WINDHEALER (37 page)

Raja looked at him,
really
looked at him. She had not seen him in more than thirteen years. He had just turned thirty at the coming of the new year. Gone was the youth she had seduced with her womanly wiles. Gone was the young boy, tragically scarred for life by men who had used him as a plaything. Gone was the mistrusting, arrogant Prince who had once called her a whore. The round face was devoid of youth and lined with the tracings of suffering and heartache. The blue eyes were not as bright, as innocent as they once had been. The slim body was no longer thin and lean. All the things that had thrilled her when she was younger—young men with virile, supple bodies that could make love all night and still crave more—were gone in his sad face. Yet, Raja found him more alluring than ever. His eyes were stronger, gleaming with a man's intelligence, wisdom, and pain. His body was strong, thick, and heavily-muscled. She wanted him more than ever.

"You are right of course. You took your vows seriously. For you, there would be no honor in casual coupling. I admire that." She entwined her fingers with his. "Occultus told me to stay the night with you because he doesn't want you left alone with your dreams. You don't mind, do you?" She saw him frown. "I will keep to my side of the bed and be on my best behavior."

He chuckled. Such a thing was nigh impossible with her, but he didn't want to spend the night alone, and didn't want to argue. He would have preferred Se Huan's sweet body beside him.

"I swear to be good!"

"That I will have to experience to believe!"

She kicked him with her bare toes. When he told her she could stay only if she kept her hands, lips, legs, and breasts to herself, she stuck out her tongue. "Such conditions!"

"Conditions that leave no margin for error in case you decide to
roll
into me in your sleep."

"And what if you
roll
into me?"

"Not likely."

She smiled. If what Occultus had told her was true, he'd be in her arms before the night was through when the nightmares came calling.

"Who'd want to paw such a stick-in-the-mud as you?" she snorted.

"Se Huan."

"Obviously the girl has no taste!"

As he lay sleeping beside her, Raja propped her head on an elbow and stared at him. Despite the scars on his cheek, the man was as handsome as any she had ever seen. His hard, sweat-glistened chest caused her to ache with need and when her gaze slid to the slight jerk of the sheet at the juncture of his thighs, her face shone with hunger.

Conar had been taught the art of lovemaking by an expert—her. He knew every trick and nuance to send a woman crashing into the oblivion of release.

It was going to be harder than she had thought to arouse in him the frenzied, mindless passion and raging lust she planned, but not impossible. Men were creatures of habit. Sex was sex to them. One woman, one body, willing or not, was as good as the next. It had been her experience that love was a word men used only to get a woman into bed. She did not understand the concept of such a vague—without monetary or power value—ideal as that of love. Unfortunately, Conar was different. He had once known true love and viewed things in a different light. Where it might be difficult to bring him to heel where sex was concerned, it was well within her abilities and her desire to do so.

She wanted him. She had always wanted him, and feared she always would.

"If you try and fail with me," she told his sleeping face, "it might be disastrous to you. I can understand your reluctance to make an attempt. But then again, what difference will it make?"

The businesswoman in her saw him as a challenge.

The whore in her never saw him at all.

Conar had had less than five hours sleep in just as many days. His head ached miserably, his temper was short. He felt so tired it was an effort to put one foot in front of the other. Occultus allowed him a week's vacation. His mornings were to be spent on the beach, either lying on the clean white sand or floating on the softly caressing waves in one of the small boats the palace kept for such pleasure. His early afternoons were spent sitting on the rocks, looking out to sea, his eyes on the horizon, and his late afternoons found him in the palace library,book in hand. He had wanted no company and those who loved him had been warned to stay away. He spent the evenings playing chess with Pearl or Brelan, or sat quietly in his aunt's garden. His nights were also filled with heavily drugged slumber.

"One more day is all I can allow him," Occultus said as he poured a glass of wine for himself and Brelan. "I wish it could be longer, but the drugs I am administering are highly addictive. Addiction is the last thing he needs."

"Then what?" Brelan asked and took a sip of the wine.

"His instructions with Pearl are over. He has one final skill to learn." Occultus sat on a large fat cushion and crossed his legs.

"I mean what happens once he's no longer given drugs? Will the nightmares return?"

"I am sure they will."

Brelan tipped his wineglass, draining it, while Occultus waited patiently for him to speak. "He told me Raja had offered to sleep with him." Brelan made an ugly snort. "The woman's goal is to sleep with every man who might possibly wield any power."

"One never knows when one will need the assistance of a
special
friend," Occultus said wryly.

"Precisely," Brelan sneered. "I'd rather have Conar hump the most gruesome, diseased hag Diabolusia has to offer than have him bed that one!"

"As would I."

"And yet you gave her permission to seduce him." Brelan didn't actually accuse with his tone, but the implication was there.

"I knew he would turn her down." Occultus set aside his wineglass and folded his arms over his silk-clad chest. He gazed at Brelan with amusement. "I knew Raja would twist things to suit her, making
me
the villain in this. She would have told him that she was against such underhanded tactics to rid him of his problems. She would have played to his sense of honor where his Lady-wife was concerned and then would have offered her assistance. I knew Conar would see through her." His lips moved into a hard line of disdain. "The bitch's motives as selfish; he would have recognized them for what they were."

"Then why allow her near him, Master?"

"The ways of the gods are not always revealed to me, Lord Brelan. If it were left up to me, I would not allow her near him."

"You fear for his safety with her?"

"No, I fear for his soul. But I am the servant of the gods. When it is time, They will reveal to me the reason They have set this woman in your brother's path. Until then, we must bide our time, and be there if Conar should need us."

"And watch Raja like a hawk."

"Aye," Occultus agreed. "And watch her like a hawk!"

* * *

Conar laid aside his book and looked through the lacy branches of the tree to see an eagle soaring through the heavens. He watched the bird of prey until it sailed out of sight, then crossed his arms under his head and closed his eyes.

If he concentrated, he could see her face. For a long time, he thought he had lost the memory of that beautiful visage, but in the last few weeks it had returned to haunt his dreams.

The nightmares had fled and he suspected that was due to the potion Occultus insisted he take each night under the guise of being a vitamin drink.

"That potion," he muttered, "is closer kin to Meggie Ruck's dream garden variety than any Healer's vitamin drink."

"Talking to yourself, Milord?" Se Huan sank gracefully to the grass. "Am I interrupting?"

"No," he said and closed his eyes again.

"A copper for your thoughts."

He smiled. "I see long black hair that curls at the end when it's wet. I see vivid green eyes that sparkle with humor and mist with the merest hint of sorrow. I see a tiny waist and shapely hips and pretty little feet that can be so cold in winter…" He smile drifted slowly from his face.

"Your lady,"

" Once she was mine," he replied, opening his eyes.

"And will be again?"

He was silent a long time, his eyes searching the heavens for the answer. At last, he drew in a long breath, then exhaled slowly. "She will never be mine again."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because the world moved on. I have moved on. And she has moved on."

She heard tears in his voice. She gripped his hand as he pressed his lips together so hard a white line formed over his upper lip. "I am sorry I made you think of her."

"I think of her every moment of my life. With every breath I take."

The sheen of tears in his eyes made the azure depths shimmer. "Brelan says she's happy. The man at her side loves her and has done well by her. She belongs to him and as long as she's happy, that's all that matters." A solitary tear eased down his scarred cheek.

* * *

Sweat coated his body. His heart pounded like the crashing of the tide during a hurricane. He put a trembling hand through his hair and stared into the darkness. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and laid his cheek on the cool fingers.

"They are still there?" Se Huan asked, softly stroking the tense muscles.

"Aye." His voice was ragged.

"I had hoped they had left you." She sat up in bed, letting the coverlet fall from her. With regard to his dictates, she slept now clothed in a silk shift that kept her warm, enticing flesh from touching his. Her hand slid down his back. "Is it the same dream? Has it changed at all?"

He shook his head, unable to answer. He brought up his knees, put his elbows on them, and buried his face in his hands. Se Huan knew he was silently crying.

"Can we at least try to dispel these awful dreams?" Her heart broke as she watched his shoulders tremble. "Let me see if I can do something to help."

"It isn't the release I need, sweeting."

"Then, what?" she challenged, coming to her knees beside him. "Tell me what will help and I will move heaven and earth to make it so!" She flinched from the stark misery lurking in his face.

"I need to know that I
can,
Se Huan. I have to know that I
can!
But I'm afraid to try."

"Why?"

"If I fail, I…" He shook his head. "I'll know there's something wrong with me!"

One moment she was kneeling beside him, the next she was atop him, her lips pressed tightly to his, her hands roaming freely over his body. Her tongue plunged between his lips and drew sustenance from his sweet mouth. Her breasts pressed against his naked chest. She used every movement of her body to inflame his; she used every touch, every kiss, every breath to make him want her. She used every wile and technique she had been taught to bring him to erection, and when at last her small hand closed around the tumescence of his manhood, throbbing, steel-hard, she sighed with satisfaction. She drew up her shift, straddled him, her lithe thighs gripping his with the sheer force of her own building desire.

"I'll hurt you like this," he said, remembering the obstruction of her maidenhead. "Let me—"

"No!" she whispered. "Let
me!"

Her thighs tightened; she began to lower herself to him. Her hand guided him toward the entrance to her womanhood. She was vaguely aware of his hands on her willing body, stroking, caressing, fondling her through the silk shift. Her one objective was to impale herself upon his shaft before he tried to stop her.

But Conar's entire being was focused upon the throbbing ache in his loins. He needed the fulfillment she promised. His hands gripped her slim hips and he helped position her atop him, preparing to drive home.

"I love you." She found herself partially breached, felt pain as the size of him stretched her.

He heard a loud buzzing, a blinding burst of white-hot pain going through his head, zig-zagging back through both temples, and nausea galloped up his throat like the erupting lava of a volcano. His erection shrank with sudden swiftness.

"
No!"
he screamed, frustrated beyond the limits of endurance. "
Dammit! No!"

He arched against her, pushing his flaccid flesh along the wet silk of her vaginal lips, but he remained useless. He groaned in anger and twisted, burying her beneath him as he continued to pommel her flesh with his, seeking entry, demanding the return of his erection. Feverishly he pounded against her to no avail. His flesh was a soft reminder of his nightmare.

"Oh, god!" He rolled off of her, covering his face with his hands. He shook uncontrollably.

Se Huan lay there for a moment, her body aching for the loss of something she had never known, but needing it just the same. Tears slid down her cheeks. She cradled him to her with the gentleness of a mother with her child. He buried his face in her neck, and sobbed until she thought his heart would break. She stroked his hair, hummed to him, until sleep claimed them.

She did not awaken when he crept silently, furtively, ashamedly from their bed and went in search of another's help.

* * *

Morning found him staring bleary-eyed out the window of Raja's room. He sat with his hands clenched, his full attention on the soft rain pelting the windows.

"Perhaps you were trying too hard, love," Raja told him as she knelt beside him, caressing his taut thigh. "Sometimes these things happen."

"Not to me. Not ever before."

She smiled gently. "Then you were lucky. Every man I have ever known has experienced such as you did last eve." She laid her head on his thigh. "With your sleeplessness and worry about the dreams, you cannot expect to perform as though you have not a care. Besides, it has been a long time since you made love with a woman." She ran her fingers to the juncture of his thighs and caressed him. "We'll try again tonight. I promise you we will see an end to this problem."

He nodded absently, his mind elsewhere. He had tried with Se Huan and, against his better judgment, with Raja. Neither had been able to help him.

Four times Raja had tried to bring him to release; each time she had failed. Each time he had neared the moment of entry, his flesh had shriveled as though being touched with ice-cold pain. Blinding fury had lashed through his temples; nausea had sprung up like a charging beast. His passion had died instantly and his distaste had seemed like a vicious reminder that this was not what his manhood was seeking.

Now he sat watching storm clouds building in the distance and knew he would not try again with Raja. Or Se Huan.

There was another answer, there had to be, and he must find it on his own.

* * *

"Conar? What are you doing here?"

"May I speak with you, please?"

"Of course! I'm sorry! Come in, come in! I don't know where my manners are! Please, sit down. May I get you something to drink?"

Conar shook his head, declining the invitation to sit. "I'm not thirsty." He looked about the hut, taking in the sparse furnishings, the Spartan walls and floors. He hunched his shoulders, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his breeches.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Not really." He looked away, his forehead wrinkling with unease. His body seemed as taut as a freshly strung bow. He looked fitfully about as though he half-expected a gobbledegookin to jump out at him.

"May I be of some assistance?"

"I don't know." The answer was too quick, too highly charged. "Maybe." The word was a staccato burst of uncertainty. "I hope so."

"You know I'll help in any way I can."

Conar nodded, his wary eyes straying beyond his companion to the bedroom. He flinched, seeking a way out of his predicament.

"Take your time," Pearl told him in a soft, reassuring voice. "I'm in no hurry."

Conar took a hitching breath. He viciously plowed one of his hands through his hair, tugging on the golden mass, gathering his courage from the pain in his scalp. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He slammed his hand into his pocket once more. A muscle worked in his jaw as he sought to ask what he had come to ask.

Pearl watched him with worry. "Does this concern something Occultus has ordered you to do? Something you find distasteful?" He thought perhaps Conar had already been introduced to his next instructor, a man Pearl both feared and admired. When Conar shook his head, Pearl was at a loss. "Has someone offended you?" Again the vigorous shake. "Did
you
offend someone?" Pearl asked in accusingly.

"How did you know?"

Pearl waved his hand. "Because you're
always
offending people!"

"I haven't offended anyone!"

"No, you just scare the shit out of them!" Pearl mumbled.

"Will you just listen?" Conar shouted. He was on the verge of running from the room. "You don't ever
listen!"

"I'm listening!"

Conar took a deep, steadying breath. "How'd you know…what you wanted?"

He's finally lost his mind, Pearl thought with dismay. The nightmares had finally pushed Conar over the edge. "I haven't the foggiest notion what…" Sudden, clear understanding hit him as he looked into the dismal face filled with such acute embarrassment. "Oh, I see what you're asking."

Conar looked away.

"Sit down." Pearl gestured toward one of the plush cushions on the floor. He waited until Conar settled before he took another cushion and sat facing his guest. He was aware Conar's body was as tight as a coiled spring, his knuckles white where he gripped his knees. The blue eyes held stubbornly, unwavering, on Pearl's, but Pearl knew it was taking a great deal of self-control and courage for Conar not to look away. The young man wasn't making it easy on himself.

Pearl took a deep breath, arranging his thoughts until he could formulate an explanation that did not ramble, did not dissemble, would not confuse and provoke. He wanted desperately for the words to be right, for the explanation to make as much sense to Conar as it had to him over the years. He took great pains to keep his voice light and narrative.