavering from his, she slipped the gown from her shoulders.
A semblance of a smile crossed Taroog's face. He licked his forked tongue over his lips. Rhiannon merely spread herself over the bed and opened her arms to him.
Bile rose to Barron's throat as Taroog yanked his trousers down. His tongue wasn't the only thing about him that was forked. He grabbed himself into one solid penis, knelt between her legs, and aimed. Pounding at the door froze him.
"What is it?" Taroog barked out.
"A problem, my lord," a voice replied. "Very urgent."
"I'll be right there." His gaze passed over the woman beneath him. "You'll be ready when I return."
"Of course."
She smiled sweetly. It faded the instant she was alone. Curling into a ball on her side, Rhiannon hugged the pillow to her chest. Barron could wait no longer.
Her eyes grew wide with horror when she saw the balcony doors open seemingly of their own volition. She crawled backward until she was against the headboard.
Barron switched off the cloaking device. "It's me, love."
She burst from the bed like a blast from a laser pistol, tossing herself into his open arms. "I thought I'd never see you again. I thought this nightmare would never end. Love me, Barron. Make it fresh and new."
"There's little time." Yet he was already unfastening his fly as she pulled him toward the bed.
"I haven't known the pleasure of your touch for three, long, disgusting years. Don't deny me now. Show me nothing matters. Show me you love me still."
She fell back to the cushions, wrapping her legs around his waist as she did so. His engorged flesh fell free. He pierced it deep within her heat.
Rhiannon arched against him. He shoved his hand between them to the source of her pleasure. With each pounding thrust, he swirled his thumb against her. She balled the bedcovers in one fist while she clutched at him like a lifeline with the other. Climax rushed upon them quickly, binding them as it had before.
WARRIOR PRINCESS Page 3