WindSeeker (46 page)

did he arrive?"

Wynth let out a wavering gust of breath. "Half an hour ago. The bastard has eight members of his

damned Elite with him. He took the Boreas Wind, but apparently he tried to prolong his arrival, for he

had the ship dock below Fealst and then rode here." There was thick resentment in Grice’s voice as he

pointed to the lowering sun. "Cutting it short, eh?"

"Then he’s here to take her back?" Brelan felt cold despite the day’s heat.

Grice snorted. "That appears to be his intent. He says his father sent him to get Liza."

"Does he know I’m here?" When Grice nodded, Brelan sighed. "Has he mentioned me?" He hunkered

down and gathered a handful of sand, letting it slip through his fingers as surely as Liza was doing.

"Only to say that he wants no trouble with you, but if you bring it to him, he’ll take you on. Father asked

me to see if you would mind not coming to the main hall while he’s here."

Flinging a handful of sand, Brelan looked at Grice. "I’ll be careful. I won’t cause your parents any

trouble. But you tell them for me that, if he causes Elizabeth any hurt, I’ll kill him."

"You have to get to him first. The Elite are sticking to him like pine tar on a board. Especially the one I

told you about. His name is Sentian. You’d best keep an eye out for him. I think the bastard fears

retaliation from us." Grice sat on the sand and drew up his knees into the circle of his arms. "Would he

come after you if Conar ordered it?"

"I don’t know the man, but Conar’s men have always been loyal to him. They’ll kill for him and they’ll

die for him, if need be. Good men shouldn’t die for a man like Conar."

Grice came to his feet in a bound and glared at the sea. "Anya Elizabeth is legally his until that damned

sun sets. Obviously he timed his journey to the last few minutes to continue his assault on her morale." He

seemed to want to say more, but he spat out a hiss of pure venom, jerked around, and walked briskly

over the dune.

Brelan watched him go, but his mind heard voices that brought tears to his eyes. It had only been a few

days earlier when he and Liza had been together in her father’s library and he had held her to him as she

had cried out her grief.

"He’s not coming, is he, Brelan?" she had sobbed.

"It doesn’t look like it, Dearling."

Her body trembled. "I thought he would."

"What can I do, Elizabeth? Go to Boreas and drag the idiot back here?"

"If he doesn’t want to come, I don’t want him to be made to."

"Then what can I do to help?"

Without looking at him, she answered. "There is nothing left for anyone to do, Bre. Can you make him

love me again? Can you make him come for me on his own before it’s too late? Can you make him

forgive me for whatever he thinks I have done?"

He sat there for what seemed like hours. He stared into the leaping flames, her hand clutched tightly in

his. "No, love. I can’t do any of those things," he admitted in defeat, something totally alien to Brelan

Saur.

Her lips trembled and she tried to smile through her tears. "But you would if you could, wouldn’t you,

dear friend?"

He held her gaze, tears easing down his flushed cheeks. "I would do anything in this world for you,

Elizabeth. Even die," he swore as if his life, indeed, was needed.

Now, he groaned in misery and the voices faded, sinking into the sea as his hope was sinking. But not

the pain in his heart. He knew that would be there with him for the rest of his life.

* * *

of Liza as a child, and two men, their backs to Liza, were laughing over something the servant girl had

said. The heart within her breast ceased its beat. She knew those men. Her hand went to her throat.

"Storm?" she called quietly. "Thom?"

The two Elite turned at once, wide smiles of greeting on their faces. Thom stalked to his mistress and

grabbed her in a loose bear hug, unmindful of either her rank or her ripening condition.

"My lady!" he thundered, his huge mouth wide with joy.

"Put her down, you oaf!" Storm hissed, yanking on Thom’s huge arm. "Don’t manhandle Her Grace in

that manner!" He elbowed his Captain out of the way and then brought Liza’s fingers to his lips as he

knelt before her. "We are most happy to see you, Your Grace."

Gezelle hurried forward, her face hesitant, her smile a little forced. She searched her mistress’ face for

knowledge of what had gone on between her and Conar and blanched when she saw understanding

looking back at her. She went to her knees. "Milady, I am most—"

"Happy to see me?" Liza stopped her. She helped the girl to her feet. "I do not hold you accountable,

Mam’selle," she whispered, "and we will not ever speak of it again." She eased the girl away from her

and then smiled at the trio. "I am so happy to see all of you!"

"And what of your husband, Madame? Are you happy to see him, as well?"

She turned, not really having hoped that he had come. She smiled at Marsh Eden and Sentian Heil who

flanked him and then looked at the window beyond. The sun hung for only a fraction of a second on the

horizon and then faded from sight.

Liza slowly closed her eyes, said a prayer of thanksgiving to the goddess Alluvia, then lifted her lids to

look at her beloved husband. "I am most happy to see him, Milord."

He had been a week without any liquor, a week without Kaileel Tohre’s drug. His mind was as clear as

the blue of his eyes. His face was filled with a light that made the others nudge one another. He smiled

shyly at his wife, a genuine smile that made his face even more breathtaking to behold. "Good," he said,

walking toward her. "Then you wouldn’t mind returning home with me." There was just a trace of

stiffness in his voice, a hesitancy in his words, a reserve, but his eyes spoke more than words to the men

who had traveled with him. The cobalt gaze swept quickly over his wife, lighting and lingering on the

beautiful face as though he were a starving man placed before a full banquet of his most favorite foods.

Sentian smiled, winking at Thom. Throughout the journey, their Overlord had paced the deck, anxious to

reach Oceania. He had asked the captain and crew endless questions as to why the gods-be-damned

ship couldn’t go any faster. At one point when the wind had died and the sails drooped, the ship coming

to a standstill, he had screamed out his displeasure as though by doing so the winds would take heed.

Once again underway, he had alternated between annoying the captain with queries and glaring at the

sails. It had not been uncommon to see him with lips pursed as though about to actually blow air upward

through the sheeting.

But once they had reached the capital at Fealst, he had become as nervous as a greenhorn. He became

silent, moody, unsure of himself. His nerves had been drawn so tight that he had demanded the captain to

put in below Fealst, a town only a few miles from the keep. He took his time in procuring horses, his

attention constantly on the horizon. He had dawdled on the trail and his men were convinced he would

have a massive creak in his neck, for he had spent the entire time craning his head to look at the lowering

sun.

Everyone knew why but him. Conar McGregor was unsure of his welcome in Oceania.

"I have been waiting for you to come for me, Milord," was Liza’s reply.

His gaze lingered at the mound of her belly beneath the loosely fitting gown. He hated himself for the way

in which their child had been conceived, but his expression was filled with wonder.

"Our babe is fine, Milord."

His eyes met hers. "That pleases me well, Milady."

"Your father, he is in good health? And my wonderful Hern? How is he?"

"Everyone sends you their love." He took a deep breath. "We need to talk, Liza."

"We can use the study." She glanced at Sentian as though to ask for his company.

"Are you afraid to be alone with me?" Her husband inquired, his tone soft with shame.

She carefully watched his face. "Would you hurt me, Milord?"

His gaze darted away from the uncertainty in hers. "No," he said so softly he wasn’t sure she had heard

him.

Liza walked to the study door, aware of the warm scent of cinnamon that clung to him. She breathed in

the scent and felt her stomach lurch for want of his arms around her. Instead, she walked deeper into the

room and stood by the window, staring at the night-darkening garden.

After taking a hesitant step toward her, Conar saw her stiffen at his approach. He halted. He wasn’t sure

what to do. He wanted to take her into his arms, to kiss her, but there seemed to be an invisible wall

between them and he had no idea how to breech it. "Will you look at me, Milady?"

Liza turned slowly. Twin tracks of tears ran down her pale face. She had seen Brelan sitting in the

courtyard below, his head in his hands, and it had struck her heart like a dagger.

Conar blinked several times, hurt deeply by her tears. He held out his hand, silently pleading with her to

come to him.

Liza shook her head. "It was not I who wanted to leave, Milord. You sent me away. You can not now

just put out a hand to me, like you would a child, and expect me to come."

Her crying tore through him like a steel blade. One part of him wanted to go to her, hold her, comfort

her. The other part wanted to flee, for he knew he had caused her great sadness and the knowledge of

that was shameful.

His indecision kept him riveted in place, giving her an erroneous impression. Misunderstanding his

reluctance, she wept bitterly. "If you really didn’t want me back, Conar, why did you bother to come?

You could have waited until the sun set."

"I came, Liza."

"Why? You could have sent for the child as soon as it was born."

"Why would I have done that?"

Her lovely face screwed up into a hard line of unforgiving rebuke. "This is your babe. You have legal

right to it."

He took a step toward her. "I would never have sought to take our child from you, Liza. That is not my

way and you know it."

"It seems I never knew you at all, Conar. What you are telling me is that you have no more need for the

babe than you do its mother!"

"That isn’t what I said at all."

She lifted her chin, her heart aching so badly she thought she would die. "Then why are you here?"

He took another step closer. "Papa sent me here to bring you back before it was too late." He saw her

nod in fearful acceptance. He angrily shook his head. "You have it wrong, lady. No one, including my

father and King, could have made me come if I hadn’t wanted to. You also know that!"

"You came because of your honor and pride, your sense of ownership. Not because you felt you should.

Not because of any love you still bear for me." Her shoulders sagged beneath the weight of her words.

"You came because, as you once told me, what is yours, will always be yours!"

Conar let out a ragged sigh. He stepped up to her, taking her upper arms in his firm grip. "Look at me,

Liza." When she would not, he gently shook her. "Look at me, please." Her eyes came up to his and he

searched them, willing her to hear the truth. "I know there are problems we need to work out. I know I

am the cause of those problems, and I think you know some of my reasons. Once we are home, we will

settle them there, away from any outside influences."

"Of what outside influences do you speak? Kaileel Tohre? The Domination? What they did to you at the

Abbey all those months ago?" She saw him cringe. "I told you then that it mattered not in our relationship.

I told you I would help you deal with whatever it was they forced you to do. But you wouldn’t let me.

You shoved me out of your life, sending me here. You had no intention of coming for me until you were

made to!"

"I did come for you weeks ago! I waited here for you for three days. Where were you, Liza?" There

was deep hurt in his words.

"You know where I was."

"And you would admit it?" His tone was incredulous. When she simply gazed back at him, he shook his

head. "Damn you, woman, have you no shame?"

"What shame do I bear, Milord? You saw me in Ciona. You saw Brelan with his arms around me. What

else did you see?"

He grimaced. "More than I wanted to."

"What did you see?"

"I saw him kissing you."

"And?"

"
And
?" he shouted. "By the gods, woman, what more did you
want
me to see?"

"Nothing more happened. What you saw, you were meant to see!"

His head snapped up; he frowned. "For what purpose?"

"What difference does it make? You did nothing about it. You sent men after Brelan but I think that was

more about your stupid feud with him than it was about me."

"I didn’t send men after that cur! Papa had Legion’s men put after him. I wanted the matter to drop."

She wanted to slap the look of defiance off his face. "You see me in the arms of another man, a man you

profess to hate, and you wanted the matter to drop?" She shook her head in wonder. "That tells me all I

need to know about our marriage, Conar."

"
Our marriage
?" he thundered. "You play whore to my bastard brother while carrying my child in your

belly and you dare to call this farce a marriage? I could have you beheaded as soon as the babe is born

for all the transgression you have made against this marriage, Madame!"