The Pages of the Mind

by Jeffe Kennedy

  As I had the evening before, I refused. With resignation, she brought out a new garment, this one of a lovely dusky blue, and I agreed to wear it. She checked my feet, telling me in simple words, with exaggerated slowness, that they looked much better.

  “May I have my stockings?” I asked, using my word that I’d taught her, as they had no such thing and therefore no word for it.

  I’d surprised her, but she had a lady fetch them for me. I put them on, though the warmth of the day made them a little much. Experimentally, I put my feet on the floor and added some weight. Not unbearable. Seeing what I was doing, Inoa surprised me again by offering her hands, supporting me as I attempted to stand. She didn’t dislike me, but something about the situation with her brother and me had her upset. I couldn’t blame her for that. If I had a younger brother, I’d feel the—

  It hit me hard, that thought, and I swayed on my feet, Inoa clutching my hands in a fierce grip. I did have a little brother. Or, rather, had long ago. Two of them and an older sister. When had I forgotten them?

  I must have looked ill, because Inoa told the ladies to fetch juice and bade me in more polite terms to sit. “My feet are happy good,” I told her. “May I go outside to the . . .”

  “Balcony,” she supplied, giving me a more genuine smile. “So you may play kiauo with my baby brother instead of seeing to your responsibilities.” She shook her head in annoyance, fortunately missing that I understood and—once again, as always—blushed at it. “No balcony, heart-queen. A storm approaches. See to understand?”

  The sky outside the windows had grown dark and thunder rumbled ominously, the air suddenly thick and close, dense with humidity. As if it had been waiting to be noticed, the rain released with a roar, sheeting down in great waves. The air nearly as full of water as the sea.

  Extraordinary.

  Instead servants set up the game and lanterns, just inside the balcony, along with food and more of the liquor Nakoa had given me the night before. Close enough to smell the rain and feel the cooling breeze that came with it, but out of the downpour.

  My feet throbbed by the time I walked to my chair, but I didn’t care, it thrilled me so much to get there under my own power. As they finished up, I added a few notes to my journal and planned my strategy. Both for the game and for dealing with Nakoa.

  Inoa made sure I had all I needed, then shooed everyone else out, closing the door and studying me, biting her lip as she frowned in thought.

  “See to understand,” she finally said, and picked up three pieces of fruit, setting them on the table before me. “See?”

  What was she about? Inoa kept glancing nervously at the door, as if expecting to be caught. She moved her hand in a hurry-up gesture. “See?” she insisted, tapping each fruit in turn.

  “One, two, three. Yes.” I counted in Common Tongue, but she nodded in relief, then took away two pieces, tapping the remaining one. “Not happy good.”

  To have only one? I frowned at her, puzzled.

  She heaved an exasperated sigh, her eyes welling with tears. “See?” She sounded desperate, knocking the fruit to the floor. “Gone!”

  The door opened and Nakoa came in, taking in the fruit on the floor and Inoa’s tearful expression. He told her she couldn’t do something and she wept in earnest. He took her in a gentle embrace, speaking to her so softly I wouldn’t have been able to catch any of it, regardless. She nodded, leaning against him. He said something more that fired her up, so that she tore out of his hold and smacked him hard on the chest with both palms, clearly furious.

  With one last significant—pleading?—glare at me, she left.

  17

  “A pleasant evening to you, mlai,” Nakoa said as he closed and—interestingly—bolted the door behind his sister.

  “A beautiful evening, yes, Nakoa.” I gestured to the tropical rain. “Beautiful storm.”

  He set down the liquor bottle he’d picked up and, frowning, came over and lifted my chin. “Dafne is beautiful, not the storm.”

  “Ah. I am not correct.”

  That must have sounded odd also, because his lips twitched before he went stern. “You will call me mlai.”

  “I will not.” I held his gaze, not backing down. Let him be angry.

  Instead, however, he smiled knowingly. “You will. What is this?” He plucked at my stockings, my feet once again propped on the stool.

  “Stockings,” I told him, giving my word. “To make my feet happy. See to understand?” Putting my feet down gently, I took the hand he offered and stood. They hurt more than before, from walking, no doubt, but I could do it.

  Nakoa’s smile broadened, reflecting mine. “Excellent!” He put his hands on my hips and drew closer, making me acutely aware of his physical presence and how slight I was in comparison. “I did not wish to hurt you when I take you to bed.”

  Definitely what Inoa and her ladies had been discussing. My face burned and I had to look away. “Shall we play kiauo?”

  He laughed softly and helped me sit, lifting my ankles onto the stool again. “I will see these stockings.”

  “You saw them before,” I protested, lapsing back into Common Tongue, flustered enough that I couldn’t find the right Nahanaun words as I held the hem of the gown in place while Nakoa tried to lift it.

  “I am king—you will obey me,” he insisted.

  I would have argued except his eyes sparkled with that playful mischief I found difficult to resist. Not good for me that he seemed to have figured that out. “I will show you,” I told him.

  He let go of my gown, so I raised the hem to just over the knees, where I’d tied the ribbons into bows. Nakoa knelt down, fingering the satin. “Beautiful.” With a fingertip he nudged the hem slightly higher, so a bit of skin over my stockings showed. He kissed me there, lips hot, tongue flicking out to taste me. “This is beautiful—understand?”

  “I . . .” I’d gone hot, moisture surging in my woman’s core, already so attuned to him. An image of Nakoa pushing my skirt higher and kissing me there had me at a total loss for any words, in any language at all. Except that of the body, which Nakoa heard and understood perfectly.

  “Beautiful mlai,” he murmured, kissing my other thigh, slightly higher up. Involuntarily, I moaned and his glittering black gaze flicked up to my face. “Will you open?”

  I wanted to. Goddesses help me, I did. I craved more, and some animal need had urged me to spread my thighs even before he asked. Still, so far I’d failed in every mission that had been set for me. Jepp had charged me to keep this marriage unconsummated and I would at least do that much. Giving in the night before had only made my ability to resist more imperiled.

  “Nakoa . . . I can’t.”

  He studied me, not angry at least. More that interested expression. “You can.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  Watching me, he stroked the skin above my stocking with a light finger, and I shivered in response. “This is not correct,” he said with a hint of a teasing smile.

  I huffed out a sigh of frustration. Conversing better with him only elevated our ongoing duel to another level. “I am more than my . . .” Thrice-damn it, I didn’t have the word. Instead I gestured to my body, then tapped my temple. “I am this also.”

  He knelt up and leaned in and tapped my temple. “This is beautiful also.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, disconcerted, not entirely certain I’d gotten my point across.

  “I shall play with this”—he kissed my forehead—“before this.” A last kiss to my thigh. Then he rose and poured us both liquor, which at least gave me a moment to regain my composure. He meant to seduce me through the game, then. I am wise in this. How he’d seen through me so easily, I didn’t know, but calling my mind beautiful had unlocked something inside me, more than any of the kisses, orders, or manipulations.

  It was probably a deception. Nakoa had made his intent clear, as well as his single-minded determination, which meant he’d likely say and do anything to get w
hat he wanted. I, however, was not without my own fortitude. I’d withstood all sorts of sieges. This would be no different.

  If I could keep my head from being turned by pretty compliments.

  Nakoa gestured to the board, inviting me to make my opening gambit. An uncomfortable position for me, as I found it easier to react to his moves than make my own. A fine metaphor for our interactions, there. I opened with the same move he’d started with the night before, thinking to keep conservative until I better understood the strategy. With a glittering glance, Nakoa captured my piece, using a move he hadn’t yet shown me.

  Oh, was that the way of things, then?

  It was, indeed. Nakoa played to win, aggressively decimating me with a ruthlessness that spoke volumes. Another kind of language, this demonstration of his superior strategy. He waited patiently as I deliberated each move, answering immediately with decisive and inevitably devastating maneuvers.

  I lost badly in no time at all, which rankled my pride no end. It shouldn’t, I knew. After all, I’d barely learned the game and I’d spent the day stuffing my head with a totally new, annoyingly complex language. Attempting to be gracious, I picked up the dragon and offered it to him. He didn’t take it, smiling at my scowl.

  “I wish another kama,” he said.

  Uh-oh. “I don’t know that word.” I pitched it with irritation, which only made him smile wider.

  “Not the dragon. Dafne.”

  Back to this, then, which I should have seen coming. “This isn’t . . .” Fair. Did they even have that concept? “Correct.”

  He shrugged, a ripple of masculine muscle. “I am king.”

  Hlyti apparently liked to surround me with megalomaniacs. “What kama?”

  Reaching across the table, he tugged at the strap of my dress, drawing it down my shoulder so it sagged over my breast. I had to hold the cloth in place and he gave me a pointed look. “I will see.”

  “You did before.”

  His smile going wicked, he agreed, tugging at the fabric. “I want to see now. My kama.”

  My nipples had gone hard, taut against the fabric, and his gaze caressed them as he waited me out. Playing with my mind meant more than I’d even guessed. Capitulating, not even sure why I’d given in, except that something about the exchange had me feeling giddily excited, very unlike my normal self, I dropped my hand. Nakoa drew the silk down slowly, letting it drag over my skin and catch on my peaked nipple, an excruciating tease that had me pressing lips and thighs together, as if by doing so, I could keep myself from succumbing to his relentless seduction.

  The silk scraped, then fell, revealing my breast, and I closed my eyes against the rawness of the exposure. Nakoa said nothing. Didn’t touch me. Finally I opened my eyes to find him watching me with still intensity.

  “Thank you, mlai,” he said softly.

  I moved to pull my dress back up but he stopped me with a gentle hand, instead threading my arm through so the dress sagged away from my side. Nervous, I glanced out at the rain, wondering if we had spectators. Unlikely, even if someone braved the downpour.

  “No one can happily see,” he said, “but we can go to bed. Or play again.”

  “I can’t play like this.” My face burned and I shifted in my chair, impossibly aroused by this game of his. Though I couldn’t let him know that.

  “Then we go to bed,” he agreed in great good humor.

  “No! I mean—” I took a deep, steadying breath. “I wish to play again.”

  Equally pleased with that, Nakoa reset the game pieces while I tried to ignore the fact that I sat there with one bare breast, the flower petals of my garland brushing my skin, and—worse—that if I didn’t get focused on strategy, any further forfeits would . . . It didn’t bear thinking about. Ursula always said the appearance of victory could be as vital as the actual accomplishment. I needed to play to win.

  This time Nakoa made the opening move and I contemplated mine carefully. To his credit, he didn’t attempt to distract me by teasing me over my state of undress, though he did make it clear he enjoyed looking at me. I ignored him as best I could, setting up my long game. When he fell for a ruse, capturing one of my pieces that then put me in position to take several of his, I savored his surprise. And gave him a cocky grin when he nodded in acknowledgment.

  The game lasted much longer. He played more defensively, taking longer to decide on his moves, which indicated my foreign strategy put him in a position where he could not predict as well. The last game had been such a swift win I suspected that stratagem was one perhaps often used against an inexperienced player. With each move, I discarded my first response, going for whatever would be most counterintuitive and still serve my overall goal.

  The evening deepened to full night, the rain pouring in darkness, and still we fought for each and every piece. With three tokens left on the board—two mine and one his—he blindsided me by taking both in one shocking maneuver. He actually whooped in delight at my consternation.

  “This is not correct!” I complained, retracing the move. But it had been legal. I just hadn’t seen it coming. Goddesses take the wily man.

  Nakoa simply grinned at me and tapped his chest muscle, claiming his forfeit. I nearly snarled, decidedly ungracious in the face of this second defeat. I had nearly won, thrice-damn it. Not nearly as self-conscious this time—the loss annoyed me too much—I took down my strap and let the dress hang around my waist, held in place only by my knife belt, both breasts naked, the garland hanging just short of long enough to cover me. “There. Happy?”

  “Oh, yes, mlai. Excessively happy.” He radiated satisfaction, too. “Another game?”

  “Yes. You’re not getting out of a rematch.”

  I made my opening gambit, going in more aggressively this time, using a pattern I knew from an Elcinean game of strategy. Nakoa responded more easily to my moves this time, seeming to predict me better, much as I tried to keep to counterintuitive moves. I set up a careful trap, wary of the one he’d caught me in that last time.

  Then he ambushed me.

  I had nineteen pieces on the board, all positioned to draw into a net that would capture his most powerful piece—an intricately scaled lizard with nearly unlimited ability to move around the board—when he captured my own lizard with a lowly fish. One I hadn’t even noticed creeping up on my perimeter.

  It so stunned me that I scrambled to assimilate the loss. I’d been so certain this time, and he’d undercut my strategy so cleverly I hadn’t had a glimmer. We could keep playing it through, but I’d lost. I glared at him and Nakoa gave me a gleeful grin of triumph, shaking his white-streaked hair back and raising his arms to flex his muscles, as if he’d accomplished a mighty feat.

  Danu take the man. As a warrior he belonged to Her and I had some serious complaints to take up with the goddess.

  “Fine,” I hissed through my teeth, my blood truly up, racing with a ferocious pulse, and went to pull off the gown.

  “No, mlai.” Nakoa picked up the gaming table and set it aside, then knelt before my chair, expression full of sensual mischief. I was in for it now. Still, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much I hated losing. He put his hands on my stocking-covered ankles and slid them up under the hem of my dress, traveling up my bare thighs. My mouth fell open as I perceived his intention. Oh, no. He kept his hands to the outsides until he reached my hips, then grasped the pantalets and tugged, a challenging gleam in his gaze.

  Bracing my hands on the armrests, I lifted my hips, refusing to back down from his stare. With a twitch of a smile, he drew them down my legs and over my stockings, pulling them over my feet with care and tossing them aside without a second glance. My mouth had gone dry and my breath shallow as I tried to anticipate his next move, to prepare my strategy.

  Wrapping his fingers around my ankle, he picked up my foot and moved it up and out. I stayed, as if frozen in place by his hypnotic stare. “I will see,” he murmured, shading it with a pitch I hadn’t heard, but that s
himmered through me with erotic impact.

  With his other hand, he pushed up my skirt, holding me open for his gaze while I, amazed at myself, allowed it. No—wanted it. Draped in the cushioned chair, my breasts naked and hot, while lanterns shed warm light around me, a storm raged outside, and a barbarian king knelt at my feet, I longed for more. I didn’t want to go back to being who I’d been. I was tired of having regrets.

  Savage desire surged through me and I embraced it.

  Nakoa bent and kissed my inner thigh, murmuring something I had no mind left to translate. He draped my knee over his shoulder and caught my eye. “Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  He paused to lay a hand over my heart, making me stir as he brushed my breast. “Thank you, mlai.”

  Then he bent his head, like a monk in prayer, and put his mouth on me.

  A cry escaped me at the startling sensation, so incredibly intimate, that sent ripples through my body. I arched my back and dug my fingers into his hair. Unable to catch my breath at all, I panted and sobbed, each stroke of his tongue transporting me into some dark, piercing place I hadn’t known I carried in me. He licked and nibbled at me, holding my hips still when I writhed, testing my responses in the same way he’d tried my strategy, drawing me out and chasing me back.

  Settling into a devastating rhythm, he steadily stripped away my poise, reducing me to a mindless creature clinging to him and begging for more.

  I came apart and he chased me there, too, staying with me as my hips bucked and I shattered completely.

  He didn’t relent, adjusting his technique and coaxing me up again. I’d thought myself spent, but no. The desire flared anew and I groaned but didn’t protest when he slid a finger inside me. It felt big in my narrow passage but oh so gratifying. Licking at my pearl, he worked his finger inside me, curling it so a bolt of pleasure radiated out from deep within, connecting to the brighter pleasure his tongue elicited.