Courting Kel Page 15

  Satisfied he knew what Kel would look like in twenty-five years or so, Aren turned his attention to Storr’s conversation with Amazonia’s queen.

  “If Keleos wants to come home, you—”

  Aren supposed his sudden appearance on Basalia’s vidscreen had made her pause. She stared at him for a long moment then said, “You must return her. I’ll not consign my only child to a loveless marriage. A marriage based solely on your ridiculous Ondrican laws.”

  Aren stiffened at the insult to his homeworld’s customs. And it made him even madder to think that Basalia would expect him to give up Kel. At least, he wanted to inform his mother-in-law, Ondrican didn’t keep slaves. His father’s hand on his shoulder warned him to hold his tongue. But he couldn’t stop his thoughts or the suspicion Basalia’s tirade was overdone. She had, after all, agreed to the marriage or Kel wouldn’t be on Ondrican at all. On the other hand, Kel claimed she’d been kidnapped. Suppose… His father’s voice cut off Aren’s thoughts.

  “Basalia, even you must admit our children have had little time to become acquainted, let alone fall in love. Aren, because he cares for Keleos and wants her to be happy in her marriage, wishes to bring his wife to visit her mother. Keleos misses you.”

  Basalia snorted. “Your son wants to visit for the sole purpose of spying on Amazonia. Assessing our strengths and where Ondrican might breach our defenses.”

  Aren wondered about Basalia’s open hostility but dismissed it. She was likely still pissed at Storr for trying to fuck her. Or maybe it was Storr’s lack of success that made her hostile still. Squelching a laugh, he nudged Storr to reply.

  “Then pick a neutral place away from Amazonia. We have the technology to reproduce your castle and a few of your people.”

  “A neutral place, eh? All right. We can hash out the details as to where later.” An assessing gleam in her eyes, she continued. “Castle? You once considered my home a hovel, Storr. If you don’t remember it, I’ll provide you a brief image. You spent months here with my older sister. Months you obviously prefer to forget.”

  “I remember,” Storr growled. “Will you allow it or not, Basalia?”

  “I’ll transmit the images shortly. But if this is a trick, Storr, you’ll live to regret it. And then I’ll cut you into little pieces myself.”

  “Codswallop!” Storr swore as Basalia disappeared from his screen. “What a woman. She means it, you know.” Leveling his sternest gaze on Aren, he added, “I want to live to see my grandchildren, so you’d better have told me the truth.”

  “I have, Father. Kel doesn’t believe in the prophecy cloth or that it will follow us no matter where we go. This ploy should convince her. Of the following-us part anyway. Hopefully, it will also convince her about our dreams. And her possible pregnancy.”

  “Her swelling belly will show her sooner or later.”

  “I’d prefer her believing in my—our—love before then, Father.”

  “Peace with Amazonia is what I want most—next to my grandsons of course.” Seeing his son’s face, Storr quickly added, “Or granddaughters.”

  Aren grinned. “Knowing Kel, if our first child is a son, she’ll think she must hide him from her mother.”

  “If Kel doesn’t drown him herself.”

  A soft chime alerted them Basalia had returned. Aren waited only long enough to save the images she sent. Then he left, determined to make Kel believe in their destiny.

  Basalia waited until Storr focused his full attention on her.

  “Aren has gone,” he said.

  “This plot we hatched to bring them together is taking on a life of its own. First Keleos’ abduction. Now tricking Aren into believing he’s bringing her to some nonexistent Amazonia when it is really Amazonia.”

  “Imagine the good that will come of it,” Storr told her. “Aren knows the risks in taking Keleos home, but he cares enough for her to do it anyway. That should convince her she’s more than a bedmate to him.”

  “Even if he believes he’s not really taking her home?” Basalia shook her head then rubbed her temples. “This is confusing even to me.”

  Storr’s jaw firmed—a sure sign he was determined to tread this path and the damn the consequences. “Everything will work out as planned.”

  “If it doesn’t, Storr, you have no one to blame but yourself.”

  * * * * *

  The Country

  Kel didn’t bother asking Drew what she meant about the prophecy cloth showing true events. Instead, as soon as Drew headed back to Jocelyn’s, Kel stocked the backpack she’d used on her trip to the snow. She felt a little guilty about sneaking away, but she hadn’t said she wouldn’t try to escape. And why should she feel guilty when Aren had lied to her? A dream, he’d told her—only a dream!

  But she’d sensed from the moment Aren had stroked his thumb over her brow that what would happen—what they would do and feel—would mean everything to her. She’d tried to resist but failed. She’d given herself into his keeping. Willingly. As if she knew she would never experience anything like this again.

  Now, knowing how very much she loved him, realizing she’d not felt an answering emotion from him, she had to leave. Her heart, her warrior spirit, demanded she return to her own world. To her own people.

  Today fortune smiled on Kel in two ways. The day was sunny but not overly warm and Drew was spending the day with Laurette and Jocelyn learning new patterns for their looms.

  Settling the backpack on her shoulders, she folded a heavy towel around one of Aren’s sharpest kitchen knives. Tucking it into her waistband, she headed in the direction Aren had flown Peg. The tallest peak would guide her until she needed to take a different path—away from Storr City. Away from Aren.

  Squashing the idea she would miss him, she continued on her chosen path as if taking a leisurely hike. She knew how to pace herself, but soon realized that as the ground rose and the air thinned her legs weakened.

  As usual, at the first sign of weakness, Basalia’s imagined voice blasted into her mind to chastise her. You should have taken Horse.

  “In some societies, Mother, horse thieves are hanged.” The sound of her own voice provided company of a sort. At least, between Basalia’s harping and Kel’s answering, she didn’t feel quite so alone.

  You could stay until Aren returns. Coax him into showing you more of the countryside. Then make your escape.

  “Seduce him, you mean. And he may never leave me alone again.”

  Wretched trees! You’ve already lost sight of the peak and the sun. You have no idea where you are.

  “I do know. I just need to rest a minute. Once I regain my breath and my legs are steadier I’ll go on.” So saying, she sank to the ground.

  Sometime later she awoke. Shadows told her she’d slept longer than she’d meant to. The air held a chill, making her glad she’d borrowed the all-weather blanket from Aren’s lodge.

  Basalia’s voice returned to Kel’s mind in all its nagging glory. Stole it. Aren may not beat Drew for letting you escape, but he’ll punish her for letting you steal that blanket.

  “Oh be still, Mother!” Kel ignored Basalia’s warnings, but worried her lower lip as she soldiered on. She expected the trees would thin but they seemed to thicken. Their trunks grew so close together Kel began to despair of ever finding her way out of them. At least she’d had sense enough to pack flint and stone and scraps of dry peat to build a small fire. With a fire and the all-weather blanket she’d stay warm enough.

  “I wonder what the altitude is here.” Gathering detritus from the forest floor, she fashioned a mattress then put the blanket over it. Satisfied she’d sleep comfortably, she hunkered down to start her fire. She’d barely coaxed a spark into a single flame when the rain started. No gentle pitter-pat like she’d heard at the hot springs, but a deluge like she’d heard at the waterfall Aren had taken her through. It was so cold her teeth chattered.

  If she didn’t drown first, she’d freeze to death.

  “Are you
ready to go home now, Kel?” Caton’s voice held a hint of amusement as he wrapped a warm, dry blanket around her shoulders.

  “I should have known Aren wouldn’t trust me.”

  “Aren trusted you well enough. I’m the one who set Erland and the younger Storrs to watch you. Not Storrsix—he’s too young as yet.”

  Kel surrendered to the hysterical laugh building in her chest. When she recovered, she said, “H-how long must he wait for this k-kind of ad-adventure?”

  “Another year or so. Next to Erland, he’s the best tracker.”

  “How far did I get?” she wondered aloud, allowing Caton to help her to her feet.

  “Close to twenty kilometers. Not bad for a girl…a person not knowing where she was going.”

  “Keep talking, Da.” Erland came from the shadows, a lantern in his hand. “You’ll dig yourself a hole so deep you’ll have to wait for Aren to pull you out.”

  “If I don’t drown first.” Caton hoisted Kel over one wide shoulder.

  “I can walk,” she protested weakly. Hanging upside down made the blood rush to her head and left her dizzy.

  “Not in those fancy boots you’re wearing. Not through the muck we’re wading through. Wager you’ll have blisters to show for this day’s trek.”

  Kel moaned. “Blisters to support the tale you’ll tell Aren when he returns.”

  “He’ll hear none such from me or any of mine.”

  Using her hands to inch up his massive back, Kel managed to look into Caton’s face. “You won’t tell Aren I—”

  “Went for a hike and got a little turned around?”

  “Ugh! That sounds so much worse than if I ran away. A warrior…”

  Caton grunted. “Pride I understand, Kel. I’ll not mention anything at all, then. Unless he asks, of course. And so long as you don’t try to run again.”

  “I can live with that. Tak.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  With a sigh Kel resigned herself to remaining with Aren. Her heart felt lighter, as if Caton had taken the decision from her, giving her an excuse to stay.

  And that guanshit prophecy cloth had nothing to do with it.

  Chapter Ten

  Aren’s few days lasted a week. Kel had decided to behave as if she’d scarcely noticed his absence. When she saw Peg making lower and lower circles over the lodge, she felt an excitement she could not contain. She limped to Aren, only to have him hold her at arm’s length.

  “Peg glop,” he explained, leaning down to kiss the pout from her lips.

  “The hot spring awaits, m’lord.” As it had waited, candles unlit, for four long days. She didn’t intend to tell him how many hours she’d spent arranging the candles just so. Or how long she’d sat in the dark, yearning for him to join her.

  “Did you miss me?” he asked as they hurried toward the spring. Her blistered feet protested the pace.

  “A little. In truth, Drew, Laurette and Erland kept me so busy I had little time to think about you.” But the prophecy cloth had filled her nights with dreams of him. Dreams that left her weak with longing. Another fact she wouldn’t tell him. Just as she would keep her running away to herself and pray Caton kept his word.

  Keeping hold of her hand, Aren jumped into the spring. When they surfaced, she started a water fight that cleaned away most of Peg’s glops.

  Aren caught her hands and pulled her to him for a kiss that left her breathless and wanting more. She helped him peel off his clothes while he helped her shed hers. With a wave of his hand, he lit the candles. Yet another show of his Ondrican genetic tricks.

  “You did miss me,” he said, stroking her already rigid nipples.

  She grasped his swollen cock. “Not as much as you missed me.”

  He pinched her nipples, making her gasp. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “They’re a little sensitive. Ever since…”

  “Our dream of fucking on horseback? And our making love all that night?”

  Looking into his eyes, she nodded. When he kissed each tender nub, she sensed he’d wanted the subject of dreams brought up.

  “What is it, Aren? Do you want me to tell you about my dreams? The ones I had while you were gone?” Or will you tell me that the first dream we shared was not a dream at all but foretelling? And what does it mean for us?

  “Unnecessary, Flame. I dreamed as well.”

  His confession didn’t surprise her. She had sensed him lurking at the edges of her dreams, she on the outskirts of his. If she’d known how to bring him closer, she would have. Something else she wouldn’t admit. Nor would she tell him how furious she’d felt, knowing he’d denied her a choice yet again. No matter that she’d allowed him to mate with her when she might have stopped him. Not that she had wanted to stop him. She had willingly gone to him that night. And eagerly taken him into her then and the next morning.

  “I do, however, intend to prove to you that the prophecy cloth will follow us anywhere.”

  Kel jutted her chin. “How?”

  “By sending you home.”

  “Home,” she echoed, feeling a spurt of joy followed by utter devastation. How could he send her home now? If the prophecy cloth had told the truth—that she and Aren were destined to be together—how could he send her home?

  “I thought you’d like that, Kel. You can see your mother and your friends. You and Basalia can plan our wedding ceremony, or whatever kind of feast you want. Your people will share our joy. Then we—”

  “You’ll fill The Herald with invaders, free the men we’ve captured, and kill our women or bring them back here as slaves.”

  He blanched, then his face and chest flushed red. Climbing out of the spring, he gathered the clothing they’d flung away then headed for the lodge. He waved. The candles sputtered and their light died.

  Kel buried her face in her hands and sobbed. What, she wondered, was the matter with her? She craved his kisses, his lovemaking, but she’d picked a fight to send him away.

  Her own voice in her mind damned her. Stupid, Kel. Sending him away when you want him—need him to hold you and mate with you. Even for you, Kel, too stupid for words.

  * * * * *

  Aren veered away from the lodge and headed toward his greenhouse—anywhere to get away from Kel.

  May all the gods blast her!

  She’d run. He could see she’d spent too much time in the sun. Her creamy skin was red from hours of exposure—something she knew better than to do. And her limp shouted her feet were tender. Why would they be tender unless she’d walked too far in her boots? Boots he should have hidden from her or taken with him. He’d sensed—no, he’d known!—she would try to escape. He’d trusted her and she had betrayed him—gods-blasted woman! Her dove-gray eyes had hidden her duplicity. Even as they kissed goodbye, their eyes open, hers had darkened, making him believe she wanted him again. Making him believe she loved him.

  She came back, a more rational side of his mind reminded him.

  “Probably got lost or tired…or hungry.” As if she hadn’t sense enough to take food and water with her. But something had brought her back.

  Or someone.

  He dismissed that notion. Only he had reason to think she would run away. He glanced in the direction of Caton’s home. Perhaps Kel’s trying to return the prophecy cloth had aroused suspicion in someone’s mind. Caton and Jocelyn knew Kel didn’t want to acknowledge her marriage to Aren. His leaving her alone might have caused them to keep an eye on her. Raking his hair, he decided it was too late to call on Caton tonight. Tomorrow…tomorrow he and Kel would travel to make-believe Amazonia.

  The gnawing feeling in his belly told him Kel had run for a reason—one beyond her natural hatred of captivity. Her accusation about taking The Herald to raid Amazonia seemed to come from nowhere. Had she discovered the trick he was about to play on her?

  Impossible. Basalia had no way to contact Kel here in the country or anywhere else unless he permitted it. And Aren now knew Storr and Kel’s mother had some ne
farious scheme working. Something that involved their children.

  Like marriage?

  “You think?” he muttered to himself.

  He’d managed to distract himself from wondering what had set Kel off. He returned to the puzzle. What had he done or said…?

  Halting in mid-stride, he replayed the scene in his mind. Remembering how her eyes had changed color and her lips had thinned, he crowed. “Ahh. I said I’d send her home. Send not take. She doesn’t want to leave me!” He almost shouted the words he was so overcome by joy.

  But as he made his way back to the lodge that gnawing feeling in his belly worsened.

  * * * * *

  The next morning Kel spotted Erland and Storrtwo through Storrsix racing around a sleek, silvery saucer parked right outside the cook room door. To her, it resembled a much smaller version of The Herald. Her stomach lurched and her mouth went dry. Unless Aren’s invaders were as thin as paper, they wouldn’t fit inside this ship. Which meant she owed him an apology.

  “May we go with you, Aren?” Erland asked, standing like a soldier at parade rest. His younger brothers zoomed around the spaceship before circling Aren as if their numbers could convince him to let them board.

  “Next time. Maybe.” Ruffling Storrsix’s mop of dark hair, Aren met Kel’s eyes. Guilt over her rudeness last night made her look away.

  Drew and Laurette came around the corner of the lodge, Drew bearing the prophecy cloth. “It will stay with us for a time,” Drew explained. “Because we made it.”

  “How long?” Kel wondered.

  “A day or two,” Laurette replied, stroking her hand over the soft material. It seemed to curl around Laurette’s and Drew’s hands as if craving the girls’ touch. Were it a cat, Kel suspected it would purr.

  Jealous that her cloth could betray her so blatantly, Kel strode toward Aren. Reaching him, she said, “This trip seems a waste of time and resources.”

  “Both are mine to waste. Especially if it proves my point.” He glanced at the small package Kel held at her side. His eyebrows quirked upward in a brief question.