Courting Kel (7 page)

“Stubborn woman. The single problem with riding a pegagryph
is the wind and spittle glues your clothing to your skin. The only way to get
it off—without ruining the material—is to peel it off. Slowly and gently.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Shrugging, he tugged at his own vest. “Try it yourself.”

She tugged, managing to free a tiny corner of her neckline.
Tugged again. “Ouch! Bespelled! You’ve cast a spell upon it,” she said, glaring
at him.

“Haven’t. Believe me, Flame, had I cast any spell, you’d be
naked in my arms. Panting. Begging me to fuck you. You’d be on the bed and I’d
be fucking you. Feasting on you. Loving you.”

Her cheeks burned, the images aroused her so. “What can
I—can we do?”

Grasping her hand, he pulled her in his wake. “I hope we can
free it by sopping water over our skins.”

“You must know. This isn’t your first visit here. You must
have faced this before! Ow! Ow! Owwww!” Gravel bit into her feet as she ran
with Aren.

“Yes, I’ve been here before, but you’re the first woman I’ve
brought with me. Not that clothes sticking happens only when women are around.
Not that I’ve brought—”

“Guanshit! When you left me at your palace, I watched the
vidscreens. When they were together the princesses constantly compared you to
their current lovers. They always—always!—fell short. And how would they know
if they’d never been on Ondrican? Been with you?”

Irrational, Kel!
Well yes. If he’d meant to bring her
here as his wife but had brought other women as well, that meant…what?
That
this isn’t a special place to him? That I’m not special?

“They have sisters!” he shouted, seeming to have no
compunction about sharing that information. Scooping Kel into his arms, he
leaped into the spring.

Kel tugged at her vest, surprised by the lessening pressure
on her skin. Aren submerged in the pleasantly warm waters, bobbed up and down a
few times before peeling the leather from his chest. His skin looked red. Felt
hot when she laid her hands over his burning pecs.

“By all the gods!” she cried, now pulling at his skintight
pants. “If your pegagryph has harmed you, Aren, I’ll slit his throat.”

Goddess, I’m behaving like an idiot! I am an idiot!
Either escape or accept him as my husband. This dithering has to stop before I
go out of my mind.

“It is not Peg’s doing,” Aren panted, helping Kel slide his
pants down his legs. Kicking them off, he peeled her pants over her hips and
down her thighs until he freed her completely. “Blame the wind,” he murmured in
her ear, laving it until she giggled and shoved him away. Now free, her vest
floated away.

“Blackguard! It’s all a game to you.” She gulped down tears
of pain and sorrow. Staring over his shoulder toward the darkening trees, she
looked all around them—anywhere but at him. She refused to let him see how his playing
her for a fool cut her.
If he is playing me!
Which if she thought about
it…

Not that having him care for her mattered. She didn’t even
like him although she craved his cock. And everything else he did to her body.
But craving—lusting—wasn’t caring. Besides, caring robbed a warrior of her
senses. Left her open to stupidity and recklessness.

“It is not a game, Kel.” Drawing her to him until she
nestled against his chest, he said, “I’ve never ridden the winds with any woman
save you. I’ve never brought another woman here.”

“Woman? Perhaps not. But you brought another female here.
One y-you love.” The stutter caught her by surprise. Kel never stuttered unless
she cared.

I don’t care! I won’t!

But you do.
As often happened when Kel felt stressed
she heard her mother’s voice in her mind.
It may be only pride that makes
you so emotionally unbalanced but you do care. For Aren and Drew.

“Drew. Yes, I’ve ridden the winds with her, a cradle
fastened over my shoulders. When she grew, I held her safe before me until she
demanded to ride alone. Only then did I set her free.”

“Yet you refuse to let me go!” Kel wailed, pushing against
his relentless grasp until too weak to fight. “I want to go home.”

Her tears felt like hot ashes over Aren’s chest. He pressed
her face against him until, feeling her breath hitch, he eased his hold.

“Drew is my second cousin. Sired by Tage, birthed by some
nameless Amazonian female. An elder—a woman of some seventy summers—pronounced
her a boy and hid her until Tage could escape and bring Drew home with him.” He
shrugged. “It would have been easier had he left her on Amazonia but he loved
her from the moment he first held her. So here we are. Muddled.

“I sometimes wish he’d take responsibility for her. Although
I also wonder if having a perpetual adolescent for a father would be good for
her.”

“Does Drew know?”

“That Tage is her father? No. She thinks I sired her. Tage
is her much-absent uncle. I know how unfair it must seem to you. As if Tage
sowed his seed and left me to clean up after him. Part of Tage wanted—still
wants—to settle with Drew in his own home. But he’s too valuable to Ondrican as
its spaceship captain to allow that. Plus she considers Storr her grandfather
and loves him greatly.

“And I love her as if she were my own. If Storr weren’t so
frugal he’d order more spaceships and hire more crews. Then those ships could
collect the brides on a regular basis. Maybe find new planets, new blood, to
draw from.” He sighed, making Kel look at him.

Chewing her lower lip, Kel eased away from his chest. “You
must tell her. All of you together. She is an intelligent young woman. Given
time, she’ll forgive your lies and continue to love you. All of you.”

“She’s a child.”

“Not with the way you raise her! Gallivanting about the
palace, wearing hardly any clothes. Bringing naked women into her home while
expecting her to wait upon them.” Kel huffed.

“You’re the only woman—”

“Liar! Thirty-nine other women. Mating with who knows who.
Watching or being watched, doing all sorts of things no child should see.”

“Scant seconds ago, you called Drew a young woman.”

“Threatening to whip her!” Kel shouted as if he’d said
nothing, knowing he hadn’t threatened Drew at all.

Aren surged up, dumping Kel into the depths of the hot
spring. Mumbling under his breath, he strode away.

Kel shook her fist, shouted “Bastard!” at his wide back.
Then, sobbing, she curled over her body and cried until her tear ducts ran dry.

She wished with all her heart that Aren loved her as much as
he loved Drew. Not that she had a right to his love. Or truly wanted it. What
she wanted—needed—most was to return home. There she knew the rules. Caring for
a mate, loving him, played no role. Survival was all that mattered. Survival
and preparing their babies to defend Amazonia from the next horde of invaders.

* * * * *

The Next Morning

Uncertain where she was or what had awakened her, Kel tried
to open her eyes but could not so much as slit them. Rubbing frantically,
betraying every warrior lesson about staying hidden yet aware, she managed to
unglue her upper and lower lashes. Relieved at finding herself alone, she
stood.

Judging by the sun peeking over the eastern mountains, she
gauged the time as minutes after sunrise. Her growling stomach agreed it was
time—past time—to ease her hunger. Taking her bearings, spying a rooftop a few
meters away, she strode toward it. On her way toward shelter and hopefully
food, she snatched up the clothing she’d worn yesterday. Almost dry, praise the
gods.

I won’t think about yesterday. Once I’ve eaten and
gathered stores to sustain me a few days, I’ll take Peg and fly away.
Just
where they’d fly to, she hadn’t a clue. If Peg flew toward Storr City, she’d
find a way to divert the pegagryph. Wishing she had paid more attention while
airborne yesterday, she stopped to survey her surroundings.

Aren hadn’t lied about his gardens’ magnificence. Flower
buds burst into colorful blossoms when sunlight wakened them. Scents both
elusive and lingering assailed her nostrils and urged her to tarry. Birds—some
as tiny as her thumbnail—fluttered overhead and sang their sweetest songs. Bees
buzzed near her ear. She could almost taste the honey they would make when they
returned to their hives. Holding her hands under several blossoms’ drooping
petals, she captured and splashed dew on her face. Feeling refreshed and more
clearheaded, she draped her clothes over a convenient bench and sat on them.
Slightly damp against her buttocks and no doubt a wrinkled mess, they felt dry
enough to wear.

But if Aren had told the truth about wind and flying on
Peg’s back, Kel might be better off bundling her clothes into a pillow and
sitting on them while flying.

Mouthwatering aromas wafted under her nose like a beckoning
finger. Her mind fought to resist the scents of food. Her belly’s growls
demanded she continued on to Aren’s house. Her belly won the battle but her
mind lashed out at her weakness. A warrior could resist. Should resist. Would
resist. Almost two weeks of sexual bliss and plentiful food had stolen her
warrior’s will. She wanted food—eggs by the scent, prok by its sizzle, and
several other frying goodies she couldn’t identify.

She lingered outside only long enough to don her clothes
then followed her nose into the cook room. Finding Aren at the enormous stove surprised
her. The deftness with which he dealt with various pots and pans told her he
was well acquainted with the art of cooking.

“There is feefac in the efacra on the table,” he said, a
hint of caution in his voice. As if he were as uncertain how to behave as she
was.

“Tak. I didn’t know you could cook.” Going to the table, she
picked up the container and poured. Whatever feefac was it was served hot and
smelled bitter.

“There are many things we don’t know about each other,
Flame.”

His using his pet name for her gave her hope. Maybe they
could reach a compromise that would allow them to keep their pride yet… What?
He’d send her home? She’d willingly stay with him?

“Should I pour you a cup?” That seemed a polite action since
she was pouring one for herself. On Amazonia such courtesies were common.

“Have one, tak.”

“Anything I can do to help?”
Guanshit!
Her building
irritation at his short answers wouldn’t make peace between them. If he even
wanted peace.

“No tak.”

All right!
If Aren wanted taciturn, she’d give him
taciturn. But when he brought two plates heaped with food, hunger got the
better of them both.

“Smells good.”

“Dig in.”

They did, neither saying a word until they’d eaten their
fill. Aren’s plate looked so clean, Kel suspected he’d licked it. The idea made
her laugh.

“A full belly puts things in a fresh light, eh?”

“A better one, yes.” Standing, she picked up both plates and
headed for the sink.

“You don’t need to wash. I’m used to cleaning up after
myself.”

Spying all the pots and pans on the stove, she laughed. “Do
you always dirty so many? And my washing dishes is the least I can do for such
a delicious meal.”

“They’re not all dirty. I put them out in case I want them.
Sometimes the need arises when there isn’t time to search.”

“Sounds like you need to reorganize. Maybe put the pots in
one cupboard, the pans in another.”

“Then where would you put the lids? Over the years I’ve
acquired more pots and pans than I have lids for. When I first lived here,
their numbers matched.”

“On Amazonia we have one cooking vessel per person. If we
lose it or damage it beyond repair… It’s a long time between meals.”

“How do you prepare feasts?” He joined her at the sink,
drying dishes as she finished rinsing them.

“Everyone brings her pot or pan. With something in it,
usually. If the hunters bring home a large animal, we cook it on a spit for all
to share.” She sighed. “The sharing makes the meal special.”

“On Storr’s birthday we have a fair. Like your feasts,
everyone brings something and we sit around campfires and eat and sing and
dance.”

“And, no doubt, drink.”

“Yes. And then we do it all over again. Storr City seems a
happier place with all Ondrican’s people there.”

“All? Who guards the city? Who keeps watch to ensure your
safety?” Even when Amazonians feasted they posted guards.

“There have been no wars on Ondrican for four or five
millennia.”

“Lucky Ondrican. What about thieves and pickpockets?”

Aren bared his teeth, looking so ferocious Kel stepped away
from him. Laughing, he fingered a strand of her hair then tucked it behind her
ear. She fought the urge to snuggle her cheek in his warm palm and kiss it.

“Let’s walk. I’ll show you my gardens.”

“They are indeed lovely at sunrise,” she said, letting him
link their fingers and lead her outside. She thanked the Goddess for this
lovely moment.

He stopped near a small, burbling fountain. “Drihumbs often
come here to drink and bathe. Contrary to general belief, they do hold
perfectly still for several seconds at a time. Then they flit away like flying
gemstones. There is one now.”

Aren’s description was so accurate, Kel laughed when the
thumb-sized bird fluttered away.

“Who tends the gardens?” she asked as they meandered on.

“Laurette and her siblings. Their parents do the heavier
work. Mostly the plants fend for themselves. I chose them for their hardiness.”

“And miss them when you’re away.”

As if she’d startled him, he stopped and looked down at her.
“Yes,” was all he said before he led her deeper into his gardens.

“Let’s sit.” They sank onto another convenient bench.

“I like it here. You can see so much and there’s so much
color. Which I suppose you intended.”