King Dom Comes (12 page)

She
gasped as his hands clasped hers, extinguishing the flame she had been
carefully guarding. He began to lead, moving with her in the exquisite dance
under the canopy of stars. Their bodies entwined, and then separated, as they
gave way to spontaneous movement. They danced as one, until their lips sealed
together, and they froze as though stopped by time.

"I
beg your forgiveness," Shannon whispered, as his sensual mouth probed her
soft lips. "The things I said to you were cruel and uncalled for."

"I
am as you say," Dom whispered back. "Justification does not make
murder any less than what it is."

"I
was wrong to judge you for using your gift to save your country. I would have
probably done the same if I felt my people were in danger."

"You
are passionate and outspoken. I admire these qualities," Dom said, his
mouth finding the soft, trembling patch under her throat. "You will make a
fine queen."

"I
doubt those words. I cause too much strife."

"Then
I will correct you and you will learn to cause less," Dom said simply.

"The
promise of correction is not at all appealing to me," Shannon moaned,
throwing her head back as his tongue traced the swollen tops of her bosom.

"Nay,
punishment is not appealing, but pain can be. I enjoy the delivery of
pain," Dom said huskily, nipping the exposed mound of her breast. "I
also enjoy the giving of pleasure."

"Can
pain really be appealing?"

"If
mixed with pleasure, very much so. I have a dark side that enjoys indulging in
such activities."

"Will
it repulse me?"

"I
think not," Dom whispered, nipping her neck and holding her as she
crumpled in his arms.

She
purred at the sensation. "Your men loathe me."

"My
men will do what I tell them." His hands stroked down her side and along
her hip. "None will raise a sword to you again."

"I
fear they will turn on me when you are not around."

"They
will not. I do ask that you try to control your temper, though. They are still
men, and their loyalty to my family is embedded in their blood. They would much
rather see a switch brought to your bottom than a sword to your throat, so I
ask that you not tempt them."

"You
would permit them to beat me?" Shannon looked appalled.

"I
would not stop them if the circumstance arose," Dom said firmly.
"They would only lay waste to your backside, and only with good reason. Do
not give any of them reason."

"Am
I to expect this brutal treatment for the remainder of my life?"

"Should
you continue in your mischief, yes." Dom smiled, kissing her knuckles.
"Let us return to camp. The hunting party brought down a deer, and there
is venison roasting on a spit as we speak."

Shannon
felt her mouth water. It had been decades since she had tasted venison. She
nodded, taking his proffered hand, and slowly followed him several feet before
he scooped her into his powerful arms.

"I
will carry you. Not because your knee is injured or your bottom hurts,"
Dom nibbled upon her ear, "but because I do not want you spiriting
yourself again into the night."

The
scent of garlic, salted pork fat, and fragrant bundles of fresh rosemary filled
the air as the meat sizzled and sputtered over the over flame. A hearty stew of
turnips, parsnips, potatoes and carrots simmered over a second cook-fire. The
men took turns turning the spit and stirring the pot, all the while laughing
heartily as they spoke of the rare forest feast they were about to consume. Ale
was passed around, and each drank deeply as they watched the mesmerizing flames
jump and crackle under the dripping fat.

"Ale,
Sire?" one soldier offered, as Dom approached.

"Aye,
that will quench my thirst. One for my lady as well."

The
man nodded, clearly avoiding meeting Shannon's gaze. She looked around the
fire. None of the men acknowledged her.

"Give
time for damage to be undone," Dom whispered in her ear. He lifted his
goblet to her lips. "To your health, my fair druid. Drink to cool your
blood in the middle of a sweltering night."

Shannon
sipped and wrinkled her nose. She hated tepid ale. She called upon the
elements, and smiled as the men gasped over the sudden frost lining their cups.
"Cool ale for a warm evening is much more refreshing, yes?"

"You
are filled with surprises, my beauty. Please, allow me to serve you."

Shannon
sat in silent wonder as the King of Moldavia, the terror of the Slavic nations,
sliced the tender roasted meat on her platter and poured thick stew atop of it.
He placed it upon a stump and bowed his head.

"Your
meal awaits, my lady."

"Your
Grace," she coughed out, confused by his behavior. "A king should not
be serving one such as me."

"Who
declares it wrong for a king to serve his lady?" Dom asked. He leaned into
her to whisper. "If I can take it upon myself to spank her, I can
certainly meet her more tender needs, can I not?"

Shannon
gulped, nodding. He sat next to her and sliced a piece of meat, stabbed it with
his knife, and brought it to her lips. "Eat. You will need the strength
later, to deal with your discipline."

Shannon
felt her stomach turn. How could he show so much kindness, yet still consider
punishing her?

 
"Why must that be?"

"Do
you forget your behavior so quickly?" Dom ask with amusement. "Do you
not remember the tantrum you threw? The pelting of pinecones? The childish
stomping away?"

"Yes,
but…"

"I
am not going to punish you for the injury done to my captain. That was in your
own defense. Nor will I discipline you for the words spoken to me. Those were
said out of fear. I am a fair and just man," Dom said firmly, "and I
do not distribute chastisement lightly. You have earned yourself a thorough
strapping, and you shall receive it once your backside recovers from the
discipline you received this morning. Do not deny it. The tenderness upon which
you sit tells all."

Shannon
bent her face to the ground in shame. Her confusion grew as he folded her in
his arms and kissed the side of her face. He lifted another morsel to her mouth,
and she delicately bit down upon it.

"Good,
yes?"

"Mmm,
I have never tasted anything that surpasses this," Shannon admitted. The
meat was tender, moist, and bursting with the flavors of roasted garlic and
crispy rosemary
. "The last time I had venison was when your father
brought home a deer. Mother was so angry."

Dom offered her another bite.
"Why would she be angry?"

"She was one with nature. The
creatures of the wild were never brought to her table as food. I remember them
arguing about it." Shannon suddenly giggled. "Mother lost."

"My father was never one to
lose an argument," Dom chuckled, slicing another piece of meat from the
chunk. "He and I used to fight constantly."

"You did? About what?"
Shannon asked, accepting a gravy covered tuber.

"The color of the sky. The
taste of the river. The number of beans in a bowl." Dom laughed. "I
never have been able to accept anything as it is presented. He enjoyed those
arguments, though. He said it forced him to consider the world through another
person's eyes."

"Yes," Shannon sipped her
ale, "he did the same with Mother. Many times she spilled a pot of water
over his head out of frustration."

"I would say that many times
she found her bottom upended across his knee as well. Ah, I assume from your
giggles that you know this to be true."

"Yes," Shannon snickered.
"I also know that they enjoyed one another afterwards. That was when I
would go into the swamp and pretend to be in a place far away from home."

"Does it feel as you imagined?
Being far away from your home?"

"No. It feels—lonely.
Except for the moon, nothing is the same."

"Few things in life remain the
same, dear lady. I did notice that you handled the flame without burning your
hand tonight," Dom said, kissing her palm. "You have great power if
you will allow yourself to touch it."

"That power frightens me.
Mother used to tell me that there is but a single strand of a spider's web that
separates what is good from evil. She feared that the closer I came to touching
the banshee's curse, the closer I would come to wickedness. She taught me to
keen and to heal with herbs, but discouraged seeking out the powers of the
elements."

"What powers would they
be?" Dom leaned on his side, tracing a blade of grass along the length of
her skirt.

"I can touch liquids in any
form. I am able to change their essence from steam to ice, transfer them from
one spot to another, and direct their movement. If there is moisture in the
wind or rain in the clouds, I can stir the liquid around me and form a small
storm. I am not certain of how I do this, but when I alter the temperature and
the movement of the air within clouds, I can sometimes produce lightening in
small amounts. I cannot reach far, however."

"What else can you do?"

"My touch can make pain in
others go away, but does not heal. And my cry," Shannon bit her lip,
"it is that of banshee."

"Is that what the cloister
tried hardest to teach you to control?"

"Yes. I have a temper,"
Shannon admitted. "As a child, I would often express my frustration or
anger by screaming. Your father did not hold kindly to that."

"How many times did he bare
your bottom for it?" Dom asked with a chuckle.

"One time only. After we
arrived at the convent and I refused to assist with chores. He was very patient
and kind to me. As a child, his words had a much greater influence upon my
heart than his hand."

"Yet, as a woman grown, you
respond to the hand far more than words. Interesting."

"I wish to speak no more of
this subject." Shannon shifted uncomfortably. He was right, her bottom
still ached from the ministrations delivered by the plank earlier that day.

"We will speak much more of it
later. Now, my lady, you are to sleep. I have set up a tent for you, and laid
out the cushions from the carriage as your mattress. Your travel pouch awaits
you, as well as salt and mint, and a clay pot of fresh water."

"Water?"

"Aye," Dom's eyes
glittered, "Here the water is cold and fresh, and will not make you ill.
Trust me, you do not wish to be taken ill with diseased water."

"Mother taught me how to make
the water safe when I was a child. She would boil it over the fire and add
leaves of coriander. I do that with my gift now. I have never taken ill, except
right after her death. My spirit fell into the hands of the swamp. That is
where your father found me."

"It is difficult for me to be
angry with him when I hear you talk of the things he did for you."

"Why would you be angry with
him? I don't understand."

Dom sighed, kicking a rock from his
feet. "When he was not leading armies to protect our lands, he spent the
summer months away. He never took me with him, always saying that he had
business to attend to, and that the castle was the safest place for me to be if
anything ever happened to him. Those summer months in which he was with you and
your mother, were ones I spent alone. Mikel, our steward, taught me how to
hunt, fish, and rule. While Father played with you, I was surrounded by
scholars teaching me languages, science, accounting and justice. I also had a
sage who taught me how to control my gift."

"You must have missed your
father dreadfully," Shannon observed.

"Yes. My resentment towards his
absence grew. I did not make his homecoming pleasant, nor did I allow myself to
enjoy the winter months where we spent every minute together arguing and
fighting over nonsense."

"My heart is sad for you.
Mother and I used to love the winter months. We would talk and she would teach
me about herbs, tell stories and sing."

"I was a foolish boy and grew
to be a foolish man. My anger ruled me more than my wisdom. Father was with you
when the Ottoman army arrived, demanding that all surrender to their rule. They
wanted our lands and the people to work them, promising to allow the castle
inhabitants to live if we bent to their demands. When we refused, they besieged
our castle and scaled the walls with men, forcing us to deplete our weapons. We
were overwhelmed, and soon exhausted, but then a cluster of grapes fell on the
head of one of the men. One by one, we watched as the storks returned to their
nests in the towers to feed grapes to their chicks. Our men took the grapes as
a sign of hope, and that gave them the strength to repel every attack."

"Is that why you have the image
of a white stork upon the banners and the carriage?"

"Yes. It reminds all who
threaten me of the story of how this battle was won."

Like an eager child, Shannon poked
him and begged him to finish his story.