Boyett-Compo Charlotte - Wind Tales 01 (50 page)

plunged hotly into the warm recesses beyond. The lower half of his body was pressed so tightly, so

intimately against her own, she could feel its heat through her thin skirt. When his hand slid down from her

upper left arm to drag at the fabric and pull it up, she pulled her mouth from his.

“Not here,” she warned him, straining backwards away from his searching lips until he became aware

that she was denying him.

“Aye, here!” he growled and, before she could protest, pulled her with him to the warm white sand.

“Kaelan!” she protested, batting at urgent hands that were clawing at her skirt, then rambling over her

bosom. “This is unseemly!"

“Be quiet, Gillian,” he muttered as he managed to pull the bodice of her dress down over the perfection

of one ivory breast.

“KAELAN!” she gasped.

“Woman, you talk too much!” he warned her just a second before he freed himself from his breeches

and was stabbing between her thighs.

Gilly felt the heat of him against her thigh, felt her lower belly clench, then gave in, knowing it was no use.

If someone saw them, hopefully they would look the other way.

“You are a horny man, Kaelan Hesar,” she sighed.

“Gillian, I said..."

“I talk too much,” she finished for him. “I know.” Her arms went around his broad shoulders. “But see

where talking gets me?"

* * * *

Quinn was seated on the porch of the house he was sharing with Jacob Case, one of the other four men

rescued from the prison ship along with him. He was cocked back in his chair, his booted feet crossed at

the ankle and propped up on the porch railing. His gaze was steady on the rolling waves which crashed

inland. For almost two hours, he'd been sitting there, watching the Revenant docked out in the harbor.

Tomorrow morning, he, along with fourteen other pirates, would be sailing on the tide.

And leaving Gillian behind.

That thought brought a frown to Arbra's handsome face. Not that he believed she would not be safe at

Montyne Cay. The lady-wife of Prince Kaelan Hesar would have more protection than probably needed.

More protection than she would have had being the wife of a mere lord, like himself.

Why, he thought, his eyes narrowing with pique, was it that he had developed an intense admiration of

the Viragonian prince? An admiration that was proving to be a source of annoyance? It wasn't just

because Hesar was good with a sword; Quinn knew he was better. And it wasn't because Hesar was

better than most with his fists; Quinn had taken him two out of the three times they'd actually came to

blows.

And it wasn't because Hesar was a natural leader of men; Quinn felt he was, as well.

So what was it, he wondered, that made him have such a grudging admiration of Kaelan Hesar?

“He has suffered greatly for his love of his lady, milord,” Occultus had told Quinn. “More than he has

told anyone. There are secrets he will not share even with her."

Perhaps, Quinn thought, that was why. He knew all about suffering for love. He had firsthand experience

in that department. He, like Hesar, had felt the lash on his bare back because he dared to want what

some other man had declared forbidden. Had dared to strive to take what he was told he could not have.

“Don't you ever challenge me for her,” Hesar had warned him on that one occasion when his fists had

out-pummeled Quinn's. “I'll kill you if you do!"

Quinn had no doubts about that statement. He had seen death in the normally kind and gentle eyes of

Kaelan Hesar. The man was a saint in the eyes of the other pirates and a hero in the eyes of his wife and

her brother. But Quinn reckoned he had been the only one to ever see the demon which resided beneath

the handsome facade that was the prince.

“Are you packed, Quinn?” Jacob asked as he came to prop his forearms on the railing.

Quinn nodded, not speaking nor taking his eyes from the white phantom ship lying at anchor.

“Ready to kick Tribunal ass?” Jacob chuckled.

Quinn shifted his attention to his friend. “More than ready, Jacob.” His scarred back tingled. “I'm eager

to put as many of those bastards in their watery graves as Nick will allow."

Jacob turned his head and spat a stream of tobacco juice off to one side. He wiped his mouth with the

back of his hand, then looked up at Quinn. “Don't you reckon it'll be the prince what commands us?"

Quinn didn't think so and said as much. He returned his gaze back to the Lady Revenant. “He prefers to

stay out of the spotlight, Jacob. It's safer for him that way."

Jacob frowned. “I'm not seeing him as a coward, Quinn,” he protested.

“And he's not,” Quinn agreed. “But he's got a lot higher profile than Nick does. It wouldn't do to let it

get back to his brother, the king, that he's aspirating Tribunal coffers.”

He drew in his legs and planted his feet on the porch floor. Standing up, he stretched his arms above his

head.

“What difference would that make?” Jacob wanted to know.

“If the Tribunal finds out, they'll confiscate Holy Dale. Not even the king could keep them from doing it,

even though, by rights, it belongs to him instead of Kaelan."

“It belongs to you,” Jacob reminded him.

Quinn smiled. Maybe that was the reason, he thought, that he had no longer disliked Hesar quite so

much. That one time the Viragonian had won their fistfight, it had been over the ownership of Holy Dale.

“I never wanted the gods-be-damned manor house in the first place,” Hesar had proclaimed. “You want

it that badly, it's yours! I'll sign over a deed!"

“It's mine anyway!” Quinn had asserted, taking one last swing before Hesar had buried his fist in Quinn's

gut to knock him down.

“Then you'd better hope the Tribunal never finds out I've gone a'pirating,” Hesar had snapped, “else

neither of us will own it!"

Well, Quinn reasoned as he stepped off the porch and joined Jacob for a stroll to the Cay's one and

only tavern, giving up a house you didn't want was better than giving up a wife you did. Holy Dale had

been Hesar's single concession-the only one he was willing to make. Maybe it was best, he decided, to

concentrate on what belonged to him than what belonged to the Viragonian.

“You will give her two sons,” Occultus had said of the mysterious woman Quinn was yet to meet.

“Twins,” he said aloud.

“Eh?” Jacob questioned.

Quinn shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied.

Maybe life wasn't going to be so bad without Gillian after all.

[Back to Table of Contents]

“Why do I let you talk me into these things?"

Diarmuid McGregor's pale Chalean complexion was whiter than normal this morning as the infamous ice

cliffs of The Sinisters disappeared off their port bow. The Chalean prince shuddered, then cast a

jaundiced eye to his boyhood friend. “You want to tell me why, McGregor?"

Thècion grinned. “Because you don't want to miss out on the fun, Dear Mutt."

“Humpf,” Diarmuid grunted. He leaned over the port rail and watched as the last shimmering, jagged

cliffs passed behind them. “Fun is not waiting to be impaled on an iceberg,” he grumbled.

Kaelan flashed Quinn an amused look, but didn't comment on the interchange between the two young

princes. He was leaning on the starboard rail-Quinn at his side-though neither man had spoken to the

other all that much since transferring from Nick's pirate ship, The Revenant, to the Tribunal ship the

Chalean buccaneer had commandeered.

“It wouldn't do to sail into the Kensetti harbor in a white pirate ship,” Kaelan had explained.

“Okay,” Nick had agreed. “Then we'll take this ship and I'll...” He looked about him and motioned for

Lumley Tarnes to join them. “Think you you can sail this ship through The Sinister's, Lum?"

Lumley had withdrawn the ever-present pipe from between his teeth. “I reckon.” He'd doffed his

tattered cap and armed the grease from his forehead. “Where you gonna be?"

“Tyler will be taking us on to Wixenstead.” He smiled. “We'll pick up D'Lyn, the mutt, and Kaelan's

beast and head back to the Cay.” His smile widened. “Reckon we'll get your son and daughter-in-law

while we're at it."

“Aye,” Lumley had agreed and that was that.

Now, heading for the Rysalian province of Kenset, the capitol of which was Asaraba, the home of the

Ben-Alkazars, Kaelan missed Nick's company. The sailors from the captured Lady Ivonne who had

agreed to sign on to pester the Tribunal were a bit fearful of him, and those who had accompanied him

from Montyne Cay were virtual strangers. Captain Tarnes, as Nick had insisted Lum be called, was busy

navigating the ship and Thècion and Diarmuid spent most of their time in good-natured bickering. That

left Kaelan alone with Quinn Arbra.

“I never thought I'd ever see home again,” Quinn said quietly, needing company just as much as Kaelan

did.

Kaelan glanced at his companion. “You consider Rysalia home, now, then, do you?"

Quinn nodded. “I was raised in Ionary, but I never considered it home.” He drew in a long breath.

“There is something about the Inner Kingdom.” He shrugged. “I don't know. From the very first moment

I stepped foot off the docks and walked through the bazaar, I felt I was where I was suppose to be."

“That's how I felt when I first saw Montyne Cay,” Kaelan admitted. He straightened up, but kept his

hands on the rail. “I never liked Holy Dale."

“That's understandable,” Quinn said.

Kaelan nodded. “I have no good memories of that place,” he said, then smiled cockily.

Quinn's lips pursed. “I would say you have one good memory, eh, Hesar?"

“Aye,” Kaelan replied. “That's where I was finally able to...” He stopped, frowning, and cast Arbra a

hesitant look.

Arbra did look at the man beside him. “Where you made her your woman,” he finished for Kaelan.

“Aye."

“I've had plenty of time to think since we left the Cay,” Quinn stated. “Plenty of time to contemplate

Occultus’ words."

“And?"

There was a long sigh, a heavy shrug of powerful shoulders. “I think, perhaps, the gods might know

better than Quinn Sorn Arbra.” He looked around. “That the woman for him might well be right where

the priest said she would be."

“I think you can count on it,” Kaelan agreed.

“Me, too.” He pushed back from the rail and held out his hand. “Partners?"

Kaelan didn't hesitate. “Aye,” he said, gripping Arbra's strong wrist. When he let go, he returned his

forearms to the rail. “I met Xavier Rahshobi once,” he informed his companion.

If Quinn was surprised, he hid it well. “When was this?"

“When I came to Rysalia to pick up Revenge,” Kaelan answered. “Vashon Ben-Alkazar and I took our

Windwarrior vows together at the temple at Corinth. He bragged so much about the Rysalian steeds, I

decided to go and see for myself.” He sniffed. “As I recall it, Rahshobi was at the pens that day, looking

for a brood mare.” A deep frown creased the Viragonian prince's face. “He had the look of a cruel

bastard about him and I remember saying as much to Vashon."

“He is a cruel bastard,” Quinn told him. “He likes to use rowels to break in his mounts."

“I noticed,” Kaelan replied. “If memory serves, Vashon refused to sell him the mare he wanted.” A nasty

grin stretched Hesar's firm mouth. “And he blamed me for it."

“Well, then, you're in good company,” Quinn chuckled. “Xavier seems only to hate those of us who

won't let him have what he wants."

“Will you attend his trial?” Kaelan inquired.

“Try to keep me away,” Quinn grated. “As soon as he's arrested and the charges against me have been

dropped, I'm off this ship and at the magistrate's."

“Give me a day,” Thècion said as he and Diarmuid joined the two men. He jiggled the gold that was

burning a hole in his left pocket. “I should be able to buy you enough testimony against him to suit you,

Arbra."

Diarmuid shuddered. “I hate being a part of getting a man hanged."

“Not this man, you won't,” Quinn remarked. “Trust me on this, Dear Mutt."

The Chalean prince winced at the nickname, then cast Thècion a telling glance. “You see what you

cause, McGregor?"

Kaelan snorted as the two younger men began insulting one another all over again. He looked out over

the blue-green waves and wished it was into Montyne Cay harbor that the ship Lumley had re-named

The Vengeance was sailing, and not the Inner Kingdom Straight of Tanger. He missed Gilly; worried

about her though he knew the Convocation of Buccaneers on Montyne Cay would protect her with their

last breath for she was the wife of a direct descendant of the Outlaw, himself.

“Sure and wouldn't we be damned to the Abyss if anything were to happen to your lady?” Crale

Dunham, the pirate leader of the Convocation had insisted before turning over the running of Montyne

Cay to Kaelan, who had not wanted the responsibility.

“It's an honor,” Lumley had insisted, “and purely ceremonial. The Convocation needs only a tit ... a tit...”

He'd looked to Nick for the correct word.

“Titular head,” Nick had provided.

“That's what they need!” Lumley had insisted. “And what better man than a great grandnephew of

Syn-Jern Sorn? Accept the honor they're giving you, lad, and get on with it!"

Now, thousands of miles from where he wanted to be; months away from seeing his lady again, Kaelan

felt more alone than he had during his entire time at Holy Dale. As far as he was concerned, they couldn't