Lion's Bride - Iris Johansen [11]
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Not even you?”
“It’s the law of Dundragon. Ware has reason. He’s a great warrior, and warriors have many enemies. Dundragon must remain secure.”
“My leaving will not cause this fortress to fall. He does not want me here.”
“Where is this balm Jasmine spoke about?”
“What?” The discussion was not going as she had planned. He was being both evasive and distracted. Thea gestured to the small pottery jar on the table. “I’ll not ask much of you, but I’m a stranger in this land and I—What are you doing?” He had opened the jar and stood before her with a small portion of a clear salve on his fingers.
“It appears obvious.” He carefully spread the salve over her nose and cheeks. “You’re not as burned as I thought. The skin may not even peel. A few days should bring about healing.”
“I kept my mantle drawn forward over my forehead to protect me.” The salve felt cool and tingly. “I learned a harsh lesson the first week after the caravan left Constantinople. I was not accustomed to being outdoors and I burned very badly.”
“Did no one warn you of the dangers of the sun?” He dipped his fingers again in the jar. “Your father, perhaps?”
She went still. “I’m willful at times and I did not listen.”
He tilted her head and spread a little of the salve on her neck. “I can believe you are willful. I cannot believe you would not listen to warning. I judge you to be very sensible.”
She moistened her lips. “I was different before my father died. Sorrow brings wisdom.”
“True.” He pushed aside the blanket. “Your shoulder blades are burned. The straps of the basket must have pulled the gown from your shoulders.” He gently rubbed the salve into her shoulder. “How did you escape from the caravan?”
“I was at the very end of the caravan when Hassan surprised us. I grabbed my basket, water, and some food and hid beneath a wagon. When I saw my chance, I slipped away.”
“You were not—” He hesitated.
She gazed at him, puzzled. Then she realized what he meant and shook her head. “They did not see me.” She smiled bitterly. “And they were far too busy with the other women to seek me out.”
“You were very fortunate. Except for your father, of course. You said he was a merchant?”
“No.”
“Perhaps a pilgrim on his journey to the Holy Land? Or a soldier on his way to join the knights who defend this land from—”
“For God’s sake, Kadar, what are you about?”
They both turned around to see Ware standing, scowling, in the doorway, his gaze on Kadar’s hand on Thea’s bare shoulder.
Ware entered the chamber and slammed the door. “If you must couple with the woman, take her to your quarters. I won’t have my servants running screaming to me of—”
“I’m certain Jasmine would not scream. It would do damage to her dignity.” Kadar leisurely drew the gauze cover back over Thea’s shoulders. “I was merely tending to our guest’s burn.”
“Are you finished?”
Kadar nodded.
“Then wait for me in the hall. I would have a word with her.”
Kadar hesitated, then said to Thea, “We will have our talk later.”
She did not want him to leave. His dangerous probing had made her uneasy, but not as uneasy as Ware did. He was wearing a simple dark-blue tunic instead of armor, but he still looked like the warrior he was, with broad shoulders and the thick, corded muscles of his arms. His hair was so dark, it appeared almost black and was bound back from a face whose bone structure was clean and bold as the edge of a sword. His glance had the same sharp edge as he stared down into her eyes.
And she felt entirely too small and helpless sitting on the stool. She stood up, facing him as the door closed behind Kadar.
He attacked with no preliminaries. “I’ll not have you practicing your wiles on Kadar. You will not display your body or couple with him. You’ll not try to use him in any way. Do you understand?”
She stared at him in disbelief. “I did not display—”
“You sent for him while you were naked.”
“It was a mistake. I didn’t mean—I was in my bath and I—”
“Like Bathsheba on her rooftop.”
“No, it wasn’t like that at