Lion's Bride - Iris Johansen [14]
He looked down into the depths of the wine in his goblet. “By God, I won’t let that bastard force me to leave.”
Kadar shook his head. “I would have thought the temple would have rid you of the sin of pride.”
“Why? There’s no more pride on earth than in the temple.” He stood up and put his goblet down on the table. “Except perhaps in Kadar ben Arnaud. Stay away from the Greek woman, Kadar. Lust makes all men vulnerable.”
“It’s pity I feel. Though I’m a man and I admit to a little lust at the time,” Kadar smiled. “She has truly lovely breasts.”
Pale and full and crowned with taut, pink nipples.
The memory came back to Ware, and with it a rush of heat to his already aching loins. There was no reason for the intensity of this lust. He had called for a woman to come to his bed last night and had indulged himself thrice before he had fallen asleep. Yet here was need again, sharper and more tormenting than he could remember.
It could not be the woman herself; it must be the anger and defiance she had shown him. The women he had brought to Dundragon to satisfy his needs submitted eagerly to his every wish. It was natural that a challenge might pique his lust.
“Ware.” Kadar’s tone was warning, his gaze on Ware’s face. “She’s still not well.”
“Then get her well enough to send away from here soon.” He smiled recklessly. “It seems she makes that thorn in my paw throb every time I’m near her.”
“As soon as I can.” He frowned. “There may be difficulties. I’m not sure she will have any place to go. She says her father was killed in the caravan.” He shook his head. “I think she was alone.”
“Why should she lie?”
“Because she has something to hide. She was at the end of the caravan, where the very poorest are placed. I doubt if she had little more possessions before Hassan’s raid than when we found her. A woman without funds, traveling alone…” Kadar paused. “The risk is enormous. Only desperation would lead anyone to take such a chance.”
He didn’t want to hear about desperation. He had lived with it as an intimate companion and would not risk a feeling of bonding with the woman. “She has to leave here. Find out the problem and then solve it.”
Kadar nodded. “I’ll try. You must be patient.”
Ware didn’t feel in the least patient. “Solve it or I’ll find my own solution.” He strode toward the door. “It’s growing dark. I have to go inspect the battlements. Are you coming with me?”
Kadar shook his head. “I wish to consider this matter of the woman. I believe I’ll go and see how the falcons have survived my absence.”
The guards on the battlement were in place and alert, as Ware had expected. He had taught them that alertness in a hard arena. He watched a boy running about the courtyard lighting the multitude of torches. He was too young, Ware thought with annoyance, probably not more than ten and two. He had told Abdul no one under ten and six was to be recruited from the villages to come to Dundragon. He would send the lad home tomorrow.
He slowly moved to the edge of the ramparts. The sun was down now, and deep-purple twilight lay over the mountains like a dark cloak.
But there was a glimmering in the darkness on the side of the third mountain. A small pinprick of fire. A campfire.
He had known it would be there. It was always there. He came here to the battlements every evening to watch that fire hurl defiantly out of the darkness, telling him he would never be safe behind these strong walls.
“Good evening, Vaden,” he said softly to the watcher.
He stood looking at the fire until full darkness fell. Then he strode toward the door leading off the battlements.
“Lord Ware.” Jasmine stood in the shadows of the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. It had become her custom to wait for him when he returned from the battlements. Wise Jasmine. Somehow she sensed the bitterness and despair that seared and scarred, and was always ready to provide a balm to soothe the wild tension.
“A woman?” she asked. “To your chamber?”
His chamber was too close to the Greek woman’s, and he did not want to be