Dust motes danced on the narrow path of sunlight streaming through the long, narrow window into the chamber. The ride to the tower had been long and hot, but now the heat was abating. In truth, it was quite pleasant in this circular room, the sun bathing her face…
In the distance Galen could see the watchtower silhouetted against the blood-red setting sun. Pavda was tied to the tree that grew beside the brass-bracketed door.
One horse. She was alone in the tower.
It could be a mistake. Kalim could be wrong.
But Kalim would not lie to him.
She could have a purpose for being here.
Of course she had a purpose. Her lover had told her to meet him.
Rapunzel, let down your hair…
The narrow tower window was dark. Was she waiting for her lover to arrive before she lit the candle?
He could feel the shadows of the tower reach out with iron claws, dragging him into darkness.
He was a civilized man. He should think, he should try to search out reasons, delve into his soul for understanding.
Yet the closer he came to the tower, the more his thoughts became blurred. Time seemed to shift. The man he had become was lost. The wild, primitive boy he had been when he had last ridden this serpentine road toward the tower was found.
The flame like rage licked at him, surrounded him, devoured him, became one with him…
Chapter 7
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She should be afraid, Tess realized drowsily, as she opened her eyes and first saw the huge dark silhouette framed against the blood-red sky beyond the slit of window. In his billowing cloak he reminded her of a fierce hawk limned in fire. Galen.
She wasn't afraid. There was something supremely natural in waking and seeing Galen watching her. She was glad the waiting was over. The years had passed so slowly, the loneliness had gone on too long. "Galen…"
"Yes, I regret to disappoint you." The harshness in his voice jarred her into full wakefulness. "But life is full of disappointments, isn't it? "
She shook her head to clear it as she struggled upright in the chair. "You're not supposed to be here. I didn't expect you for another two days."
"What bridegroom could resist rushing back to his beloved?" The heavy irony in his voice made her flinch. He moved across the room to the fireplace and knelt on the hearth. "Imagine my disappointment to find you had fled my eager arms."
"You know I'm not your beloved." She watched him strike flint to the wood in the grate, wishing desperately the room was not dark so she could see his expression. She was aware of something different in his demeanor, in the inflection of his voice. "You're angry with me?"
"I was, but I'm not any longer."
She was not reassured and blurted out quickly, "I know you told me I wasn't to come here, but it was necessary." She frowned as a thought occurred to her. "How did you know I was here?"
"Kalim followed you."
"Kalim…" She leaned forward in her chair, peering at the shadowy contours of his face. Now, she was beginning to suspect the reason for his anger. "I suppose he told you about that foolishness he—"
"I don't want to discuss Kalim." The spark caught, and suddenly the wood burst into flame. "His role in this is done."
"I have to discuss Kalim, if I'm to—" She inhaled sharply as he turned his face toward her. The features were the same, but his expression made them alien to her. He looked younger, harder, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight, his lips curving in a reckless smile that held an element of cruelty. "I think it would be best if we talk," she murmured.
"I'm done with talk." He shrugged off his cloak and dropped it on the carpet in front of the hearth. "And I'm done with waiting."
Waiting. The word stirred something in her memory, a realization that had come to her in that half-waking state only a moment ago. "You're not yourself. Let's go back to the palace and we'll—"
"On the contrary, you've never seen me more myself than I am at this moment." He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off, and dropped it carelessly on the floor. His tone was soft, easy, almost carefree, and yet Tess found herself tensing as if confronted by a wild animal. The comparison was apt because in this moment Galen seemed a magnificent catlike creature, lithe, silken, completely sensual.
He crossed to the windowsill and half sat, half leaned against it as he pulled off his boots, then his trousers. "Remove your clothing." The words were spoken casually. "I wish you to be ready for me." He glanced up at her and smiled faintly as he saw the way she stiffened. "As you must always be ready for me from this time on. At any hour and in any way I want you. I may not be sure your babe is mine, but I will not be cheated. There will be a child for the El Zalan."
"Not yours?" She should be arguing with him, perhaps even be growing fearful, but she found she was only curious, fascinated by this new side to him.
"My pleasure will be in the result, if not the creation." He was naked now and moving toward her across the chamber. She was again aware of his vibrant animal grace, the rippling muscles of his thighs that flexed as he walked, his arousal.
"Stand up," he commanded.
She jerked her gaze from his lower body and slowly got to her feet. She could feel excitement pounding through her as she stared at him. "You really should listen to me."
"That's what I told myself." He smiled. "But then I realized a man can blind himself with logic. Why try to find excuses for what is a woman's nature? You were brought up by a strumpet, and it was unreasonable for me to expect you not to have the same morals." He began to unfasten her gown. "You lusted, and I was not here to satisfy." His smile widened as he saw the shiver run through her when his knuckles brushed against her breasts. "I won't make that mistake again. You'll travel wherever I go from now on." He parted the bodice of her gown and looked down at her breasts. A dark flush mantled his cheeks, and his voice became thick. "But you'll learn to please only me with your body." He reached out and cupped her left breast in his hand.
She bit her lower lip to smother a cry. His palm was hard, callused against her softness, and sent a strange heat through her body.
His thumbnail flicked back and forth across the nipple, watching it grow hard and distended. "You like this, don't you? Tell me, was Yusef a good lover?"
"Yusef wasn't—" She broke off as his thumb and finger closed on her nipple, not roughly, but with just enough pressure to send hot flame tingling through her. Her spine arched helplessly toward him. She had not dreamed her flesh could be this sensitive to mere touch. She couldn't breathe. Her breasts were lifting and falling as she tried to force air into her lungs.
"I believe we won't talk of Yusef."
"I wasn't the one who brought him up," she said indignantly.
"I was wrong. I didn't know how angry I'd feel hearing his name on your lips." He drew a deep breath, his hand opening and closing on her breast. "And I didn't think I'd care if I hurt you, but I find the idea oddly distasteful."