Phantom of the Wind (4 page)

“Everything will work itself out,
Lhiannan
. You’ll see.”

“I’ll see what?” she snapped. “You being hanged in the Courtyard of the High Council?”

“Ain’t gonna happen,” he replied.

She stopped and turned so she was facing him. She put her hands to either side of his face and stared him in the eye, her own dark green orbs flashing. “If you don’t strike for amnesty, they’ll continue to hunt you until they bring you to ground, Quinn. Why can’t you see that? You’ve made some very powerful enemies—”

“Like General Alphon Morrison,” he said on a long sigh.

“Aye! Morrison and half a dozen more influential members of the Coalition. What if Morrison decides to send one of his Riezell Guardians after you?”

“And you think he hasn’t already?” he countered.

Kendall’s eyes flared. “Quinn! Please tell me that was you just being facetious.”

He just looked at her. “Don’t worry about it,
Lhiannan
.”

Kendall felt the tears springing up to cloud her vision. She dropped her hands from his cheeks and laid them on his chest. “You’re going to make me a widow before you ever make me your wife,” she prophesied.

Quinn wrapped her in his arms, pressing her head to his heart. “Will you please stop borrowing trouble, Kendall? I’m not a green lad who’s never gone up against the powers of the Coalition before. I
do
know what I’m about.”

She had taken leave from the med evac ship to which she was assigned and had met him in the highlands of Aduaidh Prime, one of the few places she knew he’d be safe. She held his life far dearer than did he. She worried about him constantly and had since the day they’d met four years earlier.

“Do you remember that day?” he asked.

Kendall sighed. She was accustomed to him reading her mind. It was one of his remarkable abilities as a
Scaan,
but sometimes it truly annoyed her.

“I remember it as if it were yesterday,” he said. “I even remember what you were wearing.”

“You do not,” she muttered.

“It was a dark green gown with that strappy thing on one shoulder while the other shoulder was bare. The strappy thing had sparkling copper rhinestones along the edge and swooping across the neckline. Angled down the skirt of the gown the gems had been sewn to resemble a dragonfly in flight.” He snapped his fingers. “And there were gems on the hem of the gown as well.”

“What kind of shoes was I wearing?” she asked.

“Copper-colored kid boots with very high heels,” he replied.

She lifted her head and looked up at him, amazed he remembered what she’d worn to the Burgon’s ball. “Earrings?”

“Green and copper-enameled dragonflies on little copper chains that dangled down your neck,” he whispered, running the tip of his index finger from the lobe of her ear to her shoulder, “and brushed your collarbone.”

“And my hair?”

“Braided in one of those mind-altering creations that are such a treat to unravel,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “You had copper silk ribbons running through the braid and it was perched atop your head so precariously I kept waiting for it to fall. I spent the entire evening wanting to take the pins out of your hair and let that fiery red gold hair hang free.”

“You spent the entire evening with the Burgon and his friends,” she accused.

He put his lips to her ear. “I danced three dances with you as I recall so I can’t have spent the entire evening with Ryden and his friends.”

“You were this close,” she said, holding her thumb and index finger close together, “to being called out by my escort.”

Quinn made a rude sound with his lips. “Your escort,” he scoffed. “It would have given me great joy if that twerp had called me out, but he wouldn’t have done that,
Lhiannan
. I hate to break it to you but he had eyes for another lady there.”

Kendall sighed. “I know,” she said. “Every man was ogling Chastain Cosaint. She’s too beautiful for the rest of us to compete with.”

“She wasn’t the only beautiful woman in the room and I wasn’t ogling her,” he denied. “I was ogling you.”

And he had been, she thought, as she felt his lips on the side of her neck. His rapt attention had brought color to her cheeks. No matter where he was in the room, no matter with whom he was speaking—Burgon, king, prince or general—his gaze followed her every move.

“As I recall,” he said, running the tip of his tongue across the hollow at the base of her throat, “I asked you to run away with me that night.”

“That was just after I learned who you were,” she said.

“Damn Ruan Cosaint and his big mouth
,”
Quinn complained. “He scared you away before I even had a chance to win your heart.”

“King Ruan merely mentioned that you were a pirate and I should be careful around you.” She grinned. “His lady-wife told me that pirates make the best lovers so I shouldn’t listen to her husband.”

“She said that in front of him?” Quinn asked and she nodded. “Wonder why she’d say such a thing? I’m sure he didn’t find the remark amusing.”

“I don’t know. If you’d seen the gleam in his eye, you would have sworn she’d just issued him a challenge.”

“She was a Primary Riezell Guardian before she met Ruan,” he reminded her. “I would imagine her challenges can be very intimidating.”

“He didn’t look intimidated,” Kendall said. “He looked horny.”

Quinn threw back his head and laughed. “You’ve no respect for royalty at all, do you,
Lhiannan
?”

“There were two former Guardians there that night. Ardor Leveche was there with that studly King Gabriel,” she said with a sigh. “I have a thing for black Gaelachuan men.”

“Black Cengusians too, apparently,” he pointed out, referring to the black hair and dark sapphire eyes of the men of his race.

“Same race root but this Cengusian man has something Gaelachuan men don’t,” she replied.

“What’s that?”

She rubbed up against him. “Me.”

They were high above the verdant An Gaoth Aduaidh Valley, the Valley of the North Wind. Here the lush pine forest peppered gently rolling hills and scarlet clover blanketed the meadow, vying for spots in the sun with dainty black-eyed Susan. A fan-shaped silver waterfall stair-stepped its way down from Loch Cinniúint, the mesmerizing deep blue lake on the crest of Ceol Mountain and fed into the fast-moving Carraig River. The air smelled of honeysuckle and there was a light breeze upon which red-tailed hawks sailed across the bright azure sweep of the sky.

“It has been a long time since I made love to you,” Quinn said in a low, throaty voice that made Kendall’s womb pulse.

Heat gathered low in her belly and sent a wash of juices flowing within her warm sheath. The blood began pounding in her ears. She could feel the hardness of him pressing against her.

“And whose fault is that, my handsome Phantom?” she whispered.

“Mine, my love. Entirely all mine,” he replied. He slid his hand to her breast and cupped her, stroking her nipple through the soft cotton of her blouse with his thumb. “But I’m more than willing to make up for lost time.”

“Are you now?”

“Damned straight, wench,” he drawled.

They sank to the wild clover matte at their feet. The ground was cool, inviting, and the meadow was sweet with the scents of wildflowers. Kendall stretched out on her back, Quinn lying atop her, their fingers laced together as he held her hands to either side of her head. With sensual purpose he slid his leg between hers and pushed her legs apart so he could press his knee against her heated core. His staff was like steel against her thigh. When he slanted his mouth across hers, she felt a shiver run down her spine.

He nibbled on her lower lip until she opened her mouth to him. His tongue was a wicked weapon that flicked at the corners of her lips then slipped gently between to take possession. Thrusting boldly, swirling over the roof of her mouth, dragging between her lower lip and her teeth, he was a master of the art and his expertise sent waves of need coursing through Kendall’s body.

She writhed beneath him, wanting the hardness of him, the heat and length of him buried deep inside her. Quinn’s lovemaking was always wild and thrilling and filled every need she had ever had when it came to a lover. He had never left her wanting for anything save his glorious body again and again until they were both too tired to do anything but sleep.

Quinn untwined his fingers from her left hand and slid it up underneath her blouse. His hand closed over the softness of her breast as he kissed his way down her chin and throat. “By Alel, but you have the sweetest tits this side of paradise,” he groaned as he molded her flesh. Pushing the blouse up, he cupped her breast in his hand and lowered his mouth to suckle her.

The fingers of Kendall’s right hand tensed around his and she brought her free hand to his thick black hair, raking her fingers through the lush curls. “And how many tits have you known to make that comparison, Phantom?”

He latched his teeth lightly upon her nipple and spoke around the possession of his prize. “More than my share,” he replied. He gently worried her swollen tip between his teeth.

“Yet I have known only one cock,” she said with a sigh.

The Phantom lifted his head and captured her eyes with his. “And only one is all you will ever know, wench,” he warned.

She smiled at him. “How can you be so sure?”

His eyes flared for just a moment before he lowered his hand to her long skirt and jerked it up roughly, hooked his fingers in the fine lace of her panties and ripped them from her. With slow deliberation he reached to the front of his britches and flicked the buttons aside, freeing the rigid staff, the head of which was pearled with moistness.

“How can I be sure?” he queried, one thick brow arched.

Just as she knew he would—wanted him too—he thrust into her with one mighty lunge that made her grunt with the force. He impaled her on his flesh and pounded into her as she brought her legs up and clamped them around his pistoning hips. He had let go of the hand he held captive and plowed both hands beneath her rump to lift her for a deeper penetration.

Kendall dug her short nails into his broad back, scoring the fabric of his fine silk shirt. Her legs tightened savagely around him as he drove into her with mindless need. She knew they would both be bruised come morning, but all that mattered at that moment was to feed the desire lashing through them. She arched her hips, pressed her breasts to his chest and gloried in the feel of his lips claiming hers once more.

The climax that rocked them both, the shuddering release that brought a roar from him and a trill from her came at the same moment, and as he strained to the very depths of his reach within her, she plunged against him as hard as she could. They both stilled to feel the last spurt of his seed spraying into her, the last pulse of her vaginal walls around him.

He collapsed atop her, his head on her shoulder, her arms around his heaving back, and they lay like that until sleep reached up to claim them.

Then—just as dreams will do in the space of a single breath—the images changed. She found herself at the Burgon’s field tourney where knights engaged in mock battles and their ladies watched their men folks’ heroics from canopied tents scattered around the perimeter of the field. The pageantry left her breathless, restless and aching for the touch of a man whose hand had guided her the evening before upon the ballroom floor.

Kendall had been asked to watch the festivities from the Burgon’s own luxurious pavilion and she had been honored by the request. Sitting amongst such dignitaries as the Emperor of Aduaidh Prime, Kings Gabriel Leveche and Ruan Cosaint, Prince Cair Ghrian and their lady-wives, she felt a heady sense of wonder and excitement.

“You’ve made quite a conquest of our
Scaan,”
Queen Ardor leaned over to whisper to Kendall. “He couldn’t stop asking questions about you at the ball last eve.”

Kendall turned to the queen, blushing beneath the other woman’s twinkling gaze. “We only danced together a few times.”

“Aye, but I do believe you captured Rory Quinn’s heart with those stolen moments,” Queen Chastain remarked.

Pleased, Kendall had looked out over the field of honor and found him sitting astride a mighty destrier. His coat of armor fit him like a second skin. He sat his prancing steed like a competent horse master—one hand light upon the reins, his spurs shining brightly in the early morning sunlight. His ebony hair fluttered in an errant breeze and when he turned his head, searching her out of those assembled in the Burgon’s pavilion, she felt his dark blue eyes passing over her.

“He is the oldest illegitimate son of King Kelton Kaneen of Cengus,” Princess Davan Ghrian said, turning in her seat to look at Kendall. Davan’s pale green eyes were alight with conspiracy. “He’s a privateer.”

“You mean he’s a pirate,” Kendall said.

“Oh no, Kendall. Quinn received a Letter of Marque from Cengus to act as its agent. He has the authority of the Cengusian government to attack, capture and plunder any enemy ship in this time of war.”

“Aye,” Queen Ardor agreed with her friend’s words, “but Quinn has been declared an outlaw by the Coalition of Planets for it is their ships he is plundering, Davan. So technically, he is a pirate in the eyes of the High Council.”