The Treasure_ A Novel - Iris Johansen [103]
How could he say that? Vows were forever. The priest might not be of importance, but the vows loomed so large as to cast a shadow over everything.
“Look at me.” He held her gaze, his voice soft but vibrating with force. “Keep looking at me. This is right, Selene. It’s always been right. From that very first day I met you at the House of Nicholas.”
She couldn’t pull her gaze away. She no longer heard the priest’s voice. There was no one but Kadar.
Kadar holding her hand in the darkness.
Kadar joking as he sat across from her at the chessboard.
Kadar drawing her down on the couch in the tower chamber.
Kadar . . .
“It’s done,” Kadar said. His brilliant smile illuminated his face. “Now, that wasn’t so painful, was it?”
“What?” She realized he was talking about their vows. The priest had finished at last. Kadar was standing, lifting her to her feet. “No, I guess not.”
He turned her around and gently pushed her toward Tarik and Layla. “I’ll join you shortly. I believe I’d best send the priest on his way before he meets with more of your insults. We may have need of the power of the Church before this is over.”
“Very well.”
“Good God, docility?”
She was as surprised as he. Somehow those last few moments had banished all of her tension and impatience. She did not feel docile but dreamy, warm, and serene.
As serene as when she had learned she was with child.
The thought came out of nowhere. That was what all this was all about. Tonight she would be with Kadar again and there might be another child.
But it wasn’t the thought of the child that was making this eagerness and joyous anticipation tingle through her.
“Selene?” Kadar asked.
She smiled at him and then turned and walked toward Tarik and Layla.
“You’re sure you wish this?” Layla asked in an undertone. “Just because you took vows doesn’t mean you have to bed him.”
Selene smiled. “Most people would think that would be a necessary second step.”
“But you would not.”
“Why are you worrying? It’s not as if we haven’t coupled before.”
“You feel things too deeply. Passion can sway people to do things that aren’t good for them. Kadar can be very persuasive.”
“Yes, he can.”
Kadar in the tower room, moving within her, whispering encouragement.
“You’re not listening,” Layla said in disgust. “You look as soft as goose feathers. You might as well go to your chamber. I’ll send Kadar to you.”
Kadar was still talking to the priest, smiling, mending any anger he might have still felt.
He was her husband. They were joined.
“Go,” Layla said. “I dislike the thought of you melting into a puddle before my eyes.”
“You exaggerate.” But not by much, she thought ruefully. She turned and moved toward the door. “And I tire of your nagging. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She could feel the soft draping of her gown brush against her body with every step. The touch was sensuous, caressing.
Like Kadar . . .
Why could she think of nothing else?
She shut the door and leaned back against it.
Soon he would be here.
Her heart was beating hard. She was oddly breathless.
She couldn’t just wait. She had to do something.
The room was twilight dim. She crossed the room and lit a candle.
“I like you in that gown.”
She whirled to see Kadar standing in the doorway.
She moistened her lips. “It’s not really a gown. Layla draped—” She forgot what she was saying as she met his gaze. “The priest left?”
“After Tarik compensated him very generously.” He shut the door and came toward her. “He wasn’t pleased with you. He commiserated with me on my ill luck in acquiring such a shrew of a bride. He wanted to know if your dowry was enough to compensate me for the misery to come.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I told him that I’d committed a great many sins and you were my penance.” He stopped before her, and she could feel the heat of his body. “He said I should have confessed to him and he would never have given me such an atonement.”
She could barely make sense of his words. Her knees felt weak and she could only stare at him. What had he been saying? Something