“Leave off, Gillian,” Kaelan admonished her. “There is too much between him and me for either of us to ever be friends with the other."
Gilly paused for a moment with the thread pulled taut, the needle glinting in an errant ray of sunlight. She turned her head and looked keenly at her husband then let her hand fall to her lap. “And why is that, Kaelan?” she questioned. “You hardly know Quinn."
Kaelan shifted uneasily in the hammock, setting the canvas to swaying. He knew it wouldn't do to tell Gilly he was jealous of Arbra. She would fan away his concern and ask him why he felt the need to be. That she had no clue as to the other man's feelings toward her should have put Kaelan's mind to rest; instead, it worried him and he lay there pondering the wisdom of enlightening her.
“Hesar?” she grunted. “Why is there such dislike between the two of you?"
Kaelan stared up at the lacy palm fronds overhead. “Have you any idea how he feels about you, Gilly?” he asked.
“Grateful, I would imagine,” she replied. “In some small way, I believe he thinks I saved his life."
Kaelan glanced over at her. “Aye, he does, but that isn't what I meant."
Gilly lifted her hand and thrust the needle through the shirt fabric once more, not looking at her husband as she continuing mending the rip in its sleeve. “Do you refer to his crush on me, then?"
Kaelan blinked. “Crush?” he gasped. She knew?
Gilly shrugged as she ducked her head down to bite through the thread. “Aye,” she acknowledged. “The poor man is a bit enamored of me, I think.” She stuck the needle into her spool of thread then laid them inside her sewing basket. “It's to be expected, isn't it?"
Kaelan swung his legs from the hammock—almost losing his balance and tumbling over backwards to the sand—and stood up, his hands on his hips. “You know he is in love with you?” he demanded.
Gilly looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. “Did I say ‘love', Kaelan?” She shook her head. “I said crush and that is precisely what it is."
“The gods-be-damned hell it is!” he snarled. “The man is besotted with you, Gillian, and was ready to fight me to prove it!"
Gilly blushed, but she didn't seem embarrassed that such was the case. she smiled—secretly, it seemed to Kaelan—then lifted one delicate shoulder. “He'll get over it."
“He'll get over it?"” Kaelan strode to her, bent over, reached down, and drew her to her feet, ignoring her protest as the shirt she had just mended slipped to the ground. She was about to chastise her husband, but he shook her, none too gently.
“Quinn Sorn Arbra is in love with you, Gillian Hesar,” he grated through a tight jaw. “And I can tell you from my own experience, he will never get over it, woman!"
Gilly's head bobbed as he shook her again. She stared at him, mesmerized by the possessive gleam in his dark brown eyes. “Kaelan...” she began, but he shook her again, more roughly.
“I'll not allow him to come between us!” Kaelan roared.
“He ... will ... not!” Gilly managed to get out before her husband dragged her up against him hard enough to knock the breath from her body and slammed his mouth tightly over hers.
The assault on her mouth was more rape than kiss. Kaelan's tongue forced its way past her lips and plunged hotly into the warm recesses beyond. The lower half of his body was pressed so tightly, so intimately against her own, she could feel its heat through her thin skirt. When his hand slid down from her upper left arm to drag at the fabric and pull it up, she pulled her mouth from his.
“Not here,” she warned him, straining backwards away from his searching lips until he became aware that she was denying him.
“Aye, here!” he growled and, before she could protest, pulled her with him to the warm white sand.
“Kaelan!” she protested, batting at urgent hands that were clawing at her skirt, then rambling over her bosom. “This is unseemly!"
“Be quiet, Gillian,” he muttered as he managed to pull the bodice of her dress down over the perfection of one ivory breast.
“KAELAN!” she gasped.
“Woman, you talk too much!” he warned her just a second before he freed himself from his breeches and was stabbing between her thighs.
Gilly felt the heat of him against her thigh, felt her lower belly clench, then gave in, knowing it was no use. If someone saw them, hopefully they would look the other way.
“You are a horny man, Kaelan Hesar,” she sighed.
“Gillian, I said..."
“I talk too much,” she finished for him. “I know.” Her arms went around his broad shoulders. “But see where talking gets me?"
* * * *
Quinn was seated on the porch of the house he was sharing with Jacob Case, one of the other four men rescued from the prison ship along with him. He was cocked back in his chair, his booted feet crossed at the ankle and propped up on the porch railing. His gaze was steady on the rolling waves which crashed inland. For almost two hours, he'd been sitting there, watching the Revenant docked out in the harbor. Tomorrow morning, he, along with fourteen other pirates, would be sailing on the tide.
And leaving Gillian behind.
That thought brought a frown to Arbra's handsome face. Not that he believed she would not be safe at Montyne Cay. The lady-wife of Prince Kaelan Hesar would have more protection than probably needed. More protection than she would have had being the wife of a mere lord, like himself.
Why, he thought, his eyes narrowing with pique, was it that he had developed an intense admiration of the Viragonian prince? An admiration that was proving to be a source of annoyance? It wasn't just because Hesar was good with a sword; Quinn knew he was better. And it wasn't because Hesar was better than most with his fists; Quinn had taken him two out of the three times they'd actually came to blows.
And it wasn't because Hesar was a natural leader of men; Quinn felt he was, as well.
So what was it, he wondered, that made him have such a grudging admiration of Kaelan Hesar?
“He has suffered greatly for his love of his lady, milord,” Occultus had told Quinn. “More than he has told anyone. There are secrets he will not share even with her."
Perhaps, Quinn thought, that was why. He knew all about suffering for love. He had firsthand experience in that department. He, like Hesar, had felt the lash on his bare back because he dared to want what some other man had declared forbidden. Had dared to strive to take what he was told he could not have.
“Don't you ever challenge me for her,” Hesar had warned him on that one occasion when his fists had out-pummeled Quinn's. “I'll kill you if you do!"
Quinn had no doubts about that statement. He had seen death in the normally kind and gentle eyes of Kaelan Hesar. The man was a saint in the eyes of the other pirates and a hero in the eyes of his wife and her brother. But Quinn reckoned he had been the only one to ever see the demon which resided beneath the handsome facade that was the prince.
“Are you packed, Quinn?” Jacob asked as he came to prop his forearms on the railing.
Quinn nodded, not speaking nor taking his eyes from the white phantom ship lying at anchor.
“Ready to kick Tribunal ass?” Jacob chuckled.
Quinn shifted his attention to his friend. “More than ready, Jacob.” His scarred back tingled. “I'm eager to put as many of those bastards in their watery graves as Nick will allow."
Jacob turned his head and spat a stream of tobacco juice off to one side. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked up at Quinn. “Don't you reckon it'll be the prince what commands us?"
Quinn didn't think so and said as much. He returned his gaze back to the Lady Revenant. “He prefers to stay out of the spotlight, Jacob. It's safer for him that way."
Jacob frowned. “I'm not seeing him as a coward, Quinn,” he protested.
“And he's not,” Quinn agreed. “But he's got a lot higher profile than Nick does. It wouldn't do to let it get back to his brother, the king, that he's aspirating T
ribunal coffers.”
He drew in his legs and planted his feet on the porch floor. Standing up, he stretched his arms above his head.
“What difference would that make?” Jacob wanted to know.
“If the Tribunal finds out, they'll confiscate Holy Dale. Not even the king could keep them from doing it, even though, by rights, it belongs to him instead of Kaelan."
“It belongs to you,” Jacob reminded him.
Quinn smiled. Maybe that was the reason, he thought, that he had no longer disliked Hesar quite so much. That one time the Viragonian had won their fistfight, it had been over the ownership of Holy Dale.
“I never wanted the gods-be-damned manor house in the first place,” Hesar had proclaimed. “You want it that badly, it's yours! I'll sign over a deed!"
“It's mine anyway!” Quinn had asserted, taking one last swing before Hesar had buried his fist in Quinn's gut to knock him down.
“Then you'd better hope the Tribunal never finds out I've gone a'pirating,” Hesar had snapped, “else neither of us will own it!"
Well, Quinn reasoned as he stepped off the porch and joined Jacob for a stroll to the Cay's one and only tavern, giving up a house you didn't want was better than giving up a wife you did. Holy Dale had been Hesar's single concession-the only one he was willing to make. Maybe it was best, he decided, to concentrate on what belonged to him than what belonged to the Viragonian.
“You will give her two sons,” Occultus had said of the mysterious woman Quinn was yet to meet.
“Twins,” he said aloud.
“Eh?” Jacob questioned.
Quinn shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied.
Maybe life wasn't going to be so bad without Gillian after all.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Nine
“Why do I let you talk me into these things?"
Diarmuid McGregor's pale Chalean complexion was whiter than normal this morning as the infamous ice cliffs of The Sinisters disappeared off their port bow. The Chalean prince shuddered, then cast a jaundiced eye to his boyhood friend. “You want to tell me why, McGregor?"
Thècion grinned. “Because you don't want to miss out on the fun, Dear Mutt."
“Humpf,” Diarmuid grunted. He leaned over the port rail and watched as the last shimmering, jagged cliffs passed behind them. “Fun is not waiting to be impaled on an iceberg,” he grumbled.
Kaelan flashed Quinn an amused look, but didn't comment on the interchange between the two young princes. He was leaning on the starboard rail-Quinn at his side-though neither man had spoken to the other all that much since transferring from Nick's pirate ship, The Revenant, to the Tribunal ship the Chalean buccaneer had commandeered.
“It wouldn't do to sail into the Kensetti harbor in a white pirate ship,” Kaelan had explained.
“Okay,” Nick had agreed. “Then we'll take this ship and I'll...” He looked about him and motioned for Lumley Tarnes to join them. “Think you you can sail this ship through The Sinister's, Lum?"
Lumley had withdrawn the ever-present pipe from between his teeth. “I reckon.” He'd doffed his tattered cap and armed the grease from his forehead. “Where you gonna be?"
“Tyler will be taking us on to Wixenstead.” He smiled. “We'll pick up D'Lyn, the mutt, and Kaelan's beast and head back to the Cay.” His smile widened. “Reckon we'll get your son and daughter-in-law while we're at it."
“Aye,” Lumley had agreed and that was that.
Now, heading for the Rysalian province of Kenset, the capitol of which was Asaraba, the home of the Ben-Alkazars, Kaelan missed Nick's company. The sailors from the captured Lady Ivonne who had agreed to sign on to pester the Tribunal were a bit fearful of him, and those who had accompanied him from Montyne Cay were virtual strangers. Captain Tarnes, as Nick had insisted Lum be called, was busy navigating the ship and Thècion and Diarmuid spent most of their time in good-natured bickering. That left Kaelan alone with Quinn Arbra.
“I never thought I'd ever see home again,” Quinn said quietly, needing company just as much as Kaelan did.
Kaelan glanced at his companion. “You consider Rysalia home, now, then, do you?"
Quinn nodded. “I was raised in Ionary, but I never considered it home.” He drew in a long breath. “There is something about the Inner Kingdom.” He shrugged. “I don't know. From the very first moment I stepped foot off the docks and walked through the bazaar, I felt I was where I was suppose to be."
“That's how I felt when I first saw Montyne Cay,” Kaelan admitted. He straightened up, but kept his hands on the rail. “I never liked Holy Dale."
“That's understandable,” Quinn said.
Kaelan nodded. “I have no good memories of that place,” he said, then smiled cockily.
Quinn's lips pursed. “I would say you have one good memory, eh, Hesar?"
“Aye,” Kaelan replied. “That's where I was finally able to...” He stopped, frowning, and cast Arbra a hesitant look.
Arbra did look at the man beside him. “Where you made her your woman,” he finished for Kaelan.
“Aye."
“I've had plenty of time to think since we left the Cay,” Quinn stated. “Plenty of time to contemplate Occultus’ words."
“And?"
There was a long sigh, a heavy shrug of powerful shoulders. “I think, perhaps, the gods might know better than Quinn Sorn Arbra.” He looked around. “That the woman for him might well be right where the priest said she would be."
“I think you can count on it,” Kaelan agreed.
“Me, too.” He pushed back from the rail and held out his hand. “Partners?"
Kaelan didn't hesitate. “Aye,” he said, gripping Arbra's strong wrist. When he let go, he returned his forearms to the rail. “I met Xavier Rahshobi once,” he informed his companion.
If Quinn was surprised, he hid it well. “When was this?"
“When I came to Rysalia to pick up Revenge,” Kaelan answered. “Vashon Ben-Alkazar and I took our Windwarrior vows together at the temple at Corinth. He bragged so much about the Rysalian steeds, I decided to go and see for myself.” He sniffed. “As I recall it, Rahshobi was at the pens that day, looking for a brood mare.” A deep frown creased the Viragonian prince's face. “He had the look of a cruel bastard about him and I remember saying as much to Vashon."
“He is a cruel bastard,” Quinn told him. “He likes to use rowels to break in his mounts."
“I noticed,” Kaelan replied. “If memory serves, Vashon refused to sell him the mare he wanted.” A nasty grin stretched Hesar's firm mouth. “And he blamed me for it."
“Well, then, you're in good company,” Quinn chuckled. “Xavier seems only to hate those of us who won't let him have what he wants."
“Will you attend his trial?” Kaelan inquired.
“Try to keep me away,” Quinn grated. “As soon as he's arrested and the charges against me have been dropped, I'm off this ship and at the magistrate's."
“Give me a day,” Thècion said as he and Diarmuid joined the two men. He jiggled the gold that was burning a hole in his left pocket. “I should be able to buy you enough testimony against him to suit you, Arbra."
Diarmuid shuddered. “I hate being a part of getting a man hanged."
“Not this man, you won't,” Quinn remarked. “Trust me on this, Dear Mutt."
The Chalean prince winced at the nickname, then cast Thècion a telling glance. “You see what you cause, McGregor?"
Kaelan snorted as the two younger men began insulting one another all over again. He looked out over the blue-green waves and wished it was into Montyne Cay harbor that the ship Lumley had re-named The Vengeance was sailing, and not the Inner Kingdom Straight of Tanger. He missed Gilly; worried about her though he knew the Convocation of Buccaneers on Montyne Cay would protect her with their last breath for she was the wife of a direct descendant of the Outlaw, himself.
“Sure and wouldn't we be damned to the Abyss if anything were to happen to
your lady?” Crale Dunham, the pirate leader of the Convocation had insisted before turning over the running of Montyne Cay to Kaelan, who had not wanted the responsibility.
“It's an honor,” Lumley had insisted, “and purely ceremonial. The Convocation needs only a tit ... a tit...” He'd looked to Nick for the correct word.
“Titular head,” Nick had provided.
“That's what they need!” Lumley had insisted. “And what better man than a great grandnephew of Syn-Jern Sorn? Accept the honor they're giving you, lad, and get on with it!"
Now, thousands of miles from where he wanted to be; months away from seeing his lady again, Kaelan felt more alone than he had during his entire time at Holy Dale. As far as he was concerned, they couldn't get this business of clearing Quinn's name done fast enough.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Ten
The rope made a shrill squeak along the crossbeam as Xavier Rahshobi's body dropped through the trapdoor of the platform. There was silence in the Tribunal punishment yard at the Temple of the Winds at Asaraba as those gathered watched the final death kicks of the man who had been hanged. The loud pop that had accompanied the snapping of Rahshobi's neck had signaled the end to a man most of Rysalia despised.
To Quinn Arbra, it had signaled the beginning of a new life.
“You will go back to Resuello, will you not, Quinton?” King Halim Ben-Alkazar had asked after Rahshobi's sentencing.
“If you will allow it, Your Majesty,” Quinn had replied.
“It is your home,” Halim had pronounced. He had motioned for his Chancellor to come forward. “And the monies which Xavier Rahshobi earned from the estate will be turned over to you. Make note of that, Jaileel."
Tears had gathered in Quinn's eyes. “I am most grateful, Majesty."
Halim nodded. “Find a woman, Quinton, marry her and settle down.” He glanced at Kaelan. “Raise horses for that brat there to sell to his infidel neighbors."
“Aye, Your Grace,” Quinn agreed, grinning. “That was our intention should you decide to restore Resuello to me."
“Wise men,” the King stated. “But you need a wife."
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