by Jean Winter
Oh, Heavenly Father! Lyra thought in a panic. By marrying him, had she just conveniently given him everything he wanted? Her body, her lifelong commitment to remain with him, and no real reason to have to make a long and dangerous journey?
She retreated back into the hallway, but J'Kor caught the door before it closed. “Please come in and join me.”
Under this new, frighteningly suspicious light, Lyra could only think to say, “You didn't tell me this was a formal gathering. I am not dressed for this and—and I was hoping we'd have some time alone … to talk.”
“I know,” he replied, “and I am sorry if you were expecting something different. I am still under some time obligations for the evening, but after I saw you again and then we—we married, well, I could no' stand to hold myself away any longer.” It was with a strange apologetic agony that he said this as he reached to touch her necklets over her collar bone. “I have missed you so much.”
Lyra looked at him like he was crazy. “Are you sure? Because you have not been acting like it.”
“I am sorry I had to keep my distance. I have had to pretend—”
“Disinterest, I know. But what about today? What about outside? You are still being distant. And now what are your—our—plans?” Sheesh! This was not the quiet, respectful conversation Lyra had envisioned. He was still over the threshold, halfway in and halfway out, holding the door open for her while she balked outside in shadow. It was prompting questioning glances and curious whispers from within.
A light finally seemed to come on and he said, “Lyra, no, no, no, I promise—” and finding too much attention on them, J'Kor quickly stepped outside with her into the hall. He took her by the hand, kissing it fervently. “Lyra, I promise that I married you because I love you. I still intend to make that trip with you. I have already committed myself to it, in fact. I have requested vacation time and as soon as school is out, the kids will come here to stay with their grandmother. Then we will have five weeks to wander the hills and see if we can get ourselves lost or killed.” He finished this with a little, dry grin and the panic slowly began to ebb.
“So, you do really love me, then?”
“So much it hurts, Sugarpip.” Sensitive fingers reached for a tentative stroke of her face. Piercing eyes watched urgently for her response.
Relieved, Lyra smiled through her brimming tears. “Good, because outside it kind of felt like—”
Then the fingers brought her head to his; his mouth found hers; his body drew against her, and this time, his kiss was more than just a whisper of a touch. It was much, much more.
Electrified from head to toe, Lyra clung to his jacket so he couldn't step away again. He swung her around, leaning her against the wall, pressing himself on her in an intimate lover's embrace, and kissed her longer and longer with such powerful earnestness and consuming emotion that Lyra could literally feel the weeks of longing, denial, and hesitation roll off his body, creating a glorious heat between them. She tingled and buzzed from the inside out.
Then his hands were searching their way back to her face and he wrenched his lips from hers. “Sorry … sorry,” he gasped, slightly out of breath. “But that was—that was how I wanted to kiss you outside.”
Have mercy! He was apologizing for THAT?
“Well, why didn't you?” Lyra breathed heavily back. She relished in his uninhibited nearness, his scent, his heat. She felt deliriously intoxicated by him.
J'Kor looked surprised by her question. “Did you really think I was going to do anything remotely close to that with your brother-in-law standing right there? He looked like he was ready to bite my head off for even looking at you.”
Lyra giggled at the image he created for her. Now that she thought about it, it was rather accurate.
“Anyway,” J'Kor's arms dropped as he suddenly stepped back embarrassed, “sorry about that again. That was rather abrupt, I know.”
“No,” Lyra said. “Don't—”
A servant turned the corner.
“Come along,” he quickly whispered, taking her by the arm.“I canno' afford to be missed.”
“But—”
J'Kor compelled her through the grand hall doors where Lyra was suddenly thrust before two dozen pairs of cold, judgmental eyes. The swelling in her gut reversed from the heights of ecstasy to the pits of dread.
“I don't think this is a good idea,” she whispered out the side of her mouth.
Linking his arm securely through hers, J'Kor whispered determinedly back, “You will remain where I can gaze with infinite pleasure upon my new wife, at will, for the rest o' the night.”
“But I don't fit in with these people.”
He led her forward now, smiling and nodding politely to his peers they passed. “And for that,” he murmured back, “I am eternally grateful, my Lyra. I would no' have you any other way.”
“Kadent,” Lady J'Kor harped as they neared, “must you bring 'Na Lyra in here? This is no' a frilly, casual gathering.”
Her son was a model of serene placidity. “Mother, I have been without the pleasure o' my khar's company for over two weeks, and much as the Mistress J'Kor knew you would no' approve and tried to decline my invitation, I insisted. I will just have another chair and place setting brought.”
Lady J'Kor frowned, but said no more. It was with extreme awkwardness to Lyra, then, that all the guests on their side of the table were asked to scoot down to make space for her. Her only comfort was in the fact that J'Kor set her chair very close to his, and, as the first course was brought and conversation picked up again, his fingers found hers under the table. There they remained.
It was a good thing they were seated as they were, and he left-handed and she right-, or eating would have been a difficult task. As it was, they enjoyed a small measure of privacy there away from prying eyes. Sometimes he stroked her wrist and sometimes she would brush fingers along his palm. He carried on discussions regarding business and the lawsuit with others while Lyra quietly attended to her meal, but every once in a while, a quick, significant glance or a furtive wink would assure Lyra where his thoughts really were.
At a moment when attention was entirely off them, he brought his wine goblet near his lips and said, “Did you see your friends off with the supplies I collected for them?”
Lyra took extra care dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “Yes. Thank you so much for doing that, and for bringing my backpack.” His hand over her lap got an extra affectionate squeeze.
“Well, I knew you intended for them to take it with them.” Dessert came and the plates began to get passed around. “Was it very hard? Telling them goodbye?”
“Yes, but honestly, it wasn't as hard as when I was taken by that monster and I thought I would never see you again.”
J'Kor's pause and study of his dessert before him was just a little too intent, and it was several seconds before he finally remembered to pick up his fork. “Lyra,” he said, “it has been torturous without you these many days.” He gripped her hand tightly under the table. “A minute to minute agony, I assure you. I have no' been able to sleep. I have no' been able to concentrate. I have had no desire to eat. The children have been no help, either. You should have seen the fit Jos'lie threw when I told her I would no' bring her to see you. I canno' live without you. Thank you for agreeing to marry me.”
The sentiment was admitted so humbly that, once again, Lyra felt there was something she was missing. “Why are you—?”
A guest reentered the grand hall from a brief absence and came directly to J'Kor and his mother.
“So sorry, my lady—my lord, but I just discovered that I must leave tomorrow early to go out o' town—for a week. The matter is pressing. Forgive me.”
“But the preliminary hearing begins in three days, Mr. Caeven,” Lady J'Kor protested. “We must meet with you tomorrow to finalize the testimonies, the witnesses, the evidence.”
“Well, I could stay late to go over all the paperwork with you tonight,” he suggested.
“But that really is the only alternative I can offer. The cabinet has called me on a legal matter and you know I canno' say no.”
“Oh, fine, fine. Kadent is here already anyway so I suppose that could work out conveniently enough.”
“Good. Thank you, my lady.” Mr. Caeven bowed. “I will take my leave to go fetch the files and return with haste.”
“Ah, Mother,” J'Kor broke in, “I have had a terribly long day and was hoping to duck out early. I need to take Lyra home and we have a long drive ahead o' us.”
“Nonsense, Kadent. Just spend the night here and you can leave first thing in the morning. We must review the prosecution plan with our primary counsel before he leaves.”
An apologetic rub of Lyra's thigh happened under the table. Over it, J'Kor sighed. “O' course, Mother. Thank you for your flexibility, Mr. Caeven.”
The man hurried off and people went back to their desserts—but not J'Kor. His fork was left forgotten by his plate. “I am sorry, Lyra, but it looks like you will have to spend another night here, and I will be detained for a few more hours.”
“We have the rest of our lives,” she tried. “What's a few more hours?” Yeah. Lamest wedding day in history. J'Kor's dessert got pushed away.
The meal finished quietly. The guests eventually left. When it was time to part ways in the hall, J'Kor tenderly stroked Lyra's cheek. “I will come find you when I am done. But if you get too tired waiting up for me, I understand.”
The Lady J'Kor bustled by and, stiffening, J'Kor gave only the briefest of kisses to Lyra's hand before spinning and following his mother into her study.
Lyra's walk back to her room, meanwhile, was of a slightly different character. She was gliding, buzzing, giddy with anticipation. Too tired to wait up for him? Not likely! Just this afternoon all she had to look forward to was another dreary night in the doldrums, worrying over what had become of her J'Kor, the man who had captured her attention the moment they met, made her like him as her slave owner, and little by little, worked his way into her heart—despite all their differences—until the impossible occurred and he had become a permanent fixture there.
“Perfect love casteth out fear.” The scripture verse meant so much more to her now. This was how she felt about him—and not only did Lord Kadent J'Kor deserve her trust and highest regard, the man deserved her very best.
He needs me. Lyra smiled to herself. Now she knew without a doubt that she needed him, too. So very much.
So it was that Lyra entered her room, contemplating the next few hours she had to kill. Wait. She had time. She had time! Lyra took in her surroundings: the modest bedroom, the nice little door that led into the yard, the pretty garden just outside. “Martee!”
The servant woman who had recently become her friend was soon found helping Mrs. Qanum tidy up after the dinner gathering. “Martee,” Lyra said, taking her by the shoulders, “I want to prepare something special for my lord. Can you give me some information?”
A minute later, Lyra was in the nearest small office with a wire receiver, waiting impatiently for the number she'd punched in to connect (and imploring Heaven that she was not seen using the wire without permission). “Sal!” Lyra cried when he finally picked up. “It's Lyra. Look, I know this is sudden and I have a big favor to ask—but don't worry, I think you're really going to like it.”
# # #
With his hands in his pockets, Kade solemnly gazed after Mother heading down the hall to the waiting Mr. Shapler who would escort her up the stairs to her room. The meeting had lasted over three hours, and his brain was rather fried. He had never had such a hard time maintaining concentration on a task before—important that it was.
Every tiny detail had to be considered. Every T crossed and I dotted. They could not afford to let Serpahn get away this time on a stupid technicality and Kade knew this meeting had been too important to blow off—even for his own wedding night. Lyra needed to be safe from that man forever.
Undoing a couple of the tight, upper buttons of his uniform top, he saw Martee, the servant, coming down the hall. Good. Just the woman he needed to talk to.
“Martee, would you be so kind as to tell me which room 'Na Lyra is using?”
“Oh, is my lord finally finished with his meeting?” Her pleasant smile was wider than usual.
“Aye, and I wish to visit 'Na Lyra.”
The smile broadened even more and Martee offered to lead him all the way, which was not necessary. All she had to do was name the room, but Kade followed quietly behind, not caring to converse more than necessary. His anticipation at seeing Lyra was escalating with every step. Unfortunately, it was not all necessarily the good kind.
How would she receive him? Really? After all she had been through? The guilt still ate ravenously at Kade and he told himself not to hold his breath. It was still too soon. Too soon. Besides, she probably fell asleep an hour ago and didn't need him disturbing her. However, Kade was powerless to turn himself around and walk away now—not after he had finally let himself see her again, and not after the Mother showered down her favors and they were able to marry today! He still almost couldn't believe it had happened.
Kade was drawn to the Believer woman now with a force he could no longer resist, and whether or not she was truly ready for him to be with her, he was coming.
Martee showed him to the blue and white guest room and surprised Kade by knocking for him. His surprise increased when a maid stepped out and hastily curtsied, exchanging a look with Martee, before excusing herself for the night. Kade gave Martee a small nod of thanks. But she didn't leave. She just kept grinning, and Kade nodded curtly again, letting it be clearly understood that she could—and should—leave him now. The confounded woman finally complied.
Do no' be too eager. Do no' be too eager.
“Lyra?” Kade stepped softly into the bedroom.
The sight that met him nearly took his breath away. Softly glowing lavender and black candles were spread through the room—everywhere—just like the first night he had brought Lyra home.
“Lyra?” he breathed again at the celestial vision of loveliness dressed in a simple, silk, ivory robe standing at the far side of the room.
“Hi.” She grinned rather nervously.
“Hello.” He grinned back, unable to help himself. “What is all this?” Candles covered the dresser, the wardrobe, the nightstands, even the little sitting chair and along each wall on the floor. Everywhere but the bed. That held large lilicanth blossoms scattered like a velvety sheet.
“Well,” Lyra said, tentatively starting toward him, “it's for my husband. Would that happen to be you?” The coyness was not lost on him, nor the shapeliness of her bare legs as she walked—a guilty pleasure in which Kade tried not to indulge.
Holy Henna's bosom, he was dying to just strip his top off and play along!
“It might be,” was all Kade let himself say, and the force drawing him to her intensified.
At the dresser, Lyra paused to pick up a candle hiding near the back. A deep, crimson red candle. By the claw! He couldn't believe she was doing this for him! Thunderstruck, Kade watched her light the passion candle on a black one and hold it before her.
“Receive me, my lord, for tonight I am yours.”
Words he had dreamed she would willingly offer left her full, soft lips and the fire in his belly ascended, licking at the caution he had carefully built in his head as he took the candle from his bride. The small flame's insignificant heat rose to caress the underside of his chin, but it was incomparable to the wholehearted love and desire that raged through him for this woman. That kiss outside the grand hall he had stolen was like nothing he had ever experienced before—not passionately erotic like one would imagine, but a swelling of a wondrous and pure ardor for the creature he held in his arms. It was nearly enough just to have that moment with her. Nearly.
Now that he was this close, Kade could see that Lyra was not wearing anything underneath that robe. The creamy, smooth skin under he
r necklet flowed unhindered to the soft fullness of her bosom only loosely concealed by the thin cloth. One side even hung off her shoulder a little lower than the other, making visible the pleasing transition of flesh from shoulder top to upper back. His crushing yearning cooled. She opened her mouth to speak again.
“Lyra.” Kade's voice was husky as he stopped her. He returned the passion candle to the dresser. “You do no' have to do this if you do no' want to. I do no' want you to feel any pressure from me.”
Her face fell in confusion. “But I—”
Gently, Kade turned her around and drew her robe lower off her shoulder. His mouth pressed into an austere line as he viewed again with his own eyes, the cruel marring that riddled the surface of Lyra's otherwise strong and supple back. Lasting evidence of Malig'ahnt's sadistic night with her. He began to feel sick.
“Oh, Sugarpip, I am so sorry.” His fingers traced over one of the scars and a lump rose in his throat. It was as bad as he had feared. “I am so sorry I did no' get to you sooner. I failed to protect you.”
“No.” Lyra spun to face him, adjusting the robe back up. “You didn't fail. I—I—I'm fine. The cuts don't hurt anymore, and most of them will disappear eventually.” Her face flushed with embarrassment.
“And what about the other ones?” Kade demanded. “What about the ones he gave you that I can't see.”
“What other ones?”
Blast it all! There she goes, playing the martyr again. Why did she always have to do that? “I know what else he did to you, Lyra. I saw it with my own eyes, and we both know it was my fault. How you could ever really want me, I do no'—”
“Wait,” she broke in. “Is this what has been going on with you? Is this really why you have stayed away and been acting funny?” Lyra eyed him curiously. “You feel guilty about what Malig'ahnt did to me?”
How could she even act surprised?
“Well, you have probably had your fill o' the brutish lusts o' the male species to last you a few years, to put it bluntly. Aye.”
A strange relief flooded her features and she reached for him. “No, you don't understand. He didn't—”