Lion's Bride - Iris Johansen [75]
She blinked. “Well, that would certainly encourage chastity. No wonder you became close to your brother monks. I cannot imagine anyone else wanting to be within a yard of such stench.”
“We became accustomed to it.” He frowned. “I don’t feel like talking any longer. Will you come?”
“Perhaps I don’t wish to go to bed. I have more tending here to do.”
“I have more need of tending than your trees.” He took her hand and brought it to him. “Don’t I?”
She inhaled sharply as she felt the unyielding hardness. Soon it would be inside her again. His lips would be on her breast, and he would be plunging wildly in and out. A ripple of heat seared through her as she realized she was ready for him again. “You’re a very lustful man, Ware of Dundragon. Do you never get enough?”
“No,” he said thickly. “Not with you. The minute you’re out of my sight, I want you again.” He stood up and reached down to pull her to her feet. “You will come with me?”
This delirium should end. She had not imagined that the mere act of coupling could bring the kind of fever that could never be satisfied. She wanted to touch him, caress him, even when they were across the room from each other. She found herself watching his expressions, waiting for the moment when he would reach out for her. She had called him lustful, but she herself was as filled with lust.
His big hand was holding hers tightly, possessively, as his thumb stroked her wrist. “Will you come?”
It was happening again, the liquid flowing, the tension, the breathless heat.
She nodded jerkily. “I’ll come.” She started across the green. She whispered, “Hurry.”
“My lord, I regret to disturb you, but riders approach.” Abdul kept his gaze fixed on a point somewhere on the wall above the bed.
Thea’s heart leaped in panic as she scrambled upright in bed. Riders. The Templars?
Ware was already out of bed and donning his tunic. “How many riders?”
“Two men.” With relief Abdul fixed his gaze on Ware. “We believe there are only two. But it’s night and there could be others farther down the road.”
“Dress.” Ware tossed over his shoulder to Thea, “Hurry.” He strode out of the chamber.
Thea wasted no time. Within a few minutes she was dressed and running out into the courtyard.
They were lowering the drawbridge, she saw with relief. Surely they would not do that if it was a foe.
It was Kadar.
Her gaze flew to the small figure on the horse behind him.
Selene. Dressed in a young Arab boy’s tunic, robe, and cloak, it was still undeniably, blessedly, Selene.
“Thea!” Selene slipped from the saddle and ran toward her. The turban slipped from her head and her red hair tumbled down her back, reminding Thea of that moment when they had said good-bye at the gates of Constantinople. “I’m here.”
“I see you are.” She hugged her tightly. Selene. Free. Safe. Here with her at last. “I see…you are.”
“Stop crying.” Selene pulled back and stared at her with sternness. “I won’t have it. Why are you being so foolish? Everything is fine now.”
“I know.” Thea wiped the tears from her cheeks. “See, I’ve stopped.” She hugged her again and released her. “How are you?”
“Better than me,” Kadar said as he dismounted. “Your sister is a very willful creature.”
“I’m well,” Selene said, ignoring him. “Why should I not be?”
“They didn’t find out you’d helped me?”
“Of course not.” She looked down at her cloak and dusted off a speck of dirt. “It’s like you to fret over nothing. I was not the one in danger’s path. But I also worried about you.” She gazed at Thea searchingly. “I see I had no need. There’s a…bloom about you.”
“Why were you so long?” Ware asked Kadar. “Did you have problems with Nicholas?”
“No more than I expected,” Kadar said. “But then, after the barter was struck, Selene decided she would not be bought and ran away. It took me three weeks to find her in that vast city.”
“It was your fault entirely,” Selene said. “If you’d told me of Thea’s plan, we would have been here long ago.”
“I intended telling you after I took you from Nicholas’s house. It wasn’t safe to do so until then.” He added teasingly,