Shades of the Wind (8 page)

“Your forgiveness?” he sighed, putting his hand over his heart in dramatic fashion.

“For staring at you.”

“You were looking at me as though I reminded you of someone,” Catherine

challenged.

“You do,” Kaelin answered, and could have bitten off his tongue. He knew he’d

pay for that mistake.

“May I ask who?”

“The sister of a Windwarrior Society classmate,” Kaelin was quick to lie. “My first

serious crush, I fear.”

It was Catherine’s time to look away. “Not your fiancée, I take it?”

“Sarah?” he gasped with mock terror. “Good Lord, no! Sarah is as big as a barn.”

He winced. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Catherine teased him, and shushed him as he began to

stutter an apology. She draped her arm through his. “You are staying for dinner?”

“I won’t be able to eat a thing,” he stammered. “Hard to do so with your foot in

your mouth, Kate.”

“Try anyway,” she told him.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Chapter Four

Bahru ignored Kaelin after a brief introduction. The taricheutes signed his

employment papers with a flourish then walked out of the library, dismissing the

lawgiver in search of the noon meal.

“Is he usually that polite?” Kaelin asked Catherine.

“Bahru is very self-contained,” she said, turning to make sure Olabishi was walking

along behind them.

“Self-contained,” the Serenian repeated. “More like self-centered.”

Catherine’s face turned red but she did not disagree. She was quickly learning that

excusing Bahru’s lack of manners was going to be an ongoing situation.

Seating himself before the others, taking the place of honor at the head of the table,

Bahru picked up his napkin, shook it out and tucked it into the collar of his kameez, the

long linen garment worn by men. “I am not accustomed to having to wait upon my

food,” he complained. “This will cease.”

“Bahru,” Catherine said, wincing at her fiancé’s imperial tone. “Should you be

sitting there?”

“I am a high-ranking member of the Guild of Taricheutes,” Bahru snapped. “It is

my right.”

“To sit in the prince’s chair?” Kaelin questioned with an arched brow.

“I will sit where I wish,” Bahru sniffed. “I am entitled.”

Catherine sighed deeply. She thanked Kaelin for pulling her chair out for her and

took her seat.

“Would you sit beside me, Lady Olabishi?” Kaelin asked.

Olabishi inclined her head in acknowledgement of the lawgiver’s offer and allowed

him to pull out a chair for her—two down from the head of the table—then he skirted

the table to sit across from Catherine and at Bahru’s right hand.

“This is unconscionable,” Bahru grumbled. “I am hungry. Why are the servants not

bringing in my food?”

“I believe my people are waiting for me to make an appearance.”

Catherine was not prepared for the man who came into the dining room. Her

breath caught in her throat as she stared at the portrait in the library come to life. As

handsome as that dark rider had been, the real man himself was male beauty

personified. She was so stunned by his appearance that she failed to stand to show him

the respect he—as a member of the royal house of Ben-Alkazar—was due. All she was

capable of doing was staring at him.

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Shades of the Wind

His shoulder-length hair was as sleek and glossy as a raven’s wing and was tied

back from his square-jawed face with a bit of dark ribbon. Thick eyebrows peaked

gently over eyes the color of dark rum and were shielded by the longest lashes she’d

ever seen on a man. The almost perfect shape of his nose hinted at softness to his nature

while his lips—those sensuous lips she had so admired in the painting—gave lie to the

suggestion of softness and labeled him aggressive and perhaps a tad cruel.

And those hands! She thought with rapt dreaminess. His hands were deeply

tanned—as was his face and neck. She had been mesmerized by the strength portrayed

in the painting of those capable-looking hands controlling the power of a mighty steed.

Seeing them now in reality, she felt a shiver of pure sexual thrill invading her lower

body and put up a hand to stifle the whimper of submission that threatened to escape.

“I am glad you do not find me loathsome, Kate,” she heard him say, and forced her

stare from those powerful hands to the compelling darkness of his golden eyes and was

caught—and held—by the sensuality lurking there.

Catherine felt as though she were drowning in that intense gaze, being pulled down

through a maelstrom of dark needs that set her blood to singing and her juices to

flowing. Without knowing she was doing so, she lifted her hand to him as he came

toward her with feline grace and reached out to accept her offering.

And when their fingers met! Catherine sucked in a wavering breath and felt her

knees growing weak as his strong sword hand closed around her hand.

“Welcome to your new home, milady,” he whispered, turning her hand so the

underside of her wrist was revealed.

He did not release her from his magnetic gaze as he lowered his head to place his

lips to the erratic pulse at her wrist. He was watching her from beneath that long,

sweeping fan of lashes and as his tongue moved slowly, languidly over her flesh, she

felt a leap in her pulse that brought a smile of satisfaction to the prince’s lips.

“Soft as satin,” he murmured against her wrist, and his teeth grazed her flesh for

just an instant before he lifted his head to look down at her.

He is taller than I expected
, she thought as she stared up at him. And his shoulders

are so wide, so powerful. Beneath the loose white kameez, she could see the hard plains

of his chiseled chest and another wave of passion spread through her lower body.

Bahru had shot to his feet as though he’d been spurred with a red-hot branding iron

as soon as the prince spoke. “Forgive me, Your Grace!” he said, bowing as deeply as his

slight paunch would allow. “I did not know you would be joining us and—”

“By all means take my seat, Bahru,” the prince interrupted. “I will sit where I wish.”

The prince had not relinquished Catherine’s hand, but instead tightened his grip

possessively as though he had no intention of doing so, and when he was seated, he still

kept her hand in his, his fingers laced through hers.

“I trust your room is comfortable, milady?” he asked, and his voice was dark silk as

it settled around her.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“My room is very comfortable,” Bahru said. “Very comfortable.”

Not even turning his head to look at Bahru, he asked his question again, directing

his gaze into Catherine’s eyes. “Is your room comfortable, Kate?”

“Yes, milord,” she answered, unable to tear her eyes from his.

“And your trip? Uneventful?”

“We ran into bad weather around the Cape,” Bahru said. “We—” He stopped, for

the question was being repeated but not to him.

“Most pleasant,” she replied. She felt overly warm for the prince was making slow,

lazy circles in her palm with his thumb and the sensation was causing her blood to race.

“I am glad,” Prince Khenty said. “I wish only the very best for you, Kate.”

Catherine could do no more than gawk at him as he lifted her hand to his lips once

more and kissed the tips of her fingers this time. In some distant, unheeded part of her

she knew she shouldn’t allow him such liberties, but she felt as though all the bones in

her body had melted and she was no more than a mound of clay ready—and more than

willing—to have this man’s strong hands mold her to his liking.

“I intend to make sure your life here at Anubeion fulfills all your fantasies, milady.”

Bahru cleared his throat. “I was hoping we could—”

The prince turned his head and gave Bahru a look that quelled the lesser man. “I

was not speaking to you. We will discuss your duties later this evening, taricheutes,” he

said, and let go of Catherine’s hand.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Bahru was quick to agree.

“And what did you think of your ocean journey?” Khenty asked Catherine.

“As a matter of fact—” Catherine began

“She found it far more enjoyable than did I,” Bahru answered for her.

A muscle jumped in Khenty’s cheek. “Did you have bad weather?” he asked

Catherine, ignoring Bahru.

“It was absolutely miserable,” Bahru said, sitting down. “It rained just about every

day and into the night on many occasions.”

Without looking at Bahru, the prince asked him if his fiancée was an educated

woman.

Bahru’s brows drew together over his hawkish nose. “Yes, Your Grace. I would

never consider Joining with a woman who was not—”

“And does she have opinions of her own?” Still Khenty had not looked at the man

who had usurped the prince’s place at the head of the table.

“I suppose she does,” Bahru answered. “Although—”

“And is she capable of expressing those opinions in a clear and distinct voice?”

Catherine glanced at Kaelin and found the man grinning behind his hand. Olabishi

was sitting in her chair as rigid as a piece of wood, staring down at the table.

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“If you wish to know of our journey, Your Grace,” Bahru said with an ingratiating

smile, “I can tell you—”

“I was not asking you for your thoughts, taricheutes. I am not interested in your

thoughts. They mean nothing to me,” Khenty stated in a firm voice, and he turned his

head to spear the smaller man with a fierce look that opened the other man’s eyes wide.

“If I want your opinion, I will ask it. I was speaking to milady. I want to hear what she

has to say. Do not interrupt her again.” The dark golden gaze narrowed dangerously.

“Is that clear to even an imbecile like you?”

Bahru’s mouth moved but no sound came out. He put a hand to his throat, trying to

swallow. He nodded, unable to speak.

“May I suggest a drink of water, Lord Bahru?” Kaelin asked in an amused voice.

“Now, milady,” Khenty said, returning his gaze to Catherine. “Tell me of your trip

to Diabolusia.”

Catherine felt the heat creeping up her neck. Bahru was glaring at her, his beady

black eyes hard and full of retribution. She lowered her head. “I immensely enjoyed the

trip, Your Grace,” she said quietly.

“Please call me Khenty,” he said, and his knee touched hers under the table. “We

are a relaxed group here, aren’t we, Kaelin?”

Too shocked to move, Catherine sat there with her hands in her lap, her fingers

twisting together.

“Indeed we are,” Kaelin replied, his lips twitching with amusement. “Some more

relaxed than others.”

“The movement of the ship did not bother you?”

“No, Your—” Catherine stopped, risking a glance at the prince. “I found it

exhilarating.”

Khenty smiled and his knee pressed against hers. “As did I when I came out here

many years ago. I love the water and rain soothes me almost as much as the wind.”

“I too love the wind and rain,” Catherine admitted. She wanted to move her knee

from touching his but was afraid to do so for fear she would insult him. “Although bad

weather frightens me.”

“There is nothing to fear here at Anubeion,” he told her. “I give you my word on

that, milady.”

Holly and Jacob came in bearing trays of food, which they placed on the table. Out

of the corner of her eye, Catherine saw Bahru licking his lips and start to stick his fork

into a platter of pork chops. She had to bite her lip when the prince raised his voice and

stopped her fiancé from doing just that.

“Taricheutes, have you no conception of manners or do you simply prefer to ignore

them?”

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Bahru’s face turned crimson red and he snatched his hand back. He sat there with

his knife in one hand, his fork in the other and his chin trembling. “I apologize,

Khenty,” he said meekly.

The prince’s eyes narrowed. “I do not remember giving you permission to address

me by my given name.” He looked at Kaelin. “Did I give the taricheutes permission to

do that, Kaelin?”

Kaelin shook his head. “No, milord, you did not.”

The taricheutes looked stricken. “But you told Catherine she could—”

“Yes, I gave Kate permission but you do not have that permission. Do not irritate

me again,” Khenty stated. He stared at Bahru for a moment longer then turned to

Catherine. His voice softened as he spoke to her. “Would you pass the platter, milady?”

Catherine was quick to do as he asked, not taking a pork chop for herself. When

Khenty speared a chop and put it on her plate, she smiled at him. His answering smile

sent tremors down her spine.

“So, Kaelin,” Khenty said. “How are things in Serenia?” He passed the platter

across to Olabishi.

“There’s been a drought in Zephyrus and they are carting hay in to the animals

from Eurus and Norus,” Kaelin replied. “The priests there are praying for rain for that

quadrant.”

“Priests are useless most of the time,” Khenty observed. “They create more havoc

than good.” He took up a bowl of peas, ladled up a large spoonful and held it over the

bowl. “Milady?”

“Please,” Catherine said, lifting her plate so he could place the peas beside the pork

chop.