Iris Johansen - The Beloved Scoundrel

Lucifer, she thought, the caster of spells, the shape-changer, the weaver of incantations. He would do very well for the figure of the Dark Prince when she created her own Window to Heaven.

It was foolish to be this frightened, she told herself. If you recognized Satan, then you could fight him.

His smile faded, and he looked back at the fire. “Did it ever occur to you the Duke of Nebrov could be searching for you?”

It had been part of the nightmare that had been her life since that night. “I… don’t think he saw us. Mama made us hide in the woods.” She said more firmly, “No, I’m sure he didn’t know we were there.”

“Nebrov wouldn’t have given up after the death of your mother. He would have searched the house for any possible information, sent one of his men to ask questions of your neighbors.”

“He had no time. Samda was being held by King Josef’s forces, and there was a price on Nebrov’s head. Mama thought we were safe from him, but our cottage was several miles outside of town.” She shuddered. “I heard him raving and cursing as he rode away. He was terribly angry.”

“If he took that kind of risk, then you know he’ll come back or send one of his men to ask questions. Your neighbors will tell him about you… and Alex.” He paused. “I used your brother to get what I wanted from you. Do you think Nebrov is less ruthless?”

“No,” she whispered. Waves of sickness washed over her. No one could be more cruel than that monster. “Oh, no.”

“And I can assure you he will be as determined as he is vicious. Nebrov never gives up.”

He spoke with such absolute assurance that she asked, “You’ve met him?”

“On many occasions.” He saw her instinctive withdrawal and shook his head. “His lands border Kazan. Naturally he came to assess our military capability. He decided his brother’s kingdom would be an easier target.”

She stared with horror out into the darkness that hid the ruins of Talenka. Nebrov had almost destroyed Montavia and its people to feed his greed for power. “Evil…”

“Then you agree you need to get Alex far away from Montavia.” Her gaze flew to his face, and he nodded. “England.”

England. That alien, faraway country her father had sometimes told her about. He had hated England as much as he had loved Montavia. “You want to take us to England?”

“I doubt if even Nebrov would think to search for you halfway across the world. Alex would be safe.”

He would not say she would be safe, she realized, because of that core of honesty she found so confusing. He would not promise her safety because of the threat that came from him.

“Sleep on it.” He smiled again. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision once you’re rested.” He pushed her gently back on the sheepskin pallet and covered her with a blanket. “For Alex.”

Sleep? She almost laughed aloud. How could she sleep when he had just told her that he wanted to take her to a land where she would be a stranger, dependent only on him, more helpless than ever in her life?

He lay down a short distance away and drew his cover over him.

The crackle of the burning wood was the only sound in the stillness.

“For God’s sake stop shaking,” Draken said harshly.

She hadn’t known she was shaking. She contracted her muscles, but the trembling persisted. “I believe… I’m cold.”

“I believe you’re lying.” He sat up on his pallet. “I tolerated it in the church, but I’m very weary of watching you pretend that you’re as strong as Gregor.” He was suddenly beside her, his arms enfolding her.

She stiffened in panic and tried to push him away.

“Lie still,” he said roughly as he cradled her in his arms. “I’m not going to hurt you.” In spite of the harshness of his tone, his hands smoothing her hair back from her face were wonderfully gentle. “Nothing is going to hurt you tonight. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“Yes, I do.” As long as there were Alex and the Jedalar, fear was the only defense she had to keep them safe. The shaking become long, racking, shudders, and her teeth bit deep into her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why… I haven’t… not since that night…”

He gave a low exclamation, then lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms. She started to struggle again, but he pinned her to the pallet and stared down into her eyes. “Look at me, dammit. Am I going to hurt you?”

Her gaze clung desperately to his. His pale green eyes blazed down at her, clear, mesmerizing, willing her to believe him. She did believe him. She slowly shook her head.

He tucked her face into the hollow of his shoulder and held her. He smelled of leather and musk and the pine-scented smoke of the fire. “Easy,” he whispered. “You’re exhausted and you’re frightened and that’s all right. Just let it go. Send it away.”

Warmth. Safety. Strength. It was as if she were wrapped in a web of power where nothing bad could reach her. If she could just lie here for a moment and take from him…

“That’s right.” His voice flowed over her like sunlight, warming her. She had always believed voices had color, and his was darkest burgundy. “Don’t worry about anything. Let me take care of you. All you have to do is rest and let me hold you.”

She should move, she thought hazily. Lying here was dangerous, not because he might hurt her as they had hurt her mother but because she had the strangest sensation she was melting into him.

You couldn’t fight an enemy if you became part of him.

She didn’t move. She would do battle tomorrow after she gathered strength. She was safe now. Strange to think of safety in connection with Jordan Draken, but no more odd than anything else that had happened tonight…

No!

She suddenly rolled away from him and sat up, clutching the cover to her throat, her chest rising and falling.

He stiffened, and she thought he would pull her back down, but he did not. He only raised himself to lean his cheek on his hand. “You persist in making things difficult for yourself.”

“I only recognize the difficulty that is there.” She moistened her lips. “I’m very tired. May I lie down?”

He smiled and shifted slightly to one side. “It would be my pleasure. I never refuse a-” His smile faded as he met her gaze. “Don’t look at me like that. I forgot, dammit. In certain circumstances words have a habit of flowing without thinking.”

His smile had been purely sensual, and she knew the circumstances to which he referred. She didn’t think he was a man who would speak without considering every import of his words. How many beds and how many women had made that response instinctive?

He said quietly, “You knew you were safe a moment ago. Nothing has changed.” He moved to his own pallet and sat down. “Except that you’re foolishly refusing something you need.”

She lay down on her pallet and pulled the cover up around her. “I have no need of you.”

“You need comfort, and I’m offering it.” She kept her head turned away, but she could feel his gaze on her face. “You’ll lie there, and fairly soon you’ll start to think and worry, and then you’ll begin to shake again.”

“That was a temporary weakness. I told you I was a little tired. I’m fine now.”

“The devil you are.”

She didn’t answer.

“Tell me about glassmaking.” He saw her tense and continued impatiently, “Not about the Window to Heaven. We’ve agreed not to talk about that.”

Not now. But the questions would come. When he thought she could give him what he wanted, there would come a time-

“Tell me about your work.”

“Why should I? It’s nothing to you.”