Caelan's Captive (Limani Warriors Book 1)

by Faye Avalon

  Her eyes darted around the room until they focused on her clasped hands. “I… I do not remember.”

  Since her answer was not what he had expected to hear, Caelan sat on the edge of the desk. “You have no recall?”

  “No. It appears not.”

  “And yet you remember your name.”

  Still, her eyes refused to meet his. “Yes. For some reason, my name is clear to me, but I remember nothing else.”

  She was lying. Biding her time, perhaps. Was it all part of her plan to deceive him? To lull him into a circle of security within which he would feel comfortable enough to convey his secrets to her?

  Since there was no other reason she need lie to him, Caelan knew his instincts were correct. She was, it seemed, a plant by the king. A spy. He’d heard there was no limits to the bastard’s treachery, and it wasn’t unknown for him to use women for his own greedy ends. It would be difficult for any man to resist this one, he couldn’t deny it. With her pale green eyes and feminine allure. He would need to take care. If she had been sent to spy on him and his court, find out what plans they had to rally the islands and march on the mainland to take back their freedom, he would do well to keep his wits about him, and his cock in check.

  But there were no rules to say he couldn’t enjoy a little pleasure along the way.

  “And what are your plans, once your strength has returned? Do you remember the course upon which you had set sail?”

  Her eyes flashed to his, her skin flushed beneath the pallor. “I have no plans. I … I don’t remember them.” She seemed suddenly flummoxed, as if an idea had just occurred to her. “My lord, if you would allow me to stay on your island, I will work. Become a maid. A servant at your court.”

  Caelan resisted the urge to laugh at her trickery. She showed her lack of experience in undertaking such perfidious matters, being a little too quick to ask his permission to remain on the island as a servant in his court. What better way to gain knowledge? Question his people?

  Take care, my son. All is not as it will seem.

  His father’s words pushed beyond a ridiculous desire to be proven wrong about her. To believe she was innocent of the charges he mentally laid at her feet.

  Irritation rocketed through him, aimed at both her and himself. “If I allow you to remain here, it will not be as a maid, or serving wench. There is an all together more fitting occupation to which I would deem you are more suited.”

  Her face lit with what he thought was hope. The witch.

  “I would welcome any occupation, my lord.”

  Irritation turned to anger when she all but fluttered her long eyelashes his way. How dare she think to use her feminine tricks to tempt him, to make him lose all thought but to lay her down and take her without thought for her treachery or dishonesty? “My name is Caelan. I require no title when you address me.”

  His words came unbidden, but if treachery were to be played out in his court, on his island, by the gods it would be at his behest. He would be the one to put her off balance, to make her doubt her purpose on his island.

  Slowly, with deliberate menace, he leaned down toward her. “You have not asked what occupation I envisage for you.”

  While she might not have asked, it was apparent she did not mistake his meaning. She rose from the chair, her skin a pretty shade of pink. The way she pulled her shoulders back emphasized the round globes of her breasts which pushed against the delicate fabric of her gown. She stretched out her hand, as if to warn him away as she took a step back.

  Having none of her treachery, Caelan reached for her, turning her until her back was to the table. He pressed up against her, making sure his erection brushed her stomach. Her flush deepened. All evidence of the hope that had earlier lit her face now disappeared. He wouldn’t be swayed from his purpose by the flicker of fear in her eyes, nor the tightness in her body. The practiced responses of a temptress. Despite Caelan’s earlier thoughts as to her innocence, he knew the king would have chosen well from his arsenal and would not have sent an innocent to do his treacherous work.

  “What are you doing?” Her gaze pierced his and he had to admit that she was good. The fear in her eyes had deepened to such levels that Caelan almost pulled away. “My lord, I would prefer that you did not press against me in such a manner.”

  “And in what manner would you prefer I pressed against you?”

  She placed her hands to his chest. “By no manner at all.”

  Her haughty command and the defiant way she tilted her chin into the air only served to heat Caelan’s blood more. “Then perhaps I should convince you of your error.” He raised his hand, gripping her chin between his forefinger and thumb to keep her head still. Her eyes glared into his and, damn her, he knew that no power on this earth or in the heavens above could stop him now. He brought his mouth to hers, briefly at first, allowing her flavor to spread along his lips. But her taste exploded on his senses, and he took her mouth with an urgency he had never felt before in a woman’s arms.

  He wanted her, he realized as he plundered her mouth. Hadn’t he been telling himself that he needed a woman? Any woman? He’d been wrong, for as her taste moved inside him, over him, he knew the error of his thinking. He didn’t want just any woman. He wanted her. Lahna.

  The witch dared to feign surprise, reluctance. She pushed her hands harder against his chest, a shocked sound emanating from deep in her throat.

  Caelan would not yield. She was no innocent. No unwilling partner.

  He brought his hands to hold her face steady while he took more. And more. Her lips opened to him, and he pushed his tongue into the heated pleasures of her mouth. His blood fired, his senses reeled.

  Without breaking contact, he grabbed her hips, felt the warmth of her flesh beneath the thin fabric of her gown. He raised her onto the table, delighting in the feel of her now capitulating hands stroking his chest. He wanted to ignore her startled gasp as he pushed her thighs apart and moved between them.

  “Do not play games,” he growled, even as instinct took him a fraction away from her. “You kiss me in such a manner and yet you dare to gasp your objection?”

  She swallowed, her delicate throat contracting against the movement. “You took me by surprise,” she managed, her breathing irregular and her expression skittish. “I do not know what you desire of me.”

  He gave a low laugh. She was indeed a schooled actress, an experienced temptress. “More games,” he grated as he moved back against her. “You know exactly what I desire of you.”

  He pulled her hips closer to the edge of the table and dug his fingers into her flesh.

  ****

  Lahna held tight to Caelan’s shoulders, afraid that the sensations ripping through her would make her blood explode from her veins. She had experienced the stolen kiss of a young boy before, but it was nothing like this. Caelan’s touch was not chaste and tentative, but determined and almost brutal in its desire.

  She was powerless not to respond in equal measure. Was that what a woman did? How they reacted to a man’s advances? She didn’t care as his mouth descended again, as he pressed himself against her. She wanted him. If that made her wanton, then so be it. If she was to be taken by a man, let it not be at the manicured hands of the king or any other man who could fail to set her senses reeling or push her blood to heated bliss.

  Let it be at the hands of Caelan. Prince of Limani.

  Yet, if she wanted him so, if she wanted this, why did her stomach tremble with trepidation, her heart pump so badly it hammered in her chest, and her feminine center explode with heat?

  Because this is how it should be, some inner voice confirmed. This is how a woman should feel beneath a man’s hands.

  Her eyes fluttered closed as Caelan continued his assault on her body and her senses. She gave a throaty moan as his hands traveled up her body, cupping her breasts. His thumbs brushed her nipples, so hard and taut, she could not imagine they could respond so. Yet her breasts ached with such delicious torment a
s Caelan continued his slow, tortuous ministration.

  “You put me beneath a spell,” he grated as he pressed kisses to her jaw, along her throat. “Such a temptress should be banished from a man’s proximity.”

  Lahna dropped her head to the side, savoring the potent slide of Caelan’s mouth against her skin. “I weave no spell,” she managed as the breath backed up in her tight lungs and she pressed her thighs against Caelan’s hips. “It is you who drive these feelings in me. Please…”

  Heat scorched between her legs as he bit gently into her neck, all the time kneading her breasts until she wanted to scream.

  “Please?” he questioned huskily, as he gently pinched her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “What is it you require, my temptress?”

  Even in her sensual haze, Lahna knew he was teasing her. That he didn’t really believe her to be the temptress he accused her of being. Still she couldn’t help but feel empowered by his remark. It made her feel bold. “I require your kisses, my lord. More of your kisses.”

  “Only my kisses?” As if to illustrate his words, he ground his manhood against her. It felt hard, and very large.

  Her stomach jumped in both trepidation and excitement.

  “Or do you require something else?”

  His hands left her breasts and slid to her shoulders. He looked into her eyes as he pushed her slowly back until she lay on the table with him between her legs. Still with his gaze on hers, he reached for the hem of her gown and began to push it up beyond her knees.

  “Shall we see if you are ready for me?”

  Lahna swallowed. She couldn’t imagine being readier, but fear trickled through her desire as Caelan continued to push up her gown.

  Instinct propelled her to reach down and push away his hands. Shouldn’t a woman put up some semblance of modesty and hold back some restraint?

  His eyes narrowed as his hands stilled. “You test me, Lahna.”

  She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but the harshness of his tone and the coldness in his eyes gave Lahna time to think. She had much to gain from allowing him to become her first lover, not the least being that she would receive her initiation from a man she desired. And if she allowed him to become her lover, then perhaps he would allow her to stay. Then, should he discover her whereabouts, the king would consider her soiled goods, and the awful despotic man might then discard her as if she were nothing but swine.

  The clutch of joyous anticipation was quickly quelled by the realization that the king could just as easily punish her—and Caelan—for becoming lovers. She had heard tales of maidens who had denied the king and had never been heard from again. She could only imagine their fate. She also knew that the king treated men who betrayed him with the ultimate punishment. Death.

  She shuddered. She could never put someone in danger that way, least of all this man.

  The strength of her inner thoughts gave her pause.

  Goddess of Maidens, what was she doing? She hardly knew him and yet already she knew she would never put him in danger. How could her feelings, her desires, be that definite? But they were. She wanted him, so badly there was a desperate ache between her legs and a wetness there she didn’t entirely understand. Yes, she wanted him. She had never been surer of anything in her life.

  But she couldn’t act on it. She couldn’t put them both at such terrible risk.

  Caelan must have felt the tension that pushed into her body, for he drew back while remaining between her still bent knees.

  She could only imagine what a wanton sight she was, lying on a table with her gown in disarray, exposing the tops of her breasts and most of her thighs.

  She hooked herself up onto her elbows, the top of her gown falling off one shoulder exposing more of her left breast. His hot-blooded appraisal sent shockwaves flooding her body, but she had to stop this before it went further.

  “You blow between heat and chill,” he snapped, moving back several paces. “What is it you hope to gain by delaying things?”

  Lahna quivered, her whole body feeling alive with sensation. “I… I don’t understand...”

  He scoffed. “Cover yourself. I’m done with this.”

  Struggling with her thoughts, with her desires, and her attempts to make sense of Caelan’s terse words, Lahna’s head swam. She battled the almost overwhelming need to have Caelan take her from maiden to woman. The knowledge that he would be her first. A strong, handsome warrior prince and not a cruel, tyrannical king.

  But as he turned and strode from the room, she was left to mourn her naïve hopes, her silly expectations. That if she had pleased him, shown him that she desired him, he might have allowed her to stay on this island. The king might never have found out. She could have lived in secret, perhaps as a maid or a servant. Disappeared. Blended into island life.

  Instead she had allowed her fears to rule. Had considered the effects their union might have on Caelan if the king discovered he had taken the virginity of a girl promised to the ruler. No doubt she had now angered Caelan so much that even if he harbored doubts about returning her to Zomotia, they were now well and truly quashed.

  Hastily, she slipped off the table and rearranged her gown, deep in the knowledge that her troubles had just doubled. For now, she needed to escape not just from one man, but from two.

  ****

  Caelan stormed down the corridor and turned toward the small room he considered his sanctuary. There he could think, reason, plan. But he was denied the solitude he craved when Kassaro strode toward him.

  “You need to know that word has gotten around,” his friend said without preamble. “The men are aware that you harbor a valuable commodity.”

  “This is of no interest to me.”

  “It should be,” Kassaro pressed, following as Caelan reached the door to his haven. “I know you have no time for this, Caelan, but if we go into battle against the king you will need to maintain the loyalty and respect of the warriors. You would do well to appease them over this issue.”

  Gods, but didn’t the man know he was painfully aware of that? He felt the ire rise inside him, building on that already set in motion by the golden-haired temptress currently ensconced in his chambers.

  Caelan knew he would have to do something. And fast. Hadn’t he already decided to visit the Doe Park himself that night to see firsthand what the current situation was regarding the lack of women available to his men? Already he had decided that if he found it sorely lacking he would send his most trusted confidants out to the other islands and barter for more women. The islands were already desperately low in essential supplies, thanks to the greedy needs of Zomotia, and Caelan knew that right then they valued food and clothing more than sex. At least, he hoped to the heavens that he was correct in his assumptions.

  As for Lahna?

  He could banish her to the Park, swell the ranks of the women. That would achieve at least two purposes. It would help mollify his men, and he would know where she was and what she was doing. She would have little chance of discovering island secrets and plans, for the woman who ran the Park was a fierce and loyal subject of the court. She would advise Caelan if Lahna put a foot wrong. He found himself warming to the idea. Poetic justice would be served if she found herself the plaything of his warriors. She had opened her legs for the king, had played her games with Caelan, and now she would succumb to any man who so desired her.

  Including him…

  Fire raged in his belly at the thought of having her, but layered beneath it was a scathing resentment for any other man who might do the same. Unwilling to probe the source of his umbrage, or to debate the issue further, he turned to Kassaro. “Let it be known that I intend visiting the Park this night, to see for myself the extent of the men’s concerns.”

  “I thought you had a meeting with the elders?”

  “Which will be rearranged for first light.”

  Kassaro grinned and nudged Caelan’s shoulders. “Perhaps not first light, my friend. Allow yourself release
and the repose that will come from partaking of a warm and willing female, or two.”

  When his cocked jerked in response, Caelan shook away the image of Lahna and returned Kassaro’s grin. “It bears temptation to be sure. Perhaps I will indeed allow myself to enjoy the delights of the flesh.” And maybe then he would be free of this edgy need that had crept into his system. “It would bode well to solve two problems in the space of hours.”

  Kassaro’s grin turned sly. “Indeed. And the consequences of that may make you more sympathetic to the concerns of the men.”

  “I am sympathetic,” Caelan insisted. “I have not been without the comforting presence of a woman for too long that I do not remember what pleasurable distraction they offer from the concerns of life.”

  Kassaro turned wary. “And about the woman?” he reminded Caelan gently. “She still remains a precious commodity. You must make a decision, and soon.”

  All too aware of that, Caelan nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure why he didn’t reveal his new plan for Lahna right then. “I will make my decision this night.”

  Sending her to the Park was the only solution, Caelan reminded himself. Apart from sending her back to Zomotia. But even he, as much as he loathed the woman for trying to trick him, didn’t want to subject her to the wrath of a thwarted and vengeful king. Once the king knew she had failed in her efforts to win Caelan’s trust and had been returned to the Zomotian court empty-handed and without precious information, the king would deal with her in the harshest way. Caelan had no doubt of this. He had heard stories of women who displeased the king or his courtiers. The Doe Park would be a blessing for Lahna.

  Again, his stomach hit freefall. What in the name of the gods was it about the woman, the thought of her, that could make him react in this manner?

  “What troubles you?” Kassaro asked softly. “Is it the woman?”

  Caelan huffed, uneasy that his friend could so easily read his thoughts on the matter. “You think I do not have enough troubles to occupy my mind? The small matter of saving our land perhaps? Or going into battle against an army who fight without honor?”