WINDKEEPER (59 page)

Liza sucked in her breath as he captured her ear lobe with his teeth. "I suppose they must."

"And the sheets examined for…ah…the signs of the seal," he reminded her.

"I’ve a dagger on the dressing table, Milord." She giggled. "Your thigh or mine?"

Conar lifted his head and looked at her. "I suppose the sacrificial blood will be my own."

"I believe I can make it worth the offering, Milord."

"You do?"

She grinned. "I’m gods-be-damned sure I can."

Conar lifted up just enough to tear the unbelted robe from his body. He tossed it away, then put his hands on the bodice of her gown. He cocked one golden brow.

"If you must," Liza sighed.

"I must."

The ripping of the silk gown was all the impetus either needed. Liza’s arms went around his shoulders, his hands went under her bottom, and in the flicker of an eye, Conar’s ladylove was impaled on his thrusting shaft. What followed was an orgy of pleasure that left them both exhausted and asleep in each other’s arms.

* * *

"And are you happy with your Toad?" Her smile widened as she nestled into the warmth of his side.

He shrugged his unhampered shoulder. "Fairly well content with my Toad."

She looked up at him. "Only fairly well, Milord?"

Conar moved so that he hovered over her, his body barely touching hers as he braced himself on his elbows and knees. "As content as any man with a woman who plays the game by her own set of rules and neglects to warn him." He blew a stray wisp of hair from her cheek.

Liza’s nose crinkled. "Faith, Milord!" she gasped. "Have a care! Your breath could scorch the quills from a porcupine!" She tried to shove him off, but he wouldn’t budge. She saw his grin turn into a lecherous smirk.

"And whose fault is that?" He scooped her up in his arms and flipped over to his back, pulling her over him, holding her above him, her body stretched full length along his own. He shook his head in wonder. "First you get me mad; then you get me drunk; then you have me manhandled up here and stripped of my clothing; then you torture me as I lay dying in agony. I would venture to say my breath should be the least of your worries, Madame."

Liza’s face held an innocent look. "I didn’t make you mad, Milord. I didn’t get you drunk. Your aunt had you brought upstairs and my mother had you stripped."

"But you tortured me by shaking the gods-be-damned bed!"

"True, but well you deserved it."

" ’Twas not the first time you’ve tortured me, Liza," he said in a soft voice.

"When did I hurt you?"

"When you left me. All the times you left me, but the last was the worst. Why? Why did you let me hurt so?"

"You sent another man to find out about me, Conar. You didn’t come yourself; you sent Rayle. When time passed and you never came to meet me, my parents sent a spy here to ask questions and what they learned made them angry. They almost broke the contract because, in believing what Rayle told you about me, you had questioned my parent’s honor."

"In what way?" He was puzzled by her remark.

"Papa was furious with you. I overheard him telling Mama that if I had been born with some horrible defect, he would have broken the contract then because it would not have been fair to you. But instead of asking him or my mother, you took Rayle’s word without finding out for yourself, and in doing so, you made it seem as though my parents were trying to lie. Papa is one of the most honest men I know and you questioned that honesty."

"So, why didn’t he just send a messenger telling me nothing was wrong with you? Why let me go on believing the worst?"

"They thought you deserved to suffer," she said with a sober smile.

"And you? What did you think?" His forehead crinkled with worry.

"It took all my begging and pleading and threatening to persuade them that I understood your reluctance to marry a woman you thought handicapped." She lowered her gaze. "I would not have wanted to marry you if I thought you were in a like way." She looked at him again. "They said you were a pompous, arrogant fool who did not deserve to know the truth. Papa was all for marrying me to another."

"Brelan Saur?" Conar sneered. His face hardened.

Liza grinned. "Someone told you?"

"So, why didn’t he break the contract?" Conar asked, ignoring her question.

Liza shook her head. "I made a bargain, and a bet, with him. Papa loves to gamble and I wagered I could get to know the real Conar McGregor, not the high-and-mighty heir to the throne of Serenia, not the arrogant, egotistical man who had said such wicked things about me, but the man beneath that cold heart and exterior. He bet me I couldn’t." She shrugged. "You see who won."

"That’s when you came looking for me?"

"That day at the Hound and Stag, you were so smug, so self-righteous. You were so cynical and condemning of women in general. I decided not to tell you who I was. I don’t think you would have believed me, anyway." Her hand curled around his neck. "You seemed so distant and angry, but beneath all that, I saw something I don’t think anyone else ever had. A terrible, terrible loneliness. I was determined to have you love me." Her free hand began to stroke the hair on his chest. "I wanted you to know the real Anya Elizabeth, not the Princess, nor your betrothed, nor the woman you thought deformed in some way, but the real woman, the woman who had fallen in love with you years ago."

"You’re joking!" he grinned, his brows shooting up. "When was this? When you realized my reputation as a stud was so well-deserved?" He wagged his brows.

Liza looked at him with exasperation. "Conceited oaf!" She laughed. "When I came with my brother Grice and Brelan Saur to a fair near Corinth."

His forehead wrinkled as he tried to remember. He shook his head.

"It was the summer festival there. Do you remember Grice winning one of the du Mer stallions? It was a big roan? You even joked about the stallion, telling Grice he was one of Seayearner’s cousins and Grice decided to name him Sea Star?"

Conar’s eyes lit. "I do remember! That was the day me and Grice and the baker’s daughter—" He stopped, his face turning beet red.

"Aye, that day!" Liza giggled.

"But I don’t remember you," he said, hoping she hadn’t been a witness to what he and her brother had done with the baker’s voluptuous daughter.

"Brelan kept me occupied while you two were enjoying the other pleasures of the festival." She laughed.

"Then we didn’t actually meet?" He wanted to get her away from thoughts of the baker’s daughter and Brelan Saur.

"Oh, but we did."

"When?"

"I was your second when you and Prince Chase Montyne had your little discussion on the jousting field."

"That was you?" he gasped, staring at her, remembering the slim boy who had gazed up at him with such moonstruck eyes. He had even made a rude, hateful and extremely vulgar remark to the boy, telling him to find another of his own kind to ogle.

"You thought I was a boy and that was what Grice and Brelan wanted you to think."

"But you couldn’t have been more than—"

"I was twelve, Milord. And I thought you were the handsomest boy I had ever seen. And so did every other female at the festival."

He shook his head. "And because of that, you fell in love with me?"

"No," she answered quickly. "It was an added incentive, but it was what you did that endeared you to me."

"What I did?" He couldn’t remember doing anything out of the ordinary that day, except maybe with the baker’s daughter, and he didn’t think that would have endeared him to her.

"There was a little girl who was lost from her mother. Do you remember her?" When he shook his head, she added, "You took her up on your shoulders and walked all over the crowd until you found her mother, who was getting frantic trying to find the child. When you put down the little girl and the mother hugged her so fiercely, you smiled, and there was a sheen of tears in your eyes, Milord, when you told the woman no child should ever be separated from its mother. It was then I knew I loved you."

"Her name was Katie," he said, his memory returning.

"That you could remember her name after so many years is a wonder." Liza smiled, a catch in her voice.

"Not really. Her mother came here to work. Katie is one of the chambermaids here, as well." There was no way he could tell her that Katie, that little lost ten-year-old girl from so many years before, was now the mother of Tia, one of his children.

"When I saw you again, Milord, it was at the Hound and Stag. I had nearly forgotten how handsome you were. It surprised me. Your attitude surprised me. I was amazed that you would marry, sight unseen, without regard to your own personal happiness. Even though you were being forced to marry, I had always assumed you would try to find a way to break the contract." She grinned. "Not that I would have allowed that. I wasn’t prepared for the man I found that day. I was stunned that you would honor a woman you found detestable. I was touched by your faithfulness to the Princess Anya Elizabeth when you defended her to me at Norus."

"But you set out to seduce me anyway," he reminded her.

"Aye, but it was my own husband I was seducing."

His hand came up to tangle in her thick tresses. "How did you know that Conar, the man, would love, Liza, the woman?"

She smiled against his chest. "I simply gave him the chance, Milord. How could you not? We were destined to belong to one another."

His hand stilled in her hair. "I tried not to love you. I didn’t want to."

"I know, but you didn’t count on Liza’s tenacity, Milord." She gazed at him through her lowered lashes. "Or her willpower. I have yet to want something that I could not find a way to get."

He laughed a deep rumble in his wide chest. "And you decided you wanted me? Despite my churlishness and cynical outlook."

She raised her head and looked at him, her face serious. "I could see hurt in your eyes, Milord. I could see pain so deep that you thought you had it buried, but I could see it. I could feel it. You needed me and I wanted you to need me. I refused to let what some other woman had done cost me your love and affection. If you could love Liza, you could love your wife, for they were two sides of the same coin. You just didn’t know that."

"Maybe if I had known…"

"Would you have believed me if I had told you who I really was?" She cocked a brow at his uneasy look. "I didn’t think so. That was why I never told you."

"And all the postponements? Why was there so many postponements even after you knew I had fallen in love with you?" There was a dull ache in his heart as he realized all the months of pain could have been avoided.

"The postponements were not our doing, Milord. It was the Oracle who set the wedding date, not me. Why, I don’t know, but I can make a fairly good guess."

His brow rose in question.

"She was testing how well you truly did love me. There is an old saying in my homeland. What is gained without effort, is lost without thought; but what is gained through difficulty, is kept with care."

His palm cupped her cheek. "Never doubt how much I love you, Liza. I will keep our love safe even with my last breath. That, I will promise you."

"And I shall promise you this, Milord. Never again will I ever be the cause of your hurt." She touched his lips with her fingertips. "Never again."

His eyes searched hers and he knew she meant what she said, but the ways of the gods and Their ladies are fickle and "never" was a word he knew not to trust.

"Do you doubt my love for you?" she asked, misunderstanding the look.

"Never."

"Then what brings such confusion to you, Milord?"

"Do your friends call you Liza?" he asked, changing the subject.

She giggled. "Aye. I guess Rayle didn’t find that out."

"And that godawful veil?" He grinned at her impish expression.

"A rather bad case of pimples," she said, ducking her head in embarrassment.

"And you said I was vain. What about the limp?"

"My lady’s maid, Liza? You’ve met her?"

"Aye, I’ve had the misfortune."

"She’s not all that bad!" She giggled at his hard expression.

"She doesn’t care for your husband," he said with rancor.

"She doesn’t know you."

"Nor is she likely to. The only lady’s maid you’ll have in my quarters is Gezelle!"

"But you told me at the banquet—" She giggled as he hushed her with his mouth, kissing her lightly before allowing her to speak again.

"The limp?" he insisted when he had thoroughly gotten her attention.

"You’re going to laugh," she warned, not really sure if he would or not. She chewed on her lip, gazing at him from under her lashes.

"Go on."

"Well, Liza has a limp."

"I know." His face was stern.

"The day Rayle came in search of me, he saw Liza with my parents, not me." At his look of disbelief, she hurried on. "I didn’t want to go to that street bizarre so Liza took my place. She wore my veil. Did you know she can talk just like me when she wants to?" His warning look made her smile waver. "Anyway, I told my parents—well I didn’t tell them, Liza told them—that I had taken a nasty spill off my nag and that was why I was limping."

He tried to glower, but her grin turned his resolve to mush. He shook his head at her prank. "And they never suspected it wasn’t you?"

"We did it all the time when I was younger. When Papa finally did catch us at it, he thought it quite funny, although he would never have admitted it. Liza impersonated me a lot while I was out gallivanting with you, Milord. Papa was even the one to suggest it so no one would suspect that Prince Conar’s light-o’-love and the Princess Anya Elizabeth were one and the same. But they didn’t know it was her that day Rayle came searching me out."

"Rayle heard your parents telling you not to remove your veil in public because you might cause a stampede. What was all that about?" He wasn’t about to let her off the hook so easily.

Her lower lip thrust out in a pout. "They were teasing me, or rather Liza without knowing it. I was so sensitive about my face with all those ugly red blotches, I didn’t want anyone to see me that way."