WindLegends Saga 9: WindRetriever (9 page)

"Feel me, Cat," he mumbled. "Feel me."

It started as a little spiral of feeling, swirling around between her legs. Then it spread upward, into her, rushing through her vagina and up into her very womb like the burst of a falling star. She arched her back against him, lifting her rump upward for his deeper penetration, groaning with regret when he would not go any deeper inside her.

"Conar!" she cried out, digging her nails into the back of his left hand.

He knew he could not hold out any longer. He was near to bursting. His hand tightened on her breast, his finger dipped into her oozing womanhood and he felt her first squeeze of climax so strongly it took his breath away. With each successive clenching of her inner muscles, he gloried in the sensation and unleashed the hold on his own self-fulfillment.

Catherine pressed herself down on him, embracing that twitching of shaft inside her as though she meant to hold him forever. His grunt of pleasure, the grunt followed by a deep bass growl far back in his throat as he spurted inside her, brought Catherine another twinge of climax, surprising both of them as Conar tensed, holding himself still inside her until her spasm had ceased.

"My God," Catherine breathed, unable to believe such a sensation could occur.

Conar lowered his head to her neck and kissed her, tasting her sweat, gently licking at it and planting tender nibbles along the column of her throat. He held her to him, not ever wanting to let her go.

"Catherine," he sighed. "My Catherine."

It was a goodbye, she thought, hearing that lost and helpless tone coming from the very depths of her husband's being. She felt the prickle of tears behind her eyes and as he spoke her Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 39

name once more, her entire body began to shake with sobs.

"Catherine?" he questioned, feeling her trembling against him. "Sweeting?" He pulled out of her and tried to turn her toward him, but her quakes began in earnest and he heard her first hitching explosion of crying. She buried her face in his pillow and would not let him turn her over.

If Conar had any doubts that Catherine knew what he planned to do, they were dispelled at that moment. Angrily he wondered who had dared tell her and thought fleetingly of Yuri. Her shudders wounded him and at that moment if he had had Yuri's throat in his hands, he'd have strangled the warrior.

"Catherine, don't," he pleaded with her. Her wracking sobs were growing louder and more forceful. "Please don't do this." He stroked her back, her head, begging her not to cry. "You'll make yourself sick, sweeting."

"I love you," she cried into the pillow. "I'll always love you, Conar."

He closed his eyes, hating himself at that moment. He had never wanted to hurt this woman. Not ever. By loving her, he had. He closed his arms around her and didn't know what to say.

"When......when," she sobbed, "were....you...going...to...tell....me?"

His felt his heart breaking all over again. Idly he wondered how many times a human heart could shatter before it was impossible to put it back together again.

Catherine jerked out of his arms and spun over, facing him, staring at the pained expression on his face. "When, Conar?" she demanded. "Just before you sailed back to Rysalia?"

He looked at her tearful face, red and puffy from her crying, and all he saw was condemnation in her shining eyes. He saw the first faint glimmer of dislike hovering there. He lifted his hand to touch her cheek, but she batted it angrily away.

"Did you mean for this happen?" she hissed at him. "One more fuck for old times sake?"

He flinched at her vulgarity. "That wasn't what this was."

"No?" she shot back. "What was it, then?"

"You asked me to …," he started to say, but her fury lashed out at him with enough force to stun him.

"And you always do what a woman wants of you, don't you, McGregor?" she yelled. "Far be it for you to deny so many so much!"

He reached for her, but she flung herself out of the bunk. He sat up. "Catherine, please. It wasn't like that."

"Did you love me even a little, Conar?" she asked, tears flowing down her flushed cheeks.

She held up her hand and made the minuscule measure between thumb and index finger. "Even this much?"

"I love you with all my heart, Catherine!" he exploded. He came to his knees on the bunk.

"With every breath I take I love you."

"Even when you were screwing Rachel Stone?" she shouted back at him. The moment she said it, the moment she saw the guilty look cross his face, she knew. She had only had suspicions before that moment, but with the lowering of his eyes, she knew. "You bastard," she spat at him.

"It WAS her."

He looked up, stared at her, knowing then who the culprit had been who had told Catherine of his betrayal. He reached out a hand to his wife. "You have to understand. I...."

"You what?" Catherine whispered. "You had to have her? You needed her?" Her mouth twisted with scorn. "You were afraid to make love to me for fear of hurting your child?" Her voice lowered. "Tell me, Conar, is she better at it than me? Did she please you more?"

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"No!" he snapped. "You've got it all wrong. She was just ...."

"Handy," Catherine spat at him. "Handy and available." She stooped down and picked up her slippers. "Well, she'll be at Abbadon when you get back." Her voice broke on a sob. "And I won't be there to interfere! You intend to see to that, don't you, Conar?"

"Catherine! Wait!" he yelled as she ran to the door.

"Go to hell, McGregor!" she flung back at him.

He watched her slam out of the cabin, yanking the door shut behind her so hard he feared she'd broken the hinges. He stared after her, feeling every ounce of the disgust for himself that she had felt. Slowly he lay back down, the headache returning, and covered his face with his hands.

"Catherine," he whispered through the barrier of his fingers.

He'd been right, he thought, in believing she would not tolerate his betrayal. In admitting his affair with Rachel, he had set into motion an avalanche of repercussions that would follow them both for the rest of their lives. Even if she could find it in her to forgive him for betraying her, lying to her, he knew she would never forget it. It would always be there between them like Tyne's sword had been, suspended on a fragile length of hemp, the rope waiting to unravel and the descending sword sever their love. There would never be any turning back. The avalanche was already in motion.

"I love you," he said, turning over on his side and drawing his knees up to his chest. "I swear to heaven I love you, Catherine."

Aye, McGregor, that inner voice mocked him. You might love her, but she'll never trust you again. You've effectively killed the love she had for you.

Conar wondered if that were true.

He also wondered if in trying to protect the woman he loved if he hadn't destroyed her in the process.

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A steady cascade of rain hit the teakwood decks as the Tempest cut gracefully through the Straits of Mehmen. It had been thundering and lightning since Prince Sajin Ben-Alkazar's flag ship cleared the coastline of Rysalia and ventured north toward Ventura. The swells were increasing and the sleek ship was being tossed from wave to trough and back again with growing regularity.

The helmsman was fighting the wheel, his face glistening with salt spray, and most of the crew had gone below for their slickers. Captain Omar Rastupol, master of the vessel since the day she had been christened, was frowning mightily.

"Ramir! Habib!" the Captain shouted above the growing din. "Go aloft and secure that skysail before it's ripped to ribbons!"

Azalon, not overly fond of the sea, glanced up and shivered as the two sailors dug their bare feet into the ratlines and shimmied upward. The pitch of the ship made him groan with seasickness and he looked away, unable to follow the men's ascent skyward. A sudden surge of sea water shot over the yarboard rail and soaked Azalon's robe. He decided it was time he went below decks.

Fighting his way down the hatchway, he shook his head at Balizar.

"Not fit for humans up there, Arbra," he warned. It's getting rough."

Balizar clapped him on the back. "You worry too much, my friend."

The deck beneath them suddenly heeled larboard and both men had to reach out to grab hold of the steps to keep from falling.

"Seems I got something to worry about," Azalon snapped.

Balizar glanced up the hatchway. "I think I'll be staying down here with you," he quipped.

Yuri moaned as he swung in his bunk. His stomach was heaving with every roll and pitch of the ship. Already his complexion had turned a strange green hue. He clung to the ropes supporting his bunk and mumbled prayers to the Blessed Virgin that he wouldn't have long to suffer such hellish torments.

"I like to sail," Sajin remarked to Conar as he sat propped up alongside the Serenian in the wide bunk in Ben-Alkazar's cabin, "but bad weather makes me decidedly uneasy."

"I'm not all that fond of it, myself," Conar answered. He put his hand up to his temple and rubbed at the nagging pain that still persisted.

"Cat loves it," Sajin chuckled. He looked down at his friend who was lying stretched out on the bunk. "Actually reveling in it. Do you believe that?" The Kensetti shook his head. "She'd be topside if I'd let her."

Conar turned his head and glanced up at the nomad. "I hope you've got better sense," he grumbled.

Ben-Alkazar snorted his reply. He wagged his brows at Conar. "At least she does what I command, McGregor."

The Serenian looked away.

It had been two days since Conar and Catherine's argument and it would be another day before they reached Odess, the first Outer Kingdom port along the Baltus. Catherine had made it clear to Sajin that she wished to disembark at Odess and go on to St. Steffensburg by coach.

"No, Catherine," Sajin had informed her after consulting with her husband. "It wouldn't be safe."

"In my own country?" the Tzarevna had exploded. "I have nothing to fear from my own Charlotte Boyett-Compo WINDRETRIEVER 42

people, Prince Sajin!"

"Conar thinks it would be …," Sajin had started to say, but the woman's fury had flown at him like an irate bat.

"Do you think I care what that bastard thinks?" she'd shouted at him.

"Cat," Sajin had tried arguing, "be reasonable. The man worries about you. You are all he

...."

"He worries about me, all right," had come the low, deadly hiss. "So much so he couldn't wait to fling another woman to her back he was so damned worried!"

Sajin had reached out to take Catherine's arm, pretending he hadn't heard her breaking voice nor seen the tears that suddenly filled her big hazel eyes. "We will not be putting in at Odess, Cat,"

he told her. "You might as well not argue with me. I agree with Conar and it would not be safe for you. It doesn't matter if you like it or not. That's the way it's going to be."

"You don't make my decisions for me, Ben-Alkazar!" she'd screeched at him.

"When you're on my ship, I do, Madame!"

Sajin glanced down at his friend. "Is that headache back?" He didn't like the paleness of Conar's face nor the strained look about the man's mouth.

"It's never left," Conar mumbled.

A concerned frown drew Sajin's thick eyebrows together. "You haven't had any more nose bleeds, have you?"

"No," Conar replied. "But sometimes I think if I could, it would lessen the pressure." He rubbed his hands over his face.

Ben-Alkazar swung his head toward the light tapping at the cabin door. "You want company?" he asked his friend.

"Not really, but you'd better see who it is."

"Come!" Sajin called out and was pleasantly surprised to see Catherine framed in the doorway as the portal opened.

"May I speak with you a moment, Prince Sajin?" she asked.

Conar lifted his head and looked at his wife. She was studiously avoiding looking at him.

Her gaze was directly on Sajin.

"Certainly," the nomad answered and swung his long legs to the floor. He didn't even glance back as he went to the door, following Catherine back out into the gangway. He shut the door behind him.

Lifting himself up on his elbows, Conar strained to hear the soft words outside his cabin, but with the occasional boom of thunder overhead, he couldn't make out anything that was being said. When the door opened and Sajin came back in, he frowned at the soft look on the Kensetti's face.

"What was that all about?" Conar questioned.

Sajin shrugged. "She was worried about you," he answered.

Conar's brows shot up. "Really?" he asked, unaware that his voice had filled with hope.

Ben-Alkazar had not missed that eager tone. "She was afraid the motion of the ship might have intensified the headache. She wanted to know if Rupine had been in to see you."

Conar sat up. "What did you tell her?"

"That you were doing well enough," Sajin replied. "She made me promised to send for the physician if you started getting worse." He sat down at the foot of the bunk and looked at his friend. "I asked if she wanted me to send for her if you did start to feel bad."

There was a heavy thud against Conar's ribcage. "And?"

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An apologetic look came over Sajin's face. "She said she'd prefer I didn't unless you were dying."

Astonishment replaced the look of hope on the Serenian's face. "Dying?"

Sajin drew his legs up on the bunk and crossed them under him. "That's what the lady said."