by Jean Winter
“Lyra!” he called after a long time.
She appeared just outside the partially open door, hair taken down and brushed out after their tussle. “Yes, my lord?”
“Please bring me some tea. And then help Jos'lie get to bed.”
He was not like Sal, though. Kade had to do this his way.
And he was a gentleman. Unfortunately.
“Of course, my lord.”
While he waited, Kade looked around his office, tidier and more organized than it had been in years, thanks to his recent late nights. At least, some good was coming of all his patience.
Lyra soon came back with his cup. “Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?”
There was that question again. That loaded, but necessary question. And another opportunity to tease. “Nothing that would no' offend your lifelong virginal creed, Sugarpip.”
Lyra's brow crinkled in response. “My lord, you know I am no virgin. I have three children.”
“Aye,” he agreed lightly. “And I imagine all three times you let your husband get that close to you were rather nerve-racking.”
To Kade's surprise, she looked quite taken aback. “Oh, is that how you think it was between us?”
“Lyra, if I did no' know for a fact that you have been pregnant at least once, I never would have believed that you ever gave yourself to him at all. You are far too zealously entrenched in your own doctrines.”
Her eye suddenly sparked with something … something new, and she cocked her head, almost in challenge. “You would be wise, my lord, to not believe everything you hear about Believers. A virtuous woman guards her chastity fiercely, yes, but once she is sealed to the man she loves—” A sudden calm came over her, and Lyra looked him straight on in a way she never had before. “Well, would you like to know what Jon appreciated even better than my stamina?” And posing against one side of the door frame, Lyra began to slide a foot up the opposite side. Higher and higher it went, Kade's pulse climbing right along with it, until that dainty arch with the silvery necklet at the ankle reached above the level of her head. “My … flexibility.”
Holy. Henna's. Bosom. With that, she swept from the room, and Kade sat rooted to his chair, his poor brain scrambling to wrap itself around yet another layer of character she had just unveiled.
A frown shadowed his features as he quietly finished his tea. Then, looking around and finding nothing more to be done in his office, he got up and left. The laughter of Lyra and Jos' getting ready for bed together drifted from the lavatory as he wandered aimlessly toward his bedroom, deep in troubled thought.
Believers do no' shun intimacy?
His bedroom was given a blank stare until Kade happened to notice a couple of his handkerchiefs folded neatly on top of the dresser. Lyra had probably laundered these today, but didn't know where to put them. Automatically, he opened the appropriate drawer and his eyes fell on a bottle of wine and two glasses nestled among the articles. It was the bottle he had prepared for bringing his new khar home that first night then hastily stashed away when he realized Lyra wouldn't want to drink it.
With a grunt, Kade lifted the unopened liquor to the light.
# # #
“Read it again, Mama Lyra. Please!”
Lyra tapped Jos'lie affectionately on the nose. “I have already read it three times, Sweetness. Now it is time to go to sleep. We will do fun things together tomorrow, too. Okay?”
They had been cuddled together on Jos'lie's bed for the last hour, reading Jos'lie's favorite, dog-eared, bedtime story. It had appeared that J'Kor was planning another late night in the office and Lyra felt at liberty to take her time with the nightly routine.
Jos'lie moaned, “Okay.” Then, she perked up. “Sing me song, Mama?”
Lyra hesitated. “Jos'lie, not tonight, please. Mama Lyra is a little sad about singing right now.” It came out as dumb as it had sounded in her mind, but she didn't know what else to say.
“Aw …” Luckily, the groan turned into a yawn.
“Good moonrise, Sweetness,” Lyra said, kissing the girl on the forehead.
The rest of the laundry got folded up and Lyra noted the office door closed as she went by for the last time. In the great room she pulled out R from the bookcase for some light reading before calling it a night.
Things were looking up again. Most of J'Kor's friendliness was certainly a show for the kids, but Lyra's lips opened in a half smile when she thought about their wrestling match on the floor. It had also been rather satisfying to finally put to rest another of the false rumors she knew he had been harboring about her people. How ridiculous it was that he could believe she and Jon had only made love when they were trying to get pregnant!
Before long, Lyra was unable to focus on her page anymore. She had worked and played hard today and with a yawn, she closed the book. Ahskr lifted his head inquisitively from at her feet where he had been curled.
“Good moonrise, boy,” Lyra mumbled. She rubbed his head and took a quick look at his injured shoulder. It had healed quite nicely and new hair was already growing through the skin. “Did I hasten your healing, too?” she said wistfully, not really knowing if it were true. Did it work on animals, as well?
He gave a few content tail snaps and Lyra rose to return the book to its place. Ahskr rose with her, ready to follow, and Lyra glanced once more toward the hallway and J'Kor's office. Still quiet. She shuffled to the bedroom, fumbling to find the light switch while Ahskr trotted past to his bed.
“What took you so long?”
Lyra jumped at the bored voice from the breakfast nook. She spun to find J'Kor seated there, nursing a half empty glass of amber/pink liquid.
“My lord! I thought you were still in your office.” Had he really been sitting here in the dark this whole time? “I am sorry if you were expecting me sooner. Did you say something earlier and I forgot?”
“No.” He took another swallow and went back to staring out the moonlit window.
Something about his clipped tone created a little spike of fear in her and Lyra wondered how long he had been drinking. Ducking her head, she went into her closet to undress. When she emerged and saw that he was still there in the exact same position, she gave a short curtsy with, “Good moonrise, my lord,” and turned to climb into bed.
“Lyra, come sit with me.” He gave his knee a pat, indicating she plant herself there.
Lyra told herself not to get too worried. How many times had she been sure he would take her and she ended up being wrong? He was a gentleman. Granted, she had only known him sober.
Maybe he hasn't had very much. Gingerly, she sat on his lap and saw that the wine bottle on the small table was mostly empty. Gulp.
J'Kor reached one arm around her waist and pointed with the other toward his pond for her to admire the water shimmering softly under three half-moons. It was beautiful. She started to tell him a little more about the adventures she and Jos'lie had enjoyed over there today, but was silenced by a finger pressed against her lips.
“Lyra, stop,” he slurred. “No more meaningless chatter. That is all we have done since I brought you home. I am tired o' it.”
“Sorry, my lord,” she whispered. She tried to hope that perhaps he just wanted to sit there quietly together for a while, but the movement of his hand across her belly soon told her otherwise.
“You know,” he said after a minute, “part o' the reason why I have been so forgiving o' your frigidity is because I thought that, despite your marriage, you were still quite … inexperienced.” The hand started to slide up her body.
“Well … I am, my lord,” said Lyra, her pulse charging ahead. “I have only ever known one man.”
J'Kor laughed lightly “Oh, I do no' think we can use that definition for you, my dear. No' after that little display in my office.”
Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!
Lyra shut her eyes, cursing her decision to act on the impulse. She didn't think he would take it so seriously! One sleeve was drawn off her
shoulder and J'Kor moved in for a slow kiss. She could smell the alcohol on his breath now—sickly sweet and stale. More long kisses moved along her skin, causing a shudder to pass through, but this time, J'Kor's reaction was only to grip her a little tighter.
“My lord,” she murmured. “You are not quite yourself tonight. I think you may have had a lot to drink. You don't really want our first time to be like this, do you?”
Please, please, no, Heavenly Father. Not ever like this!
A hand slid to her thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. “Like what?” he said, breathing into her ear. “Me finally being man enough to take what is mine? You finally giving up your pious maiden act?” Fingers worked their way up under her nightgown. “Come on, Lyra. You know you like this. You know you like me. That is why you have been so afraid to be near me lately, admit it. Deep down … you want me.”
J'Kor began to feel hungrily about her body, his wandering mouth grew more insistent, and bile rose to Lyra's throat. This was not like how it had felt in her drea—her nightmare.
“Please don't, my lord. Please don't do this,” she plead softly, only partially aware that she was exerting some effort to push away.
But J'Kor abruptly stood and pulled her with him to the door. “Not this time, Pip. A man's needs can only be ignored so long and I have been more than generous.” Lyra heard the slide and click of the key in the hole as he locked it. “It is time for your Jon to share you.”
She was backed to the side of the bed where J'Kor's hands raked at her with a new eagerness as her nightgown got slipped over her head. Lyra had to let it go, had to submit. The man stepped back, looking her up and down in satisfaction like one of his prized sheep. Then his expression changed.
“Sit down,” he ordered.
Lyra did so, gripping at the mattress corner as he bent to lift one of her legs. A cupped palm slid down her calf to her heel where it stopped, and before Lyra could register what was happening, she heard a small snap, like something breaking. Oh, no!
“This was his,” J'Kor muttered in cloudy realization, and Lyra's heart exploded at the sight of her last tangible memento of Jon's devotion dangling in pieces from J'Kor's fist. Her necklet! The dim cloudiness rapidly transformed to a hot rage. “You are wearing his symbol … in my house!” he accused.
Tears of dread sprang to Lyra's eyes. “My lord, please, please don't take that. It's all I have—!”
She lurched to grab it, but the necklet was swiftly pitched into a shadowy corner where it chinked against a piece of furniture before falling into the fibers of a rug. Ahskr jumped with the sound and began to pace.
“You belong to me,” J'Kor growled. He removed his tunic and leaned over her, forcing Lyra on her back. A lock of wavy hair that had fallen across her breast was stroked. “Lyra, this will go much better if you do no' struggle. I do no' wish to make you hurt.” Then groping hands were feeling their way down her abdomen to the waistband of her underwear. “And we have all night to get it right.”
Please, God! Help me through this!
“Mama Lyra?”
A small shuffle was heard from out the bedroom door. “Mama?”
CHAPTER 13
A knock sounded along with the sound of small hands trying to turn the fastened knob. And also crying? J'Kor's face screwed up in anger. He swore quietly in the darkened room, still clutching at Lyra.
“Papa? Mama?” Jos'lie whimpered with a few more knocks. “My dream. I had—bad dream.”
“Go back to bed Jos'lie. Papa is tired.”
“I want Mama!” Jos'lie whined through the door.
“Lyra is busy, Princess,” J'Kor said, his tone growing more terse. He glared at Lyra to not to say a word and Lyra held her breath even while Jos'lie's crying intensified through the wood paneling.
“Papa, I scared. I had bad dream! I want my Mama!”
“Jos'lie!” His voice rose to a dangerous level. “I told you to go back to bed. If—”
“My lord—” Lyra chanced breaking in, trembling even as she did so. She had to do something. She didn't know but that he might end up taking out some of his drunken frustration on his daughter. “Let me go to her, please. I will get her settled down and back to bed and then … I will come back to you.” Lyra read the dulled, mistrusting eyes of the man pressed over. “I promise, my lord,” she added. “I promise.”
“… Mama … Mama … Mama!” Jos'lie's pitiful sobbing continued.
His muscles tightened, his jaw clenched. J'Kor's grip began to hurt.
Then he lifted himself off her. “Make it fast,” he muttered.
Lyra scrambled off the bed and went for a robe in the closet. “Thank you.”
Securing the robe's sash tightly across her waistband and rubbing at her wet cheeks with trembling fingers, Lyra took a deep breath and opened the door. Briskly, Ahskr trotted out ahead. He didn't want any more to do with the angry, frustrated man in the room than Lyra.
Jos'lie stood waiting and barefoot with tears streaming down her soft cheeks. Her chin quivered uncontrollably as she clutched her doll to her chest. “Mama?”
Lyra closed the door behind her and swept the girl into her arms in a motherly embrace. “Oh, my Sweetness! What is wrong? Why are you so sad?” It was a monumental effort to mentally switch gears and focus solely on the trivial troubles of childhood.
“A nightmare. I got scared,” the girl sniffed and buried her hot, wet face in Lyra's shoulder.
“It's okay, baby, I am here,” Lyra crooned softly with a kiss to the side of her head. “Nothing is going to hurt you. You are safe.”
They hugged each other tightly until Jos'lie's whimpering subsided and Lyra could lead her back to her room. She convinced Jos'lie to get back in bed then sat on the mattress next to her, stroking the girl's slightly matted hair.
“The monster men, Mama. I afraid,” Jos'lie presently revealed in a whisper.
“Was that your nightmare? Monsters?”
“Uh huh. Men monsters with two heads. Monsters. Red eyes. Big ones. They … scary.”
“It was just a dream, Sweetness. There is no such thing as monsters,” Lyra assured. “You can go back to sleep.”
“Sleep with me, Mama? I … still scared.”
Lyra swallowed back a lump. “Not tonight, baby.”
“Pleeeeeeease?”
“Shhhh, Jos'lie,” Lyra murmured. “I cannot sleep with you tonight. Your—your father needs—” Lyra couldn't say anything more. Her vision blurred and she knew she should be getting back to him now.
“Is Papa scared monsters, too?” The girl hugged her doll tighter to her.
“No. Your papa is not afraid of monsters.”
“But why? Why can no' sleep w' me? To-night?” she insisted.
“Well,” the calming breath Lyra tried to take wasn't so calming, “you know how you like to sleep with your doll?”
“Aye.” Jos'lie grinned a little. “My doll happy.”
“Yes,” Lyra agreed. “You feel better with your dolly and you like to have her near you at night. Well … that is how your father feels about me.” Lyra tried to smile, reinforcing her allusion that was totally stupid, but it was all she could come up with on the spot. “He wants me near him tonight to—to help him feel happy.”
“Oh!” Jos'lie replied in understanding. “He love you!”
“U-u-um,” Lyra stammered. Yeah. That was a bad allusion. Bad. Bad. “He likes … I, uh, I help him—” Just say something Jos'lie will get. It doesn't have to be the truth! “I am his … your papa has been lonely since your mama died—” Finally it came to her. “And I help him not be lonely.”
“Oh,” Jos'lie answered soberly.
Lyra's gaze across the room was pensive as she continued stroking Jos'lie's hair. “And sometimes, when a papa is lonely for a mama … the nights are the hardest time of day to get through.”
She let Jos'lie think about that for a minute.
“Mama?”
“Yes?”
“Will you
sing—me? So I can sleep?”
“Jos'lie,” Lyra said plaintively, “I need to get back to … to bed.”
“Pleeeease? Just one song? Then I go sleep.”
Lyra balked. She was afraid of her voice now. But if it placated the girl so she could rest easier, surely she could manage something. Something quick and light—a happy, safe, no-magic song.
“Ohhhh, what do you get when it's very, very wet on a stone all alone in spring?” Lyra started very, very softly. “When along comes the song of a sleepy mockaree. It's a very funny thing. …”
Lyra got to the first chorus, but stopped part way through. Something wasn't right. She was in the wrong key. She made a slight readjustment and finished out the funny nonsense song to Jos'lie's giggling delight. Lyra helped Jos'lie cuddle down into her blankets and suddenly heard a creak outside the room. Fear instantly gripped her. J'Kor! She had taken too long! But no one appeared in the doorway.
“Mama Lyra,” a sleepy Jos'lie mumbled. “Papa mad be-cause he love you.”
It must be the house shifting. Lyra shook her head and looked down at the girl. “What?”
“I love you, Mama.” Jos'lie closed her eyes and rolled over. By the time Lyra had bent for a soft kiss to her brow, she was asleep.
Now Lyra had to leave, and keep her promise. But walking out the door proved to be very difficult. You promised. You promised. You can't escape anyway. He will only be more angry.
Each step had to be coaxed along like that. Lyra emerged from the hallway and gazed forlornly across the continental expanse of dining area and great room to the wood-paneled door where J'Kor lay in wait. She wanted to pray, but all she could think about at that moment was his betrayal. She had dared to start believing that he cared for her. She thought she had gained his respect. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she went, and Lyra wanted to get mad. She wanted to curse that man for what he was waiting to do to her in there and she wanted to walk in that room, head held high and a righteous fire in her eyes. But to her chagrin, she could muster none of it. Her heart only registered despondence, heaviness. She was heartbroken.