Vision of Light [The Renegades 1] (14 page)

"They are simply bringing supper."

She tried not to squirm, which would have made it obvious what they were doing. “Stop it!” she whispered, glaring at him.

Lucien sighed and let her go. Easing him out of her as surreptitiously as she could, Aislan sat on top of his still rampant erection. He leaned back against the tub and looked at her with a pained expression, but she felt not the least bit sympathetic. He was an exhibitionist on top of everything else. The two girls placed the trays on the table. They glanced at the tub but showed no surprise. Aislan waited until they had left before she scooted off him.

"How dare you make a spectacle of me!"

"Spectacle? ‘Tis a brothel. Sex is not a spectacle."

"You know a lot about brothels, I see."

He shrugged. “Many women are available at court. Brothels are unnecessary unless I am desperate, which is not oft. There is always a willing wench or two around."

"Oh, no need to brag, you louse!” Aislan stood up and climbed out of the tub. Grabbing a towel to dry herself, she pulled on the robe laid on a chair by the maids. She went to the bed and sat down. Insufferable peacock, she thought, as she watched him soap himself, his broad, muscular back flexing as he moved.

Her anger did not last long, however. In the past, her ‘Stop,’ ‘No,’ tears, screams, and bodily threats had never deterred Hayton, who told her she would like it if she would stop being so resentful and difficult. Her protests had never mattered to anyone. Aislan calmed down considerably because, at least, Lucien had listened to her. He did not have to, but she would have never forgiven him if he had not stopped.

Getting up, Aislan went to the window to look outside. Night had fallen, and the street became even more crowded. She could hear laughter and shouts. The air smelled rancid and slightly salty from the sea breeze.

As much as she had been trying to ignore them, eventually, Aislan's attention zeroed in on the slim chain and bracelet at the corner post of the bed. She glanced quickly at its companions at the other posts. Did Lucien bring her here so he could shackle her for his games?

"Aislan, come sup while the food is still hot."

Pulling her attention from the bondage device, she muttered, “I am not hungry."

"Stop your nonsense and come eat your supper."

Trying to control her face from burning any hotter, she finally turned to look at him. He also had on a white robe, and he looked imposing even without his all-black outfit, with the sword and the dagger usually hanging from the baldric at his left hip. He had placed the weapons on the table beside him, having never been far from them.

Aislan was not hungry after the meal he had caught for them earlier. She looked at the teapot. She needed that, though, so she got up and joined him at the table. He lifted the lid that covered each tray of steaming hot food. Aislan did not wait while he poured a brandy. Picking up the teapot, she lifted the lid and looked. She could not tell what floated inside. Pouring herself a cup, she took a tentative sip. Her tongue stung from the familiar berry taste and the mixtures of crushed leaves and birthroot extract. Heavily laced, the tea contained more than enough to make up for the missed doses and probably would render her unconscious if she did not ingest with care. This brothel was serious when it came to avoiding the possibility of any woman becoming with child.

Lucien pushed her plate and utensils in front of her before he dug into his meal. Sipping her tea carefully, Aislan avoided looking into his eyes. He stopped eating, and to her alarm, reached for the teapot. He lifted the lid and looked inside at the almost dark brown watery content. Putting down the teapot, he picked up her cup.

"What is this?"

"Tea,” Aislan said as casually as she could manage.

He took a small sip. “What else is in this?"

"I—I...” Aislan did not want to discuss this. He waited, and she sighed. “'Tis a—uh—remedy, a—uh—woman's remedy for my—mmm—cycle.” She had to tell the truth because he could find out easily.

"Your cycle?” His eyes narrowed. “You want to halt pregnancy?” he asked incredulously and got to his feet, his face livid. “You want to end your babe's life?"

"No!” Shaking her head, Aislan tried to calm him down. “I—I was never ... with child."

Lucien stared at her for a moment. She could not even begin to decipher his thoughts. Finally, he sat back down. He studied her teacup, then calmly picked it up and placed it back in front of her before returning to his meal. Nervously, she picked up the cup and took another sip. She would finish the entire pot whether he approved or not.

He glanced at her. “You should eat something. It cannot be good on an empty stomach."

"We ate earlier."

"'Twas earlier."

Picking up her fork and knife, she made an effort to eat. She owed him no explanation. During her marriage, Aislan had feared becoming with child, which would have ended the possibility of her freedom if the time came when she successfully escaped. She had consistently taken the powdered root in her tea every morning. The potion concocted by the village's herb witch had worked throughout her marriage. She had taken her potion the morning of the hunt, but she had missed it the past few days. Aislan hoped it would not be too late.

They ate in silence. After a while, she said softly, “I had to say what I needed to save myself."

"You need no excuses to do whatever you must to survive.” He drank his brandy. “If you want to live, try not to run away from me at the first opportunity."

She did not answer.

"Finish your meal. You are too thin. I could count all your ribs."

Why would he be concerned about what she ate? “If I were too unappealing, I am certain you have plenty of women here who please you more."

"I said you are thin. It has nothing to do with your being desirable."

Before she could reply, a girl came in carrying a stack of clothes. The services here befitted that for a king, everybody waiting on them hand and foot. How did Lucien manage that? The girl laid the neatly folded bundles on top of a footstool, went to the bed and turned it down, and then left. Aislan eyed the clothes.

"Travel clothes,” he explained.

"Where are we going?"

"We will travel to Danier."

"Danier. That is the Royal City leading to the king's palace! Are we to see the king?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"Do you have to ask so many questions? Eat your meal."

After a couple of bites, she finished her tea while debating on a second cup. What she had already made her feel ill. She did not want to roll about all night from an overdose.

"What will we do in Danier?” she asked conversationally.

"Not here, Aislan.” He sighed, apparently not wanting to answer.

She picked at her meal.

"Eat,” he ordered, like a tyrant.

She forced a few more bites, and at his insistence, a few more, until she had eaten more than half her meal.

"I'll burst,” she protested, and fortunately, he did not push her to finish the rest. He finished his meal and then his wine. Finally, he got up.

"There is no need to sulk. I'll tell you about Danier when ‘tis possible to do so, but not now.” He lifted her in his arms, and Aislan realized he did not want a discord between them now. No doubt he wanted to chain her to that bed, and he would rather she be in a more compliant mood.

If he could stop in the middle of intercourse, he would stop if she failed to follow through with anything else. With that assurance, Aislan let her curiosity take over. There was no need to pretend maidenly outrage.

Aislan wrapped her arms about his neck and sighed as he carried her to the turned-down bed. Removing her robe, Lucien laid her in the middle of the bed and pulled the cover over her. She expected him to join her, but when he walked away, she opened her eyes to look. Bringing back his baldric with the weapons attached, he placed the whole thing at the head of the bed. Aislan turned onto her stomach and watched him straighten the weapons so they lay parallel to each other. Sitting up, she held the cover over her breasts even though he had already played with them often enough.

He doffed his robe and got into bed, his naked body darkly powerful. She felt a sharp twinge between her legs in anticipation of having him inside her, and she grew wet in readiness. When he reached for her, Aislan scooted closer. His mouth brushed against her cheek before he sat her up and turned her back to him.

"What are you doing?"

"You drank a heavy dose of what could not be good for your system.” His palms pressed beneath her shoulder blades, and her body tingled with life. “This should ease the circulation of the potion in your blood and prevent you from getting ill."

His energy channeled into her back and slowly spread through her nerve endings. Her body's hungry response surprised her as it reached and absorbed his energy, craving for more. She sensed his hesitation.

"That should do it,” he said after a short while. Aislan was disappointed when he ended the contact. Lying down, he pulled the cover over the lower half of his nude body, more likely in mockery of her hold of the covers over her own breasts. Pillowing his arms under his head, he stared at the canopy overhead. Aislan's gaze swept over the well-defined muscles and ridges of his arms and torso. Even the patch of dark hair under his arms appealed to her, making her curious enough to want to touch. He still did not move.

Feeling a little awkward, she focused her attention on his weapons at the headboard. She ran her fingers along the inscription on the hilt of the dagger. “What does this say?"

He turned over to look at her. “Archangel's Fire."

"What does that mean?"

"'Tis just a name. You cannot read?"

"Alas, no."

"Most ladies learn the rudiments of reading."

"I wanted to read, but there were too many girls, my father could not afford our schooling."

"What?"

"I was one of five girls. The fourth. Not even one boy. My father was penniless gentry of no significant lineage. Fortunately for him, he could marry me off to a wealthy lecher."

"Aislan,” Lucien said softly, raising himself onto one elbow, and touched her cheek.

"Is it terribly wicked of me that I did not grieve over his death?” Finally, she could say what she felt. After all, she was confiding to the executioner.

"I see no wrong in not feeling what you cannot,” he said in a careful tone. “Sometimes we are forced into a life we do not want, and there is no way out of it, so we do what we must to live with it."

"Were you forced into a life of killing?"

His expression grew shuttered. “'Tis a privilege and an honor to serve my king and my country. Traitors are executed, Aislan. You betray your country, you risk its security, you die."

She studied him, sensing his withdrawal, but she could not let it go. “Have you ever taken an innocent life?"

He did not answer. Instead, he lay back down.

"You have,” she said flatly. “You have killed innocent people."

"No,” he said, but she heard no conviction in his tone. “Directly, no."

It mattered to her what he had done. “With your own hands, have you killed innocent people?"

He looked back at her then. “'Tis a very fine line, Aislan. I do not take innocent lives with my own hands knowingly, but my involvement in circumstances that led to the slaughter of innocents made me just as guilty.” He sighed. “There are always casualties in maintaining the security of a country. We are on the verge of war with East Sharland. The peace is tenuous with the other three kingdoms."

"Why are we at war with East Sharland?"

"Over Isthmus’ Ice."

"What is that?"

"A strip of land—somewhat an island—between North and East."

"War over a strip of land? Who owns it?"

"We do."

"And the East wants to take it from us?"

Lucien shrugged. “The East Sharland king, Mace Larendan, thinks it belongs to him."

"I see.” Aislan knew very little about the world. She had kept to herself most of her life. “Why are the other kingdoms not fighting over this, too?"

"They are not in proximity to the land."

She thought about the tenuous peace maintained with Central, South and West Sharland. “Because of this strip of land, you kill innocent people."

"Aislan, do not sound so naïve.” He rubbed his eyes as if she pained him.

She tried to work her mind around acceptance based on what she understood. “You killed only when ordered by the king to do so?"

"Yes, for the most part."

"I suppose for the greater good of our country, you have to obey your king's order."

"'Tis not as black or white as you painted. By the way, King Caliburne is your king, too."

Aislan nodded her understanding even though the king was only a figure in her mind. “We shall go face King Caliburne. He will see I have nothing to do with treason. I know nothing about Isthmus’ Ice."

Lucien's laughter infuriated her. “Oh, Aislan.” He shook his head. “Treason applies to any act against your own country. Anyhow, a king cannot issue death decrees carelessly. An arbitrary ruler would cause great unrest with the populace. There is more to this."

"What could it be?"

He shook his head again. “I cannot figure out how you fit into all this, but I'll find out."

Aislan realized now he wanted to prove her innocence, for whatever reason that motivated him to defend her. “You care enough about me to spend your time finding answers? Mayhap you are a knight, after all, my own knight who dares to defy the king to save me."

"No knight."

Ending their conversation abruptly, he pushed the cover aside and hoisted her to sprawl on top of him. Aislan welcomed his kiss as he positioned her over his cock and, without further preamble, penetrated her to the hilt. She gasped from the sudden pressure of his possession that pushed hard against her womb. He stretched and filled her, and she went wild from the exquisite pleasure, welcoming the tinge of pain of him pressing so deep inside.

"Oh, oooh!” she moaned as he maneuvered her hips up and down the length of him several times before he let her go. Straightening until she sat over him, Aislan realized in her top position, she had control over how she could allow him to penetrate her. Lucien intertwined his fingers with hers. Using them as an anchor, she lifted up and then impaled herself, again and again, until her body had adjusted to the feel of him. She ground herself against his cock, tightening and releasing her vaginal muscles, rotating until he groaned and shuddered beneath her. She experimented with the depths and the rhythms. Once, he adjusted her body slightly and hit a spot deep inside at an angle that again made her cry aloud, and she frantically pounded and rubbed the spot against his cock until she came. Even then, Aislan could not stop. Determined to prolong the pleasure, she kept up for as long as she could sustain. When she climaxed again, she keened sharply before she collapsed on top of him, panting against his chest.