The Golden Barbarian (7 page)

“I liked his horses.” She nodded. “He was quite irritable at first, but when he saw I could be useful around the stable, he became almost pleasant.”

“Almost?”

“Well, he didn’t shout at me anymore, and he visited the Mother Superior and convinced her to let me come twice a week.”

“How did he do that?”

“He assured her he would watch over me, and he told her I had a healing talent with animals. He also said he was sure Saint Francis of Assisi would have approved of my helping the beasts.” She chuckled. “It was the first time I’d ever been compared to a saint. The Reverend Mother was very surprised.”

“So the good Count acquired a new stableboy?”

“I didn’t mind. I loved being with the horses. They made the convent bearable.” She turned to him, her face alight with eagerness. “Someday I’m going to have a fine stable and breed horses like Selik and Telzan.”

He found his gaze following the graceful line of her throat down to the upper swell of her small
breasts bared by the low neckline of her gown. Her fair skin possessed an incredible sheen. He wondered how soft it would feel to the touch.

“And I’ll have dogs and perhaps carrier pigeons.” She took the bandage from Selik’s ankle. “Don’t you think that would be a happy life?”

“No fashionable salon?”

Her laughter rang out. “What would I do with a salon? I cannot imagine anything more boring than sitting around reading poetry and discussing Voltaire and Rousseau.”

The strong herbal smell mingled with the scent of lavender and soap that emanated from her. He bent closer, letting the fragrance invade his senses, and felt an urgent quickening in his loins. He had not expected this to happen so quickly. Dammit, he did not want it to happen yet. His body was readying itself to enter her—and she was more aware of his horse than of him.

She glanced at him. “We can’t leave for Sedikhan tomorrow. Selik won’t be ready.”

He went still. “The next day will do as well.” He waited for a moment and then asked casually, “I take it this means you agree to the arrangement?”

“Of course.” She looked at him in surprise. “You knew I would.”

“Let’s say I thought there was a reasonable chance.”

“Say what you like. You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist what you offered.” She dipped the cloth in the hot water. “I think the poison is drawing, but not enough. We’ll have to keep bathing
it and applying fresh salve for most of the night. I’ll take the first watch. You go rest.”

“I can do it alone.”

“Why should you? It’s better with two.”

He did not argue with her. He needed to have her powerfully united with him, and this shared experience would be an important beginning. He smiled and rose to his feet. “You’re right, most things are better with two.” He strolled over and sat down on the fresh hay spread in the empty stall across from Selik’s. “You take the first two hours. I’ll take the next two.” He drew his knees up and linked his arms loosely around them, his gaze on Tess Rubinoff. She moved with a neat, economical grace, every motion purposeful and full of vitality. The short puffed sleeves of her gown revealed exquisitely formed bare arms flowing into small, capable hands that were wonderfully gentle as she touched the horse. What a rare blend of strength and fire lay beneath that delicate exterior. Small women had never appealed to him, yet he felt the muscles of his stomach clench painfully as he thought how tight she’d be around him as he plunged in and out of her body—

He tried to rid himself of such thoughts as he drew back into the shadows and leaned his head against the rough wall. He did not want Tess to become aware of his body’s reaction to her at the moment. She was filled with soaring hope and plans for the future—precisely the emotions he had hoped to arouse in her.

* * *

She was being lifted from the straw of the stall and carried.

“Sacha?” she murmured sleepily.

“No. Shh, go back to sleep. I’m only taking you to your chamber.”

Galen. Her eyelids felt too heavy to open. “Selik?”

“Hell be fine. It’s almost morning.”

Cool air struck her face as Galen carried her out of the stable. She roused. “You’ll have to change to cold compresses now to take the swelling down.”

“I started to use cold water while you were dozing.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You worked very hard. You deserve your sleep.”

Her lids lifted slowly. Galen’s face was only inches from hers. She stared dreamily at the sharp molding of his cheekbones, his well-shaped lips. She had not noticed his lips before because his large dark eyes so dominated his other features.

He must have become aware of her study, for he looked down at her.

He smiled. “Sleep,
kilen
. All will be well. I promise you. You can trust me.”

She remembered his inflexible determination, his quiet tenderness toward Selik during the past hours. Yes, she could trust him.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to go back to sleep, safe in Galen’s arms.

* * *

The marriage between Tess and Galen was performed by Father Francis Desleps in the Cathedral of the Holy Redeemer at three o’clock the following afternoon. Galen followed Muslim customs, but he was a Christian … and a man with a powerful influence over Father Desleps. Galen had succeeded in getting a very fast special dispensation for them to marry, so there would be no thrice-published banns and other preliminaries to their wedding.

Tess felt strange kneeling before the altar with Galen at her side. But surely it would have felt strange with any man, she assured herself. Marriage only occurred once in a lifetime, and it was unlikely one would get accustomed to the ceremony. She smiled.

“You have been smiling for some time now,” Galen commented after they had thanked the priest and were walking back up the long aisle. “May I ask what’s so amusing?”

“I was just thinking it was quite ordinary to be feeling so peculiar. After all, marriage occurs only once.”

“Occurs? You make it sound like an act of nature.” He took her arm and helped her down the steps to the cobbled street. “And it’s not inconceivable that you should marry again. Life in Sedikhan isn’t the safest existence, and wealthy widows are much sought after.”

“I shall never marry again,” she said positively. “Why should I submit to that trap? My life will
be very pleasant without a husband getting in my way.”

“Husbands have certain uses.”

“Protection? I can hire servants for that.”

He helped her into the carriage waiting in front of the church. “I wasn’t thinking about protection. More in the nature of … companionship.”

“Most husbands are dreadful companions. They’re too busy pursuing other ladies to furnish a wife with adequate company.” She leaned back in the carriage. “No, a woman is much better off with no man about to trouble her.”

He leaned back on the seat and gazed at her, smiling faintly as the carriage started with a lurch. “We shall see if you continue in your opinion. There must be some reason the state of connubial bliss still exists.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Practicality. A man must be sure of his heirs, and a woman cannot have the father of her children deserting her after the first flush of passion fades.”

His dark eyes were watching her impassively. “Is that what happens?”

She nodded positively. “Of course. You know it yourself. I’d wager you never thought of Lady Camilla or that other woman again after you had your way with them.”

“Oh, I thought of them.”

She frowned. “You did? When?”

“Whenever my body needed a woman.”

Her cheeks grew hot, and she looked hastily
away from him. “That isn’t thinking, that’s lusting.” She leaned forward and gazed out the window, and was immediately rewarded with a glimpse of a familiar sign. “Oh, there’s that interesting café. I asked Sacha to take me there, but he refused.” She turned to Galen. “Will you take me … tonight?” She added quickly, “Providing Selik is doing well, of course.”

“Naturally, any bridal repast would have to be postponed if Selik isn’t in the pink.”

“Why are you smiling, Galen? We both know this ceremony has no importance.”

“It’s of the utmost importance.”

She gestured impatiently. “You know what I mean—only the alliance is important. Will you take me to the café?”

“Why not? I owe you a supper for your labor with Selik last night, and it may prove an enlightening experience for you.”

“I like it,” Tess announced, her gaze roaming the noisy café. The boards of the wooden floor were warped and sagging, and the torches affixed to the walls sent out plumes of smoke that stung the eyes and made the air blue with haze. “Isn’t it exciting, Sacha?”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Of course I should be here.” She glanced mischievously over her shoulder at Galen as she sat down on the chair he was holding for her. “I’m a married woman, and therefore privileged to go where I wish. Isn’t that correct, my lord?”

“Within certain limits.” Galen’s expression was impassive as he glanced around the room. “However, I see little to recommend this establishment.”

“How can you say such a thing?” Tess folded her gloved hands on the scarred table. “It’s perfectly splendid, and I’m sure the food will be excellent.”

“Providing there are no cockroaches in the stew.” Sacha sat next to Galen and motioned to a burly servant.

“There were no cockroaches in the stew on board the ship. The food was a bit boring, but the cook was clean, and I’m sure that—Is that a strumpet?” Tess stared at a fair-haired woman in a dirty green dress who sat on a sailor’s lap. “She’s quite pretty, isn’t she?”

“Prettier than most of her breed,” Sacha said as the waiter unceremoniously plopped down three glasses and filled them with red wine from a huge leather carafe slung on a strap about her neck.

“Breed?” Tess frowned. “I don’t like that word. It makes her sound like a horse or a cow.”

Sacha waved the waiter away as he appraised the woman’s huge breasts spilling over the neckline of her gown. “There are some similarities, you must admit.”

“I do not admit to anything of the sort. She’s a woman, not an animal. She obviously lets herself be used because she has no other means to support herself.”

“And what about your Pauline?” Galen asked softly. “Why does she let herself be used?”

“Pauline isn’t a strumpet, she’s …” Tess hesitated, thinking about it. “She’s not overly bright and has few interests. Perhaps she does it to keep from becoming bored.”

Sacha choked on his wine. “Quite possible. She certainly applies herself to … er, entertaining herself.”

Tess knew they were laughing at her, but she didn’t care. The subject of physical pleasure was not really important to her except as a curiosity. This place was too interesting to waste time on trivialities. “I’m hungry. May we eat now?”

“But of course.” Galen’s lips quirked. “It’s a husband’s duty to satisfy his wife’s … appetites.”

“Stop it, Sacha.” Tess giggled helplessly as Sacha swung her in a wide circle all the while moving across the courtyard toward the inn. “You’ve had too much to drink. We’ll both end up in a heap on the ground.”

“You insult me,” said Sacha, looking owlishly at her. “You think I can’t hold my wine. This is a felicitous occasion, and I’m merely happy. Extraordinarily happy.”

“You’re extraordinarily drunk.” Tess smiled indulgently as she steadied him against the door-jamb. “You would think this was your wedding day by the way you’re celebrating.”

“I’m celebrating because it’s
not
my wedding day.” Sacha’s smile faded, and his eyes filled with
morose tears as he touched her cheek with a gentle finger. “Poor little imp.”

“She seems to be doing better than you are at the moment,” Galen said as he caught up with them. He threw open the door. “Come on, I’ll help you up the stairs.”

“Not necessary.” Sacha lurched through the door toward the staircase. “I’m perfectly able to—” His foot slipped on the second step, and he pitched forward.

“Perfectly able to fall flat on your face.”

“I stumbled,” Sacha said with dignity. “How do they expect a man to see to get up the stairs with only one candle left burning?”

“Strange that
I
have no trouble seeing.” Galen helped Sacha to his feet and slipped his arm around his waist. “I’ve just finished nursing Selik, and have no intention of acquiring another patient.”

“Are you comparing me to a horse?”

“Only when you’re sober. When drunk, your intellect bears a distinct resemblance to that of a sun-addled camel.”

“Insult upon insult.”

“What else can you expect from a barbarian?” Galen started up the steps, bearing at least half of Sacha’s weight.

Sacha began to sing beneath his breath.

“Shall I call his servant?” Tess asked.

“Sacha no longer travels with a servant.” Galen paused to shift his hold and drape Sacha’s arm about his neck. “Said takes care of both of us when we travel.”

“Indeed?” Tess closed the front door and watched them climb. “How odd.” The Sacha she had known had always traveled with a full entourage of servants ranging from cooks and valets to grooms.

“Not so odd. Servants get in the way when traveling in the desert.” Galen had reached the top of the steps and looked down at her. “Go to your chamber. I’ll join you shortly.”

She felt the smile freeze on her lips as shock rippled through her. “You will?”

“Of course.”

“Of course,” Tess muttered. What else could she have expected? This was her wedding night, wasn’t it? A child was part of the bargain, and she was no ninny, ignorant of how one was conceived. Yet he had said he would give her time, and she had thought—

“Tess,” Galen said softly over his shoulder. “Go to your chamber.”

Tess nodded jerkily and flew up the staircase, edging around him and Sacha to get to her chamber. She should not feel so disappointed by Galen. She knew that few men kept their word to the women of their households. She slammed the door behind her and pressed back against the panels, her heart pounding wildly, her cheeks fever-hot. It would not be so terrible once she got used to it. Pauline had actually liked being mounted. Tess had often heard her beg for it.