WINDREAPER (23 page)

Rain battered the keep for three more days. Tempers flared; nerves frayed. The inhabitants of Boreas Keep kept to themselves as much as possible to avoid the clashes such a storm could cause.

No one saw Conar except for Bent. He had encased himself in the lower part of the keep, making it plain he did not care for visitors.

Now, lying on his cot in the damp dungeon cell with his hands beneath his head, Conar glared fitfully at the midnight ceiling of his chamber.

The ebbing effects of the opium had began to wear away the peace in his world. He sat up, frowning at Bent's heavy snoring from the cell across the way. Running a trembling hand through his hair, he tugged at the mass, annoyed he had not been able to sleep through the entire night, to find the drug-induced solace he had tried so hard to force upon himself. The bottle beside him stood empty, the brandy pressing on his bladder with an urgency that he suspected had awakened him. Swinging his legs from the cot, careful not to awaken the sleeping giant whose smacking lips and grunts echoed through the stone corridors, Conar got up and relieved himself.

Something skittered across the floor, dove under the bars of the cell, and padded down the hall, sharp nails clattering.

"Damned rats," he hissed, fumbling in the dark for his breeches. He stepped into them, buttoned only three of the pearl studs, and padded from the cell.

The stone steps leading up to the keep proper were frigid, numbing to his bare feet as he took them two at a time. He felt a draft on his naked chest and shivered, clenching his teeth, cursing himself for not having put on a shirt. He entered the main hall and hastened to the library door, knowing he could pilfer a bottle or two of brandy to finish off his evening.

He wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted him.

Liza was standing by the window, her hands clutching the draperies, staring out at the harsh flashes of lightning. Her long black hair fell almost to her knees, her bare feet peeking out from the hem of her white nightgown. A fringed shawl was draped over her shoulders and back. As the lightning flashed, Conar saw the outline of her body beneath the white silk.

Feeling a tightening in his loins, an urgency in his manhood, he wanted nothing more than to flee the room, flee the sight of her. But he held his ground, some perverse imp within him wanting her to turn, willing her to know he was there. When he saw her head lower, her hands fall to the edges of her shawl to pull it close, he knew her sorceress' instincts had warned her she was no longer alone. Slowly, she turned, her face a blur in the unlighted room.

"Good eve, lady."

* * *

"Good eve," Liza said softly, her heart skipping beats. Lightning flared, revealing his naked chest, the thick hair nestled at his breast. Her womb tightened and her blood began to pound in her ears. She remembered well the feel of that hard chest and the strong arms that had once held her. She swallowed, feeling sweat oozing over her top lip.

His body blocked the doorway. There was no other way out of the room except through the garden with its blistering rain and deadly lightning. She found her legs shaky, her palms sweating, and she knew now was not the time to confront him with what Sentian had told her in the stables a few days before. Hoping with all her being that he would let her pass without incident, she moved toward the door.

As she reached him, he put out a hand, bracing his arm across the door, barring her departure. She wouldn't look up at him, but only stared at his arm, her chin raised in defiance.

"Why are you always in such a hurry whenever I'm near, Milady?" he crooned, amusement in his voice.

Her gaze shifted to his, and she was stunned she could clearly see his sapphire-colored eyes. "I want no fight with you, Conar."

At the use of his name, fire leapt in those dark blue eyes. She flinched and looked away, unable to bear the contempt that had automatically spread over his lips.

"Conar McGregor might have let you pass without challenge," he snapped, his voice bitter. "But I won't."

"I didn't come looking for you," she said, hearing the defensiveness in her voice, wincing at the tone that hinted that was exactly what she had done.

"No?" he asked in a silky voice.

"No." She could have clawed out his eyes when his mouth lifted in a cocky grin that said he didn't believe her. His gentle snort made her want to scream. Instead, her words were too brittle, too defensive. "Just what is it you want from me?"

"Is there something I want from you, Queen Liza?" The smile left his lips. "Or is it something
you
want from
me?"

"I don't want a damned thing from you!" Liza tried to push away the obstruction of his arm, but feeling the rigid muscles, she withdrew her hands.

"No, I don't suppose so! You had the best of me, and what's left isn't worth bothering with."

Her lips parted in shocked dismay. "That's not what I meant."

His hand released the door, his rage and frustration apparent in the taut lines of his body as he moved toward her. Only inches from her bewildered face, he snarled down. "As long as I keep myself out of your sight, you're fine, aren't you, Queen Liza? 'Out of sight, out of mind'—isn't that what they say?"

"It's
you
who keeps yourself detached from those who once cared for you. You prefer to be alone than be with your family."

"I am
not
alone by choice!" he shouted, coming almost nose to nose with her. "I have your husband to thank for that!"

"Don't blame Legion for your loneliness, Conar." She backed away from the surge of fury the name brought once more. "Can we help it if you thrive on your own inconstancy?"

His voice filled with astonishment. "My inconstancy?"

"Aye! One moment you're snarling at everyone, keeping them away, the next you ignore them, barely being civil when they speak to you. Then you disappear for months on end, only to return to cause still more dissension in this keep. No wonder the people within these walls don't want to be near you. You won't
let
them be near you without reminding them who and what you have become!"

His jaw clenched. "That being what, Milady Queen?"

"A son-of-a-bitch!"

Trying to move past him, she gasped when he grabbed her shoulder. He spun her around, pushing her none-too-gently against the doorjamb.

"The ex-lover-of-a-bitch, don't you mean? It was not I who was inconstant, Madame! It was not I who flitted from one man's cock to another!"

Her hand came up to slap him. She would have, had he not knocked it away.

He held both her shoulders in a hard grasp. "You've slapped me one too many times. I ain't letting you do it this time!"

"Then don't insult me!"

"Brelan! Galen! Legion!" With every name, he shook her hard enough to make her teeth click together. "What do you call it if not inconstancy?"

"Is it so inconceivable to you that there was reason? I have told you about Galen—"

"Aye, you told me!" he interrupted, his teeth clenched over his words. "And I can even forgive you that, considering
why
you say you slept with the bastard." His fingers dug painfully into her arm. "I can even stretch that forgiveness to Brelan—after all, you were a widow
again,
weren't you?" His voice went low, deadly thick. "But I can't make that forgiveness bleed over to Legion A'Lex, no matter how hard I try!"

"You
know
Kaileel Tohre forced us to marry! Brelan, himself, told you."

His lips lifted in contempt. "But it wasn't hard to crawl into his bed."

"Would you rather have had Tohre give me to an enemy of yours?"

A harsh, evil laugh came from him. He moved away from her, giving her room to leave. "Legion A'Lex
is
an enemy of mine!"

"That's not true. Legion loves you."

A hateful snort issued from his tight lips. Turning his back to her, he stared into the shadows. "Go back to you husband, Queen Liza. There is nothing for you here."

"Legion loves you," she repeated stubbornly. "This alienation between the two of you is causing him pain. It is breaking his heart."

"My heart was broken long ago, lady!"

"Sometimes I don't think you ever
had
a heart! If you did, it was as black as the garments you wear!"

"You don't know me—you never did, if you believe that."

Liza clenched her fists behind her to keep from pounding him senseless. "I know you're a cruel bastard. Selfish and deceitful. You have no conception of what true love and loving is."

"Such
true
love and loving that you've found with my brother?"

"Damn you! I loved you more than anything in this life!"

"Past tense," he whispered.

Liza's face twisted with grief. "You don't turn love off and on like a tap, Conar."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Oh, I forget," she sneered. "It's not the man I loved to whom I'm speaking, is it? No, as you keep reminding me, that man is dead."

"Dead and buried."

"Buried beneath the contemptible, selfish fool who took his place. I've known enough arrogant men to recognize one when I see him. Mayhaps next time I won't confuse you with the man I loved!"

He stood over her again, intimidating her with his anger. "And how many gods-be-damned men have you known? Were there others you slept with that no one knows about?"

She knew she'd struck a raw nerve in his thick hide and foolishly pressed it once more. "More than I care to remember!"

Conar went totally still, intense bitterness flickering across his handsome face. "I ought to beat the hell out of you for saying that."

Liza knew she'd gone too far. She backed away. "You won't."

A cold smile touched his mouth. "Are you sure?" He came toward her.

"Don't!"

He raised a taunting eyebrow, while his grin grew wider, more leering. He took another step.

"Keep away from me! I mean it, Conar! Don't fuck with me!"

His brows shot up in surprise, while his face wrinkled with amusement. "Who taught you such language, Liza?" he asked, his lips trembling with laughter.

"I said keep away!"

He laughed, throwing back his head. "What will you do, Milady? Curse at me again? Call me names? If Legion was your teacher, surely he warned you that using such words could get you into all kinds of unwanted trouble."

"I'm warning you, Conar! Cursing isn't all he taught me. I can defend myself. I won't let you beat me!" She tried to flee, but he sidestepped in front of her, neatly blocking her retreat.

"What else did he teach you, Liza?"

"He taught me how to be a woman. He taught me how to take care of myself. He taught me how to—"

"Be quiet!"

She wanted to hurt him. Every fiber in her being wanted to cause him as much pain as she was feeling in her heart. "I thought you wanted to hear what I'd been taught. Don't you want to know about my many teachers? All the men who have taught me since you left? My legion of lovers, who—"

"Stop!"

Beyond thinking, beyond hearing. Liza aimed her energy at destroying him. "You might have taken my virginity, but you taught me precious little about being a real woman!"

"A real whore, you mean!"

Her face burned shame at what he had called her. She drew back her hand, and this time, before he could react, she connected hard with his cheek. "How
dare
you?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

The vicious blow had snapped Conar's head to the side. He held it there, gritting his teeth in obvious fury. Slowly, he turned back to face her. "What's the matter, little one? Don't you like being recognized for the slut you are?"

She brought up her hand again, intent on smacking the sneer of contempt from his rigid face. This time, he grabbed her wrist in a punishing hold, sharply twisted it behind her back, and pulled her toward him. She moaned in pain and tried unsuccessfully to claw at his face with her free hand. He yanked down that hand as well, crossing it behind the other at the small of her back.

"Bastard," she groaned, trying to slam her knee into his groin.

But he had obviously anticipated her move. He lifted her clear of the floor and bent her backward over the nearest table. He crushed her with his weight as he leaned into her.

Liza gasped for breath. "Let…go…"

She twisted violently to the right, her move catching him off guard. They rolled off the heavy table and onto the floor. Her breath came out in a rush as his full body weight descended on her. She twisted out from under him, rolling away. When she tried to scramble to her knees, he grabbed a handful of her long hair, sharply pulling her to a stop.

"Damn you!" She tried to pry her hair free, but he had wrapped it several times around his fist. "That hurts!" she yelped, treacherous tears sliding down her flushed cheeks.

Dragging her to him, Conar brought her face close to his. "I ought to teach you what being a whore really means, Elizabeth McGregor, but I'm afraid I might catch a disease leftover from one of your baseborn lovers!"

She spit in his face. Her heart missed a beat as she looked into a shocked visage that promised instant retaliation. He increased the pressure on her hair, making her suddenly very terrified of this man. He was someone she didn't know, and didn't want to.

With contemptuous ease, Conar put his free hand to his cheek, wiping away the spittle. He looked at the wetness on his fingertips and a strange expression crossed his face. "I would have never thought you capable of that."

"Conar, I—I—"

"Shut up."

Hurt, shame, and a terrible sense of loss registered on his face. Breath seemed to be coming heavily from him, as if from the very core of his soul. Liza could feel it fanning the wisps of hair along her temple. When his hand came up, she flinched away, preparing for the blow, thinking he meant to strike back. Instead, he lowered his hand. She whimpered when he wiped his palm on her throat.

"Don't, please," she begged, feeling her cold spittle.

"Just returning what's yours. Don't let it be said I've kept anything that belongs to Legion A'Lex." His hand settled at the base of her throat.