Lord of a Thousand Nights

by Madeline Hunter

  “Nay. Still, I will tell Morvan about this. Marriage to an Armstrong or not, I am his man. He may warm to the idea and lower your ransom as a result. What are the chances that you will try to attack Harclow if you must first take the keep in which your granddaughter lives?”

  Maccus chuckled. “Who knows, twenty years from now—”

  “In twenty years you will be dead and Duncan will be dead and the Armstrongs and Fitzwaryns will be watching their backs every day for Aymer Graham. This marriage alliance may prove very useful in the future. Until then, Black Lyne Keep will remain as it was under Robert of Kelso, lands separating three families, held by a man sworn to one and married to the daughter of another. It worked before. Let it work again.”

  Maccus considered that and nodded. Then he glanced to the door and frowned. “Speaking of Robert — where do you think she got the unnatural notion that he might be her father?”

  “Not so unnatural, since she was still a virgin when he died.”

  “The hell you say. No wonder—Well, Robert never did have much doings with women. A good friend, but not one of the ones who went whoring and such when we were young—. Damnation. Those dower lands. If he never—”

  “Very few know about it, and we all have our reasons for keeping silent,” Ian said. “I would like you to let your relationship to Reyna be known. She will not be judged in Robert's death, but many still suspect her. It is also unlikely that the real killer will ever face justice. If it is known that she is your granddaughter, those whispers will cease.”

  He took his leave of Maccus and went in search of Reyna. He found her and John in a chamber, dumping the straw from the mattress into the hearth.

  “There have been no women or servants here for over a month,” Reyna said. “The keep is filthy, the straw bug-ridden.”

  “Get this armor off, John. I have lived in it for days.”

  Reyna had found a broom, and she began sweeping while mail and plate clanked to the floor. Ian observed her small body move to her industry, bending and stretching while she continued to mutter about men who would live under such conditions. Her gown was dirty from her ordeal and her hair unbound and snarled, but he thought that she looked absolutely beautiful.

  “Is Morvan looking for me, John?”

  “Nay. He is organizing the soldiers and Sir David is bartering with the merchants for provisions like a steward. Maccus's knights had to leave their horses and armor and our company got some of it, so they are contented, though Morvan is planning to pay them off soon. Don't need two thousand to hold a keep once it's fallen.”

  Ian reminded himself to speak with certain members of the company to see if they wanted to remain at Black Lyne Keep, but his gaze never left Reyna. “Are there any servants about, John?”

  “Some, not many,” the squire said as he inspected a piece of plate that he had just removed. Ian wished he would speed up and remove certain other sections that had suddenly become very uncomfortable.

  John glanced over to Reyna. “She wants me to find clean straw for the mattress. As if I am some common—”

  “I think that is an excellent idea. But first find some men and bring a bath.”

  “A bath! There's feasting and drinking planned, and a whole castle to be explored, and you want me to—”

  “A bath. And then the mattress, John.”

  John's scowl darkened, then suddenly disappeared. He glanced at Reyna and flushed. “Oh.” His fingers began working the straps and buckles more quickly. He finished just as Reyna was pushing the dust and dirt into the hearth. “I'll go see about that bath now,” he mumbled, darting out and closing the door.

  Ian went to Reyna and took the broom and set it aside. “How are you faring? It must be strange to spend your whole life thinking that you are one person, and then suddenly learn that you are another.”

  She pursed her lips thoughtfully. He fought the urge to nip them. “It is strange, but in a peaceful way. Like a shadow has received light. I am feeling oddly free, in fact. Duncan never loved me, nor I him, and it is good to know the reason. And my mother—in a way it is good to know that too. I do not feel at all like a different person, just that I know better the one who I have always been.” She rested a hand on his chest. His heart rose to his throat. “Do you think that people will tell me about him if I ask? About James?”

  “Aye,” he managed to say, bending to kiss her puckered brow. The small taste of her undid him. He pulled her into an embrace, pressing fevered lips to her cheek, her neck, her breast, and he knew that he could not wait for the bath and the mattress. “You have been in my head every moment, Reyna, day and night.” He pressed and lifted her body to his, wanting to connect with every inch of her. “You are the light illuminating my shadows, love, and the need I feel for you astonishes me again and again.”

  She sighed a little gasp when his hands moved in a long, savoring caress, and he couldn't have said another word after that if his life hung in the balance. Delicious desire swept him like a flood, drowning all thought until only his senses existed, hungry and alive, stimulated by her scent and sounds and hands.

  He pressed her to the wall, lifting her skirt, anxious for the dewy feel of her skin, desperate to touch her body but immediately devastated by the warmth when he did, knowing at once that he could not even wait for that. Mindless now, he lifted her legs around his hips and took her there, his head buried in her breast, his hands grasping her bottom, listening to the music of her soft groans, grateful for her quick passion because he could have known no restraint.

  She arched against him with a little cry just as his own finish came, and then her head collapsed against his shoulder. Consciousness returned, and with it awareness of what he had just done.

  “I am sorry, Reyna,” he muttered, holding her tightly, cursing himself, and worrying that the stones had bruised her back. “I did not mean to— when I spoke of my need for you, it was not— but it has been a very long—”

  Her hand found his lips and silenced him. “What wife would not be flattered? And if it has been so long, I am honored.”

  He eased her down and managed to right their clothing without releasing her. “Honored? Should I feel honored if you are faithful to me, Reyna? It is what I expect. If you went to another man, I would think that you loved him and that the best part of my life had died.”

  “Aye, but—I thought—”

  “I know what you thought and had good cause to think.” Her surprised, hopeful expression pained him to his core. “Could I be content with some whore after you? Settle for base pleasure? It is different with us, it has been from the start. Even when I act like some callous boy, as I just did now. Nay, wife, you are mine and I am yours, and there will be no others so long as our love lives.”

  “But that will be forever, Ian,” she said, as if the eternity of her love could not be doubted. God, but he prayed it would ever be so. She did not really know the man to whom she offered her love so innocently. It seemed such a fragile thing, too, this precious euphoria that saturated his whole being. He dared not risk its destruction, and yet it also made him want to pour out his heart to her, and have her grace absolve the worst of his sins. Not now. Not yet. Let it last.

  “Aye,” he said. “The Lord of a Thousand Nights removed forever from the field. There goes my chance at immortal fame.”

  They embraced until the bath arrived. He took her in with him, cradling her on his lap while he washed her, his gaze and kisses giving substance to the memories that had sustained and plagued him. When they emerged, he found the fresh mattress waiting outside the chamber and he took her to bed. He made love to her the way he had planned, loving and praising every part of her, still caressing and covering her long after their passion was spent.

  Can you be content here in Scotland, Ian? It will be very dull after the life you have had,” she said while her small fingers played through his hair.

  “Blissfully dull, I hope. I will never be able to see warfare as a sport again. Be
sides, we will go down to London sometimes, as soon as we can in fact, when Christiana is in residence. She made me promise to bring you.” He paused. “You can stay with her while I return to Guilford. I think I will go back.” He rolled to his side. “I can not take you with me until I visit my brother and his wife first, and see how I am received.”

  “Would his wife not welcome her husband's brother?”

  “She certainly will not, but it is my brother whose feelings I must learn.”

  He looked so serious, contemplating that meeting. Christiana had said that he could not return home.

  “What stands between you and your brother?”

  He turned his eyes on her, and his gaze deepened with an intensity that looked like anger. I have done it again, she thought sickly, looking away.

  His hand turned her face back to him. “Can you love me without hearing about it? Love the man whom you know and forget about the rest?”

  “My love does not start with one part of you and end at another, Ian. Whatever this is that you have buried inside yourself, I still love you. Do not speak of it if you choose, but not because you fear that it will kill how I feel. There are no conditions on my love. It is yours, as is my friendship.”

  His lips parted as if he would speak. When he didn't, she admitted disappointment that he did not trust her to understand. Well, she would accept however much he could give, and if he never spoke of this past which he hid, so be it.

  He rested his head on her breast so the embrace was more hers than his, and she sensed his conflicted mood easing away while he nestled contentedly there. He had not rested much the last week, and she knew that he would sleep deeply.

  Before he drifted off, he lazily kissed her cheek. “I feel that I have forgotten something. Ah, now I remember. I was supposed to punish you for your disobedience.”

  Consciousness emerged slowly, barely breaking through the delicious peace. Subtle sounds came to him, and then the awareness that Reyna was not by his side. He began to reach for her, only to find that his arm would not move.

  With a rough jerk he burst into wakefulness and glared at the recalcitrant arm. A rope bound it to the bedboard. He turned in shock to find the other hand tied the same way, and looked down to see his ankles restrained as well. He was trussed spread-eagled and naked like some human sacrifice.

  He jerked all his limbs in violent defiance. The bed creaked and thudded from the force.

  “They are bound securely,” a quiet voice said. “They will not come loose.”

  He turned in fury. Reyna stood several paces from the bed, wearing a long, oversized robe that billowed from her shoulders. Something she had found in one of the other chambers, he guessed.

  “Untie me. This is very annoying.”

  “Nay, not yet. Not for quite a while, I think.”

  “Reyna—”

  “It is only what you have done to me, Ian. I thought you might like to experience it yourself. How do you feel, my love? Helpless? At my mercy?”

  That was exactly how he felt, damn it. “Reyna, I command you to untie these ropes. Why have you done this, anyway?”

  “You spoke of punishing me.”

  “Saints, Reyna, I was only jesting.”

  “I am relieved to hear it, but a little disappointed too. This was to be such a good ploy. To distract you from that idea.”

  “You have no need of a ploy. I would never—”

  “Still, the ploy suddenly has its own appeal. Perhaps I should see it through.”

  “Untie these ropes, damn it, or you will surely need a ploy to distract me when I get free.” He jerked at the bonds again.

  She smiled sweetly while the bed crashed and groaned. “I had hours to work on them, and they will not come loose.” She drifted closer and looked down on him. “You really have a magnificent body.” She ran a languid finger down the center of his chest.

  He ceased his struggle and looked into her eyes. His whole body reacted to what he saw there. He smiled his best smile. “Untie the ropes and come lie with me, love.”

  She gathered her billowing robe and stepped up on the bed, her feet straddling his hips. “I do not think so. I find that I like you this way.” She began plucking at the lacing down the center of the robe. “I am surprised at how thrilling this is. I mean, you are so big, and I am so small.”

  Ever so slowly, she slid the garment off her shoulders and eased it down her body. The fabric fluttered around her feet, rasping his skin like a caress when she kicked it away. She glanced down and smiled. “You seem to like it too.”

  He liked it enough that his jaw was clenching. She was not naked beneath the gown, but wore a leather jerkin, a boy's garment a bit too small for her woman's form. It laced up the front as well, the sides separating and half covering breasts that peeked through the crossing thongs. The bottom edge just barely covered her hips. The effect was unbelievably erotic.

  “It was a wonderful ploy, darling. Really, I am totally distracted.”

  “But I have just begun, Ian.” She stepped forward, one small foot on each side until he was looking up her length, seeing the suggestive shadows beneath the edge of the jerkin. She plucked a pheasant feather out from under the garment. “It is supposed to be a peacock feather, but of course there are none here. You will just have to imagine.”

  She bent and began stroking his body. “Oh, you really seem to like this, Ian.” She turned the feather's ministrations to the clear evidence of that.

  The exquisite torture teased every inch of his skin. Furious passion made him jerk at the ropes again. “I want you to untie me now.”

  “Heavens, you sound angry. I think it would be best if I continued. It seems that I need this ploy, after all.” She scooted down and knelt between his feet. “Besides, what you want is not important just yet. It is what I want.”

  “And what is that?”

  Her hands stroked up and down his legs while she examined him. “I want to see you while the pleasure builds. I want to watch your body tremble while it begs for relief. I want to hear your cries of need.”

  He couldn't believe the forceful desire her words and expression produced. He thought his body would split apart. Still, she had things unrealistically reversed. After all, those were his words.

  “Do your worst, woman, but remember that eventually you must release me, and then I plan to rebalance the scales.”

  “I certainly hope so. Now, lie back and submit, Ian. This could take awhile. I have completed only the first two steps.” She bent and began caressing him with her lips and tongue the way the feather had, slowly working up his legs. Very slowly.

  He looked down at her leisurely progress while his body both screamed for completion and relished the delay. Her kisses and tongue reached his knees. Her raised bottom peeked out behind the leather jerkin. “Just how many steps are there?”

  “Six,” she muttered, moving upward, upward. She was going to kill him. “Actually, eight when done the Saracen way, but David refused to tell Christiana about the last two.”

  He barely heard her. Her mouth was on his thighs now, and every fiber of him waited and hoped and urged. She rose up on one arm and her curtain of hair blocked his view, but he tightened like a coil when her finger stroked up his phallus and circled. “Is this what you want, love?” she asked. “Is it?”

  “Nay.”

  “Ah. Then maybe this.” She swung her leg and straddled him on her hands and knees, facing away, her woman's scent inches from his face.

  “Move back,” he instructed.

  Her breath brushed him, creating an agony of anticipation. “Not yet. Tell me what else you want, Ian.”

  His muscles tensed in final rebellion before collapsing helplessly to the pleasure and control. A strangled request tore out of him and her lips replaced her fingers.

  All resistance and thought blurred then, except a vague curiosity at what could possibly constitute the later steps.

  Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

  Late blooms
filled the garden with a riot of colors and smells. The chaotic beauty drenched Ian's senses. Beside him on the stone bench lay a basket. Two roses peeked over the rim, the petals intended for some delicacy that Reyna planned to cook for the midday meal.

  He wondered how long she would be gone on the pilgrimage she had made today. He had agreed to let her visit the old ruins alone, but not without misgivings. He understood her need to confront the memories buried in the dark stones of the old donjon, but he had wanted to go with her in case the terror had not been conquered as thoroughly as she hoped.

  He would wait for the sun to move a bit more before following her. Most likely they would meet on her way back, but if she had succumbed to the darkness he would find her before it got too bad.

  He tried again to distract himself from his concern by reviewing his plans for Black Lyne Keep. Reyna's confrontation with Aymer implied that the Grahams would be a lance forever poking at the western border of these lands. The notion of meeting Aymer on the field did not concern Ian. He looked forward to the day he would mete some justice for Reyna's and Robert's sakes. But he wanted his family and people safe when that private war came, and he intended to improve the fortifications over the next few years.

  His family and people. Still an odd-sounding phrase, but a pleasant one. He looked forward to that family. The sons he would raise to be strong and true knights. The daughters—He laughed to himself. The daughters he would probably lock away to protect them from men like Ian of Guilford.

  He smoothed out the dirt with his boot and considered the decision he had made last night. A second wall for the keep needed to be built at the base of its hill.

  He tried to envision the completed fortifications, and how moving the river would affect them. He poked the stick into the ground. He would draw it the way David had drawn Harclow and see if that gave the images substance. The stick scratched. Here the river, there the square keep on its round hill. The jagged waste over here, the old motte and donjon down below. Now, to move the river—