Crystal Warrior: Through All Eternity (Atlantean Crystal Saga Book 1) (49 page)

The King's Chamber was crowded but he was instantly aware of her presence, as was she of his. Their eyes met across the vast room, hers a deep luminous gold. He knew her need before her thoughts entered his mind and his body was instantly hard and desirous, just for his Golden One.

I need you—as soon as you can find the time.

Chapter 28

She was wearing a rose silk underskirt shot with gold and hemmed with gold lace. Over it she wore a fine wool overdress in forest green with a low neckline and front lacing to make a man smile. But beautiful and alluring as she was, it was the promise in the golden dance of her eyes that enthralled him.

Taur dragged his gaze from her, and turned to Maden, hovering with a sheaf of breskina for his attention.

‘Cancel whatever is scheduled for the rest of the day. I have an important—assignation,’ he said, starting across the Court towards Gynevra.

‘But, Sire—,’ Maden agitated, then subsided with a snarl of resignation. The rabon knew his King well. He'd save himself a lot of aggravation if he just did as he was ordered.

As always Pog skipped at his Master's heels. Of a sudden the King stopped and the little man almost climbed up his leg.

‘Eeh, Sire!’ the dwarf remonstrated, rubbing his nose. ‘Please don't be doing that. It's like a tree you are!’

‘Sorry, midget,’ Taur offered affectionately, then added, ‘I've a commission for you. First send a runner up to Bagos at the forest stables to ready Pegasus for me, then send another to Zephra's Spa with word the King is coming. Now!’

‘Ta’a, Sire. Will do, Sire. Pog is off!’ the little man cried and turned to gallop across to the outer Court.

Seemingly without acknowledging the Queen, Taur scooped Ugo off the floor with his rug and asked, ‘Where's his nurse?’

‘In the apartments,’ the Queen answered in a tone those around took to indicate pique for the King’s brusque words and lack of greeting.

‘Come,’ he barked and to the astonishment of all who'd come to expect their Queen's haughty response to such terse orders, she hurried after him out of the Court.

As soon as they found the child's nurse Taur placed the baby in her arms, adjuring her to mind him.

His eyes met Gynevra’s for the briefest of moments, enough to set the energy already dancing between them to sparking with crystal static. She knew he understood the import of the moment and that he’d accord it due reverence. The time was now, by her choice. The place would be his.

Clasping hands, they ran the back way from the Castle like children bent on mischief, up the steps past the Council Chambers and along the cliff to the edge of the forest where some of the royal horses were stabled in sunny clearings.

‘He's ready, Sire,’ Bagos called, leading forward a huge palomino stallion already caparisoned.

With a brief salute to the stable master, Taur swung Gynevra onto the horse's back, leapt up behind, and wrapping them both in his cloak, set off along the ridge which separated harbor from sea. As the horse settled into its stride Taur pulled Gynevra hard against his obvious need of her and murmured by her ear, ‘Feel how my need matches yours.’

With a soft guttural moan she wriggled her buttocks firmly into the wedge of his thighs. Taur groaned and fumbled with the front lacing of her gown and growled with deep satisfaction as her breast fell into his hand.

‘Taur!’ she moaned, throwing her head back onto his shoulder. ‘Any more of that and I'll demand you take me right here on this horse! Sweet Hyades! I need you inside me!’

Forgotten, the horse slowed to a walk then stopped to graze on the soft spring grasses. Taur bent his mouth to the smooth golden skin of Gynevra's throat and loosening more laces, slid his hand down over her belly to part the soft dewy lips between her legs. She was hot and wet and so ready for him he was within a snip of abandoning his romantic plan and throwing her down and kurning her on the forest floor. Soft cries and moans of delight stamped their vibration on the very air, ensuring he’d never ride this trail in comfort again!

Suddenly she cried out, convulsing against his chest with a sweet wild ecstasy that stole his breath and with begging words that almost stole his reason. But if it killed him, he'd follow his plan. He was determined on the outcome of this day.

‘Not here, not yet, alara. That's just to hold you a little longer,’ he murmured between nibbles at her trembling mouth. Then sitting her upright, he slid quickly to the ground, threw his cloak round her shoulders and remounted in front of her. Taking only a second to ensure she'd fastened the cloak securely, he commanded, ‘Hang on tight!’

On the wooded path round the cliff-tops above the city, they rode as if the Demons of Hyades were at their backs. Gynevra clung fiercely to Taur and laughed when the wind whipped the spikes from Difleer's elaborate arrangement of her hair and it flew free like a pennant from the masthead.

Well beyond the city they came to a lookout place before a stone wall above the southern end of the harbor. Forested hills soared to the mountains behind them, and Heceuda Harbor sparkled, a mysterious jewel below. Away to the right was the colorful mass of the city with the Castle beyond, sprawled like a dark and somnolent catamountain on Castle Crags.

‘Where are we?’ Gynevra murmured, her breath warm and teasing against his ear.

Turning so his mouth was a whisper from hers, he answered huskily, ‘Zephra's Spa.’

Immediately a question lit her eyes. Laughing softly, he touched his lips to hers in a slow tender kiss that replaced the question with stars. She'd now forgotten what it was but since it suited his purpose, he'd answer it anyway.

‘Zephra was a Nyaldan Princess of ancient times who used to meet her lovers here. In those days Princesses were supposed to be decorous, pious, and chaste so the Princess Zephra had need of discretion. There is believed to be a wonderful energy here for lovers.’

‘I've no complaints so far,’ Gynevra murmured, tilting her head to steal another mind-drugging kiss.

With a deep chuckle he savored her mouth then turned the horse and urged it through a gap in the wall behind them.

Gynevra was bereft of breath. Spread before them was a great bowl-shaped valley laid out in well-kept gardens that caught at the senses with the brilliance of tropical color and the sweet, heady scents of tropical flowers one expected in the gardens of the south—not in far northern Nyalda.

‘Oh Taur,’ she breathed, ‘this is so beautiful. I really would like to explore—but later. Sweet Ist, I need you.’

Without another word he swung off the horse and helped her down. When he turned back after tethering the animal she was clinging to a stone pillar as if her legs would scarce support her. Cheeks flushed and eyes fiery bright, she held out a hand to him and all his blood rushed to his loins.

For one desperate moment he thought his knees would buckle. Breathing deeply to force oxygen to his extremities he snatched her into his arms and strode down the pathways past gardens, pools, and statues, through tunnels of sweet flowering vines and shaded rocky dells until he came to a perfect circle of soft green grass. At the very center of the bottom of the valley, it was encircled by a dozen flowering cherry trees, the grass carpeted with the delicate pink blossoms. Setting Gynevra on her feet he drew off his cloak and spread it on the ground. When he looked back at her she was naked, her importuning hands reaching for the fastening of his kirt. In seconds he was shed of all but his boots.

‘Leave them,’ she whimpered. ‘Oh Cronos! Just fill me!’

The words were scarcely said when he bore her down to the grass and complied with her plea. With the first thrust Gynevra was sobbing her joy to the heavens, to the Gods, to Taur. Her nails scored her passion into his flesh and his flesh scored his passion into her woman's soul and his voice joined hers in a paean of savage joy. Long after the passion was spent Gynevra sobbed softly into the dark mat of hair on his chest and clung to him as if she would never let him go.

‘Alara, I'm not going anywhere,’ he murmured into the wind-whipped tangle of her hair.

Gynevra hiccupped an attempt at a laugh and loosened her grip.

‘My heart hurts—like—it's not big enough for everything I feel. I've missed this.’

Cupping her face with his hands, Taur gently brushed her tears aside with his thumbs. Then reaching for a handful of blossom, he sprinkled it in her hair before touching his lips to her eyelids.

‘No one, no woman I've ever known, can take me where you do. Why is that do you think?’

Gynevra's lip trembled and opening her eyes, she touched a finger to his lips.

‘I guess you'll figure it out some day,’ she whispered.

He considered her thoughtfully, then nodded slowly.

‘I hope so.—Do you want to try the spa now?’

‘There's truly a spa here?’

‘There are several round the rim of the harbor. Zephra's is one of the smaller ones but it's my favorite. It's a sheltered valley and the steam from the springs creates an almost tropical climate. They can grow bananas and pineapple here and other exotic fruits. Only in small quantities of course so they command high prices for their produce. Come.’

Rising, he offered his hand and gathering up their clothes, they strolled through the gardens, taking more notice of the vibrant colors and the sensuous tropical scents.

Suddenly Gynevra frowned and asked, ‘With all these gardens here, there must be people. Where are they?’

‘Gone—by order of the King so we could have the place to ourselves,’ Taur answered with a smug grin. ‘I had no intention of sharing this time with anyone!’

‘Oh the power of being a King!’ she teased, and they grinned happily at one another.

There was a series of spas carved into the side of the hill and planted all about with gold lilies, their perfume a sensual bouquet on the air. Testing the waters at every level, they settled at last for one Gynevra declared to be just the right temperature. Dropping her gowns on a nearby stone seat she hastily wound her hair into a knot on top of her head. Sliding ecstatically into the water she turned to look for Taur, who was sitting on the seat pulling off his boots.

‘Kurning with your boots on is qongé, but swimming isn't!’ he declared stridently before leaping into the pool with a great splash which made her scream.

‘You great oaf!’ she scolded laughingly. ‘We've got no drying linens and it's a long way to ride with wet hair.’

Taur grinned, brushed his own hair back from his face, took her in his arms and declared, ‘There's only one thing to do with a woman who talks too much.’

Their mouths came together as instinctively as their bodies. It was a precious time away from the cares of the Court, a time of caressing, of murmuring inane nothings, of gentle silence listening to the song of the nectar-eating birds darting among the flowers. They made love again on the soft moss beside the pool, this time more slowly, savoring every sensation, every feeling and thought, every moment, of this blessed time of concentration only on each other.

The afternoon was well advanced when Gynevra murmured an anxious thought of Ugo. Reluctantly Taur agreed it was time to return, realizing he'd still not achieved what he'd really wanted from this day.

When they were dressed, he said, ‘There's something you should see before we leave.’

The carefully tended path followed the base of a cliff, down which a variation of flowering creepers trailed in colorful abundance, and then climbed steeply back up the side of the valley. At the top, built out over a sheer rocky drop, was a pure white marble gazebo. In the center was a likeness of the Goddess Ist, beautifully carved from polished lapis lazuli and mounted on a clear quartz pedestal.

Gynevra stepped forward, eyes shining, hands out-stretched.

‘T’is Ist in her aspect as Goddess of Love,’ she murmured, and dropped to her knees with her hands on the perfectly sculpted feet. Head bowed, she made silent obeisance to the deity represented by the statue then rose and turned to thank him for bringing her there.

Taur was having trouble drawing breath. His heart thumped in his chest with a greater terror than any he'd felt before a battle or when faced with any form of danger.

What if she still refused him? Taking her hands, he stood for a moment tongue-tied, a phenomenon he hoped they would laugh about together later, for it was very unusual. Long, wispy curls of gold had escaped the wobbly knot of hair she'd tied on top of her head and the tendrils at the back of her neck were a damp caress against her skin. She had the bloom of love, which on her always reminded him of apricots. She was so beautiful he became even more choked, and almost without thought, his legs buckled and he was on his knees before her.

Her hands were still in his and she looked down at him, her startled eyes golden bright as polished topaz.

‘Gynevra, I love you. Please will you join with me and be my true sacred partner, my true Queen?’ he blurted, for it would come no other way.

He saw the emotion, felt it rush through her body and thought she would cry. But drawing a deep breath she slowly dropped to her knees before him. Kneeling, they faced one another and clasped hands before the Goddess.

There was a sheen of moisture and a glow of absolute wonder in her eyes and it was several moments before she could form words. Taur found he himself could say no more either, for the emotion that filled him. This issue had become too important to him. He didn't dare think of failure.

Then she whispered hoarsely, hesitantly, ‘You—love me?’

He nodded.

‘I love you,’ he said, savoring those amazing three words again and beginning to wonder at what so many people were missing by denying this joy in their lives.