Boyett-Compo Charlotte - Wind Tales 01 (46 page)

when his teeth did the same.

“Shu ... up,” Kaelan muttered around the tasty morsel in his mouth. He withdrew just a little ways out of

her, thrilling to her grunt of protest, then pushed again into her, straining to hold himself still as she began

to wiggle against him.

“Kaelan, please!” she begged, needing the hard thrusting that had so thrilled her on their Joining night.

“Do it!"

“Shu ... up!” he demanded and pulled back a fraction.

“NO!” Gilly denied and shifted so that she was gripping him hard enough to cut off his breath.

Kaelan growled deep in his throat, drew out just a bit more then rammed into her as hard as he could,

nearly scooting the two of them off the far end of the desk. As it was, Gilly's head slid off the edge and

hung down as he pummeled into her.

“Brute!” she grunted as he drove into her, but her hands gripped tightly in his dark curls gave lie to the

insult. She was riding him as much as he was riding her and when her pleasure came, it was all she could

do not to scream out her release.

Kaelan followed quickly, giving himself up to the sweetness he had dreamed about for so many years.

He pushed himself deeply inside his woman-claiming her, branding her-and, when he climaxed, he turned

his head on her breast, and saw Quinn Arbra watching them.

* * * *

Long after his Angel had left the cabin to go with the man Quinn now knew was her brother, Quinn could

see her in his mind's eye. Not only was she a beauty beyond compare, she had a sensuous nature that

awoke a part of him he would have sworn had died eight years earlier. To find himself hard and aching

was a predicament he thought never to feel again-and at the moment wished he couldn't. Out of

deference to her modesty, he had shut his eyes quickly when he'd seen what was taking place on the

captain's desk, cutting off the scene he knew would replay itself time and time again in the years ahead.

But not before the man who called himself her husband had seen him watching.

Quinn swung his gaze over to that rigid man in question and found him still staring back at him, as he'd

been doing since Angel left. The fool was just sitting there at the desk, not even blinking that Quinn could

tell, and if looks could kill, Quinn knew he should be in the arms of the Gatherer by now.

This silence had become a test of wills between them, each waiting for the other to speak, and Quinn

would be damned if he broke the tension and spoke, apologizing for something that could not be helped.

Almost as though the other man had read his thoughts, he grunted with derision, his scrutiny still locked

on Quinn.

It wasn't as though he had been spying on them, Quinn thought. He had simply awakened and opened

his eyes at the exact moment the fellow had turned his head and looked that way. In all fairness to the

man, Arbra supposed it did appear as though he'd been watching their escapade all along, but he hadn't,

and wouldn't have, had he been given a choice in the matter.

No, he thought hatefully. He certainly wouldn't have opened his eyes at all had he known that his Angel

would be in the arms of another man, being serviced by that knight.

“God,” Quinn moaned, the very thought making him ache inside and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“You need something?” he heard the man ask him in a grudging tone.

“Not from you,” Quinn mumbled.

“Really?” his watcher inquired in a less than civil tone. “Do you want me to get help for you from

someone who gives a damn?"

Quinn sighed and opened his eyes. “I hurt, all right?” he said. “There's nothing anyone can do, so why

don't you just be about your business and let me suffer?"

Kaelan's head came up. “I'd gladly leave you to your suffering if you'd just get the hell out of my bed so I

could lay down in it! You're not the only one sick here, you know."

Quinn eyed his tormentor and could see the remains of what could only have been a rather bad beating.

The man's voice was deep and bore the unmistakable hollowness of a raging cold. That observation was

confirmed when the obnoxious fellow started sneezing.

“I think my malady is a bit worse than yours, don't you? I had most of the skin on my back removed,”

Quinn threw at him. Besides, he thought with pique, he knew he couldn't have lifted himself off the bed by

himself if he had had the strength to try. And should someone else try to roust him, he knew he'd pitch

right back into unconsciousness.

“What did you do anyway?” Kaelan snapped. “If you were at the Labyrinth, you have to have done

something truly evil."

Quinn snorted. “What did you do to warrant a beating?"

Kaelan smiled nastily. “I fought a man who wanted to take my woman away from me."

“And lost from the looks of it,” Quinn insulted him, accessing the minor damage that had yet to be healed

with Occultus’ magik.

It was on the tip of Kaelan's tongue to deny the charge, but he knew it was true. He had lost the fight,

though it hadn't really been a contest anyway. So instead of defending himself, he just smiled more

hatefully and said, “I have her, don't I?"

“Seems to me she wasn't with you when I met her,” Quinn challenged. “Seems to me her brother didn't

even know she was on the Serenian Star."

Kaelan got to his feet and came to stand over Quinn. “What did you do?"

“Who did you fight?” Quinn returned the shot.

“Rolf de Viennes. Why were you at the Labyrinth?"

“He's a rat turd. I killed my wife."

Kaelan blinked, not expecting that answer. “How?"

“Pushed her down a flight of stairs,” Arbra answered. “Or so her family says."

Quinn's confession hit too close to home for Kaelan's liking. He wasn't sure if the man was toying with

him or not. “Did you?” he asked, seeing where this would go.

“No. She fell, but I didn't push her."

“Do you know who I am?” Kaelan asked quietly.

“Am I suppose to care?"

“Hesar,” Kaelan stated. “Prince Kaelan Hesar."

Quinn shrugged. “Is that suppose to mean something to me?"

Kaelan let out an annoyed breath. “Where the hell have you been for the last five years?” As soon as the

words were out of his mouth, he snapped it shut. He knew where the man had been.

Quinn almost smiled at the other man's embarrassment. If the sight of him screwing Angel wasn't still

fresh in Quinn's mind, he might well have smiled. As it was, he could still see those creamy thighs locked

around Hesar's waist. Still see those elegant hands gripping the man's hair as a willing body thrust up to

meet him stroke for stroke.

“Shit!” Quinn hissed and squeezed his eyes shut again. This was worse torment than the whip that had

been applied so diligently to his back by the Ionarian Tribunal.

“They say I killed my first wife,” he heard Hesar state.

“I'm not surprised,” Quinn growled. “What did you do? Talk her to death?"

“She fell off the balcony of our home at Holy Dale."

Quinn's eyes snapped open and he twisted his head around as much as his ravaged back and strength

would let him. “Holy Dale?” he repeated incredulously.

“Aye,” Kaelan agreed. “You've heard of it?"

A fierce, mean look came over Quinn's face. “Aye, I've heard of it! It's my gods-be-damned home!"

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Nick whistled as he listened to Kaelan's words. This surely put a wicked slant on things. He stopped

pacing and turned to face his sister's lover. “Did you know Marie had a brother?” he asked.

“Half brother,” Kaelan corrected. “And no I didn't. Nothing was ever said to me about Marie's mother

having been married before. I just assumed her mother's maiden name was Sorn."

“As first born, he is the owner of the manor house, then.” Thècion stated, well versed in Tribunal law.

“No matter that Justus Sinclair claimed it as dowry property for his daughter upon his wife's death.” He

smiled sardonically. “Duncan Hesar will have to deed it back to the Sorn estate."

“Not if Quinn's property was confiscated upon his arrest,” Nick replied.

“He says it wasn't,” Kaelan replied.

“It's a moot point,” Occultus remarked. “He was given a life sentence to the Labyrinth. He will never be

able to live at Holy Dale. He will always be subject to arrest. He dare not go to Virago."

“Or Ionary, for that matter,” Kaelan quipped. “That's where his wife was from.” He chuckled. “She was

one of the king's cousins."

“A case similar to yours?” Nick inquired.

“He says not.” Kaelan looked out through the porthole to study the bay. They'd been waiting all morning

for word that Gilly and Traer had found them a house to rent on the Cay. “He swears he was in love with

her."

“But you don't believe him?” Nick queried.

Kaelan made a rude sound with his mouth. “You didn't see the way he was looking at my wife!"

Occultus looked up. “The man has been in prison for six years, Your Grace,” he said, knowing Kaelan

hated the use of the title. “He hasn't seen a woman in all that time, let alone one as pretty as Lady Gillian.

That, coupled with the fact that she saved his life, must place her in a special part of his heart."

“Well,” Kaelan snapped with heat, “he'd better get her out of his heart!” His anger made him start

sneezing again.

“You need to lie down, Your Grace,” Occultus advised. “You are still suffering the effects of a vicious

cold."

“I can't lie down,” Kaelan complained. “That gods-be-damned fool is in my bed!” He began to rub his

left thigh—no longer something necessary to soothe the pain there for his leg had been completely healed

by the priest, but because it had become a habit when he was worried.

“You can take the bunk in my cabin,” Occultus suggested. “You had no problem with it last eve."

“I want my own bed!” Kaelan snapped.

“I want my own bed, too, but it's occupied at the moment, Hesar,” Nick reminded him with amusement.

Kaelan sighed, the weight of the world on his tired shoulders. He leaned forward and braced his elbow

on his knee, chin in hand. “He'd better stay away from Gilly, is all I'm gonna say."

Occultus and Nick looked at one another: one man concerned, the other amused.

“How long does it take to find a suitable house?” Diarmuid asked as he came in. “I'm growing tired of

this ship.” He poured himself some hot coffee, then swung a long leg over a chair and sat down.

“How's the patient?” Nick inquired.

“Sleeping like a babe,” Diarmuid responded and glanced quickly at Kaelan, who had muttered a vile

epithet. “What do you have against the man, Kaelan?"

“Leave off, Brell,” was the tart reply.

“He seems a good fellow and unjustly accused. He can be an asset.'

“I said leave off!” Kaelan shouted then started coughing so hard Nick had to rush to his aid and slap him

on the back.

Thècion's jaw tightened. “You're in a rare mood, Hesar, but then again, I've never known a Viragonian

who didn't have a foul disposition."

Nick barely had time to jump back before Kaelan was up out of his chair and pushing past him, storming

from the mess hall as though the hounds of hell were hot on his heels.

“Not good,” Occultus sighed.

Diarmuid shook his head. “There's going to be trouble. I can smell it."

Occultus did not disagree. The gods had a purpose for everything under heaven, but he couldn't help but

wonder if making Kaelan Hesar wildly jealous had been Their intent when They put Quinn Arbra in his

path.

* * * *

Gilly had put on those loose-fitting breeches she had stolen from the good constable back in Ciona

before going with Traer to rent a house on Montyne Cay. She had tucked her glorious hair under a

ragged cap and had kept the brim pulled low over her eyes. Traer had warned her not to speak so she

had allowed him to do all the talking while they hunted for a suitable place to live. Being a landowner with

tavern, inn, and stables to his credit, Traer Saur had been the logical choice to send for lodgings. And a

good choice it was, too, for he had found a place for them, at a fine price, and had been able to buy the

house instead of renting it.

“It's a good investment for Duke Cree's money, milady,” Traer explained as they made their way back

to the docks and the row boat Tyler and Taylor had brought them over on. “If the Cay is where Nick

plans to have his base, it makes more sense for him to own his home and not be at the mercy of a

landlord who can evict him while he's out aspirating."

Gilly had to agree. The place was all you could want with docks of its own and a sweeping view of the

bay. The house was situated on a bluff overlooking the Gulf of Biaz and could be well-fortified, if need

be. There were rooms aplenty so that each man would have his own, a cookhouse, a veranda that

wrapped entirely around the circumference of the large clapboard home, and a stable, while rundown,

that would house all the horses necessary for trips into Montyne City, a half hour's ride away. Lush

foliage and tropical fruit trees were scattered all over the property and there was a deep well with sweet

water.

As she was being rowed back to the Revenant, she tried to make out the outlines of the house on the

bluff, but could not see if for the tall palm trees dotted along the cliff.

“I think all of you will be happy there, milady,” Traer said.

Gilly turned to him. “Why does that sound as though you won't be there to enjoy it with us, Traer?"

“I have businesses to run in Ciona, milady,” he told her. “I have no choice but to go back, but Ty and