WindLegends Saga 9: WindRetriever (40 page)

"I am here, McGregor," she told him, drawing up a chair to sit beside his bed. She studied his face in the soft glow of the candlelight. The edges of the scarf covering his eyes were wet with the perspiration that dotted his lean face.

Conar exhaled a long, weary breath. "I can't move at all, now," he said. "Does that please you, Sybelle?"

"I am not surprised," she said, ignoring his bitter question. Reaching out, she laid her palm on his ravaged cheek. "Can you feel this?"

There was no sensation at all, but he could smell the faint odor of soap and lemon. "No."

Sybelle withdrew her hand. "What do you wish me to do?" She held her breath for his reply.

She had him, he thought. Caught in her web, wrapped up as tightly as a feast goose. What choice did he have but to go along with her? Even if she were toying with him, what other alternative was open to him save asking for her help? He was helpless and might as well admit to it.

"You put no price on it, Lady," he said softly. His chin quivered. "There is always a price."

Her hands clenched. "Total submission," she said. "You must swear total submission to me."

He had thought as much. Her price was one many a magic-sayer had put on their services.

But the answer hurt him just the same.

"And what does that submission entail, Sybelle?" he asked. He thought he knew, but he would hear her say it.

"You must pledge never to leave this place. You must swear to stay for as long as I desire you do so. Even if that is to my dying day, McGregor."

Conar sighed. "What else?" He'd expected no less.

"You must submit to all my desires," she told him. "In whatever fashion I deem fit."

She would have his body, as well as his soul, he thought grimly, but that had not been Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 179

unexpected, either. Her touch had told him she wanted him. He was use to that. What did it matter? One more woman's hands on his body should not concern him, now. Not now that he could no longer feel any woman's hands on him.

"Is there more?" he asked.

"You must sign a writ of divorce from both Catherine and that whore at Abbadon. I will not have you bound to any woman, but me." She leaned close to him. "Since you will never set eyes on either of them again, that should be of little import to you."

His heart began to ache with the bitter knowledge that he would never again see his homeland nor his children. Never hold the girl child that was the product of his and Catherine's love. He had resigned himself to losing Catherine, but his children were a different matter.

"I can cure you," she taunted him. "Remember that." She leaned closer so that her lips were at his ear. Her voice was a seductive caress. "I can make you see again, McGregor. Walk again. Feel again. I can take away all pain and all affliction."

She was tempting him with the things he desperately wanted. She was offering him life again. A way out of the horrible darkness into which he had been pitched. A surcease of the agony he had been suffering for years.

"Will you tell me no and live the rest of your life as you are, McGregor?" she whispered in his ear.

How could she think he wanted to live his life wrapped in this cocoon of emptiness, he thought? How could she believe he wanted to spend the remainder of his life encased in cement? A loathsome object of pity that could not feel life as it slipped by him? He could not and knew it. He had once been a vital man. To be left otherwise would be worse than hell on earth for him.

"And if I agree to your conditions," he said quietly, "what then?"

"I am Kensetti royalty, McGregor," she said, intently watching his reaction. "In order for you to live here with me as I desire you to do, we must be man and wife."

That did surprise him. He was silent, contemplating why she would want to tie herself to him in such a way. Her next words explained it to him.

"My brothers might one day find you here with me. Should I conceive by you, which is likely considering how potent your seed is, McGregor, even Sajin would call for your head on a pike if we are not legally bound to one another. You are royalty. I am not lowering myself to take you as my husband. My brothers will not welcome the union, but they will not gainsay it, either, if Sajin approves."

Conar swallowed. "But you have no intention of telling Sajin where I am, do you?"

"He would want you to go back with him and I will not allow that," she said simply. "You will remain here with me. You will not dishonor your oath to me. I know you, McGregor."

She had it all figured out. Down to the smallest detail. She would bind him to her with cords of tempered steel from which he could not break free. His words was his bond. Whatever he swore to her, he would do.

"Well?" she asked, clutching the side of the bed. "What is it to be?"

He was silent a moment and then he sighed, a heartfelt surrender that brought tears to his eyes. "What choices have you given me, Sybelle?"

"None," she said in a matter of fact tone that was cold and brutal to even her own ears. She sat rigidly, awaiting his answer. "Either stay as you are or give yourself to me."

How he hated the sound of that. The woman hated him. She had made that clear. What terrible things would he have to do in order to repay her tainted generosity?

"Time is running out, McGregor," she reminded him. "I must have your answer now."

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"Aye," he answered so softly she barely heard him. "I agree to your demands.”

Sybelle drew in a slow breath. "You must say it. I will hear you swear to me your submission, McGregor."

He bit his lip until a tiny bead of blood appeared on the full lower surface. It was all he could do to keep his voice from breaking as he answered.

"I will not leave you, Sybelle." His words became almost inaudible. "I will do whatever you wish of me."

She could hear the blatant sadness in his tone and it probed at her conscience. But she wanted this man and there was no other way to have him totally in her control than this.

"No matter what I wish to do to you or have you do to me?" she prodded him, wanting to make sure there was no misunderstanding between them. It would be his full cooperation or none at all.

Conar heard Kaileel Tohre's words from long ago. The evil sorcerer had made him take a similar vow. He doubted if the humiliation Sybelle planned for him could be any worse than that which Kaileel had shone him.

"Like unto like," the Serenian answered. "I will not say no to you."

"No matter what I ask of you? No matter what I demand?"

His answer was a mere whisper of breath. "Aye."

And with Sybelle Bath-Alkazar's long exhalation of held breath, Conar's fate was sealed.

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In the whispering green forests beyond the Capstanian Mountain range of Kensett, lay a magic land which pulsed in the shifting mists like the beating of a gentle heart. The air was redolent with the scent of pine and clover and there was about the place a peacefulness, an abundance of calm that soothed the spirit and awakened the soul to the beauty surrounding it. The land abounded with a plethora of living creatures: shy fawns peeking out from behind the thick trunks of live oaks; flitting birds skipping among the moss-draped branches; scampering squirrels and waddling raccoons; sly foxes lurking among the tall ferns. Life was rich and turgid in the land of the Wealdzone. Rain fell softly at times, more lustfully at others. Where the precious water fell, new life sprang up and flourished, spreading out on the floor of the greensward to carpet the fertile soil and bring from it all manner of living things. There was sound in the Wealdzone, as well: the chirping of myriad varieties of bird life; the click of insects; the snuffling of wolves and forest beasts; the gentle soughing of the wind across the primeval sky.

And in the midst of so much life, so much beauty, stood a keep of such loveliness, of such architectural splendor, it fair shone in the sunlight which draped about it. The walls were made of a soft white stone and there were no doors to bar entrance, no window shutters to keep out the abundance of wildlife skittering about, no portcullis to lower, no drawbridge to raise, no guards to bar entry. The forest floor with its carpet of lush green growth, flowed right up to the keep's main entrance like a welcoming mat for the weary visitor to Wealdzone. There was about the keep an air of serenity that could be found nowhere else in the universe.

Flowing beside the keep was a river of crystal waters, gently lapping at the mossy banks and filled with all manner of water fowl who skimmed along with grace and beauty, calling now and again to one another, delighting in the protection the keep afforded them. In the midst of the water was a small island and perched on the island was a delicate gazebo, its lacy sides of white latticework glowing in the sunset sky, for it was always sunset in the green forests of the Wealdzone.

"Welcome, Sister," a maiden called out as Sybelle entered the keep. "You are expected."

The interior of the keep was lushly furnished with period pieces from every era of time, some as old as the ancients, some as new as the year before. Each piece loving cared for by careful hands. Paintings of the Masters and modern artists adorned the walls alongside tapestries of ages past. Soft light gleamed from crystal chandeliers and glowed gently from highly-polished sconces.

There was no darkness within the keep. There was no barren starkness. No foggy mists obscured the walls. No shadows lurked in hidden corners.

"Our Lady awaits you in the solar," the maiden informed Sybelle.

"Thank you." Sybelle smiled at her Sister and headed toward the massive glass-enclosed room where every variety of indoor plant grew in splendid abundance.

"Ah, Sybelle," the Lady laughed as she gracefully stood up from her chaise. "It is always such a pleasure to have you visit. Here, sit beside me. May I offer you tea?"

"I would enjoy that, Madame," Sybelle answered. She seated herself on an overstuffed settee and kicked off her shoes, drew her legs up on the cushions. She settled back with a sigh of pleasure.

"Your trip was peaceful?" the Lady inquired as one of her Handmaidens began to pour the rich cinnamon tea into delicate china cups.

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"Peaceful and too short," Sybelle replied. "Sometimes I wish the journey to the keep would take a bit longer so I might enjoy the scenery."

"Then by all means take your time in going back. There is no hurry," the Lady chided her.

"You know you will have what you have come for without asking."

Sybelle sighed, relieved. "I had hoped so." She accepted the fragile bone china cup and took a sip. Her eyes glowed with appreciation of the brew. "Excellent," she told the Handmaiden.

"He is what you have been seeking for so long?" the Lady asked as she sipped from her own cup.

"I believe so," Sybelle acknowledged, "although I would not have said so a month or two ago." She licked her upper lip. "The power I wield over him intrigues me."

The Lady nodded with understanding. "I would advise you to be careful how you exercise such authority over a man such as this one. Many have tried to tame him and few have succeeded.

Those who have did not entirely gain his submission. Not even Elizabeth Wynth."

Sybelle inclined her head in acceptance of the warning. "He will hold to his vow to me, Madame. He is a man of his word. Honor is not just a word with him."

"True," the Lady agreed, "but one can push a man such as he only so far without paying dearly for the privilege." She placed her half-empty cup on a low marble stand beside her chaise.

"You have yet to test him, I take it?"

A soft blush spread over Sybelle's high cheekbones. "I shall this evening. As soon as he regains his strength."

The Lady shook her head. "A word of warning, child: Give him a few days. Allow him to re-accustom himself with the workings of his body. He has gone long without knowing adequate strength." She smiled archly. "One would not like to see you pounce upon him in the, shall we say, 'heat' of the moment. That might prove unwise in the handling of this particular man. Go slowly with him and you might gain that which you seek." She cocked her head to one side. "It is his love you want, is it not?"

Sybelle's heart thudded against her ribcage. "Yes."

"You may gain it if you handle him in just the right way," the Lady cautioned her. "But alienate him and you will find your work cut out for you. A man thinks with his privates, child.

Never allow him to think you control that part of him."

The faint blush deepened. "I will adhere to your advice, Madame."

"Good," the Lady agreed. Her pale blue eyes sparkled with an inner light and she reached up to drape the long braid of her golden hair over her smooth ivory shoulder. "I sense you wish other considerations where this man is concerned?"

Looking at the lovely woman reclining on the chaise, Sybelle could not help but wish she was as beautiful and sensuous as the Lady. With the flawless perfection of her delicate skin, her lustrous blue gaze, her slim form and lushly-curved legs, no man could withstand her attention. Not even the Serenian. Even the Lady's smoky voice was not without sexual enticement.

"You are beautiful in your own right, Sybelle," the Lady laughed and smiled tenderly at the lowering of her visitor's head. "He will be enchanted with you if you but play him as you should.

Sexual delights have always held a strong attraction for Conar McGregor. When he finally understands that you might well be the last female with whom he will ever be allowed to copulate, I believe you will have gained your purpose. He will not resist you after that."