WindLegends Saga 9: WindRetriever (36 page)

"Just let me put my arms around you," he begged. "Let me hold you, then."

It was an instinctual thing, this need to be held, to hold, to be reassured, to be protected. It was an animal need for self-preservation. A primal desire to survive.

Sybelle recognized that and she wished she could reach out to him, hold him as he wanted to be held, let him hold her, but she didn't even like the man. If anything she loathed him. His breathtaking good looks made her nauseous and his unfailing dark humor brought uncontrollable rage to her heart. She had no intention of comforting a man who had stolen, no, slain, the only man she had ever loved.

He reached out his hand as far as it would go, encountered only air, then let it drop to the bed with a resigned groan of defeat.

"Would it kill you to show me even a moment of friendliness, Sybelle?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Go to hell," she snapped at him.

His lips twitched. "I've been there, Lady."

"No," she replied, coming closer to the bed. "You have not. You have been singed by the heat, I will grant you that, but you have never truly experienced the flame."

He turned his head away from her. "But you intend to correct that, don't you?"

"Shut up, McGregor," she warned him. She reached out and threw the covers from him, intent on shaming him, for he was naked beneath the heavy comforter. Her gaze went unerringly to that part of him she seemed to find so enthralling.

"Why don't you just whack that thing off for me?" he asked, his jaw clenched. "Since you can't seem to keep from wanting to gawk at it!"

"Don't tempt me," she mumbled. Her face flamed when the object of their conversation shifted against his thigh.

"Your Grace?" Chaim called from the door, embarrassed that his mistress was staring so boldly at the Serenian's genitals. "Prince Jashir's outriders have arrived. They came ahead to say he is on his way here for a visit."

Sybelle spat out a vulgarity. "I wish he'd give me more notice when he comes to call," she hissed. She spun away from the bed, passing Chaim without looking at the man. "See to McGregor." Over her shoulder, she ordered her servant to keep their prisoner quiet or else.

"Who is this Jashir?" Conar asked as Chaim pulled the covers over him once more.

"He is one of my lady's brothers," the man answered. He lives in Kerak province just north of here. He is second eldest son."

"Can he be trusted?" Conar asked, grateful for the sip of water Chaim placed at his lips.

"Why do you ask?" Chaim demanded. "I shall not tell him you are here, Your Grace."

"Did I ask you to?" came the somewhat hurt reply.

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"Then why ask if the prince can be trusted?"

"I just wanted to know if he was anything like Sajin," the Serenian sighed. "Or is he as shitty as Sybelle?"

Chaim's chin rose. "My lady is not 'shitty' as you call it. She feels she has reason to keep you imprisoned here."

"The woman needs to be laid," Conar snorted. "That's her problem, Chaim."

Shock sped over Chaim's rugged face before he sat the tumbler of chilled water down on Conar's bedside table with a heavy thud.

"Do not speak so disrespectfully of my lady or else I shall have to gag you, Your Grace."

"So do it," came the reply. "I can't see. I can barely move. Why not make it complete by cutting out my tongue, puncturing my eardrums and stuffing my nose full of cotton! Then I wouldn't be able to hear or talk or even smell, you worthless son-of-a-bitch!"

Offended by the vicious words, Chaim bent over the bed and tried to shush his ward, but the Serenian let out a howl of fury only to have Chaim's hand slam down over his mouth.

"Stop that!" the servant warned him. "I
will
gag you, Your Grace!" He straddled Conar and slapped away the hands which tried to pry his own away. "And bind you to the bed if you do not behave!"

Conar sank his teeth into Chaim's palm and the servant yipped with surprised pain.

Prince Jashir Ben-Alkazar looked up from his glass of wine. "What was that?"

Sybelle shrugged. "Who knows, Jashir? One of the servants causing trouble. You know how they can be." She glanced nervously toward the doorway leading to the ground floor quarters.

"I am not pleased with you living so far from a settlement, Sybelle," Jashir said with a heavy scowl. "And neither is Haji. As the oldest, we feel you should move to the palace and allow us to find you a husband."

"One of whom you and Haji and the others approve, I suppose," she answered dryly.

"You need a husband," her brother reminded her. "A woman alone is fair game for any bounder who gets a sniff of her wealth and property." He looked around him. "You were left well off when you first husband died, but you must find another to replace him." He took a sip of his wine. "Or else dry up on the vine."

Sybelle's hands were clenched in the folds of her robe. The last thing she needed was one of her elder brothers coming to Helix to lecture her on what they thought were her womanly obligations. Sajin left her alone and she wished the other eleven would, as well.

"Have you heard from Sajin lately, Jashir?" she asked, trying to stir the man to a topic she knew would annoy him more than her situation did.

Jashir tilted the wine glass and drained. "Ever since he became involved with that Outlander, there has been no reasoning with him." He stood up and walked to the arched window where he stood glaring out at the lush garden. "My sources tell me he is even leading that seditious group!" Jashir looked around at his sister. "I tell you, Sybelle, I have no real love for slavery, either, but to lead these barbarians against his own people? It is folly!"

"Sajin only goes after Rysalian slavers, Jashir," she pointed out.

"For now!" her brother retorted. "How long will it be before he drags that rabble onto Kensetti lands? It's that infidel's fault, you know."

"McGregor?" she asked, amused by the rancor she was hearing in Jashir's tone.

"Who else?" Jashir turned from the window. "That man has been trouble since he stepped foot on Hasdu soil!"

Sybelle looked down at her hands. "I would imagine he will pay for ever having left Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 162

Serenia, Jashir."

"I should hope so," he agreed. "Well, let's not discuss the man any longer. I am tired and wish to have a long bath before the evening meal. Do you have the eastern wing ready for me?"

Sybelle's head snapped up. "The eastern wing?" That was where she had ensconced her prisoner. "No. I mean, it is being painted. Won't the suite beside my own do?"

Jashir frowned. "I suppose, but I would prefer my usual accommodations." He shrugged elaborately. "But beggars can't be choosers, eh?"

Ringing for Kanan to escort her brother upstairs, Sybelle waited until Jashir was gone before hurrying to the chamber where Conar McGregor was being kept. She was unprepared for the sight which greeted her as she slipped soundlessly into the suite and closed the door, bolting it behind her.

"It was the only way I could keep him quiet, milady," Chaim exclaimed as she joined him at the bed. "I believe he meant to cause enough noise to draw your brother in here."

The Kensetti princess nodded. "No doubt that was his intention." She stared down at the bound and gagged man lying so still on the bed. "You did well, Chaim."

Chaim bowed in relief. "What are your wishes, Your Grace?"

"Obviously we can't allow him to draw Jashir's notice. He will have to be kept thus until my brother leaves." As Conar began to thrash helplessly on the bed in denial of her orders, she laughed spitefully. "You brought it on yourself, McGregor. Perhaps you will learn something from this experience."

A low growl of pure rage pushed from the heavy cotton cloth pressed between Conar's teeth. He strained against the rags binding his wrists and ankles to the bed, restraint’s that had not been removed since he had awakened from his latest bout with Labyrinthian fever.

"What about his supper?" Chaim asked.

"He'll get none," Sybelle replied, then turned and started for the door. "Come along, Chaim, and lock the door behind you."

Chaim took a last look at the enraged man struggling to free himself. Making sure that wasn't possible, he followed his mistress from the room, turning the key in the lock. "Give me the key," she ordered and he turned to her in surprise.

"But what if I should need to check on him during the night?" Chaim protested.

"I will see to him," Sybelle answered. She was already walking away.

"But, Your Grace!" Chaim whimpered, hurrying to catch up with her. "He must use the ....

He has to ...." The servant turned a deep red. "I have to .…"

"Good eve, Chaim," his mistress interrupted.

Chaim came up short outside the library into which the princess had gone for she had shut the door in his face.

"Shit," the servant said, turning and stomping away. If she wanted to hold a chamber pot for the Serenian, let her!

"McGregor?" she whispered. "Are you awake?" There was a grunt from the man on the bed.

Unable to light a lamp in the room lest her brother, who was a light sleeper and prone to Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 163

midnight ramblings to aid his insomnia, see it and come to investigate, Sybelle sat down on the bed and leaned over her prisoner.

"Do you ...." She bit her lower lip, then lifted her chin with resignation. "Have you need of the pot?"

There was a snort of fury and a jerk on the ropes which bound his wrists which Sybelle ignored.

"Either nod yes or no or I will leave you like this 'till morning, McGregor," she warned him.

"I will not untie you for you to do it yourself so unless you take me up on my offer, you can piss in the bed for all I care and lay in it all night!"

Furious mumblings came from behind the gag and she understood that he was cursing her and denying her the right to touch him.

"Suit yourself," she said, getting up, but just as she had known there would be, she heard him make a capitulating sound deep in his throat. She turned and bent over him, leaning on the headboard. "Do you wish to make use of the pot?"

Very slowly he nodded, his hands clenching and unclenching as though he wished he had her throat in his grip.

She pulled the covers back, exposing him to the desert's night air coming in through the window and she saw him shudder. Her lips twitched with amusement. The man was totally at her mercy, completely helpless, and unable to stop her from doing whatever she wished to him. Such power was heady and just a little bit intoxicating.

Conar felt the mattress dip as she knelt down to drag out the chamber pot from beneath the bed. He had never been so humiliated in his life as when the cold porcelain rim of the chamber pot was placed between his spread legs.

The chamber was dark. Apparently clouds were covering the moonlight that had been shining in the room. Sybelle had to slide her hand up his thigh to find his manhood and when she did, her fingers closing around the stiff erection of it, she gasped.

He couldn't help but laugh at her reaction. Did the bitch think he was aroused by her nearness? Set on fire by her fumbling touch? He wished he could spit away the gag so he could tell her it was his urgent need to relieve himself that had caused the rigidity of his staff.

Sybelle held the thick, pulsing shaft in her hand and marveled at the size of it. Never had she held a man's essence in her hand that so completely filled her grip. Moving her hand down the length of it, she was astonished to find that he had not been circumcised. Since members of her own tribe, and those men of other tribes with whom she had shared intimate moments, had all been circumcised since childhood, the fact that the Serenian hadn't, intrigued her.

"Why did they not cut away the foreskin?" she asked, marveling at the thin fold of flesh that covered the man's penis.

Conar snarled behind the gag. That she was touching him was bad enough, but that she was inspecting his anatomy turned him into a raging animal. He jerked against his bonds, infuriated more when she had the nerve to pull on that flesh that had so captured her notice. He screamed as hard as he could, finally gaining her attention. And it was just in time for out of pure spite, he released his urine.

Sybelle barely had time to push his shaft downward so that he did not spray her. If she had not heeded the warning his furious bellow had put forth, no doubt the man would actually have pissed on her.

"McGregor, you have no idea how close you came to being relieved of this thing you value so much!" she hissed at him.

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Conar breathed a sigh of relief as his bladder emptied. He had been in acute pain since early evening. Although he had been expecting her to come, he had not expected her to be the one to be helping him do what she was helping him do. The embarrassment wasn't as acute as he would have thought it should be. Her touch was almost clinical after her 'examination' of him.

"By the Prophetess, McGregor," she exclaimed as he continued to urinate, "you were nigh to bursting." Guilt made her even more aware of his discomfort and she looked up at his face, almost obscured by the blindfold and the gag. Guilt gave way to shame and as he finished relieving himself, she asked if he would behave himself if she removed the gag. "Else I'll leave it in place 'till morning."