Poseidon’s Legion

by Kathryn Le Veque

  He was smiling at her, a lazy sort of smile that suggested he wasn’t concerned with anything she was saying.

  “I think it would be a perfect marriage,” he said. “I would have a beautiful, intelligent wife who could best me in a fight. You match me insult for insult. What fun we would have!”

  Samarra was becoming increasingly horrified by the subject matter. She abruptly set the cup down and started to push up from the table, but Rhodes was fast. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled, trying to force her to sit back down. In her drunken state, however, she ended up tripping and landing awkwardly in his lap. When she tried to right herself, if not remove herself completely, Rhodes’ big arms went around her and held her fast.

  She was trapped.

  “Let me go,” she breathed, quivering at his closeness. “Release me this instant!”

  Rhodes wasn’t about to release her, not for all of the money his father had and then some. She was warm and firm, and those long legs of hers were alluring. Already, he could feel his lust beginning to flow because his fascination with her was undeniable. He could imagine those long legs wrapped up around him as he made love to her, and that lust, that interest, had been there from the start of their acquaintance and had only gotten stronger with each passing hour.

  Now, he was going to explore it. He had her exactly where he wanted her.

  “I will, in time,” he said, his mouth somewhere near her nose from the way he was holding her. Her big eyes were right in his line of sight. “But first, I want you to tell me something.”

  Samarra was torn between the thrill of his embrace and the embarrassment of being there. She wasn’t one to be held in public and especially not in front of her men. But Rhodes had her wrapped up so tightly that it would do no good to struggle. Truthfully, it wasn’t as if she wanted to.

  “What do you want to know?” she asked.

  Rhodes didn’t hold back. He had hold of something he wanted, very badly, and nothing made more sense to him at the moment. “If you were to marry, why could it not be to a man like me?” he asked. “You have said yourself that you admired me. Would it not make sense to marry someone you admired?”

  His warmth was overwhelming her and she could feel his steady, firm breathing against her body. It would be so easy to….

  “It would,” she said, struggling to answer his question and not allow herself to become swept away with fantasies of his hard body against hers. “It would make the marriage most pleasant.”

  “Then why would you not consider marrying me?”

  “Because you are already betrothed.”

  He snorted. “It is my father’s contract, not mine,” he told her. “You know that. I will not marry the girl and if my father doesn’t like it, then he can marry her himself. As for me, I intend to continue on to London and I want you to go with me. I cannot explain it, Samarra, but from the moment I met you… I was drawn to you as I have never been drawn to anyone in my life. You are proud and beautiful and bright. Let me be the one to put you in jewels and fine clothing. Let me be the one to treat you as you were meant to be treated. Will you not at least consider it?”

  With the alcohol pounding through her veins, Samarra had absolutely no self-control. Her inhibitions were gone, as was that carefully-held manner she always kept about her, the tough woman who wasn’t afraid of anything. But knowing that Rhodes was offering her exactly what she had been dreaming of… that frightened her. She was afraid to give in to her dreams.

  But, oh… she wanted them so badly.

  “I… I do not know,” she murmured, gazing into his eyes. “What happens when you tire of me?”

  He frowned. “You?” he repeated, aghast. “Never! Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Because I cannot believe a knight like you would be interested in a woman like me.”

  His grin broadened and he leaned forward, kissing her gently on the tip of her nose and feeling her shudder in response. “I would never grow tired of a woman like you,” he murmured, kissing her cheek and listening to her groan under her breath. “I’ve spent my entire life searching for something to fill me; I have always been a dreamer, a wanderer, looking for something to make me happy. My father used to say I was searching for a land of gold. Mayhap I was. Of course, every man has his own sense of paradise and happiness, but it seems to me that I was searching for the wrong thing all along.”

  His kisses were driving her mad and Samarra no longer cared if her men were watching. She didn’t care if the entire tavern was watching; she turned to putty in Rhodes’ arms, becoming boneless and limp as his mouth drifted over her cheek. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she was positive he could hear it.

  “W-What do you mean?” she whispered.

  He finally made it to her mouth, gently kissing the corner of it. “Mayhap, it was not a place I was searching for,” he murmured. “Mayhap, it was a person.”

  Samarra could barely breathe as he kissed the corner of her mouth again. “Who?”

  “You.”

  With that, he slanted his lips over hers, kissing her deeply. She was warm and sweet, but mixed in with that deliciousness was also the taste of that brackish swamp water. He could smell it as well as taste it, but it didn’t deter him. The woman had started a wildfire within him the likes of which he’d never experienced and he was determined to have her, any way he could.

  But as he kissed her, thoughts of his father crept over him. He’d come to St. Agnes without reservation, knowing his father would be here soon if he wasn’t already, and Rhodes was determined to tell him one last time that he had no intention of marrying Lyonette. But Lyonette and her father were to be here, as well, according to Samarra. That meant more men, more soldiers, who would be able to stop him from leaving when he wanted to. They might even strong-arm him to the church and force him to marry the girl. That thought alone brought him to a pause. Samarra and her eight men would be no match for his father, his father’s men, and all of the de Sansen men.

  Perhaps coming here had been a mistake, after all.

  “Listen to me,” he said as he pulled his mouth away from hers. “I am coming to agree with you. Mayhap, it was not wise to come here. I came because I did not want you to lose honor in my father’s eyes, but now… now I want to leave here, with you, and never return. Will you come with me? Will you be my wife, Samarra?”

  Drunk and swooning, Samarra was having difficulty absorbing what he was telling her. She was still lingering on that scorching kiss that had nearly drained the life from her. But eventually, his words sank in and she took a deep breath, struggling to collect herself.

  “Leave?” she repeated. “With you?”

  “With me. Will you go?”

  Will you go? Those words rang in her head as she looked at him and, at that moment, they were the most beautiful words she had ever heard. All of her fears, her reservations fled until there was nothing left but Rhodes and his handsome face, asking her a question she had never expected to hear.

  Will you go…?

  Now, she was willing to believe in her dreams.

  “Aye,” she breathed, nodding her head as much as her drunken state would allow. “But there is something you should know. It may change your mind.”

  “What is it?”

  “I… I have been married before, long ago. He was lost at sea.”

  He shook his head. “It matters not to me.”

  She felt some relief at that statement. “Are you certain?”

  “Never more certain of anything.”

  A smile played on her lips, one of joy and relief. “Then I will go with you. Now?”

  “Now.”

  Rhodes released her, setting her on her feet and steadying her when she couldn’t quite seem to keep her balance. Samarra gripped the table as Rhodes grabbed his saddlebags from their place by his feet, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at her men crowded around a nearby table.

  “But what of my men?” she asked. “I simply cann
ot leave them here. What do I tell them?”

  Rhodes dug into one of the saddlebags and pulled forth a leather pouch, weighing it in his hand. Satisfied with the contents, he tossed it to her.

  “Give this to them and tell them to return to Mithian Castle,” he said. “That is enough money to keep them fed for a while.”

  Samarra turned to look at her men, men who had been with her since she had been a young girl. Could she really do this? Could she leave them to run away with Rhodes? They were loyal men, good men as far as mercenaries went, but the moment she turned around to look at Rhodes again, she realized that she was more than willing to leave them behind.

  Truth be told, there wasn’t anything for her at Mithian other than sad memories of a long-dead husband and a hunger to survive. There was her brother, too, but she hardly saw the man. He was always at sea. The Lady of the Moon had done quite well in making her way in life as a paid sword but, much like Rhodes had explained, it was as if there had been something missing from her life. She was never truly happy doing what she was doing, living the life she lived. She always thought it was the absence of her dead husband, but perhaps it was more than that.

  Perhaps, it was a hunger for a new future with a man she was wildly enamored with. Much like Rhodes, she had been searching for a land of gold that she’d never been able to find.

  Until now.

  “Very well,” she said. “But these are not your men. Why do you give them money?”

  He stood up, towering over her. “Because when I marry you, they will, indeed, become my men,” he said. “Better they know now that it is a generous master who has taken their Missy away from them.”

  Samarra grinned as he used their name for her. “They will have difficulty understanding it,” she admitted. “Mayhap, we are being too impulsive.”

  Rhodes pulled her into his arms, so enchanted with this woman that he could hardly verbalize it. “I do not act impulsively,” he said huskily. “When I make a decision, it is because I know it is the right one. Sometimes it takes me minutes to come to that conclusion, sometimes years, but my choices are never impulsive ones. I always do what I think is right. Do you trust me?”

  Samarra had never been held like this, consumed by a big, muscular man whose warmth and strength wrapped up around her. Full of strong mead though she might have been, she wasn’t so tipsy that she didn’t understand the deliciousness of the situation or the excitement of it. That giddy woman she had been trying so hard to suppress in the presence of Rhodes was now free to say or do what she liked.

  And she didn’t care in the least.

  “Aye,” she murmured. “I trust you.”

  Rhodes smiled at her, a seductive gesture that had her heart racing. “That is good to know.”

  He was too close not to taste her lips again, her warm musk that he was quickly coming to crave. He pulled her closer against him, tighter, and had just slid his tongue into her welcoming mouth when he heard his name.

  Actually, it was a shout.

  “Rhodes! What are you doing to that woman?”

  No one had to tell Rhodes that his father had just arrived at the tavern. Strangely enough, he already knew.

  Chapter Eight

  “Greetings, Father,” Rhodes said drolly. “What a surprise to see you here.”

  Henry was standing by the door, his bearded face red with fury. He had some of his men behind him, including Bogomil, men that knew Rhodes and who were looking at the man with some glee on their faces. To find Rhodes de Leybourne in a tavern, kissing a woman in complete defiance of his father, was a humorous situation, indeed. A bit risky, perhaps, given Henry’s temper, but Henry’s men tended to side with Rhodes in his betrothal situation. Everyone knew about it and most were sympathetic to Rhodes.

  As the soldiers grinned, Bogomil slapped one of them on the chest and frowned. The smiles vanished for the most part, but not entirely. There wasn’t one man there who didn’t admire Rhodes for defying his stubborn father.

  All except for Henry. He couldn’t believe what he had seen.

  “Shut up, you idiot,” Henry snapped at his son, stomping over to where Rhodes was standing with Samarra still in his grip. Henry looked at Samarra in outrage. “And you? What are you doing? Don’t tell me that you were foolish enough to let my son seduce you!”

  Samarra was struggling with her tipsy head in the face of the abrupt appearance of Rhodes’ father. The professional persona, the one she had completely discarded for Rhodes, now returned as a defensive measure. She was caught and she knew it, but she didn’t want Henry to see her chagrin.

  “I am not foolish enough to let any man seduce me,” she said, stiffening as much as she was able given her swimming head. “You need not worry over me, de Leybourne.”

  Henry was less than convinced. His eyes narrowed at her but Rhodes stepped in. “Your concern is with me, Father,” he said, diverting the man’s attention. “You have something to say to me? That is well and good, for I have something to say to you, too.”

  Henry ire focused on his son. He pointed at Samarra. “Why were you kissing her?” he demanded. “What is it with you, Rhodes? Must you spread yourself out over every woman you come across like some rutting bull?”

  Rhodes wasn’t sure he wanted to have this conversation in front of a room full of people, but he was fairly certain his father wouldn’t move from where he was standing to go to someplace more private. Not that he blamed him; Henry had seen something he hadn’t expected to see and was understandably outraged. But Rhodes had some outrage of his own.

  Now, the battle of wills would truly begin.

  “If I’ve spread myself out over Samarra, then it is your fault,” he said. “You hired her to abduct me and bring me to St. Agnes. Therefore, if anything results from that very underhanded move on your part, then it is your fault.”

  Henry was fully prepared to berate his son but he couldn’t quite manage it. Rhodes knew he’d hired Samarra and he clearly knew for what purpose. It wasn’t as if Henry didn’t expect Rhodes to discover what he’d done, but he wouldn’t back down. He refused to feel any guilt in the matter.

  “I would not have had to do any of this if you had only shown respect for your father and the marital contract with de Sansen,” he said pointedly.

  “I told you that I did not wish to marry the girl.”

  “And I told you that you had no choice.”

  They were back where they’d started two days ago when Rhodes fled Tyringham Castle. Rhodes glanced at Samarra, who appeared oddly sober now as she gazed back at him. She hadn’t said one word to Henry about the kiss, or anything at all for that matter, appearing entirely businesslike. It occurred to Rhodes that she was waiting for him to tell his father about them – that he wanted to marry her. For certain, this was the moment of truth that would determine if he’d been lying to her or not. Did he truly want to marry her?

  Or had he simply been swept up in the moment?

  I always do what I think is right.

  “Father, sit down,” he said after a moment. “I do not wish for us to shout at each other for the world to hear. Will you at least sit down and discuss this calmly?”

  Henry made a break for the nearest chair, planting himself on it because he wasn’t feeling particularly well. The ride north to St. Agnes had taxed his sickly body and seeing his son embracing the mercenary… no, that didn’t sit well at all. He was shaken.

  Quickly, Rhodes went to sit down by his father, pulling Samarra along with him. She was a little more reluctant to sit but he sent her a pleading expression that convinced her otherwise. Sitting across the table from Henry, she looked at Rhodes expectantly, waiting for him to tell his father exactly what had been happening in their world. This certainly wasn’t a conversation she’d ever expected to be part of but, in gazing at Rhodes, she found that she wasn’t nervous. He’d asked her once if she trusted him.

  She did.

  Now was the moment he would prove it.

  “F
ather, you know my position on Lyonette de Sansen,” Rhodes said quietly. “Do you recall me telling you that it wasn’t that I was opposed to marriage in general, but simply that I wanted to choose my bride when the time came. Do you recall?”

  Henry sighed sharply. “Foolishness,” he said. “Rhodes, you do not select a bride as you would select the best horse or the most beautiful jewel. A wife is something strategic and valuable. Must I really explain this to you?”

  Rhodes looked at his father, wondering how he could make him understand. “Is that how you came to marry my mother?”

  Henry nodded emphatically. “Your mother and I were contracted as young children,” he said. “I have told you this. We married young and she came to be one of the most valuable advisors that I had. I never regretted marrying her.”

  “Did you love her?”

  That brought Henry to a halt. He seemed to falter as he struggled for an answer. “I was very fond of her, but that is not at issue.”

  “Did you love her?”

  Henry frowned at his son, now on uncertain ground as his dead wife was brought into the conversation. “That is not at issue,” he repeated.

  “I disagree. Let me ask you another way; could you imagine your life without her?”

  Henry shook his head. “Nay, I cannot.”

  Rhodes looked at Samarra, who gazed back at him steadily. Trusting. “Nor can I,” he said, smiling faintly at her. “Father, when you paid Samarra to abduct me and take me to St. Agnes, you introduced me to the most remarkable woman I have ever met. She is brave beyond measure, intelligent, and beautiful. I cannot imagine not having this woman by my side, always.”

  Henry looked between the pair, his raw emotions evident on his face. “Nay, Rhodes, nay,” he said. “How can you even think such a thing?”

  “Because it is true,” Rhodes said, tearing his gaze from Samarra to look at his father once more. “Father, I know you wanted a grand alliance, so think how grand the alliance would be with the House of le Brecque. They are a fine family, you know. Formerly the barons of Newlyn. And if we are allied with Constantine le Brecque, then he and his pirates will leave St. Ives and Tyringham alone. Isn’t that what you wish for an alliance? Something beneficial?”