Supreme confidence on his part, or indifference to whatever decision she made?
Or nervousness that she would reject him and thus had prepared himself by acting nonchalant?
When she finally spoke, her voice sounded strained. "Am I to assume this is not a joke?"
He nodded, but did not look at her.
"Nor a test of my loyalty to Orithia?"
"Our negotiation has nothing to do with your sister. She is merely a bargaining point."
Aradia raised her chin. "What exactly is it you want, warrior?"
Jaelan finally looked at her. "I want you." He held up a staying hand when she opened her mouth to reply. "Let me explain something before you jump down my throat with your righteous anger, wench."
"Stop calling me that!" she snapped, infuriated by the word.
He ignored her outburst, uncrossed his ankles, and raised one leg. He rested his wrist on his knee, flexing his fingers as though they pained him. "I could just as easily arrest you, tie you to your horse, and take you with me to Abbadon as my prisoner. I could go before the Magistrate, ask for, and be given, ownership of you to do with as I please."
Aradia's mouth dropped open.
"No one would gainsay me, and no one would dare interfere. This is Rysalia, and men rule this world with impunity. Women have no legal standing. You would have no recourse whatsoever and would be treated as chattel. Should I grow weary of you, I could take you to the slave market and sell you." He crooked his head. "I would venture to say you'd net me a tidy sum if stripped and paraded before the aristocracy."
Her mouth as devoid of moisture as a baking desert, Aradia felt bile creeping up her throat.
"Or I could give you to my best friend--to anyone I care to, actually--as a gift."
"Try doing any of that, warrior," she seethed, "and I would slit your throat and--"
"The reason I was chosen as a Death Lord is because I have certain abilities other men don't." He locked gazes with her. "You know I can read minds, but do you know I can influence what people do?"
She smiled nastily. "If that is true, why did you not free yourself from the mine?"
"Did you see the iron bands welded to my wrists and ankles and neck, little Amazeen? If you did, you saw the only way those bastards had to control me. The confining of my body with iron shackles can negate my abilities. The water I was given to drink was heavy with iron deposits, and that only added to the restriction of my powers."
Aradia remembered well the iron circling his dirty flesh. She remembered, too, the blood seeping from the raw sores on his wrists and ankles. Though she had not noticed an iron collar around his neck, she had no reason to doubt the brutal restraint had encumbered him.
"Brutal restraint," he repeated, letting her know he had intercepted her thoughts. "A good way to put it. Brutality was a way of life for me--until you came along."
"And you would repay my kindness by imprisoning me," she said, refusing to allow her pity for the man to show on her face.
"I could make you come with me against your will and you would never realize what was happening. I could make you so hot with passion you would be hard put to keep your hands off me."
"Oh, for the love of Aluvial! You have a high opinion of your appeal, don't you?"
"I sent you here to this cave and told you not to be concerned when I arrived. You never once questioned my appearance, did you?"
Unease flitted through Aradia. She tucked her lower lips between her teeth. "A...a storm was coming...the caves were handy. Any fool would've had sense to come in out of bad weather. As for being unconcerned when you showed up, I knew you were behind me. I figured you'd catch up sooner or later."
Jaelan did not deign to refute her words. "Believe what you will."
"So why not order me to do what you want? Wouldn't that make things easier for you?"
"That would be cheating. I want you to come to me of your own free will, not because I have mentally ordered you."
"Yet you would blackmail me into having no choice in the matter."
Jaelan shrugged. "Every compromise has its drawbacks, wench. I needed leverage, and your sister's freedom is it."
"You may not like cheating, but you don't play fair, either!"
He raised his other knee and encircled his legs within the parameters of his arms, one hand gripping the wrist of the other. "I'm allowing you to make the choice. If you tell me you're not interested, you can go on your way. Should you attempt to enter Abbadon, though, I'll have no choice but to arrest you and bring you to the convent at Raven's Hill. At least there I'd know you'd be safe, for the Sisters of Peace are well protected by the Ben-Alkazar family." He arched a thick brow. "What's it to be, Aradia?"
Her name on his tongue sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. From the first moment she had seen him at the mine, she had felt drawn to him, linked by a cosmic bond she could not explain. When she had touched his arm at the inn, she had felt the urge to know the tactile strength in those powerful arms, to experience the touch of his strong hands upon her. Every sense she possessed strained to know this commanding warrior, yet she knew such feelings were dangerous.
"I would give you the protection of my name and my honor," he told her, easily reading her mental confusion. "I would offer my companionship, my worldly goods, and the fidelity you are due."
"You almost make it sound like we will be Joined."
"We would."
She blinked. "Legally?"
"As legally as a Temple Magistrate can make our union."
Her womb did a funny little jump, and she pressed a hand to her belly. "But why would you want to make it legal? You can have the milk but not have to purchase the cow, warrior."
Jaelan winced. "If I simply wanted milk, wench, I'd keep the cow I have."
Jealousy stabbed through Aradia's heart. She narrowed her eyes. "You already have a woman? What do you need with another?"
He shook his head. "She's not my woman. She's a mean-spirited, evil-tempered, black-hearted witch who comes reluctantly to my bed to relieve me once a fortnight because she's paid to do so. Neither she nor I like the arrangement, but my king thought I needed the pleasure of a woman's body and ordered her Whoremaster to see to it. The king said I was getting unbearable and needed the calming of a gentler hand." He snorted. "As though Saahira had anything gentle about her. The woman is deadlier than an asp and hates me as much as I hate her."
"Then why not send her on her way?"
"You do not throw the king's gift in his face unless you have a prophet-be-damned good reason to do so."
"I see. Joining would be a good enough reason," she said dryly.
He cocked a shoulder. "I've thought of strangling the bitch and being done with it, but with my luck, he'd send one even worse--like her sister Heqet--and I'd be right back where I started."
"So you're offering me the job of being the one to relieve you," she said with a grunt of disgust.
"Tell me you don't want it," he said, holding her gaze.
Aradia said nothing. She stared into his golden eyes, once more mesmerized by the reflection of the leaping flames, lost in the tawny depths that caused her lower belly to quiver again.
"Tell me you don't want me," he said in a throaty whisper that sent shivers down her arms.
She fought the urge to throw herself on him, pummel his chest and demand he release her from the supernatural hold he may well have cast over her. No mortal man could cause the conflicting emotions churning in her breast. Her skin felt hot, though she sat far enough away from the fire. Her knees trembled as though she had run a marathon, yet she felt calmer than she had any right to feel. Her heartbeat had slowed, but still thudded against her ribcage. She felt an ache in her loins she thought she'd never experience again, and that longing drew her to him like a moth to a flame.
"Let's just say, for argument's sake, I agree. How do I know you will be good to me, warrior?"
"On my honor, I swear I would never hurt you. Nor would I
let anyone else hurt you. I would give my life for you, if need be."
His words made her quiver, but before she gave into him--as she knew she would--she wanted to define the boundaries of their bargain. "You promise to set Orithia free?"
"I vow I will see it done."
"You will not hand me over to either the convent or the seraglio?"
"You have my oath. I would die before I'd allow you to be interned inside either."
"You will not turn me out or give me to another."
"The only man who'll ever possess you is the one you now look upon. It will be to my quarters you go, and to no other's. And as I stated, I'd rather have my skin flayed from my bones than have you know a moment's pain, Milady."
Aradia looked at her hands, opening and closing her fists, wondering if she was doing the right thing. It was a decision she understood would last a lifetime and not one to be made lightly. "What if something should happen to you?"
"I'll make provisions that you are to be returned to Amazeen should there ever come a time when I cannot uphold my end of our bargain. I'll instruct my friend, Aluino, to see that my wishes are carried out. He's a good man and as honorable as they come."
There was one last area to discuss, and Aradia felt too afraid to broach the subject.
He, however, was not. "Should there be children from our union, they will be given a child's portion of my estate as befitting their position in the birth cycle, with the most going to the eldest son, my heir."
"And if there are no sons?" she asked, concerned.
"Females cannot inherit under Rysalian law, but a dowry will be set aside for each girl-child. If she would rather leave and make her home in Amazeen, I'll see that she has that option when she reaches her majority. She need not stay in Rysalia and be compelled to marry if that is not her wish. Her portion of the estate, however, will be forfeit if she leaves."
"Because?"
"Because her grandmother, the Amazeen queen, will provide for her."
Aradia drew in her breath. "You knew who I was all along."
"I know everything about you, Aradia Lykopis."
"But how?"
He smiled, but the emotion never reached his tawny eyes. "When the smithy finished cutting away the iron bands from my wrists, the Chief Guard told me all I wished to know, though he will not have remembered doing so."
Aradia blushed. "Then you knew I belonged to..." She could not say his name no matter how hard she tried. "The prince?"
Jaelan's jaw tightened. "I knew."
"And you still want me?"
A severe look passed over Jaelan Ben-Ashaman's face. "As I have never wanted another woman."
The surrender was easier than she thought it would be. His declaration stilled the uneasiness in her mind and she relaxed, accepting her fate as the goddess no doubt had intended. Despite her warrioress upbringing and severe indoctrination that regarded men as nothing more than slaves, servants, and breeding potential, a part of her wanted to experience love again, the gentle touch of a kind and generous man. She ached to have a companion, a man to love and cherish her, one with whom she could share the burdens of life as well as the moments of happiness.
"I will do everything within my power to make sure you never regret your bargain, Aradia."
She left the safety of the rock ledge and sat beside him. He lowered his left leg, stretching it out alongside her leg, and entwined his fingers with hers. Her heart missed a beat when he lifted her hand to his lips and sealed their agreement with a gentle kiss upon her knuckles.
"It seems to be raining harder," he commented.
"I never knew it rained so much in the desert countries."
"We are in the middle of our rainy season."
It seemed natural to rest her head on his broad shoulder. She did not grow alarmed when he released her hand and moved his arm behind her, drawing her closer, holding her to his side. Her right hand remained on his taut thigh, feeling the power of the muscles beneath the sleek leather of his breeches. She closed her eyes when he lowered his head to hers. He covered her hand with his, again threading his fingers through hers.
"I feel safe, warrior," she admitted.
His grip on her fingers tightened possessively. "That is how I always want you to feel, wench."
She smiled at his deliberate use of the word. To him, it had probably become a term of endearment. When she did not respond, he chuckled. Before sleep claimed her, she heard the patter of rain, felt the warmth of the fire, smelled the cinnamon scent of his after-shave, and ached with the pleasure of having his strong body so close.
"Sleep easy, aziza," he whispered, and planted a light kiss on the top of her head.
Chapter 6
* * *
Orithia had a bruise on her cheek, but the king had a bloody nose. Naked, she stood arms akimbo, moving as he moved, her eyes narrowed as she watched him circling her. His feints made her smile grimly. "Go ahead," she baited. "Try it again and see what it gets you, you wretched cur."
King Hasani Jaleem grinned wickedly. "Patience, my sweet one. We'll get there, you and I."
"The only thing you're going to get, you despicable ass, is a black eye to go with that dripping hawk beak of a nose."
The king had not had so much fun with one of his women since his 35th concubine. None of his 27 wives had ever cared enough to do more than lie docilely beneath him as he took them, and only a handful of the 369 concubines had ever interested him enough to do more than bed them once out of courtesy, then forget they existed. It was only because the 35th had developed a hilarious case of the hiccups as he rutted with her that he had enjoyed the romp. The memory still had the ability to make him laugh. This one was proving to be very entertaining.
"Tell me, little Amazeen," he said, sweeping a hand toward her and growing more amused as she gracefully sidestepped his half-hearted attempt to catch her, "are you one of those females who prefer the touch of a woman to the touch of a man?"
Orithia rolled her eyes. "Amazeen's are not bent in that fashion, you malodorous pig."
"That's good to know. I did not want to waste time seducing you if the effort would be useless."
Snorting her contempt, Orithia swatted away his hand when he had grabbed at her arm. "What part of 'no' don't you understand, you sniveling baboon? You aren't going to seduce me. I won't allow it."
Heaving a long sigh, the king--also as naked as the day he was born--stopped. He spread his hands in a gesture of confusion. "What is it I am, pretty one? A pig, a baboon, a mangy cur? I can't be all of them."
Orithia raised her chin and looked down her pretty nose at him. "You are," she said, advancing on him until she stood bare toe to bare toe with his regal person, "a vile, loathsome, repugnant, depraved, contemptible..."
With his arm, the king hooked her around the waist and drew her body to his, the sound of flesh slapping together rang loud in the opulent room. He circled her in his embrace and claimed her mouth with a deep, heady kiss that brought her eyes wide with surprise. When his tongue slipped between her parted lips, she felt her knees grow weak, but it did not stop her from digging her sharp nails into his shoulders. His grunt--muffled by her mouth--amused her, and she dug deeper, drawing blood.
Releasing his captive's lips, the king stared into her beautiful, defiant face and felt something he had not experienced since his teenage years--unbridled, overpowering passion that turned his shaft as hard as stone. He ached with a lust that brought sweat to his upper lip and caused his breath to go shallow and fast in his chest.
"Let me go," Orithia commanded, not really wishing to be released from his strong embrace, but feeling she should protest.
"Marry me."
One fine blonde brow lifted in challenge. "Why would I want to do that?"
"I will make you my number-two wife," he said, breathing hard. "Should Nadira, my first wife, die, I will make you my prime wife with all that implies."
Orithia cocked her head. "And what does that imply, you pitifu
l specimen of a man?"
"Wealth," he said, nibbling her neck. "Freedom such as you would not know if you were a mere concubine or lower-level wife." He flicked his tongue into the spiral of her ear. "Position at the court. Power as no other woman might wield in Rysalia." He moved his lips to her cheek, her forehead, her nose. "Me in your bed every night."
"No."
Stunned, he pulled back, blinking his confusion. "Why not? Do you not understand what it is I am offering you?"
"I don't want any man in my bed every night, you wallowing hippopotamus. Make it two nights a week and we have a deal."
He shook his head. "Five nights."
"Three," she countered, wiggling against the steely shaft poking her thigh.
"Done." He slid his mouth to hers, sealing the bargain.
As he took her to the floor of the silken bedchamber, Orithia grinned her triumph. To her, she had turned an onerous situation into one over which she had some control. Technically she was still a prisoner--albeit, a cosseted one--but also in a position where eventually she might brandish a measure of authority. That she could capture the king's attention had never been in question. That she could carry out her plan to make him her love slave and hold the man's unwavering attention had given her a few moments of doubt.
When first he had entered her silken cell, he had approached her with seeming indifference and had attempted to rape her, no other word for it. When she slapped him, he slapped her back, true anger brewing on his florid face. When she punched him in the nose, he staggered away, holding his wounded appendage, stunned surprise in his black eyes. Surprise turned to intrigue when she continued to elude him and refused to do his bidding. Intrigue turned to amusement, and finally, the amusement to delight.
"I am going to make you love me, you spineless eel," she whispered in his ear, biting the tender lobe to elicit another grunt from his questing mouth.
"You can try," he grated, thrusting inside her to the hilt.
"I'll do more than try." She ignored the stinging pain between her thighs and threw her legs around him, capturing his hips between her legs. If his wild coupling was any indication, she had him exactly where she meant to keep him.
THE SHADOWLORD Page 9