VirtualHeaven (18 page)

She had almost begged him.

“My enthusiasm for you makes me heedless, quite like a boy
with his first…never mind.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her softly.
“Maggie,” he whispered.

She melted into his arms, and he drew her down against his
body. Their mouths met, and she gently ran her tongue along his closed lips. He
sighed and opened his mouth. She took advantage and touched his tongue with
hers. She refined his kissing. She teased him, dancing with his tongue,
tangling, soothing, stroking, retreating, and attacking. Her teeth nipped his
chin and throat. He moved in restless agitation in her arms, his warm chest
rubbing over hers. Her nipples ached and so did her insides.

If Kered wanted her, he could have her.

She wanted him beyond all reason. Her sanity flew away. In
tutoring him, she’d snared herself in a trap so strong, she’d never escape.
Didn’t want to escape—ever.

He made deep, Kered growls in his throat. When she tried to
pull back, he held her fast, drinking in her nectar.

She had taught him well, and like an able student, he did
more than required, adding his own essence to the heady lessons.

Maggie knew that she loved him.

His heart thundered against her breast. “Do you feel what I
feel?” he asked between shuddering gasps for air.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” She drew his mouth to hers again.

The moment was perfect.

They were finally clean.

They both wanted the same thing.

“Yes. Yes,” she panted.

They fell off the bench.

“Maggie?’’ Kered shoved himself up from the cold marble
floor. Maggie remained stretched out where they’d fallen, eyes closed, her hair
spread like a pool of black ink about her head. He swallowed hard. His head
ached. His mouth was dry. “Maggie,” he whispered.

Gently, he traced a red mark on her forehead. She did not
move. With a bellow, he called the attendant, then gathered her up.

She lay like a broken bird in his arms, her limbs sprawled
across his lap. Kered willed Maggie to open her eyes, speak, rail at him,
anything. She did none of those things. She lay pale and silent as death.

He bent his head and pressed his face to her neck, taking
solace from the beat of her blood against his cheek, the warm sweet scent of
her clean skin.

The bath attendants had to speak several times before he
responded and lifted Maggie to the bench. He settled her limbs neatly, crossing
her hands on her stomach, but the posture reminded him of a corpse, so he
arranged her arms at her sides.

“Clothe yourself, Kered,” Einalem said, stepping into the
chamber. Her azure silk robe, clasped with a gold chain, whispered against her
long limbs as she came to Kered’s side.

He spread a soft blanket over Maggie’s naked body, then
hastily drew on his leather trousers and laced them as Einalem shook her head
ominously over Maggie’s condition.

“I did not know you were here,” Kered said to her as he
pulled on his boots.

“You and my brother were far too occupied with this one to
notice me.” Einalem’s long, dexterous fingers pulled up one of Maggie’s
eyelids. “I will not ask how this happened. If you choose to beat your slaves
senseless, ‘tis your affair.”

Kered bit back a retort. The old crone who had summoned help
for him stood watching with avid interest and would surely spread gossip. He
knew Einalem was a talented healer. It would not serve to offend her and it
might cause hurt if he explained that he and Maggie had been reaching for
heaven when suddenly they were dashed cruelly to earth. He contented himself
with a fierce scowl in the direction of the many attendants who were clustered
at the chamber’s entrance.

“Go about your business,” Einalem commanded the gathering of
curious women. “You should be about your duties, too, Kered,” she said, her
pale blue eyes expressionless. With slow, sensuous motions, she plaited the
long, silver skeins of her hair into a thick braid. “I will tend your slave. Be
gone.”

“Not until she comes to her senses. This is the second time
she has suffered a blow to her head.” Panic had crept into his voice so he
turned away, pulling his tunic over his head to hide the telltale glitter of
moisture gathering at his eyes.

“Such injuries are ofttimes fatal.” Einalem shrugged and
pressed her fingertips to the pulse point on Maggie’s throat.

Black thoughts coursed through Kered’s mind. Maggie’s skin
was chalk white, her lips pale. She would not die if he could help it. “I will
take her to my quarters. She may rest more comfortably there.”

“How unseemly—” Einalem swept a hand out in protest.

Kered ignored her and gathered Maggie into his arms, willing
himself not to react to the way her head lolled against his shoulder.

Kered strode the long corridor of the councilor’s palace,
Vad at his side. The torches burning in iron sconces cast their shadows in a
demon dance across gray stone walls damp with moisture. “You secured the sword
and cup? Maggie’s gun?”

“Aye. You will find them wrapped in blankets and stored with
your other weapons,” Vad answered, then changed the subject to the one he
thought closest to his distracted friend’s thoughts. “How fares Maggie today?”

“The same. It has been three days and three endless nights,
and still she lies senseless,” Kered said.

“Are you not surprised that Einalem is so devoted to nursing
Maggie?”

“Aye. When I found my feet and discovered Maggie was
senseless—not from ecstasy, as I had wished, but from cracking her skull upon
the marble floor, I was too shocked to notice who came to help, or think on the
consequences. Einalem camps in my chambers as if—’’

“She owns them?” Vad finished.

Kered growled with displeasure.

They neared Kered’s chamber door. Kered paused, his hand on
the latch. He studied Vad in the smoky light. “I find that my patience with
this nursing is—”

A pathetic, choking cry reached the two men. Kered flung the
door open and stormed across the chamber, Vad at his heels. Einalem’s silver
hair entwined with that of his slave Anna’s golden tresses to make a curtain
concealing what went on in the bed. The cry came again, more of a whimper this
time. He grasped Einalem’s arm and pulled her away. Maggie lay in his bed,
feebly fighting off Anna’s hands. Her eyes were closed. She had no more color
than her ivory pillows.

“Leave off,” Kered ordered Anna, grasping at Maggie’s
wrists. The instant he touched her, she fell back and ceased fighting.

Einalem placed a gentle hand on Kered’s arm, but her words
were sharp. “She must take the potion, else she will die.”

Anna, fairly new to her tasks as Kered’s house slave, drew
back into the shadows and away from Einalem’s anger.

Kered ignored both women. Leaning with one knee on the bed,
he murmured to Maggie to reassure her, gratified that she seemed to be at
peace. Gently, he placed her hands on her chest. He studied her greasy hair.
The room was rank with the odors of sickness.

“What is this?” He picked up the cup that Anna had abandoned
on a chest by the bed, sniffed it, and reared back from the sharp scent.

“A purge,” Anna piped up, then scuttled back two more steps.

Kered took the cup to his washstand. Very slowly, he dumped the
contents into the basin there. He took a clean goblet from a table piled with
rolled maps and documents and poured it full with fresh, cool water.

“Water will do naught but knot her insides.” Einalem stepped
between Kered and the bed. “I cannot allow you to interfere.”

“Step aside.” Kered’s voice brooked no disagreement, and
Einalem shrugged and did as he ordered, but not before he noted a defiant glare
in her eyes. Kered sat at Maggie’s side, but it was Einalem he considered. “I
know only that Maggie has wasted here for three days, growing weaker and
weaker. Vad, open the shutters.”

“You will surely kill her,” Einalem said. “Who knows what
diseases this one might have? My brother said you found her on Hart Fell. She
may even now be spreading some sickness to Anna or me or Vad. Leave her to my
care.”

Kered allowed his doubts full play, his words as sharp as
Einalem’s had been. “Could you have misjudged her illness? In what way does a
purge help a head injury?’

In a swirl of rose silks, Einalem came to the bedside. “Are
you questioning my ability to pick the best treatment?”

He fought a retort that would reveal his doubts. Instead, he
spoke with calm. “I do not question your ability, just your choice of
treatment,” Kered continued.

“‘Tis the same thing,” Einalem retorted.

“She calls oft for you,” Anna said softly to Kered from a
safe distance.

“Does she?” Kered felt grief catch in his throat. He
smoothed the dirty tangles of Maggie’s hair from her brow. She seemed wasted
and small in his bed.

“If you wish another healer…” Einalem began.

“I wish only that you consult your books another time and
consider some other course.”

A silence, broken only by Maggie’s soft breathing, fell on
the chamber. A raven cawed from beyond the shuttered window.

Vad encircled Einalem’s shoulders and drew her to the door,
his words placating. “Perhaps you could return at a later time, after you have
perused your herbals? If Kered wishes to indulge himself, who are we to gainsay
him?’’ Gently, using the charm that came so easily, Vad cajoled Einalem from
the chamber. When the door closed behind her, he shot the bolt.

Kered lifted Maggie’s shoulders and tipped the cup to her
lips. She swallowed convulsively, water spilling over her chin to run down her
neck.

“At least she kept it down,” Anna said, coming back to the
bedside one cautious step at a time.

It was on the tip of Kered’s tongue to order Anna out, hut
her unobtrusive presence and eagerness to please made him hesitate. He bit back
the words and instead sought information.

“Has she come to her senses at all?”

Anna wiped the water from Maggie’s chin and neck. “Oh, aye.
Now and then she opens her eyes. Fair wild she looks then, with all this raven
hair. If I may venture an opinion?”

“Speak up,” Kered said, impatience clipping his words. He
tipped more water against Maggie’s lips.

“‘Tis my belief that water and sweet bread would better
serve than purging. What good is treating her head through her belly and
bowels?”

Vad stepped forward and interrupted. “Kered, the full
council is meeting now. You must hurry.”

“Aye.” Kered nodded, but he lingered, his hand smoothing
Maggie’s hair from her sweaty neck. “Anna, feed her tiny amounts as long as she
can take them. And by Nilrem’s knees, bathe her and air this chamber!”

With great reluctance, he settled Maggie back against the
pillows. Her breathing was even and the frown had smoothed from her brow. He
wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms and beg her forgiveness
for not keeping her safe. Instead, he nodded curtly to Anna, turning aside
before his emotions betrayed the depth of his feelings.

Following Vad, Kered entered a small chamber that housed his
weapons. Cupboard after cupboard held knives and swords and eight-pointed
stars.

Vad did not allow him any inner privacy. “You displayed far
too much interest in Maggie’s health.”

“What would you have me do—allow them to purge her until she
was but bones among the covers?” Kered flung open the tall cupboard doors.

“We both know that a man of influence would never publicly
show such interest in a slave. He would remember that he must lifemate for the
sake of alliances—powerful alliances.”

Kered busied himself pretending to assess his store of
weapons.

“You would raise no eyebrows if Maggie were in the women’s
quarters, the proper place for ill slaves. And what of the prospects of Einalem
for your lifemate? You know it is but a matter of time before the council asks
her to reconsider you as a lifemate. How must she be interpreting your
interest?”

Kered opened the rough blanket that wrapped the sacred
sword, which Vad had hidden on the back of one shelf. Removing the woolen
covering, Kered sheathed the sword at his hip. “I understand my
responsibilities.” Kered stowed the cup of Liarg in a soft leather pack and
slung it over his shoulder.

“Do you?” Vad asked, softly. “I suspect you have lost your
heart, my friend. Can you even remember why you sought Nilrem’s wisdom?”

“I remember,” Kered answered, avoiding Vad’s eyes.

“I think not. You wanted to end the Tolemac wars. As a
councilor, it is possible. This foolishness over a slave—’twill be
misinterpreted as a madness. Worse, you may find yourself cast out. Who will
halt the Tolemac wars then?”

“Am I the only man capable of negotiation?” Kered snapped.

“At this time? In this place? Aye.”

The two men studied one another. Tension, like a brewing
summer storm, filled the air.

“What of Maggie’s gun?” Vad asked, stepping forward and
placing his hands on his friend’s broad shoulders. Then, as a personal slave
would, he smoothed Kered’s military tunic of white and red.

“Wrap it in the blanket and leave it where it is.” Kered
knew Vad’s gesture was meant to appease him.

Vad gave a tug to the hem of Kered’s tunic and then put the
gun away, closing the cupboard doors securely. Last, he buffed the sword hilt
with his elbow.

“Nilrem’s beard! Leave off,” Kered protested to his friend.
“You are not a slave!”

“You must present the correct impression. I have hopes that
you will be made one of the eight high councilors,” Vad said, running after
Kered as he strode to the chamber door.

“I have memorized my words and there is naught more to do. I
do not aim so high—yet. I will be content as one of the lesser councilors.
Their voting power, their oration rights, are equal with the eight chieftains.
The chieftains might carry the weight of armies, treasuries, and history behind
their words, but I have legend.” Kered was grateful for the opportunity to put
aside his own dilemmas. “‘Tis absurd, I suppose, and yet I am confident. It is
a shame you will not see their faces when I present the cup.”

“How can you influence them to make a treaty with the Selaw
if you are not one of the eight?” Vad asked, scrutinizing his friend once more
for lint or wrinkles.

“Debate. Words. Logic,” Kered said soberly.

“You will need to be very good—and walk a path of propriety
and levelheadedness.”

Kered hoped that Vad would not bring up the subject of
Maggie again. “There are those who will support me outright, for they know my
abilities. Others are sheep and will go as one or another councilor goes.”

“Aye,” Vad agreed. “Direct your words to Tol or Sallat. They
think for themselves. Leoh will choose for himself, of course.”

“And Samoht?” Kered asked his friend. “Where will he aim his
words?”

“Aim. A good word. He has Ronac in his camp already. Ronac
cannot think for himself—is besotted with Samoht’s consequence.’’

Kered knew the sad truth of Vad’s assessment. “Tarammur is
Samoht’s man, too, and unfortunately wavers on every issue.”

Vad followed Kered back to Maggie’s bedside. “Whoever offers
Tarammur the most gold will have his vote and his wine.”

“And Flucir is a powerful man,” Kered interrupted, “but as
desirous as Samoht is to take from the Selaw without treaty. He lacks
compassion, lacks conscience. His loyalties are not yet established.”