Viking Ecstasy (24 page)

T
abor looked at the young man standing guard outside the library door. He thought he knew all the guards who had been assigned to protect Tanaka, but this was a new face . . . new, and different. He didn't have the fresh, energetic, dedicated look in his eyes common to the others. He did not look like a man whom Tabor would want to be aboard ship with and call a fellow Viking. Rather, he had the sallow look of the early stages of dissipation.

"What is your name?" Tabor asked, stepping close to the man. Was that wine on the guard's breath?

The man looked straight into Tabor's eyes, but he did not respond. His mouth twisted into a sneer. He glanced at the guard positioned at the opposite side of the door and smiled, an insulting smirk that leaped over cultural barriers to deliver a direct slap to Tabor's face.

"Little man," Tabor hissed, struggling to speak the language as distinctly as possible and to keep his anger in check, "if you do not answer me, I will take your throat in my hands and see if I can squeeze the answer from you." He leaned down so that his nose nearly touched the guard's. "Speak!"

"My name is Abdul," he said at last, scowling. "And what is your name?"

Tabor straightened and moved just a little closer to the guard, making it clear that he stood half a head taller than the Egyptian.

"My name is Tabor. Your pharaoh has made it clear that I am allowed to come and go as I choose wherever in the palace I wish to go. You should know that you cannot ask questions of me. . . . or perhaps you were too drunk to remember what you were told?"

"I'm never that drunk, though sometimes the smell of foreigners affects my stomach."

Tabor had promised Tanaka that he would not be violent with any of her people, but this man was pushing his promise as far as it could be taken. For a second, Tabor stepped back and wondered how angry Tanaka would be if he gave this impudent cretin the beating he clearly deserved. Abdul was strong, and he had the look of a man who had been in many fights. Still, never for a second did Tabor fear that his own powers and prowess would be insufficient to the task.

"Speak your mind, if you have one," Tabor whispered, staring at Abdul.

"I have nothing to say to you," he drawled.

Tabor looked at the other fresh-faced guard, who wanted no part of the argument.

"What is your name?" Tabor asked of the quiet guard.

"Menna."

"Menna, I want you to keep watch on Abdul as well as on High Priestess Tanaka. If Abdul does anything wrong, I will hold you responsible."

Menna blanched, but he squared his shoulders and nodded in agreement, averting his eyes from Abdul, who muttered vague threats under his breath.

When Tabor entered the library, he found Tanaka once again hunched over the small desk, brush in hand, writing on the papyrus. At his entrance, she put her brush down and smiled broadly, a smile which warmed Tabor's heart.

"I was hoping you would come to see me," she said.

With the faintest flick of her wrist, she dismissed the two old scribes who had been her almost constant companions since her return. When she was alone in the library with Tabor, she went around the desk and rose up on her tiptoes to kiss his mouth.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking up into his eyes.

"What makes you say that?"

"I can feel the tension in you." She placed her palm on his chest, feeling his strength through the fine linen robes the Egyptians were famous for. "Tell me."

"I don't like your guards."

"Them?" Tanaka laughed softly. "You needn't be concerned. They're loyal."

"You've got a new one. I haven't seen him before."

"They're soldiers. They change frequently."

"He's got the bearing of a murderer."

Tanaka moved away from Tabor. "I don't want to argue with you," she said. There was exhaustion and exasperation in her tone. "I'm weary of all the responsibilities I've had thrust upon me since my return," she continued. "No one maintained decent records of what supplies the palace had or where those supplies were kept, where the grain was being stored, or how much we have."

"What does that have to do with the guards?"

Tanaka turned on her heel, her dark eyes suddenly flashing. "It doesn't have anything to do with the guards, Tabor! It has everything to do with me! I'm tired, exhausted! I've been working hard to try to restore some semblance of order to the palace, and I simply do not have the energy or the inclination to worry about who is standing outside that door! It just doesn't matter, don't you see? I've got more vital matters to concern myself with!"

Tabor looked at Tanaka and shook his head. Every time he walked through the palace, his sixth sense warned him that treachery was afoot, brewing thick and pungent. He could smell deceit in the air. And though he did not know Moamin well, he respected the pharaoh's judgment, and assigning a man like Abdul to protect the third highest ranking member of the palace did not seem characteristic.

"I am concerned for your protection, and you respond to that concern with scorn and insults." He threw his hands up in frustration. "You must be a brilliant woman to know everything there is to know!"

"I know that you're thinking like a Viking, and that's why you see trouble where there is none!" Tanaka shot back, not at all abashed by Tabor's anger. "Now unless you've got something else to say, I'll thank you to allow me to return to my work. I have many responsibilities in this palace, and I take them seriously."

Tabor stormed out of the library, his teeth clenched in rage. He half hoped that Abdul would get in his way so that he could knock the vile Egyptian to the ground, but Abdul moved aside. If he had so much as said a word, Tabor would have put a fist in his mouth. But—fortunately for him —he said nothing at all.

The Viking headed for the sea to think. Tanaka was in danger. He knew this because he sensed it and he trusted his senses. He also knew that she had let the power of her responsibilities blind her to the world around her; and because she was so overloaded with work, so exhausted with the duties that had been neglected since her abduction, she was not thinking as logically as she ought.

Her words had cut him to the marrow, but he would not allow his anger toward her affect his judgment, which said that at all costs he would protect her from danger within the palace . . . even if she didn't think there was any.

❧

"Pardon," the young man said, standing obediently just outside Lysetta's doorway. When she met his gaze, the young man entered the room.

"What is it?" Lysetta asked, slipping into a robe. Kahlid had left her bed only a few minutes earlier, and she had been lying naked, plotting what needed to be done if she was to hold in her own hands the wealth and power she craved but which had thus far eluded her.

"You said that I was to inform you immediately if the tall man with yellow hair and High Priestess Tanaka ever spoke in anger to one another again."

Lysetta's dark eyes glittered with excitement as a series of new plans and plots snaked through her mind.

"How long ago?" she asked.

"I came here immediately."

Lysetta smiled at the eager youth and patted his cheek. "You'll be rewarded for this," she said, her voice sultry, promising much more than monetary remuneration. "Leave now, and tell my servants to attend me. All of them! Do you know where Tabor has gone?"

"Toward the docks, I believe."

Lysetta waved the young man away, no longer needing him.

Tabor was going to the water again. Lysetta had noticed that whenever he was troubled, he sought the ocean.

She wondered briefly what Tabor and Tanaka had been arguing about, then cast the thought aside. It mattered little. They were arguing, and that was all that Lysetta needed if her plans were to work as she hoped.

She tossed off her robe as half a dozen female servants entered her chambers. Nobitia was among them, and Lysetta was pleased because the girl was particularly artful in applying eye makeup.

"Lay out my finest robes," Lysetta demanded. "And get my perfume flask. The green one."

"But you said you'd use the perfume in the green flask only if—" Nobitia began.

"Silence! This is an emergency! I want to be at my absolute best, so bring the green perfume flask to me now!"

Nobitia scurried away, her shoulders hunched as though she carried a great weight. It was the last time she would ever question Lysetta about anything.

Soon Lysetta left her chambers, trailing a rich, delicate perfume in the air, a gown of exquisite violet linen draped loosely about her body yet defining its curves and valleys. Dark makeup highlighted her eyes, and red dye had turned her cheeks pink and her lips crimson. On her feet were the finest sandals of goatskin. Dangling from her ears were precious gems secured with slender gold wire.

When she stepped out of the palace and into the street, Lysetta could feel eyes upon her, though she pretended to be unaware of the attention she was attracting. Men turned their heads to watch her as she passed.

It would be impossible for Tabor to deny her this time. She was more certain of it than she had been of anything in her life.

The closer she got to the pier, the more Lysetta was aware of the differences between herself and Tabor. She could smell the Mediterranean saltwater in the air, and even the faint scent of fish. She wrinkled her nose at the smells. She had done all she could to avoid areas like this, to insulate herself from people like those who now surrounded her. They were laborers, thick-muscled and perspiring in the heat of dusk. They wore harsh durable linens, always left in the natural beige color that Lysetta found repugnantly common.

Yet this was the place where Tabor felt most comfortable, where he put his mind and soul at ease. Did she really want to be in the arms of a man like that?

Yes!

Her body shouted the immediate answer. She wanted him because he was so different from the social milieu that sanctioned backstabbing delivered with perfect manners. He was raw and primitive, and everything about him suggested that sex would be powerful, uninhibited, and endlessly satisfying.

She was aware of her body as she walked. She could feel the empty hunger and the swishing of the fabric against her thighs as she walked.

By the time Lysetta at last found Tabor, her mind had worked her body into a feverish state of anticipation.

"Hello," she said, walking down the narrow plank to the boat.

When Tabor turned his head toward her, his expression was grim. She hoped he would smile upon seeing her, but he did not. He acknowledged her presence with the faintest nod of his head, then resumed inspecting the new fishing longboat that carpenters had just completed that afternoon.

As Lysetta stepped off the plank onto the boat, she looked around quickly. There was no one around, and though the boat was hardly the most romantic location Lysetta could imagine for a tryst with Tabor, she was pragmatic enough to realize that this was where he felt most comfortable. The empty boat offered enough privacy for her, but she'd heard the Viking was less comfortable about having his body seen by others than Egyptians typically were.

"Do you like it?" Lysetta asked. She sat down beside Tabor, who continued to study the Egyptian method of tying down the sails. When Tabor shrugged his shoulders, Lysetta slipped closer so that her knee touched his. "You look good in your new clothes."

"They're slippery," Tabor replied. "Smooth and slippery."

"We have the finest looms and weavers in all the world," Lysetta explained.

"Perhaps, but I still prefer the feel of my own clothes."

"But they're so rough and scratchy."

"They feel like clothes are supposed to feel."

"Viking clothes, perhaps."

Tabor turned, his eyes bright and piercing. "And I am a Viking. Shouldn't I be wearing Viking clothes?"

Lysetta looked away. This wasn't the conversation she'd planned to have with Tabor. She hoped that his anger toward Tanaka was what was making him behave so brusquely with her.

"Yes, you are a Viking," she said, and almost casually dropped her hand to his knee. "Everyone can see that. You tower above every man in the palace."

Tabor looked at the small hand upon his knee, then his gaze moved slowly up her arm until it met Lysetta's. His expression was unreadable, acknowledging that she touched him but not giving approval or disapproval.

"You seem sad," Lysetta said, her voice low now. "Sad and lonely. Is there anything I can do to make you feel . . . less lonely?" Her hand moved along his thigh. She squeezed his leg, and though he was relaxed, his muscle seemed solidly flexed. Tremors of excitement raced along Lysetta's spine. Why wasn't he doing anything?

"Sadness and loneliness are not Viking emotions," Tabor said sternly. "You are the one who seems lonely."

Lysetta leaned away from Tabor. Curiosity compelled her to ask, "What makes you think I am lonely? I have people around me whenever I want them."

"Yes, whenever you want them. They answer when you command them. My men do the same thing. But my men spend time with me without being ordered to. Your servants do not."

"And what does that tell you? I don't want them near me anyway!"

Lysetta stood quickly and almost walked away from Tabor. What did he know? He hardly spoke the language. How could he truly know what her life was like, what her innermost feelings really were?

"Why did you come here?" Tabor asked, appraising her. He noticed the added touches of makeup, the gems at her ears, and the exceptional color and quality of her gown. He knew she had made an effort to look especially attractive for him and that she'd sought him out. The pier was not a place Lysetta frequented.

"I was . . ." Words faltered as Lysetta contemplated lying. Why did he have to be so handsome? It would be so much easier if he were just an ugly barbarian! "I was looking for you. I heard that you had an argument with the high priestess. I thought you might like companionship."

Tabor stood then, and Lysetta sighed. So tall and handsome, and his blue eyes were not ugly, like Kahlid had insisted, but beautiful, brilliant, and beguiling.

"You have spies?"

"I have friends in the palace. They tell me things. I know what happens."

"You have servants," Tabor corrected. "Do those servants tell others what you do just as they tell you what others do?"

"You don't have to worry. I wasn't followed here. I am alone, and anything we do will remain a secret."

Tabor shook his head, looking out to sea. Why did she have to be here now? He hungered for Tanaka's touch, and she was in no mood to listen to what he had to say, much less enjoy a few passionate hours of loveplay. Now he had Lysetta throwing herself at him. If Tanaka had been anyone other than who she was, Tabor would have easily taken the pleasure that Lysetta offered. But Tanaka had touched him deeply, and her influence over his actions extended beyond those moments when she was with him.

"I must leave," Tabor said suddenly, feeling the hungers of his passion building as his strength of will slipped.

"No, you don't," Lysetta replied with equal resolve. She grabbed his wrist with both hands, preventing his departure. She hugged his hand to her bosom. "You don't have to go anywhere. There's nothing she can do for you that I can't. And believe me, I will do it much . . . much . . . better!"

Tabor weakened. Lysetta leaned into him, pressing her breasts against him as she tilted her head back to invite a kiss. When Tabor did not immediately accommodate her needs, she hooked a hand around his neck and pulled him down.

"I will be so much better," Lysetta purred, her breath warm against his lips. She felt his resistance, but she was unshakable. "Forget all about that child, and taste the pleasures of a woman!"

She kissed him and sighed loudly, wanting Tabor to know that she was passionate and uninhibited, experienced and not afraid of a man's touch. When the kiss did not become more fevered on Tabor's part, Lysetta parted her lips invitingly. Still the kiss did not deepen.

"What is wrong?" she asked, a hint of self-doubt in her tone. She grabbed Tabor's hand by the wrist and forcibly placed his palm over her breast. "Does this not please you?"

Tabor looked at Lysetta, feeling her breast against his palm and feeling shame, anger and frustration, too. He did not want her, and the only reason that he didn't was because he was under the influence of a high priestess who made other women seem bland and unappealing.

"It does not," Tabor said quietly. "But the blame is not with you, it is with me." He took a step away from Lysetta, and her expression changed from passionate hunger to cold-blooded fury. "I have been vexed" he said honestly, not knowing why he felt it was necessary to speak the truth to this woman who despised him. "I am under the spell of the high priestess. She has me in her control."

Lysetta spewed invectives so quickly at Tabor that he was unable to understand a single word. Then she left the boat, her purple gown glittering and flashing against her legs in the evening breeze.

Tabor watched her stomp toward the village, and when she was out of sight, he went to the end of the pier and sat, hugging a knee to his chest, staring out to sea. Never before had he turned down the advances of one woman out of loyalty to another.

What would Sven think if he discovered what Tabor had done? He would laugh, that's what he would do. He'd toss his head back and laugh aloud because

Tabor had long bragged how no woman would ever capture his heart exclusively, and now there could be no denying that Tanaka had done exactly that.

So engrossed in his thoughts was he that Tabor did not notice the small, furtive man slinking away, keeping to the shadows, heading back toward the palace from which he'd come.