WINDREAPER (32 page)

"Got you!" he shouted, his fingers hooking over her collarbone.

Liza twisted away and she managed to get to her feet and run.

She glanced back to see him throw away the shawl with a violent burst of anger. She imagined she heard his mumbled curse as his eyes pierced her.

"Alel, help me!" she prayed as she ran to the rocks. Her frightened eyes swung from outcropping to outcropping, and her heart sank as she realized there was no where she could hide.

* * *

Frustrated at having her so close only to lose her, Conar snarled beneath his breath. A sharp crack of lightning drowned out his vulgar hiss. But when he saw her disappear among the rocks, he howled with glee, for he knew she'd have to make her way into the grotto to elude him.

"Go on," he cooed, watching her skirt the rocks and head for the leafy overhang. "That's right. Go right on in."

Conar grinned. He could almost see her fleeing through the darkened dual archways leading inside the mountain. He could almost see her glance at the murky green water as she fled past the pool and make for the rear of the cavern, and ultimately, the hidden door that led into the wine cellar.

"That's it," he whispered, imagining her horror and frustration as she found the doorway locked from the other side, realizing she was trapped. Was that a moan of defeat he heard? With the stealth of a jungle cat, he blended into the overgrown bracken beside the grotto's entrance and stepped easily under the first archway.

* * *

Liza stood shivering and tried to swallow pass the lump in her throat. She had jerked on the wine cellar door, but knew it would never budge. Her mouth was dry, her palms wet, her stomach churning. She flicked out her tongue to moisten her trembling lips and began to cry.

With a hitch of terrified breath, she lifted her chin and slowly went back to the crevice leading into the grotto. She was only mildly surprised that he was not standing by the pool. Occasionally, the doorway to the outside would flare with light. She still heard the crackles of lightning, the crash of ocean waves. The steady drumming of battering rain became a distant echo through the tunnel. She didn't know what frightened her more—the storm or the man coming for her.

Suddenly, she knew.

He stood under the archway. His smile turned hard with vengeance. "There's nowhere else to run," he mocked.

"Conar, please. This isn't right. You know it isn't right."

"Right or wrong, I have you where I've always wanted you, my Queen."

"Let me go home, Conar!"

"I don't think so."

"You…you're frightening me. Please move out of the way."

He continued to stare, the dark sapphire in his eyes glowing with an inner fire. She was acutely aware of the silk plastered to her chest, her nipples hard nubs against the cold, wet material. She crossed them protectively over herself.

"That's rather like shutting the barn door after the horses have fled," Conar taunted. He leaned against the rock wall and crossed his own arms over his chest. "You leave nothing to my imagination, Madame."

Liza shivered from the cold, her knees knocking together. She felt numbness in her toes as cold wind blowing down the tunnel spread up her nightgown. "What…what do you want?" she stuttered, her teeth clicking together.

One thick brow lifted in surprise. "What do you think I want?" His gaze settled on her lips. "And my name is Raven."

"Not to me. Never to me! You are Conar McGregor, my—"

"Call me what you want." He started toward her. "It won't make any difference to tonight's outcome."

"You mustn't do this," she pleaded, one hand going out to stay his advance. "You can't!"

"Aye, but I can. You, along with everything else in this keep, belong to me."

His hands tore at the lacings of his shirt, rending the wet fabric from his chest. He tossed away the torn cambric, then turned his attention to his wide leather belt. His eyes on hers the entire time, he slowly unbuckled the belt, slipped it from his lean waist, then loosed the buttons on his black cords.

"Conar, don't," Liza whispered, her knees going weak.

A shudder raced through her when his smile stretched taut and he began to advance. There was no escape. Instinct told her that if she fought him, he would likely hurt her, for there was a wild, glazed look in his lust-filled eyes. She had a horrible thought that he didn't even know who she was, and it made what he was about to do more terrifying because it was so impersonal.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Because you're mine."

And she had yet to make good on her bargain, she thought with panic. Even though she wasn't sure he recognized her, she wouldn't fight him. If by giving in to him she could be free of the promise she had made to the Raven, she would have it over and done. There would be no reason for him to seek her out again.

So, she stood still, shivering in the cold air. He came to stand directly in front of her and snatched her hand. She didn't resist as he looped the belt around her left wrist and pulled it tight. She tried not to flinch as he took her other wrist and, crossing it over the first, securely bound them together.

His face beamed with victory.

"I won't fight you," she whispered.

"You'd better not."

He put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to her knees. Gazing at the top of her wet hair when she bent her head in what he knew was shame, he felt satisfied. Kneeling before her, he cupped her chin, raising her head so she would be forced to look into his eyes. Obviously pleased with what he saw in her gaze, he pushed her backward until she lay beside the water.

"Don't hurt me, Conar." She tensed when he looped her bound wrists over a thick stalagmite behind her.

* * *

Conar's gaze went to the fabric of her gown where her breasts thrust upward. He straddled her, grasping her bodice. With a savage jerk, he ripped away the material, exposing her lace camisole. The sheer protection tore easily when he snagged his callused fingers in the silk and ripped it from her.

Whether it was her soft gasp of humiliated defeat, the erotic sound of tearing fabric, or the sight of her nakedness that inflamed the drug in his system to the boiling point was of no importance. Whatever it was, it released the savage barbarian in him. His mouth went to the flesh of one quivering breast, his teeth and tongue grazing over the puckered nipple. His hand went to the juncture of his thighs, unleashing the weapon waiting with throbbing intent to punish the soft flesh beneath him.

He chuckled hatefully. "My very own rod of discipline."

He took her with the brutal violation of a beast—tearing at her, pummeling her with sharp, deep thrusts that made her scream in agony.

He hardly noticed her terrified, tearful face burning bright with shame. He barely felt her frantic twisting as she strove to dislodge him.

All he knew was the powerful itch centered in his manhood that needed to be scratched by the honeyed walls of her flesh. His blood drummed a hard tattoo in his ears. He saw bright bursts of blinding light behind his tightly shut eyes. Straining against the mounting fury in his loins, he felt the tidal wave of release pouring over him, from him, into her. And when his seed surged deep within her now-limp, now-compliant body, he arched back his head and howled his pleasure.

* * *

Through her blaze of agony and shame, Liza heard his exultant cry, recognizing it for what it was. The triumphant yell of a warlord who had captured and conquered his enemy's woman, who had raped and tamed her with his flesh, marked her as his own, and planted within her a reminder of his passing.

One part of her was nauseated, but another part of her reveled in the knowledge that Conar McGregor's seed was deep within her again. Her lips trembled, and she knew this child would be something very special.

"Mine, damn you!" he bellowed to the walls. The words bounced from one end of the grotto to the other. "You are
mine!"

Liza lay still beneath him when another inhuman yell rocketed through the cavern walls. Torn and bleeding, throbbing in a dozen or more spots, she quivered and she stared at the exposed, strong column of his throat where a heavy vein throbbed to the rhythm of his earlier release. His head was thrown back, his long blond hair cascading over his shoulders, and his chest was damp from both rain and sweat. He looked every inch the conquering warlord when he howled his war cry of lust and defiance to the angry heavens.

"She is mine, Alel!" he shouted again.
"Mine!"

When his head lowered and his eyes met hers, she screamed once, unable to accept what she saw. The wild glare of his eyes flared with fulfillment. The slit pupils, so like those of a pit viper, glowed red with evil. The red pulsed, turned milky green, then red again, before returning to the dark midnight blue.

Slipping past the painful world of his steely impalement, Liza tumbled into the black void of unconsciousness.

* * *

When he saw her faint, Conar laughed, at first only a soft burst of contemptuous victory, then hard as the victory turned to soul-satisfying glee.

"Didn't like what you saw in my eyes, bitch?"

He unhooked the belt from the stalagmite and unbound her wrists, smirking as he saw her bruised, leather-burned flesh. Adjusting his manhood inside his breeches, he pushed away from her and rebuttoned the breeches with unhurried, ill-concealed contempt. He lashed the belt once more around his lean waist and buckled it. Taking one last look at the twin perfections of her breasts rising and lowering in slow cadence to her sleep, he walked back through the grotto's entrance, whistling as though nothing of significance had happened.

His head buzzed with the cotton-encased peace of the drug, his lust sated, his temper calmed, his spirit soothed. He stopped at a hidden niche near the end of the first twist of tunnel and he withdraw a fresh flask of the drug Sern had provided. When his hand closed around the glass, he smiled with relief and left the grotto, never once looking back at the battered body of the woman he hadn't known.

Though there had been something vaguely familiar about her, he didn't care. One whore was as good as the next. What mattered was the full flask and the one in his room that held tonight's dreams and peace.

Tomorrow, he thought fleetingly, he had to see Liza. They had unfinished business. He would tell her tomorrow that he was leaving.

He nodded. She'd be relieved to know she wouldn't have to make good on the bargain she had made. He'd find Amber-lea and take her with him—together, they would raise their child at Ivor.

When Conar made his way through the pouring rain back to the garden, he retrieved the black crystal dagger buried in the chest of a would-be assassin.

"I have it, Mother!" he whispered, almost as a little boy, to the heaving elements.

He gave only a cursory glance to the assassin's companion, whose throat gaped obscenely in the pelting rain and flaring lightning. He shook the wet hair from his eyes and grasped the dagger closer to his chest.

Slipping back through the library door, he made his way to his bed where dreams of his father's death filled him with ecstasy.

It was nearing dawn when Legion woke to find the place beside him empty, the pillow cold, his wife gone. Thinking she must have gone to see about one of their children, he wondered why she had not taken her robe. He frowned. Not only did his gaze scan over the discarded robe, it picked out the pale peach of her nightgown lying on the settee.

He threw back the covers and slipped out of bed. He was just pulling on his tunic over his breeches when shouts came from below. Puzzled and worried, he ran barefoot out of the room, encountering Brelan.

"What's happened?" he asked, heading downstairs toward the sounds coming from the library.

"Don't know," Brelan answered, pushing past a guard.

They hurried outside and came up short at the sight of a headless corpse. Eyes in the severed head stared sightlessly up at them from beside the still fountain. Teal was crouching over the body.

"Who is that?" Brelan asked.

"There's no identification on him." Teal lifted the man's left arm and pushed back the tunic sleeve. There was a tattoo of Raphian, the Destroyer Deity of the Domination, on the underside of the forearm. "There's another corpse by the willow. He's been skewered. I've sent for Conar."

A cold finger of fear raced down Legion's spine. He turned, shouting Liza's name. He raced from one room to another, Brelan close behind, calling over and over again, shouting at those he encountered to find her.

* * *

Roget du Mer tried to wake his friend. "Get up! Do you hear me?" He grabbed Conar's silk shirt and yanked him to a sitting position.

"What?" came the sleepy, groggy reply.

"There's been trouble," Roget shouted, shaking Conar. "Wake up!"

Bent pushed Roget to one side and reached for a glass of water beside the bed. Sighing heavily, the giant emptied the glass directly into Conar's face.

Sputtering and mouthing obscenities, Conar glared up at them. "What?"

"There's been a double killing in the garden. Kaileel's men, I think." Roget threw him a dry shirt as Conar jerked off the wet one.

"Who killed them?" Conar asked.

"No ones knows."

Conar tucked the shirt into the wrinkled breeches in which he had slept and scooped up his boots, indicating with an impatient hand that Roget should lead the way.

His head ached. He felt nauseous. His arms and legs were shaky. Still groggy, he couldn't quite focus on the things Roget was telling him as they climbed the stairs to the keep proper. When he saw Legion's anxious face, something cold went through him. He knew before he asked that Liza was missing.

"How long has she been gone?"

Legion's face was white with worry. "I don't know. There was a storm last night and I remember hearing it. I reached out for her and she wasn't there, so I assumed she hadn't come to bed yet."

"And you didn't think to see where she was?"

"She goes to check on the children at all times of the night," Legion snapped. "You've had men posted to her, guarding her."

"Aye, but it's your responsibility to see to her!" Conar turned to Brelan. "You've sent men to look for her beyond the keep?"

"Not yet, but—"

"See to it, Saur!" Conar stooped to get a closer look at the dead men in the garden. He'd never seen either one. "Does anyone know who they are?"

"No one will admit to it if they do," Shalu answered. "We found the door open into the kitchens. They must have come in that way."

Conar's head throbbed. He felt confused, unable to form questions he had in his mind. He saw his brothers looking to him for help, but he was beyond that at the moment. He was scared to death about Liza, but couldn't seem to formulate what he should do. He sat on the fountain and ran a shaking hand over his hot brow.

"The first thing is to find Liza," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Rylan's men can find out who these two men are."

The sea gate's rusty hinges squealed loudly in the early morning silence. Sighs of relief poured from the men when they saw Sentian Heil with Elizabeth A'Lex, wrapped in his woolen cape, walking up the pathway. Sentian's arms supported her as though, should he take them away, she would collapse.

Conar stood. Blood drained from his face. Taking in the agonizing way Liza walked, the way her eyes passed all the others to find his, a seed of horrifying suspicion took root in his throbbing head. He lowered his gaze to her muddy bare feet, then took in the bruised flesh on her wrists when she grasped the edges of Sentian's cloak.

"No," came the hushed denial from his trembling lips.

Liza walked directly toward him, as though the others did not exist. She stopped only a foot away. "Why?"

Conar drew in a harsh breath. He couldn't answer. All he could do was stare at the painful-looking bruises. The hurt in her face pierced him to the depths of his being, and he lowered his eyes, unable to look at her. He had been unable to protect her and knew she was demanding to know why he had not. Whatever happened to her had been his fault. He should have been there for her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I trusted you."

He flinched with guilt, still unable to meet her direct gaze.

Legion looked as if he wanted desperately to take his wife in his arms, to scream his rage to the heavens, to resurrect the dead men and slay them himself. "Who did this to you?"

Liza ignored him. "I would have held to the bargain, Conar. There was no need to do what you did."

Conar again lowered his gaze to her bruised flesh and somehow knew he had caused her the pain. "Oh, god."

"Did he do this to you?" Legion asked in a deadly calm voice.

"We had a bargain, he and I."

"What kind of bargain?" Brelan snapped.

Liza's face turned soft. She reached out to touch Conar's hair, but stopped, her fingers trembling. "He saved my life last eve," she said to no one in particular. "Those men were trying to abduct me. If he had not been there, I might be dead by now…"

Legion turned to Conar. "You acted like you didn't know anything about these men. Did you kill them?"

"I don't know. I might have."

Brelan gaped. "You don't know?"

Conar shook his head.

Liza lightly gripped Conar's arm. "I am not angry at you, Milord. I deserved your anger—but your hate, I did not."

Conar flinched and looked into her tearful green eyes. He could feel Brelan's furious gaze, Legion's puzzled frown, and opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find his voice.

"What did he do to you, Elizabeth?" Brelan demanded.

"I disobeyed him, Bre."

"He is not your guardian!" Legion snapped. "I am! It is not up to him to give you orders. I will know what he did. How did you come by those bruises?"

"He punished me," came the tiny whisper, hitching with shame and hurt.

Legion's lip curled in a vicious snarl. "Punished you how?"

Conar caught the full impact of his eldest brother's scathing stare. He could feel the hate rolling off Legion like waves to the shore. "Legion—"

"Punished you
how?"
Legion shouted. "Did he cause those bruises? Did he
beat
you?"

"No, Milord."

A vein throbbed noticeably in Legion's temple. "What the hell did he do?"

——

Liza jumped at his shout. Sentian's cape parted as her hands covered her ears. Her torn gown hung limply on her partially exposed torso, revealing the unmistakable angry bruises of a man's hands on her shoulders and at the tops of her breasts.

Legion's eyes slowly slid from his wife to Conar. A look of pure agony passed over his face. "What have you done?" he whispered, his voice breaking with pain, his face crinkling with betrayal and shock. "What have you done, Conar?"

Conar wanted to explain what had happened, how it happened,
why
it happened, but he honestly didn't remember anything from the night before. He knew how violent and punishing his lovemaking had been to his recent female companions, and now, from the look on Liza's face, it became obvious to him that he had taken her. He had seen the same kind of bruises, made from his belt, on the wrists of other women, and hadn't given them a second thought. Now, the sight tore at his male pride and brought hot shame to his cheeks. If he had done all the things to Liza that he had done to those other women, he had hurt her badly. She had not deserved such treatment.

"Did you force her, Conar?" Legion's voice was harsh, grating, full of deadly hate.

Conar looked at Liza, who winced in shame. He faced his brother. "I am sorry, Legion."

Legion's brow rose. "What are you sorry for?"

Conar felt like a child being confronted by a disappointed father. He was deeply ashamed. "For what I did."

"Leave him alone," Liza told Legion as Sentian's protective arm pulled her to him.

Legion's full attention was on Conar. "And exactly what was it you did?" He brought himself face-to-face with Conar. "I will have you admit, before these men, what it was you did to my woman!"

Brelan laid a hand on Legion's shoulder, as if attempting to soothe things over for the moment. "It's not necessary for him to answer you here. Why don't the two of you—"

Legion shook off Brelan's hand. "It is necessary! I want to hear this man admit what he has done! He will admit it to what family he has left! To his friends, if he still has any after this!" He pointed to Liza. "To this woman!"

Liza covered her face with her hands. Despite Sentian's hold on her, she sank to the ground at her Sentinel's feet, her shoulders shaking with sobs. "Don't make him say it." She raised her head and looked into her husband's eyes. "Don't shame him so!"

"You are
defending
him? You want to
protect
him after he has hurt you?"

"He didn't know what he was doing, Milord. He truly didn't!"

"You are
my
wife! You are no longer his to do with as he pleases!"

"I belong to you both!" Liza screamed. "Don't you see that? I was his and now I am yours, but he and I are still connected. He came back here to claim me, but he wouldn't, he couldn't, because I am now legally yours. He couldn't take me away from you." Her head swung to Conar. "It was I who came searching for him last night. I knew he would be here. I wanted him, Legion. I wanted him one more time. I wanted him to take me!"

Conar wanted to cry. She was taking the blame for what he had done. Under Serenian law, she could be sentenced to death. Adultery was punishable by beheading. Liza was trying to protect him with her own life, but he wouldn't allow it. "She's lying, Legion!"

Legion took Liza's arms, lifting her up. He eased her toward Brelan. "Take her inside, Saur."

Brelan urged her toward the library door, refusing to allow her to break away, shushing her tearful entreaties to be allowed to remain.

"No, Brelan!" she pleaded. "I have to make Legion understand!"

"This is between them, now," Saur warned, shushing her again as she protested. Ushering her through the door, he nodded a silent command for Teal to close the door behind them.

Legion waited until Liza's pleading could no longer be heard, then impaled Conar with an icy stare. "Say it!"

Conar took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "She had no part in what I did. I'm not sure—"

"Did you take her?"

Conar slowly nodded. "I must have."

Something evil passed over Legion's face. His hands doubled into fists. "You son-of-a-bitch," Legion whispered, his voice tight. "I should kill you where you stand. I'd like nothing better than to watch your blood running over these stones. But—the gods help us—the people of Serenia need you!"

Conar flinched. "I'm not making excuses for what happened, but I truly don't remember—"

"Shut up!" Legion bellowed. "What I
should
do is relieve you of that filthy piece of flesh dangling between your thighs! I don't think any man here would blame me if I did, or try to stop me!" He looked around at the disappointed, shocked faces. "If I wasn't so loathe to put my hands on you, I'd have them hold you down for me to do it!"

Conar groaned. Legion knew nothing of the dream that had nearly destroyed Conar in Chrystallus.

"Gather your things and get the hell out of this keep! Get the hell away from Boreas! I don't give a damn if you ever come back. I don't even want to know where you can be found. You can go to Eurus or Ivor, it doesn't matter, so long as you never step foot in this keep again!"

Conar's hurt deepened. "This is my home, Legion."

"Not anymore! If you try to stay, I'll have you thrown out! If you come back, try to see my wife again, I'll have you tossed into that dungeon you like so well and leave you there!"

"Let me explain, Legion—"

"If you aren't out by sundown, I swear I will find you and have you removed—in chains, if necessary—from my keep!"

Legion shoved Shalu and Roget out of his way. He stormed through the library door, slamming open the portals so wide, they crashed against the stone wall. Glass shattered, tinkling to the flagstone with a lost, hopeless sound.

The others turned to Conar. Disappointment, regret, disbelief filled every face. Condemnation was evident in their silent stares. No one spoke.

"I'm sorry," Conar mumbled. He wasn't surprised to see Teal du Mer turn his back and walk away.

"Do you need help packing?" Sentian asked. There was no warmth, no help in the look he flung at Conar. Neither was there the love and respect that had always been in the young warrior's gaze. He was Conar's friend, but, foremost, Sentian was Liza's sentinel.

Conar shook his head, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. His heart ached when Sentian turned his back, too. He hung his head in shame.

"Get those two out of here," Shalu ordered to some of the guards standing over the dead men. "Have Hesar's man look at them before you string them up at the front gate. Maybe they're known to him."

For a long time, Conar could feel Shalu looking at him, but when he finally lifted his head, the power of Shalu's anger tore through him. The big Necroman never said a word, but the scorn and censure was evident in the dark face before he, too, turned and walked away.