Lord of a Thousand Nights (24 page)

She nestled near his side again. While she lulled off to sleep, it occurred to her that she had just had a philosophical discussion with Ian of Guilford.

She awoke to find him lying on his stomach, propped on his arms, playing with some wood. She glanced down his naked length, tight and hard with sculpted muscles, the firm buttocks and thighs paler than the rest of his sun-bronzed body. A scurrying heat flushed her. She turned over and examined the little toy he had made.

“What is that?” she asked, her face hovering near his shoulder. She fought the urge to lick its taut skin.

“A gun,” he said, pointing to the top twig. “They are very clumsy. If they could be made more mobile it would go a long way in their effectiveness.”

She suddenly understood. Ian was playing with ways to mount the gonne on a cart. He tilted the stubby log back and forth on its wheels.

“Ian, about the books. Surely it would be better if I took the one I am using back to my chamber.”

“Why so?”

“You will no doubt require your privacy some evenings. I would not like to disturb you.”

The little cart stopped abruptly.

“If I ever do not want your company in the evening, I will tell you, Reyna.”

He pulled her down, turning her on her back. He leaned over her and ran his fingers along her cheek. His touch warmed and tingled her skin much like the sun and breeze had, only the sensations sank into her body and spread through her blood.

“I think it will be a long while before I tire of you, Reyna.” His gaze lowered, and he traced the bones of her neck and collar. “I plan to teach you all that I know of pleasure. Once you have healed from last night, we will begin your lessons.”

The sight and scent of him filled her senses. Her heart began that pulsing, primitive pounding. Her misgivings
about him suddenly no longer existed, but then neither did any rational thought.

“I do not feel any need to heal,” she whispered.

He gently bit her lower lip. “I was hoping you would say that.”

He kissed her slowly, savoring her taste with his lips and tongue. Her whole body floated in the rising tide of passion he created. Low waves of need began lapping through her. It was different from last night's feverish hunger, but exquisitely so.

“Remove your shift, Reyna.”

She sat and slipped the garment up, aware of the quivering thrill that command always summoned, wondering at his repeated demand that she do this herself. As the light linen floated to the ground beside her, she realized that this gesture was one of willing submission, a symbol that she offered herself to him, but at his demand. The prize taken or the gift given?

He eased her to her side and settled close, facing her. “Touch and kiss me, Reyna. Use your hands and mouth as I do.”

He led her through a long, luscious lesson, showing her how to give him pleasure by giving it to her first. He kissed and probed at her ear until she giggled and then did the same to him. She tried to imitate the way he explored her neck with his lips and teeth. When he caressed and licked at her breast, it took her a moment to realize he wanted that too.

Step by step, he guided her explorations of his body through example. A peaceful, languid sensuality submerged her that permitted no shame, and she followed his lead, caressing hips, buttocks, and thighs. When he gently stroked the soft flesh of her womanhood, she had no trouble translating the request and she carefully ran
her fingers up the length of his phallus, looking down to watch, wondering at the softness of the skin stretched over the power, surprised that he had not hurt her more than he had last night.

She traced around its tip in circles, curious to know if she could create concentrated sensations similar to those he was drawing from her. A deep sigh said that she could. Soon he eased her on her back, pushed her legs apart with his knees, and entered her slowly.

She had not healed completely, but the tight fullness acted more like a salve than an irritant, and soon she lost awareness of everything except the exhilarating connection. Her body stretched to accept him, absorb him, bind him to her briefly and totally. She didn't understand the emotion that saturated her, but it echoed with that poignant yearning that had colored her soul all day.

It was so different here, in the sun, with the smell of grass and the sounds of birds and water nearby. No shadows obscured the body moving over and in her, no candlelight abstracted the tight desire in his face. She knew long before it ended that the strangeness would be gone forever after this.

He withdrew and rejoined carefully again and again, as if he cherished the sensation as much as she did. Hooking her legs over his hips so the connection became deeper, he angled his head to lick and suck her breast.

A deluge of pleasure filled her belly, swept through her limbs, and touched her soul, slowly spiraling all of her senses toward a central core. When release came, it did not obliterate her perceptions as it had last night, but crested wonderfully and subsided beautifully, enhancing her alertness to the man in her arms. And so she sensed the tension claim him, felt his muscles harden beneath her hands, accepted with joy the tremor of his fulfillment.

He pressed his lips to her brow. “It is good with you, wife.”

Awhile later they went back in the river and washed, then dried in the sun before dressing and heading back to the keep.

“How do you know about philosophy?” Reyna asked while their horses crossed the moss.

“English knights receive some education. We are not complete barbarians bred solely to subjugate the Scots.”

“Receiving a knight's education and knowing enough about philosophy to reject it are two different things. You spoke as if you had read these things.”

“As a youth, I read them. My father had an excellent tutor for me. He intended that I become a priest.”

He glanced over slyly and caught her shocked reaction. Their gazes locked, and they both burst out laughing.

“It is common enough. A younger son becomes a cleric, and serves a great noble as either priest or administrator,” he said. “There is power to be had for a family in it. It became clear to me by the time I was twelve that I was not suited, however. I wanted to be a knight, and began training secretly. I liked women far too much, and began training there too. Eventually my father saw the futility of it, and sent me into service with a neighboring lord to be made into a knight. At the time, I considered it a great triumph.”

“You do not now? Surely you could never have lived a priest's life.”

“Nay, I could not have. But every change begets consequences, and the ride to that nearby estate wrought changes neither my father nor I could anticipate.”

He said it thoughtfully, as if distracted by memories. She waited for him to continue and explain, but he only rode silently with a faint frown on his brow.

“Who do you think poisoned him?” he asked, startling her with the change of subject. He had not been contemplating his own past, but hers.

“I can think of no one who would have wanted Robert dead.”

“If he was killed, it was to someone's advantage. Who
could
have done it? Had the chance to do it?”

“Anyone. Suppose he was drinking some wine in his solar. Any servant or knight or guard might ask to speak with him and manage to put something in the wine.”

“What do you think was fed to him?”

She shrugged. “I do not know about these things, Ian. I never sought to learn, although there are always old wives in any town who claim to know about such things.”

“Have you no books which describe such potions?”

“I have an herbal which mentioned some plants with such properties, but the writer refrained from explaining the recipes and only warned against confusing the plants with others.”

“Where is the herbal?”

“I haven't consulted it in several years because I have it memorized, even the pictures. I assume it is on the shelf with the others.” His examination was making her uncomfortable. “Why do you pursue this, Ian? Do you still think that I—”

“Of course not. But Morvan was right; it is best if this matter is settled. You will be living here with these people. No matter what happens, they will always wonder and suspect. I do not want you enduring that. Nor do we want a murderer in our household. We should try to learn the truth for everyone's sake.”

“And what if the truth points to me?”

“Then we will know that it is not the truth at all.”

She wasn't entirely reassured by his response. In Ian's
mind, her virginity had destroyed the motive everyone ascribed to her crime, but other motives could always be surmised by an intelligent man analyzing evidence.

He was right. She should try to find out what had happened to Robert, and why. For everyone's sake, especially hers.

I
an descended to the kitchen that evening, and was glad to find that Reyna was not helping Alice. Servants at the hearth were lifting the soup cauldron from its hook, and he waited while they hoisted it between them to begin the careful journey to the hall. Alice placidly cut cheese onto wooden planks, only glancing once to where he idled by the wall.

“I am told that you came with Reyna from Duncan's household. Tell me about Reyna's mother,” he said when they were finally alone.

Alice smirked. “I was wondering what you wanted. That is a subject best left alone.”

“You were in the household. You must know what happened.”

“I know. I be wondering why you need to, though.”

He had no good answer to that. He had merely decided that the most sensible way to find out about Robert's death was to fill in all of the blanks in the various stories he had heard.

“I would know for my own reasons,” he said, deciding that being the lord should count for something with a servant.

Alice shot him a look that said she had never been much intimidated by lords, and he would be no exception. “Duncan put Reyna's mother away, in a convent north of his land. Endowed the place, too, so's the abbess
would be beholden to him and see she was kept there. Reyna was only four years old at the time.”

“Did he annul the marriage?”

“Nay, not that I know,” Alice said. “Jordana was his second wife, a beautiful girl from the Eliot clan. His first wife had died birthing Aymer, and he waited six years to remarry. Jordana tried to give that household some grace and manners, but Duncan is a hard man, and he was not a kind husband.”

More servants arrived to collect the cheese and bread to be set on the tables. Ian waited while they scurried about and hustled out. “Why did he put her away?” he finally asked.

Alice studied him sharply, as if she debated his worth. “I'll tell you, but you're not to speak of it to Reyna. It's in the past for her, and best it stay there.” She licked her lips. “They'd been married six years, about. Reyna was born, but no others. Things was going badly between them even before Reyna came. We always know, of course.”

Ian knew that by “we” she meant the servants.

“Jordana was a good mother, and warm to Reyna. In fair weather she would take the girl out in the hills, to get her away from that place. One day they went out, and did not return for a long time. Finally, ten of Duncan's men came back with Reyna, but not Jordana.”

“What had happened?”

Alice's round face fell into sad folds. “Duncan had been suspicious of her. This day, he'd left before her with some men and then waited and followed her. Found her with her lover, trying to leave for good, they say. She had her valuables with her, and extra things for herself and the girl. He caught up with them near the border, by the old motte.” She shook her head. “She was with an
Armstrong. Maccus's son, James. He'd been her lover for about a year, some said.”

She paused while Ian absorbed the startling story.

“Duncan hung James Armstrong, then and there,” Alice said. “At the old donjon on the motte. Then he took Jordana to the convent at once, and we never saw her again.”

“The blood feud ended by Reyna's first marriage,” Ian said. “That was how it started?”

“Aye. The first few years it was like a war between kings, so many died. Slowed down after that, but reprisals kept happening on both sides. The region grew weary.”

“And she knows about this? Why her mother left for good?”

“With Duncan calling her mother a whore for the next eight years, she learned the reason for the convent, and probably the rest.” Filmy memories glazed her old eyes. “Afterward, Reyna was treated no better than a servant. She looked like Jordana, and Duncan couldn't bear the sight of her. Everyone knew there would be no punishment if she were hit or abused. She learned to stay quiet and invisible, the way a mistreated dog does. I tried to be a mother to her, but I had no authority to protect her. Still, in the kitchen I was queen, and she was safe with me there.”

And then the marriage alliance ended the feud, and Robert of Kelso was given lands to separate the two clans, and he became Reyna's savior, Ian concluded. Duncan's lack of affection certainly made more sense now.

“I thank you for the love and care that you showed my wife during those years,” he said, turning to the doorway.

“I would kill anyone who tried to harm her,” Alice said sharply.

He glanced back at her, and knew that he had just
been warned by an old woman with every opportunity to carry out her threat. While he mounted the stairs to the hall, he wondered if Alice had heard rumors about Robert's letter to the bishop, and had worried enough about Reyna's fate to take action.

Andrew Armstrong glided into step beside him while he crossed the hall. A steward was another person with ample opportunity to use poison, but Ian could think of no motive.

“I have good tidings,” Andrew said. “The water has returned to the well. I check periodically, and today, after dinner, I went down and all was as before.”

“A miracle,” Ian said.

“It would seem. Perhaps last night helped. The rain and all.”

“In that case we can only hope that it keeps raining.”

Reyna entered the hall then. She looked lovely as a spring sky in her blue gown, with her silver-blond hair shimmering like sunlight.