King Dom Comes (10 page)

"You
are the blood elite who know of my gifts, and the only ones I trust to keep my
secret from a fearful and over-zealous society. She is connected with me. I
have dreamt of her, and have seen her in the water viewing. Since meeting her,
I must believe that the fates have brought us together for a purpose. So, to
answer your question—to protect me is to protect her. My bloodline and my
gift make me immune to her cries. Just like your blood magic allows you to
sense if I am in danger, you need only to think pleasant thoughts of me and the
headaches will cease."

The
men nodded, glancing back and forth at each other. One by one, their headaches
were resolved. The wind began to calm, and Shannon's plaintive cries grew dim.
With a nod and a wave of his hand, Dom ordered the journey to begin.

***

Shannon
mixed a pinch of oil of peppermint to a mixture of rose, lavender, bay and sage,
and then applied it to her temples. She massaged gently, closing her eyes and
deeply inhaling the scents. She groaned as her bottom bounced uncomfortably
against the seats of the carriage. Even with thickly stuffed cushions, the ride
was excruciating. She clutched her aching posterior and rubbed gently. How dare
that man lay his hands upon her!

She
wrapped her shoulders in the shawl give to her by the king. "You wait, Dom
Moarte," she growled, kicking her legs upon the bench before lying down
upon her side. "You will pay dearly for this mistreatment. Why does my
scream not remove you and your men from here?"

The
answer to her question disturbed her as greatly as the pain to her bottom. She
knew that her screams failed to work because neither Dom Moarte nor the escort
of soldiers were a danger to her. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but
the combination of her anger and the agony induced upon her backside prevented
her from resting. The wine was weak, just enough to make the water drinkable,
but she sipped sparingly to delay the inevitable need to relieve her bladder.
The thought of Dom assisting her with her personal needs was revolting, and
Shannon was determined, come hell or high water, to avoid accepting his
assistance as much as humanly possible.

Several
hours into the ride, her personal needs began to call for attention. Shannon
looked desperately for a chamber pot or clay vessel under the seats. There were
none. She eyed the small door on the carriage floor, made to spill the contents
of the pots through, and wondered if she could squat without falling. Holding
her breath, Shannon flipped back the little door, lifted her skirts and opened
the ties of her braies. She held her breath and tried to hold herself steady.
The carriage jostled, and Shannon fell on her bottom, jammed snugly between the
two sets of benches. With a discouraged sigh, she positioned her body over the
open window and released her water onto the moving ground.

To
her horror, the carriage drew to an immediate stop. Shannon struggled uselessly
to regain her footing.

"You
should have told us that you wished to stop and relieve yourself," Dom
said, opening the carriage door. "I must admit, you are very
inventive."

Shannon
blushed shamefully from her place on the floor between the seats. "There
was no chamber pot, and certainly no reason to stop. I made use of my situation
as best as I was able."

"You
look like you're stuck." Dom leaned against the carriage, his arms
crossed, and smiled. "May I assist you in returning to the bench?"

"I
don't require a useless dolt to help me."

"I
thought we had already had one talk about your manners, Mistress McCleary. Do
we need another one?" Dom asked firmly. "Answer me."

Shannon
turned her head from him. "No. Please help me to stand."

Dom
entered the vehicle, easily lifted her by the armpits and sat her upon the
bench. He sat across from her and, again, folded his arms. "Well?"

"Thank
you," Shannon mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"You
are welcome. Would you care to step out and take a walk? We are in a most
beautiful forest, and I have need to stretch my legs."

"Would
you be walking with me?"

"I
would."

"Then,
no. Thank you," Shannon forced out.

"You
will quickly learn three things about me, Shannon McCleary. One, I will not
accept no for an answer. Two, I do not make a habit of repeating myself. And
three," he leaned forward to look at her, "my hand can deliver much
more pain to your backside than that which you've already felt. With those
things in mind, what say you?"

"Do
you intend to beat me every time I refuse you?" Shannon snarled.

"No,
but I do intend to
spank
you every
time I suspect a poor attitude. We have a long journey before us. You might
even decide to become my friend."

"Like
hell I will."

"Madam,"
Dom cleared his throat, "I am not a man of God by any means, nor am I a
saint. What I am is a person of integrity with a very short level of patience.
Out with you."

 
Shannon glared at him hatefully,
muttering Gaelic curses under her breath as she stomped by. He smacked her
bottom and wagged his index finger at her when she turned around to rebuke him.
"Language, young lady."

"You
don't speak Gaelic!"

"No?"
Dom leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "Go mbeadh tú a bheith ionadh
leis na rudaí a fhios agam, mo Ghile Mear."

"I
would be surprised with the things you know?" Shannon repeated in English,
stunned. "And do not call me your darling."

"Must
you always have the final word?"

"Must
you always be a brain-boiled cur?"

"Will
someone cut me a switch please?" Dom called out. Shannon's eyes widened as
ten switches were offered to him within a breath's time. "It appears to me
that there are ten escorts who are in agreement with me regarding your
disposition. Would you care to choose one to bring along with us? Just in case
I have need to keep you in line."

Horror
and disbelief registered as Shannon looked at him, and then shifted her view to
the stern faces of the ten men. "When my betrothed hears of this
treatment, he…"

"I
assure you, he would not only applaud, but would have been the first one to cut
a stout stick," Dom said, waving a thick switch of his own in the air.
"Chose one."

Shannon
snarled, snatched the closest stick to her hand, and stomped into the woods.
The laughter that followed her brought another wave of anger. She turned and
screeched into the forest.

"Get
out of the way!" she heard Dom shout, as the trees dropped hundreds of
pinecones from their branches, pelting the group of men. The horses reared,
neighing loudly as they broke their tethers and raced away. "Damn! Go get
those horses. Where is that woman? I swear I am going to thrash every inch of
flesh off her rump!"

Shannon
paled at the sound of his anger. Lifting her skirts to her knees, she began to
run into the thick woods. She dodged around tree branches, leapt over stones
and logs, and splashed through tiny streams. She could hear the sound of Dom's
boots crushing the underbrush, growing closer and closer despite how quickly
and how far she ran. Tears raced down her face, blinding her. Still she ran,
her breath catching in her lungs, zigzagging recklessly towards an unknown
destination. She slipped on a bed of moss and cracked her knee solidly on a
rock, releasing a pained cry as she clutched her bleeding leg. She tried to
stand, lost her balance, and collapsed heavily upon her palms. She bowed her
head forward and touched her forehead to the ground while panting heavily.

A
pair of boots stepped in front of her face. Shannon slowly lifted her
red-rimmed eyes to look into the stern face of her pursuer. A sob escaped her
mouth and she lowered her face into her arms, her shoulders shaking in defeat.
Wordlessly, Dom lifted her up, and began the long walk back to the carriage,
with her pressed against his heart.

***

Shannon's
sobs touched his core. They also baffled him, for he should be immune to her
tears. But these were the tears of a frightened, confused and injured child. He
juggled her body, pulling her nearer to his chest.

"Shhh,"
he whispered, pressing his cheek to her dirty forehead. "You must calm
yourself."

"I'm
sorry," Shannon wept. "I only needed to let out my water. And my
bottom still aches dreadfully from that horrid plank set upon it."

"I
know. Quiet down now." Dom's voice was soft and soothing. "Shannon,
look at me."

"I
cannot," Shannon sniffed.

"This
is the last time I will repeat myself," Dom said firmly. "When I tell
you to do something, you are to obey. Without question and without
argument."

"That
might be what you are accustomed to, but not I. The king," Shannon sobbed,
"he always told me to question everything. To challenge everything said to
me, and never to be blind to life. He wanted me to be a queen and to make him
proud. I cannot be the way he wished. I have failed him and his son. I've
failed his country. I've failed…"

Dom
lowered her carefully onto a pile of fallen leaves and moss, and sat down next
to her. He stroked her wet cheeks and damp hair as he tucked her firmly under
her left arm. "The only one you can fail is yourself," he said
softly. "King Malkai was a very wise man, but he also lacked focus. When
he passed, he left many things unfinished in his country. His son needs a
strong woman by his side, one whose thoughts and actions are not ruled by her
emotions."

"What
is wrong with that? My mother's actions were dictated by her heart, not just by
the needs of the people she served."

"Those
same people ended up killing her in the end. Shannon," Dom placed his hand
over hers, "my mother was also taken from her family due to ignorance. We
must rise above the ignorance of the world, but we also must find a way to fit
into our place. There are ways to question, and challenge, that cause neither
insult nor danger to others."

"You
frighten me. You are like a giant bear that I fear will devour me if I don't
fight back. Why do you hate me so much?"

Dom
wrinkled his forehead. "Hate you? I am preparing you to survive in a world
very different than the one to which you are accustomed. The cloister could not
teach you the ways of men, or how to rule a kingdom. Your education began the
moment you stepped into this carriage. You became a queen at that moment."

"I
did?" Shannon lifted her face to him.

"Yes,
you did," he said, as he gently removed her hand from her swollen knee. He
probed it gently, and then lifted both her palms to study the bloody scratches
left on them. "Stay here while I get water to cleanse these wounds."

"I'm
sorry," Shannon lowered her face. "I can help. There are herbs in my
travel pouch."

"I
have medicines as well. Hush."

Shannon
bit down on her lip as Dom scrubbed her wounds clean of dirt. "That
hurts."

"Yes,
I know it hurts. Stay still."

"Ow!"
Shannon growled, as his whiskey-soaked cloth pressed against her palms.

"You
are acting like a little child. Are you really holding your breath? Your face
is turning quite a lovely shade of red."

"It
huuurts," Shannon hissed, from between clenched teeth.

"I
see that," Dom chuckled. "You look like a wild woman, Shannon. I
thought your cloister taught self-control with the use of a cane."

"They
taught mental discipline with a birch," Shannon corrected, blowing
desperately on her stinging hands after waving them frantically in the air.
"I was never good at it."

"Why
don't you try? Give me your knee. Will you please stop moving?" Dom rolled
his eyes as Shannon wriggled to avoid his touch and keep the pressure off her
paddled backside. He had finally pressed the cloth to her knee when a
breathless guardsman rapidly approached him.

"Sir,
we have only retrieved three of the horses. What would you have us do?"

"Three?
That does not bode well for us. Shannon?"

"Yes?"
Shannon looked into his face, her brows drawn together in apology.

"The
truth. I have heard the keening and have seen the skies respond to your anger.
Are you banshee?"

Shannon
swallowed hard. To make that admission aloud could mean death, especially with
the religious and political unrest in the world. The Grand Dame's warnings to
trust no one with her gift reverberated in her head. That is, no one who has
not proven themselves to be trustworthy. This man was immune to her gift. Did
that mean he was gifted as well? Or perhaps that he was worthy of her trust?

"What
if I am?" she asked softly.

"If
you are, then we need you to call upon the forces of nature and bring back our
horses. There are bears and wolves in these woods, and we don't want to lose our
animals to either predators or thieves."