"Kaelan, please do not speak of such things. It hurts me to hear you say that."
"I regret that the truth wounds, but you must face it. Taroch will come seeking answers. You alone must decide what response to give him. I was...fondled by other males. Made to endure their invasive touch. There is no inch of my flesh they did not explore. They seemed to take a perverse pleasure in devouring my suffering. I was helpless against them. I needed their secretive visits, became attuned to their ministrations. I...welcomed their aid, needed it. As offensive as it is now to admit as much to you. But you are my lifemate. You have a right to know."
"They were not touching you for gratification, but to heal your wounded flesh," Moreya contradicted gently.
"There is more," he said with a heavy sigh. "My cycles have been altered. I do not know if I will again experience true rut. I had dreams and visions...of you, I realize now. I would find myself hard and aching. Bewildered. I thought I'd left my mind on that island."
"And then your wife tried to murder you on the tournament lists."
"My cock functions, but I do not know about my seed. I may have been damaged beyond the ability of any high priest. I may be unable to father get."
"Ah, finally I see." And she did. He thought she would forsake him now, ask Taroch to banish him, as Preece himself had banished the old wizard. Or as he'd forsaken Moreya when he had no memory of her.
She began to undress. When she was at last nude, she crossed to where he waited in the dark corner.
"Once again I ask you to come out of the dark and show yourself. We live together or we die together. But I would know the pleasure of your bare flesh touching mine before I perish. And it is possible that if you lie with me, your loins will burn and lust will take over. Then we might learn if all is well...or mayhap even better."
He led her back to his bed. "I seldom wager, but better than what we knew before might be impossible. Were I judging by my erotic dreams."
Moreya smiled and eagerly welcomed him into her arms. They kissed for long moments. Preece kneaded her breasts, suckled, reached between her thighs, and Moreya came apart in his hands.
But he did not mount her, even though he was erect and seemed ready.
When she touched his hot, hard flesh, he stopped her fingers from caressing him. "Not until I know what I face on the morrow. I would not repeat the past, Moreya. I recall how we coupled and reveled in the sharing of flesh and delight only to find ourselves torn from one another's arms. I must know Taroch's decree."
Moreya turned away from her husband, physically pleasured by a man at long last, inwardly miserable as ever. Preece was right and yet he was wrong. Taroch would not see them riven again. She could not believe that. Sighing, she closed her eyes and willed the morrow to come on fleeting wings.
They were awakened by a Waniand pounding on the chamber doors. Moreya could hear the stranger's voice, heard Preece reply in their odd native tongue, and thus determined it was a friend, not foe, at the door. She pretended to be too deeply asleep to be disturbed when Preece slid her head off his naked belly.
He crossed to the doors. "Bevan."
"Nice garb, Chancellor," his cousin replied, noting Preece stood there stark naked. "Might take a chill, though, dressed only in bruises whilst breaking your fast with Taroch and the visitors."
"I cannot endure fat noblemen and their whining squabbles this particular morn," Preece grumbled, drawing on the robe he'd abandoned on the floor near the doorway the night before. "Send my apologies. Explain I'm still recuperating from the tournament yesterday."
"Not to mention your joust with a bolted door and that hen's egg you won as prize," Bevan observed, lightly brushing the lump on Preece's brow. He glanced toward the great bed. "Remarkable female. A spitfire striding onto the lists to challenge you, with those long purple tresses streaming out behind her, and a firedrake as her weapon...to say she has fortified this keep would be a vast understatement. You fell at Taroch's feet, but he avows every man here should be kissing your lifemate's!"
It was early and Preece was still partially befuddled. He was still coming to grips with all that had taken place yesterday and his reunion with the spitfire Bevan referred to. One remark in particular struck him as odd.
"Fortified the keep?"
Bevan laughed out loud.
"Keep your voice hushed," Preece hissed. "My lady is yet resting."
"And you shall do likewise, upon her laurels! She brought a firedrake down from the very skies in front of hundreds of fighting men and nobles. She challenged the king's champion and would have bested him, of a certainty, if Taroch himself had not smoothly intervened to dispatch the accursed beast. You may wager there is no man who bore witness to such a spectacle who yet doubts Taroch's right to rule this kingdom."
Satan's horns, but Bevan was right! Why hadn't Preece stopped to consider that? The entire tournament had been staged in an effort to bolster public opinion in Taroch's favor. The bizarre turn of events would only have brought about the desired result - tenfold.
"Dress yourself," Bevan urged. "Taroch has assembled some of the high barons in the great hall. They await the chancellor, and mayhap his Yune mate."
"So we might be publicly chastised for the hobble we brought to the crown?"
Bevan gave Preece a quelling look. "You know Taroch better than that, surely. He will say publicly that you were confined to your quarters and rebuked for the grand display you and the woman put on. But - Preece?"
Nothing Bevan spouted had inspired Preece to take himself off to the great hall except that last comment. Taroch could not lie; Preece would not permit him to begin his reign with a sullied partial truth. With Bevan sputtering in surprise, Preece swept past him into the passageway and marched, barefoot, unkempt, still wearing naught but a dressing robe right into the hall and upon the dais.
"Your Majesty," he nodded.
Taroch spat out the hunk of venison he'd just slipped off his meat dagger into his mouth. "Cousin! We would have waited until you properly garbed yourself. Did Sir Bevan not advise we had visitors taking refreshments with us?"
"He did, Your Highness. And I came straight-away to accept your judgment before them." Preece let his gaze sweep the trestle tables. He saw many faces he recognized from the tournament stands, even some he'd last viewed on the lists from beneath a coif of chain mail or atop a warhorse.
"I humbly request that you forgive my lifemate. She is not of our race and does not fully comprehend our ways as yet. I ask no clemency for myself. I was ensorcelled by a bygones spell. The wizard's spell was broken upon the firedrake's appearance. Still, I denounced my lifemate. I accept your wisdom and will abide by your ruling in this matter."
Preece had given Taroch a golden opportunity. A means to enhance his own prestige and resolve any lingering questions of family bias...or Waniand malfeasance. Taroch let the moment stretch out, until a few coughs and mutters indicated their guests suffered growing unease.
"I cannot fault actions which resulted from sortilege. Your mind was not fully within your own control. I also have noted that your lifemate is Yune. She appeared to seek either reunion with you or redress. Having achieved the former, I trust you will ameliorate the misunderstanding within the confines of your chambers."
Preece had never heard coitus described in such gracious terms. When several knights shouted "To the Royal Blade!" and several barons and nobles also offered their support of the Lord High Chancellor, Preece had a most difficult time suppressing the urge to grin like an ape.
Grin.
Sometimes he desired to be naught other than pure, obstinate Waniand.
That realization abruptly led Preece to yet another: he'd had enough of this posturing and too little of the kind Taroch referred to. He needed to return to his chambers and sheathe that blade of his in the willing female who awaited him there. He feigned a momentary passing weakness and braced himself with a palm on the long dais table.
Taroch immediately picked up the cue.
"You are flagging after your many valiant conquests, cousin." He waved a hand at a nearby servant, then at Preece. "We shall speak again at supper this eve. See Lord Preece back to his chambers and make sure he has food and drink, hot water for bathing, and any other comforts he or his lady require."
Thank the Powers Above that Taroch had spent little time around Bourke, else Preece suspected he'd have been subjected to another licentious wink.
Preece strode from the hall, instructing harried servants to fetch steaming pails and towels, bread and eggs, fruited wine, and deliver all promptly to his private chambers. He found Moreya there, awake and fully dressed in her battle garb in the sitting room. He promptly began stripping it from her body.
"Preece, I've naught else with me! My other garments are in a tavern beyond the gates. In the citadel market square. I took the attic room in a place known as the Fatted Goose."
"I know. Spies reported as much to us days ago. But how came you to be adorned like some callow squire, out to have his blood spilt for the first time?"
"I bought this mail from an armorer."
Preece jerked the offensive garment from her body, ripped away her leggings, and bodily carried her back to his bed. "The king has decided to overlook your foolishness upon the lists, but you'll not appear dressed for warmaking again. I'll have someone fetch your things and have other garments sewn, do you have need of them. Stay right here until they've drawn our bath."
"Nay, I - "
"Gainsaying me so soon? Shall I have another word with Taroch? He sent me back here to make amends. The word he used was 'ameliorate.' I like to be clean when doing that."
She'd tried to kill him with a damned dragon. He was entitled to a little righteous indignation. Even if he felt not the least indignant, but actually pleased by the spark of temper in those violet eyes.
They broke their fast and took a leisurely bath in the chamber's massive tub. Preece dried himself off first, and left Moreya to follow his example. Meanwhile, he disappeared into an alcove off the bathing chamber used as a storage area. This was where Preece had relocated articles of decoration or furniture left from Cronel's reign that displeased Preece's tastes.
There was one item stored here, though, that did not offend Preece. Rather it fascinated him. Had ever since his dreams had provided numerous clues to its varied uses. It was a long bench covered with thickly padded fabric, which boasted a raised wing-like projection at one end. Preece dragged the bench out near the brazier beside the cooling tub.
Moreya fluffed her overlong tresses, ignoring his actions entirely until she heard him flip the lock on the door leading from the bathing room to the adjoining bedchamber.
"I don't wish to be disturbed for the nonce," Preece said, in perhaps the single greatest understatement of his life. What he truly wished was to discover the answers to questions that had plagued him since Ataraxia. He wanted to explore the myriad possibilities the healers suggested whilst treating him with their mysterious arts. He'd found that Waniand lore dealt extensively with procreation, but skipped entirely descriptions of varied means to obtain sensual pleasure.
If he was no longer purely Waniand, could he not explore some of the things the priests had shown him in his mind's eye? Beginning with assorted uses for Cronel's infamous tupping bench?
He and every other male court visitor had heard rumors of its applications. Cronel's sexual appetites had been legendary. But Preece was certain Moreya had no idea about such matters. Had he personally not remained outside her door all night long to ensure her innocence?
"What strange manner of couch is this?"
Preece purposely kept his voice casual. "A special sort, indeed. I've found 'tis quite comfortable. You see how it's designed with a thickness of pillowing along the length? Join me." He lowered his body onto it and beckoned to her. "You don't need the towel. 'Tis plenty warm here beside the fire."
She gazed at him warily, but left the section of toweling and perched her bottom on the edge of the couch.
Preece felt the first tingling of arousal in his manhood. He shifted slightly, so he was more sitting than lying back. He gazed into Moreya's violet eyes. "Would I hurt you, Moreya?"
"There is a peculiar look on your face. You want something...something I cannot define, but I feel it."
Preece smiled. Ah, she still felt part of what he did. "Madness. Pleasure madness. I want to give it to you, until you can accept no more, then have you return it." She looked at him with more wariness than ever. She was unused to his smile.
"Does that distress you? Yestereve you wished to mate with me. Now I am ready. "
"Oh." Such a small, meaningless answer. Yet it told him all he needed to know. She was amenable.
"Lie at the opposite end, like this," he directed, rising to stand beside the couch. Moreya's tresses spilled to the floor in a shimmering ripple. Preece sucked in an unsteady breath. He'd been told a Yune female's entire body was capable of shimmering before a man's eyes in times of intense arousal. Satan's cloven hooves, but he longed to witness that phenomenon and know he'd caused it.
He reached down and gently captured a silken thigh in each of his hands, then slid Moreya toward the upward-curving end of the bench. She did not hesitate until he had her pelvis elevated, her knees bent and hooked over the couch's winged arm. "Preece."
"Lady wife, my name for such times is Kaelan, as well you know. Relax. Close your eyes. I want only to kiss you."
He planted kisses on her bare knees, on her dangling ankles, then bent low over the bench to speak so close to her flesh, she'd undoubtedly feel the heat of his breath. "The Ataraxian healers gave me many erotic visions, of men and women coupling in unimaginable positions. I watched as they pleasured one another in ways completely unknown to Waniands. This too, was part of their healing touch, the gift of such visions."
"But you were distressed by their touch."
"Aye, but not the images which accompanied their hands on my flesh. I found the pictures in my mind most inciting. I want to kiss you as males of the island realm do their females. Everywhere. Here especially."
She closed her eyes and gripped the sides of the bench, writhing with a low moan as his tongue flicked over her nub. He laved in a spreading circle. The tension eased in Moreya's thighs. Preece caught her pelvis in his hands and pulled her hips higher still, until they were all but resting on the very top of the curved wing of the couch. Moreya's hands let go. Her mind let go.
He knew when she instinctively admitted she was in no danger, needed no further reassurance that he would not let her slip from her perch, and simply soaked up the pleasure he gave her.
He guided her higher and still higher, leading her to her inevitable crest. She sobbed aloud as he continued to savor her intimately and stroke her love point with his tongue. Then he slid it lower, plunging it as deep as he could into her welcoming wet cavern.
Moreya came apart in his hands and rippled in trembling waves, like the quivering eddies of a swirling purple sea.
Preece had never seen anything more amazing. He eased her back onto the flat portion of the bench. She lay sprawled like a hapless puppet whose strings had been cut. He hadn't claimed it was a swooning bench, Preece thought wryly. Moreya seemed devastated by the sensual delights she had just experienced for the first time.
But not quite razed, for she gazed up at him and a jolt of heat blazed between them. He guessed her intent even before she spoke, saying she wished to try the same delights on him.
And Satan's pointed chin, but he longed for such wicked enjoyment. Had dreamt of it so many times, he had only to close his eyes and he could watch the scene unfold. Yet his Waniand nature conflicted with this erotic vision in a fundamental way.
"Moreya, believe me, I want exactly what you offer now. I've found myself hard and panting, aching for dreaming of just such an indulgence. But our code forbids a Waniand warrior to purposely spill his seed in denial of procreation. You cannot taste me as I have tasted you."
"Your
code has far too many rules. How will anyone ever know what we do in this chamber, Kaelan? You bolted the door."
He captured her chin in his hand and drew her up to kiss him. "Lifemate, yours is indeed the heart of a dragon. You would risk all again and again."
"Because I love you, and in the ways of my people what a man and woman do out of shared closeness harms no one. Benefits both. Is solely their own pleasure to share and is outside the bounds of law and judgments by others."
"There may be a way," he whispered. "I told you a dark secret."
She nodded. "And still I say you were beaten and helpless. You needed the healing, whatever form it took."
"I have now another secret. A need that arose out of the treatments I received. I do not believe other warriors of my blood are aware a male's essence can be trammeled even as he reaches pleasurable culmination. The Ataraxians showed me such is possible."
Moreya gave him a dubious look. "I swear. They made me experience such a peaking...and others of the usual variety later, to test my restoration. Constriction here," he drew an imaginary circle around the base of his cock and scrotum with a forefinger, "keeps the seed from erupting. Yet the feelings are equally intense, the throbbing pleasure - moreso."
Moreya leaned closer, running a hand across his chest. "More? In truth? You would wish for me to - "
"Aye, fervently. There was no harm that I could discern. Once the ligature is removed, bodily fluids spew again. Mayhap with all the more force, for having been curtailed."
Moreya slowly rose and went to pour a cup of wine from the ewer he'd kept in the bathing chamber before sealing the room. She brought the cup to the couch and proffered it to Preece. "Meseems we should drink and consider this. I know what passes between us is sacred above all. I suspected I could prove myself your lifemate if I offered the king knowledge of your sacred name. But you told me never to speak it except to you, when we are alone as now. That is the only time I have allowed it to cross my lips."
He took the cup and sipped slowly. He did not need spoken words now to follow the workings of her mind. She was beautiful, but so much more: wise, honorable, unbelievably kind when coping with humans and situations that did naught to merit a kind, generous spirit. All of this was Moreya Fa Y - nay, now her name should be, must be Preece.
Biondine, Shannah Page 25