Текст книги "Golden Barbarian "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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"My habit is comfortable."

"And unattractive enough to satisfy me when you're out of the tent in the presence of my men." He met her gaze. "But not when we're alone. Put on the robe."

She was to dress herself to please him. She knew wives did such things, but the idea was somehow… intimate. The air between them changed, thickened. She was suddenly acutely conscious of the soft texture of the cotton robe in her hands, the sound of Said's flute weaving through the darkness, the intensity of Galen's expression as he gazed at her. She swallowed. "Very well." She began to undo the fastening at the throat of her brown habit.

He watched her for a minute before he turned and strode toward the entrance of the tent.

"You're leaving?" she asked, startled. "I thought—" She broke off, her tongue moistening her lower lip.

"You thought I would want to look at you again." He smiled. "I do. But it was easier last night at the inn, with all the trappings of civilization about me. Here, I'm freer and must take care." He lifted the flap of the tent, and the next moment she saw him standing outside, silhouetted by the moonlight against the vast dark sky.

He wasn't going to leave her. The rush of relief surging through her filled her with confusion and fear. Surely, the only reason she didn't want him to leave was because she had felt so alone in such a strange land, she assured herself. She couldn't really care if he went back to the tribesmen by the fire.

"Depeches-toi," he said softly, not looking at her.

Her hands flew, undoing the fastenings of the habit, and a few minutes later she was slipping naked into the softness of the robe.

It was far too large for her, the hem dragging the floor, the sleeves hanging ridiculously long. On her small frame the robe looked ludicrous and not at all seductive. She strode over to the trunk and rummaged until she found a black silk sash, wound the length three times around her waist, and tied it in a knot in front before rolling up the sleeves to her elbows. The garment was so voluminous she should have felt uncomfortable, but the cotton was light as air compared to her habit. She ruffled her hair before stalking belligerently toward the opening of the tent. "I look foolish. You must promise not to laugh at me."

"Must I?" He continued to look at the campfire across the pond. "But laughter is so rare in this world."

"Well, I have no desire to provide you with more." She stopped beside him and scowled up at him. "I'm sure I don't look in the least what you intended. But it's all your fault. I told you that I wasn't comely."

"So you did." His gaze shifted to her face and then down her draped body. His lips twitched. "You do look a trifle… overwhelmed." He sobered. "But you're wrong, it's exactly what I intended."

"Truly?" She frowned doubtfully. How could she be expected to gain understanding of the man when he changed from moment to moment? Last night he had wanted her without clothing, and now it appeared he desired her to be covered from chin to toes. She shrugged. "But you're right, this is much more comfortable than my habit."

"I'm glad you approve." His mouth turned up at the corners. "I should have hated to be proved wrong."

"You would never admit it. Men never do. My father—"

He frowned. "I find I'm weary of being compared to your father."

She could certainly understand his distaste. "I'm sorry," she said earnestly. "I know few men, so perhaps I'm being unfair. I can see how you would object to being tossed in the same stable as my father, for he's not at all pleasant."

He started to smile, and then his lips thinned. "No, not at all pleasant." He reached out and touched her hair with a gentle hand. "But you don't have to worry about him any longer, kilen."

"I don't worry about him." She shrugged. "It would be a waste of time to worry about things I can't change. It's much more sensible to accept the bad and enjoy the good in life."

"Much more sensible." His fingers moved from her hair to brush the shadows beneath her eyes. "I drove us at a cruel pace from Dinar. Was the day hard for you?"

Her flesh seemed to tingle beneath his touch, filling her with the same excitement and panic she had known the night before. She had to force herself not to step away from him. "No, I would not admit to being so puny. I did not sleep well last night." She had not meant to blurt that out, she thought vexedly. "I mean—"

"I know what you mean. I did not sleep well either." Galen turned her around and shoved her gently toward the tent. "Which is why I pushed the pace today. I wanted to be weary enough to sleep tonight. Good night, kilen."

"Aren't you coming?"

"Presently. Go to bed."

She wanted to argue, but there was something about the tension of the back he turned toward her that gave her pause. Still, for some reason she hesitated, reluctant to leave him. "What time do we leave tomorrow?"

"At dawn."

"And how long will it take to get to Zalandan?"

"Another five days."

"Will we—"

"Go to bed, Tess!"

The suppressed violence in his voice made her jump and start hurriedly toward the entrance of the tent. "Oh, very well." She entered the tent and then slowed her pace to a deliberate stroll as she moved toward the curtained sleeping area. After all, there was nothing to run away from when Galen was not even in pursuit.

She drew back the thin curtain and the next moment sank onto the cushions heaped on the low, wide divan. There was much to say for barbarism, she thought as she burrowed into the silken pillows. This divan was much more comfortable than the bed at the inn…

Tess's curly hair was garnet-dark flame against the beige satin of the pillow under her head. His robe had worked open revealing her delicate shoulder, the skin of which was soft as velvet and even more luminescent than the satin of the pillow below it.

As Galen watched, she stirred, half turned, and a beautifully formed limb emerged from the cotton folds of the robe. Not a voluptuous thigh but a strong, well-muscled one.

Exquisite. He felt a painful thickening in his groin as he stood looking at her. He had deliberately provided her with the oversized garment to avoid seeing her naked as he had last night, but somehow this half nudity was even more arousing.

It was because he was back in Sedikhan, he told himself. It couldn't be this half-woman, half-child who was causing his physical turmoil. He always felt a seething unrest and wildness when he was on home ground. The memories of his past debaucheries were too vivid to be ignored when he was back in the desert. But the wildness had never been this strong, the urge to take a woman so violent…

But he could control it. He had to control it.

Why? She was only a woman, like any other.

No, not like any other. She had a man's sense of honor. She had made a bargain and would keep it. He could have her simply by reaching out a hand. He could put his palm on those soft, springy curls surrounding her womanhood and stroke her as he did Selik. He could pluck at that delicious secret nub until she screamed for satisfaction. He could pull her to her knees and make—

Make. The word cooled his fever for her. Only a true barbarian used force on women.

He stripped quickly, blew out the candle in the copper lantern hanging on the tent pole, and settled down on the cushions beside Tess, careful not to touch her. The heaviness in his loins turned painful. He lay with his back to her, his heart pounding against his rib cage.

He could control it. He was no savage to take—

He felt the cushions shift. The scent of lavender and woman drifted over him, and he tried to breathe shallowly to mitigate its effect.

Then he felt her fingers in his hair.

Every muscle in his body went rigid. "Tess?"

She murmured something drowsily, only half-awake, her fingers caressing his nape.

"What"—a shudder racked through him as her fingertips brushed his shoulders—"are you doing?"

She pulled the ribbon from his queue and tossed it aside. "Wife's duty…"

She moved away again, and the rhythm of her breathing told him she was sound asleep once more.

Wife's duty? Galen would have laughed if he hadn't been in the grip of hot frustration. He would like to show her a wife's "duty." He would like to move between her thighs and plunge deep. He would like to take her for a ride in the desert coit de cheval, cradling her buttocks in his palms, making her feel every inch of him. He would like to– He forced himself to abandon such thoughts and to unclench his fists.

He had put his wild days behind him. He could no longer take with reckless abandon. He must think, consider, wait.

Dear God in heaven, he was hurting.

"Scream and I'll slit your pretty throat from ear to ear."

The voice was guttural, jarring Tess from sleep. Her eyes flew open, but she could see only a shadowy face above her in the darkness of the tent.

And the gleam of the steel of the dagger pressed to her throat!

She was going to die. It wasn't fair. She didn't want to die just as life was beginning to be so interesting.

"Where is he?"

He was talking about Galen, she realized with a wild surge of relief. Which meant he must not have killed Galen yet. The knife bit into her flesh, and she could feel warm liquid flow down her neck.

"Where?"

"Here!" A dark shape appeared suddenly behind her assailant, and she saw the glint of steel as a dagger was held to the man's throat. "Get off her, Tamar."

The man on top of Tess froze. "I can slit her throat before you can draw another breath, Galen."

"Why bother? You wouldn't live to enjoy your victory."

The man hesitated, and then, incredibly, he threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "Ah, Galen, you always did have a persuasive tongue." The dagger moved slowly away from Tess's neck. "Put away your dagger and we'll talk. It's over."

"I think my steel is more persuasive than my tongue," Galen said dryly. "Throw away your knife."

The man carelessly tossed the dagger aside.

"Now, get off her—slowly."

"With great regret. I've always admired your taste in kadines." The man swung off her. "Why don't you light the lantern so I can get a better look at her?"

"You light the lamp. I want my hands free."

"Distrustful bastard." The man Galen had called Tamar moved toward the gleaming copper lantern hanging from the tent pole a few yards away. "I told you it was over." A moment after the sound of flint on stone a flame flickered in the copper lantern.

Tess could see Tamar's face now. He was young, no older than Galen, with a black beard, cropped close, flowing black hair, and dark eyes. He stood a little above average height, and his handsome features lit with a flashing smile as he turned to face Galen. "Very good, Galen. When I heard you had a woman with you, I was sure you'd be sleeping the sleep of a dead man tonight."

Galen shrugged into his white robe, covering his nakedness, the dagger still in readiness in his hand. "You made so much noise cutting through the tent wall you'd have wakened the dead, Tamar."

Tamar grimaced. "You were always the panther-footed one, not me." He chuckled. "Do you remember the night you crept into the harem of that old—"

"That was the past."

Tamar shook his head mournfully. "Ah, how I miss those days. What times we had."

"Why are you here?"

Tamar raised his brows. "Why, I came to see my old friend Galen Ben Raschid."

"Why?" Galen repeated.

Tamar shrugged. "I was curious."

"And did you kill any of my men while you were making your way through the camp to satisfy your curiosity?"

Tamar shook his head. "No one got in my way."

"I wonder if you're lying."

"Would I lie to you?"

"If it suited you."

"True, but in this case it's not necessary. I killed no one." His glance turned to Tess. "My sentries told me she had red hair." He studied her critically. "Wonderful skin, but she's not your usual kadine, Galen. I think I must examine her more closely to see what drew you to her."

Tess scrambled to a sitting position. "Galen, may I be told who this person is?"

"Her accent is strange," Tamar noticed. "Have you been raiding outside Sedikhan?"

"The woman has just come from France. I found her in a cafe in Dinar."

Startled, Tess stared at Galen.

"I should have known. You always did like the Frenchies." Tamar strolled toward Tess. "Is she good?"

"Good enough." Galen glanced at Tess and then stiffened as his gaze fell on her neck. "You son of a bitch, you've cut her." He strode across the tent and fell to his knees beside Tess and asked her, "Are you all right?"

Tamar frowned. "What's wrong? It's only a little nick."

Galen didn't look at him. "You've outstayed your welcome, Tamar." He touched the tiny cut on her throat with a gentle finger. "Don't be frightened."

"I'm not frightened." She glared at Tamar. "Why should I be afraid of a man who slithers like a snake in the dark to attack a sleeping woman."

Tamar flushed, and his lips took on an ugly twist. "Shall I show you, whore?" He gazed at her defiant face for a moment before he said flatly, "She needs teaching. I believe you must give this one to me, Galen."

"When have I ever given you anything belonging to me?"

Tamar looked at him in surprise. "She is only a woman. We have shared women before."

"I've not had her long. She still entertains me."

"I'll make a bargain with you. Give me two nights with her and you're free to travel across my territory with no interference."

"It's not your territory."

"It is if I say it is."

"Not if I say it isn't. Words mean nothing."

"But blood means all," Tamar said softly. "And you know how I love the taste of blood."

"Yes, I know."

"But no more than you," Tamar said. "You go berserk when the battle fever hits you."

"Then you should be cautioned about rousing that fever," Galen said wearily.

Tamar gazed at him, a multitude of emotions flicking across his face. "Are you challenging me, my friend?"

"I'm warning you, Tamar."

Tamar's glance went to his dagger lying on the carpet.

The muscles of Galen's thigh pressed against hers and now Tess felt them tense, as if preparing to spring.

Then Tamar's teeth bared in a grin. "Not tonight, Galen. I have a raid planned against the El Kabbar in two days' time." He bowed mockingly. "So keep your woman. I'll find plenty to amuse me in the El Kabbar camp." He glanced around the tent. "Now, give me a goblet of wine, and I'll leave you."

Galen looked pointedly at the cut on Tess's throat, and his lips tightened. "No wine under my roof, Tamar."

Tamar frowned, then shrugged. "Oh, very well. Then just give me my dagger."

"You'll find it sticking in the big palm by the pool after we leave tomorrow. I'll not risk you slitting one of my sentry's throats simply to ease your frustrations."

"How well you know me." Tamar chuckled.

Then his smile faded. "But you don't know yourself, my old friend. Come back to my encampment with me, and I promise you will learn."

"Good-bye, Tamar."

"Until next time." Tamar tilted his head at Tess. "She is too skinny, but I like them small. It makes a man feel powerful as a bull to gore the little ones." He bowed to her. "At our next meeting I'll be delighted to teach your lady to have a more docile tongue." He strode out of the tent.

Tess let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding. "That was… interesting."

"Interesting? I've noticed you have a passionate fondness for that word." The surprise in Galen's expression was wiped away by respect. "But yes, you might call Tamar interesting."

"What else would you call him?"

"Murderer, rapist, bandit. There's no more vicious sheikh in Sedikhan than Tamar."

"He spoke as if he knew you well."

"We grew up together in Zalandan. For a time his father's tribe and the El Zalan were joined by a treaty. When Tamar came to power, the treaty was broken, and he returned to the north." He stood up, walked over to the tent pole and blew out the lantern. "You can go back to sleep now. He won't return."

"Why did he come? I could make no sense of him."

Galen shrugged out of his robe and moved back toward the divan. "Who knows why Tamar does anything? Whim directs him." He lay down on the cushions and stretched out his big limbs. "He's a lawless brigand, a total savage."

"But you were once friends."

"Once."

He fell silent, but Tess could still feel the tension emanating from him.

"Why did you lie to him about me?"

"It was best. Tamar has no desire for Sedikhan to be united. He enjoys his life exactly the way it is. He might have been much more determined to have you if he'd known you were part of my plan."

She suddenly remembered the word Tamar had used in referring to her. "What is a kadine?"

"A woman of pleasure."

"Couldn't you have named me your wife and still kept my identity a secret?"

"Perhaps, but he would have been suspicious. Tamar knows I have no desire to wed."

A strange pain rippled through her at his words. She swallowed. "Of course, I understand." She lay still, pondering the extraordinary events of the last quarter hour. After a time she spoke again. "You say no one knows why Tamar does anything, but I think you do."

"Yes, I've always been able to gauge what Tamar was going to do next."

"How?"

He was silent so long she thought he wasn't going to answer. "Because he's my mirror."

"What?"

"He's what I was. He's what I could become again."

Startled, she blurted, "But you said he was a vicious bandit."

"Yes."

"A brigand and a rapist."

"Yes."

She became conscious of the waves of emotion radiating from his rigid body. She could sense violence, controlled with difficulty, within, but no trace of the malice that Tamar had exuded. "You're wrong. You could never be like him."

"I'm not wrong," he murmured almost inaudibly. "But it won't happen. Not if I'm strong. Not if I fight it. Not if I'm vigilant…"

Chapter 4

« ^ »

"Galen tells me you had a visitor last night," Sacha said as he lifted Tess into her sidesaddle at dawn the next morning. "You needn't worry that it will happen again. Kalim was mortified that Tamar had managed to slip by his sentries. "

"Galen reprimanded him?"

"Galen seldom reprimands. He simply told Kalim he was disappointed in him."

"That seems a strange way to handle the matter."

"It's Galen's way, and it's always proved effective. The majiron's 'disappointment' has more sting than a tongue-lashing from another leader."

She wrinkled her nose. "Kalim probably wishes that savage Tamar had cut my throat. It's obvious Kalim has no liking for me."

Sacha glanced away from her. "That's only your imagination. How could he dislike you when he doesn't know you?"

Tess recalled the brief look of resentment on Kalim's face when Galen had introduced her and shook her head. "It's not my imagination." She caught sight of Galen. He was riding out of camp at Kalim's side. "What do you know of this Tamar?"

"Not much. There have been a few skirmishes between his tribe and the El Zalan in the past few years, but Galen usually tries to avoid him."

"Why?"

Sacha shrugged. "I have no idea. Galen doesn't talk about him."

"They were children together. Perhaps he still has a lingering fondness for him."

Sacha shook his head. "Galen wouldn't let friendship interfere with the good of the El Zalan. It's probably that the tribes are so widely separated they don't get in each other's way. "

And cows could fly. "Yes, that must be it." She gathered the reins. "Let's go. Galen has left the oasis."

"There's no hurry." Sacha swung up into the saddle. "You're to ride in the rear with me until we reach Zalandan."

"I can keep up," she said, hurt. "I ride better than you."

"That's not the point. Galen has to ride up ahead with Kalim and lead the escort, but he wants to keep you away from the main party."

"Mother of God." Her hands clenched on the reins. "First, I'm penned up in that tent, and now I'm forced to eat the dust. I'm getting very tired of being placed in—"

"I'm hurt," Sacha interrupted, pulling a face. "You've not seen me for years and yet you are already weary of my company."

"You know that's not what—"

"Five more days," he coaxed. "Things will be different in Zalandan."

She scowled. "Freedom?"

"To some extent."

She kicked her horse into a trot. "To a great extent," she said through clenched teeth. "I have no liking for all this smothering. When we get to Zalandan, I will no longer tolerate it."

"Majira, wait!"

They both turned to see a young man galloping toward them. As he reined in, he flashed a broad grin and inclined his head in a polite bow. "Greetings, Majira. Since you're not to be with the main party, Kalim has sent me to protect and serve you on the journey. My name is Yusef Benardon. "

"I believe I can assure my cousin any protection she requires, Yusef," Sacha said dryly.

Yusef stared at him guilelessly, his black eyes like sparkling buttons in his round face. "Very well, then I will protect you, Sacha. It makes no difference to me."

"Protect me?" Sacha said blankly.

Yusef lowered his lids to half mask the mischief glittering in his eyes. "You think the honor bestowed on you is too great? I admit having the greatest warrior in Sedikhan put at your disposal is enough to dazzle and humble most men."

Sacha closed his eyes. "I believe I'm beginning to feel ill."

Yusef waved his hand airily. "You see? The majira does have need of me, since you're clearly of a delicate nature."

Tess smothered a smile as she saw Sacha's eyes flick open in outrage. It was all very well for her cousin to joke about his delicate sensibilities, but he couldn't tolerate others doing so.

Yusef had caught her glimmer of a smile from the corner of his eye and immediately turned to her with a coaxing grin. "You must not send me back to Kalim. It's very boring and lonely up there for me, as all the other men are jealous of my prowess. We shall get along much better back here together."

"Indeed?"

He smiled solemnly. "I shall immerse myself in the radiant delight of your company, and in return I will tell you many stories that will inform and amuse you. I promise I'll make the hours of the journey fly by."

"A result much to be desired," Tess said.

"Then we're agreed." Yusef gave her another dazzling smile. "I'll go ahead and make sure the road has been made safe for you, but do not fear. I'll not let you linger without me in this abysmal boredom a moment longer than necessary." Yusef galloped out of the oasis after the column of men.

Tess laughed helplessly as she heard Sacha's muttered oath.

"I don't find anything amusing in—" Sacha broke off and smiled reluctantly. "It's no wonder Kalim sent him back here out of harm's way. The scalawag has unerring aim. By the end of five days he probably would have managed to antagonize every one of Galen's men and completely disrupted the escort."

"He's not a great warrior?"

"I didn't say that. He's one of the best fighters Galen has. Unfortunately, he also has a highly developed talent for mischief."

"I think I like him."

"I'm not surprised. Most women have a weakness for Yusef. Which is another reason he's not over popular with the men."

"He's a womanizer?" The idea surprised her, for Yusef had no claim to the wonderful good looks of Kalim or Sacha, much less the magnetism of Galen. He was only a little above middle height, and appeared wiry and agile rather than powerful. In fact, he reminded her of a rather endearing monkey with his sparkling eyes and round, merry face.

"Let's say he has a weakness where all ladies are concerned. They smile at him, and he forgets trifling realities such as husbands and fathers." He shrugged. "But don't worry—he may be rash, but he's not mad. He won't insult the majira, and he may even amuse you." He scowled. "Not that we need the rascal."

Tess's lips twitched. "No, of course not." But she was already feeling her spirits rise as she nudged her mare into a trot. She was sure it had not been Kalim's intention to see to her entertainment when he had sent Yusef to be her escort. But Yusef's mischievous presence just might make the journey bearable.

"There it is!" Yusef gestured jubilantly. "Zalandan." He started at a gallop after the column a quarter of a mile ahead.

"I didn't expect this." Tess paused on the hill beside Sacha and gazed at the great walled city in the valley below. With a gold-dipped brush the late afternoon sunlight gilded the turquoise minarets and the white stone of the houses of Zalandan. The beauty of the city touched her heart and soul. "It's very impressive. Almost as large as Belajo."

"That's where the similarity ends," Sacha said dryly. "Belajo leans toward the West. Zalandan is definitely of the East. "

"Yet you preferred to spend the last six years here."

"Because it called to me."

"Called to you?" she asked, puzzled.

"You'll see."

They wound their way down the hill to the city.

"Zalandan has its own allure," Sacha said as they passed through the city gates.

She saw what he meant as they traveled through the crowded streets of Zalandan. Amid the spice shops and silk stalls, vendors carrying huge cages filled with doves and white cockatoos stopped their haggling to watch the troop ride across the huge marketplace.

Yusef rode back to join Tess and Sacha as they reached the market. "Ah, it's good to be home," he said, and sighed contentedly. He added quickly, "Not that I didn't enjoy every moment of your company, Majira. The past days will live in my memory through an eternity of—"

"Enough, Yusef." Her tone was abstracted as she eagerly gazed at the shops and stalls on either side of her. She suddenly pointed to a shop where a variety of brilliant-hued pottery containers with strange long handles were displayed. "What kind of place is that? I've never seen vases shaped like those, and they're all exactly the same size. "

Yusef glanced casually at the shop she had indicated. "Those aren't vases, they're carobels. Camar has the finest carobel shop in all of Zalandan." He grinned. "And one of the most beautiful daughters." He glanced wistfully back at the shop. "With a heart as generous as her face is fair. I don't suppose now that you're safely in Zalandan, you would permit—"

Tess shook her head resignedly. She had an idea she would live no longer in Yusef's memory than the moment he saw the shopkeeper's generous and comely daughter, but she would miss the scamp. Thank the saints she'd had Sacha and Yusef's company on the journey, for she had certainly seen little enough of Galen since that first night. Not that it mattered to her, she assured herself quickly. "Go to your shopkeeper's daughter, Yusef."

He smiled. "I look forward to basking in your presence again, Majira." He wheeled his horse and rode swiftly back toward the shop.

"At least he made it through the gates before he yielded to temptation," Sacha said. "He's not usually so celibate. I thought perhaps he'd make a side excursion on our journey and visit one of the women of the hill tribes."

Once they left the bazaar, Tess expected to see signs of the poverty she had encountered in Belajo and Paris, but though the houses were small, they seemed spotlessly clean, and the people well-fed and cheerful. Galen's appearance was met by smiles and cheers, but they all drew respectfully aside as the column approached.

"The palace is just ahead," Sacha said as he nodded to the huge courtyard at the end of the street.

She could hardly have missed it, Tess thought dazedly. The palace was only two stories high, but it was a dreamlike turreted structure with arched windows and delicately fretted balconies. It was built of a creamy beige stone that caught the sunlight and glittered like a massive jewel in the center of the courtyard.

"It's… bewitching."

Sacha noted her entranced expression and nodded knowingly. "I told you. It calls to you…"

"Welcome to Zalandan." Galen had dismounted and was striding toward them.

She stiffened, jarred out of her bemusement.

He raised his brows as he saw the wariness in her expression. "I hope my home pleases you?"

"Of course it pleases me. Why should it not? It's very beautiful."

"And a surprise." He smiled faintly as he lifted her down from her mare onto the mosaic tiles of the courtyard. "I told you we savages can lay claim to certain comforts. Gold buys nearly anything in this world." Her gaze flew to his face, and he shook his head. "No, I know it didn't buy you. Your price was higher. But gold can make your stay here pleasant." He turned to Said. "Take her to her quarters and be sure Viane makes her comfortable."

"I'll take her," Sacha said quickly. "I have nothing better to do."

Galen turned back to look at him, and for an instant Tess thought she saw a flicker of concern on his face before he shrugged. "As you like." He turned to Tess. "Tell Viane I'll come to your chamber to sup with you at dusk."

"If you're not too busy?"

His brows lifted at the caustic note in her voice. "I won't be too busy." He went toward the stable where Kalim waited.

Excitement mixed generously with resentment rippled through her as she watched Galen join Kalim and enter the stable. He had not supped with her since the night of their wedding. In truth, she had scarcely seen him on the journey to Zalandan. He had stayed at the campfire with the men, coming to their tent only after she had gone to sleep.

"Tess?"

She turned to see Sacha gazing at her with an amused smile.

He gestured with a mocking flourish for her to precede him into the palace.

She quickly climbed the steps, and the doors were immediately thrown open by the two robed guards standing at attention. "Who is Viane?"

"Galen's half-sister."

"I didn't know he had a sister." She shouldn't have been surprised at her ignorance. She was finding she knew very little about her husband.

"Galen's mother died when he was twelve, and soon after his father married again. Viane was the only child of the union." He led her swiftly down the gleaming corridor, his steps springing with a curious eagerness. "You'll grow fond of Viane."

Tess made a face. "I don't seem to make friends with women easily. They find me too bold."

"I can see why." Sacha grinned. "Not many ladies prefer stables to ballrooms, but you'll have no conflict with Viane."