Fire of the Soul Read online

The lady of Kinath was short and sturdy, with reddish hair and many freckles. Freckles, in the name of heaven! Mallory, who preferred fair hair and pale, clear skin, usually closed his eyes when he bedded her. Which was far too often for his taste. The woman’s appetite was voracious; she drained him. He sometimes wondered if her elderly first husband had died of exhaustion.

  His body was reacting to his wife’s eager touch, though he experienced no emotional warmth toward her. Fenella was merely the means to an end. Mallory needed to get her with child and he was annoyed that so far her womb had not quickened to his seed. A legitimate heir was important to him. Mallory hated the fact that he was a bastard, begotten upon a maidservant when his father was just fifteen years old. Walderon, the very young lord of Catherstone, had proudly acknowledged his first son and, when Mallory was old enough, had made him seneschal of Catherstone. But Mallory had lost that position when Walderon died a traitor’s death and Catherstone was confiscated by the crown.

  It wasn’t fair, Mallory thought, not fair at all that he had been born illegitimate. He’d been an obedient son and a good seneschal. He deserved better than to be dispossessed so abruptly and with no recourse. No one had cared about his claims that he was ignorant of his father’s treason. The man sent to confiscate Catherstone for King Henryk had actually dared to accuse him of lying and then, when Calia insisted he was speaking the truth about his parentage, the man had told him that he was fortunate not to be imprisoned or executed for the crime of being Walderon’s son. Shortly thereafter Mallory had been unceremoniously cast out of the only home he’d ever known. Only the pleas of the sister he despised had allowed him to keep a single horse, his armor and his sword.

  Mallory’s unpleasant thoughts, along with his lofty disinterest in what his wife was doing came to a sudden end when Fenella tugged at him urgently. With a sigh of impatience with her that he made no attempt to hide, he knelt on the bed. Fenella seized his right hand and placed it on her rather large breast. He squeezed the soft flesh and pinched her nipple. Fenella began to writhe.

  At least it never took her long to be ready to receive him. He wasn’t sure he could bed her at all if she were reluctant, or if she needed a lot of preparation, like some other women he’d known. Mallory closed his eyes and imagined several of those other women, their lovely faces and graceful, slender figures. Feeling himself grow harder at the thought, he pushed against Fenella’s yielding moistness.

  “Oh, Mallory.” Fenella clutched at him, pulling him closer still. “Oh, yes. How strong you are. Don’t stop. Oh, I do love you, Mallory, my handsome, wonderful lover.”

  He pounded against her until she screamed with pleasure. Then he was free to find his own release, which didn’t take long because she didn’t mind if he was rough with her. Afterward, he stayed with her for a time, knowing she’d protest and try to arouse him all over again if he withdrew too soon. He gave her a hard, tooth-grinding kiss, the first kiss he’d offered during this encounter, and felt her relax beneath him.

  “Oh, Mallory, you make me so happy, so contented.”

  “I am glad,” he whispered, hiding his irritation with her. He felt nothing for her except annoyance and a vague distaste for her looks, but he didn’t want to make her angry. Not yet, at least. After his scheme was complete he wouldn’t care what she thought of him. She could hate him then, if she wanted. But at the moment Fenella held the key to everything that Mallory was determined to have. Thanks to his marriage to her, he was already the guardian of the young lord of Kinath, and of the lord’s younger brother, too.

  Of course, the boys would have to be disposed of. That shouldn’t be difficult to accomplish. Children died easily and often, especially in wintertime, when illnesses abounded. Perhaps Fenella’s younger son ought to die during the coming winter. Yes, the younger boy first, so no one would suspect that their new stepfather was trying to do away with the heir. He could afford to wait another year or two before finishing off the older boy.

  Mallory’s goal was to become the rightful lord of Kinath, taking the place of Fenella’s late husband, Kinen. That would be sweet revenge indeed, for Kinen had been the father of Garit of Kinath, and Garit was the man whom Mallory considered primarily responsible for his own father’s fall from favor at the Sapaudian court. Because of Garit, Walderon of Catherstone had died a traitor’s death and Mallory had lost the position he’d long believed was secure.

  Ah, but Mallory was going to have his full revenge against Garit. He was going to take everything that Garit held dear. He would prove himself Walderon’s true and loyal son, and in the end he’d hold a greater position than seneschal of Catherstone. Mallory would be a lord in his own right and the sons of Kinen of Kinath would die. All three of them would die...slowly and painfully.

  The thought of the deliciously brutal revenge he was planning hardened his body all over again before he could completely withdraw from Fenella. She caught her breath and twisted beneath him in renewed pleasure.

  “You do want me. Oh, I knew you’d grow to care,” Fenella whispered as she nibbled on his earlobe. “Mallory, my love, my dearest husband, come into me again. Pleasure me again.”

  Mallory kept his eyes closed so he’d not have to look at her freckles. He couldn’t close his ears, though, and her cries of ecstasy only added to his delight. This was the woman whom Kinen of Kinath had bedded. Too bad she wasn’t Garit’s real mother, but a stepmother would do equally well as the receptacle for his seed. The woman herself didn’t matter.

  Truly, Mallory thought as renewed lust very briefly overcame his senses, he and his father were much alike.

  Chapter 9

  Calia came awake abruptly as The Kantian Queen pitched forward at a steep angle. Fighting the motion of the ship she sat up and looked around. A grey light entered the cabin through the slats of the shutter covering the porthole. By that pale illumination she could make out the shapes of the bunks and of the table bolted to the floor under the porthole. The pitcher and basin slid against the rail that confined them, then slid to the other side of the tabletop. The cloaks and dresses hanging on the wall hooks swayed back and forth. The ship’s timbers creaked.

  When The Kantian Queen rolled sideways, Mairne shrieked and grabbed the edge of the upper bunk to keep herself from falling out of bed. On the other side of the cabin Lady Elgida muttered a not entirely ladylike oath.

  “What’s happening?” Mairne cried. “Are we sinking?”

  “Of course not,” Lady Elgida told her. “It’s only a storm, and not a very severe one, either. Lie down, Mairne. Stay where you are. Otherwise, you’ll be bumping around the cabin and may hurt yourself. Or me, if you fall on me.”

  “I can’t lie down,” Mairne complained. “If I do, I’ll lose last night’s dinner. Oh no! I think I’m going to lose it, anyway. Ohhh!”

  Calia was out of bed before Mairne could finish her wail of distress. She reached into the cabinet under the table, grabbed the chamber pot, and held it up to Mairne. Just in time, too.

  “Wonderful,” Lady Elgida declared, showing no sympathy at all. “Mairne, you foolish girl, why didn’t you tell me that you are made ill by the motion of a ship? If you had warned me before we departed from Saumar, I’d have left you behind and spared all of us this discomfort.”

  “I didn’t know,” Mairne said, weeping. “I’ve never been on a ship before. I wasn’t sick yesterday.”

  “Yesterday the sea was smooth as glass,” Lady Elgida said. “Will you stop moaning and groaning and fussing? I’d like a bit more sleep.”

  With her own stomach feeling a bit unsteady, Calia bit her tongue on the criticism she longed to hurl at Lady Elgida. Instead, she opened the porthole and tossed out the contents of the chamber pot, then rinsed it and tossed that out, too. The leftover water in the pitcher was cold, so she moistened a towel in it and handed it to Mairne.

  “Wipe your face with this,” she said. “I’ll find a cup, so you can rinse out your mouth.”

  “Shut the window,” L
ady Elgida ordered, tugging her quilt up to her chin.

  Calia did not immediately obey. The air blowing into the cabin was pleasantly cool, with only a faint spattering of rain borne into the room by the wind. After a few deep breaths her queasiness departed. She looked at Mairne, who was sitting on the side of the upper bunk with one hand pressed against her mouth and the other clutching the wooden bed frame to keep herself from falling when the next forward pitch arrived.

  “Come down here and stand by the porthole,” Calia said to her. “I’m sure the fresh air will help to settle your stomach.”

  Mairne descended from the bunk with less agility than she had shown the night before while climbing into it. With Calia’s arm around her, she stood close to the open porthole for a time.

  “This is much better. Thank you.” She laid her head on Calia’s shoulder. “You are always so kind to me.”

  “If by that remark you mean that I am unkind, you are mistaken,” Lady Elgida said. “I merely refuse to coddle anyone, as you ought to know by now.”

  “I do know it,” Mairne agreed at once. “Least of all do you coddle yourself. My dear lady, I am sorry for disturbing you.”

  “Well, now that we are all awake, I’d like some food,” Lady Elgida said, a declaration that made Mairne gulp and move closer to the porthole.

  “Come, Mairne,” Calia said, patting the girl’s shoulder. “Let us dress and go on deck. We’ll find a safe place for you to stand or sit while I speak to the cook. Lady Elgida, I beg you, do not try to rise while you are alone. If you fall and hurt yourself, Captain Pyrsig will be obliged to put into the nearest port to find a physician, and you will have to alter your plan to visit Kantia.” It was the direst threat she could think of at the moment and it received a typical response.

  “Impertinent child, do not order me about.” Lady Elgida swung her legs over the side of her bunk, then promptly fell backward at the ship’s next motion. “Very well, I grant you may be right on this one point. Just help me to use the chamber pot and then I’ll lie down again until you return. Mayhap, while you are gone, I’ll be able to enjoy the sleep I am missing.”

  Calia found it difficult to dress while stumbling around the cabin and trying to help the other two women into their clothes. But at length she and Mairne were ready. Lady Elgida was dressed, too, and lying atop the straightened covers of her bunk. At her repeated order, Calia finally closed and latched the cover over the porthole.

  Slowly, holding onto whatever solid objects they could find along the way, Calia and Mairne left the cabin and climbed the ladder to the deck. Anders met them, entering the hatchway as they exited from it.

  “It’s not safe on the open deck. You should stay below,” he warned them. “I was just coming to ask if you wanted to break your fast.” He indicated the flat, covered basket he was carrying.

  “Mairne isn’t feeling well,” Calia explained. “Can you find a place where she could sit without being swept overboard?”

  “I’ll do more than that,” Anders said. “I’ll stay with her, if you will deliver Garit’s food to him. I’ve brought bread and cheese and a pitcher of ale. There’s enough for you and Lady Elgida, too. Just go back down the ladder and I’ll hand the basket to you. I was wondering how to climb down with no hand free, when you appeared,” he ended with a grin.

  A few moments later Calia was standing at the door to the cabin that Garit shared with his squire and with Lord Durand, who had brought no squire with him. She knocked once and the door swung open. The cabin was similar to the one she and Lady Elgida were sharing, with room for four bunks, one above the other. The single porthole stood open, with a table under the porthole that held a pitcher and basin.

  “Is the storm so bad that you need help with the door?” Garit asked. Then, seeing Calia, he added, “I beg your pardon. I thought you were Anders or Lord Durand.”

  “I haven’t seen Lord Durand. Anders is above with Mairne, who is ill. I asked him to look after her until Lady Elgida has eaten. The thought of food seems to turn her stomach, but the fresh sea air settles it.”

  Calia tried to keep her gaze on his face, for she had noticed with her very first glance that he was completely unclothed. Obviously, she had interrupted his morning ablutions. His face and hair shone with water and he held a small towel in one hand. The stubble of a light brown, day-old beard roughened his square chin. Life in a castle was anything but private, so she had seen naked males before, perhaps too often for an unmarried girl, though Mallory had tried to protect her for his own honor’s sake. But no quick glimpse of a stable-boy or man-at-arms had ever affected her as Garit’s hard-muscled body did. He bore a few scars on his arms and his left side, scars which were not at all unusual for a fighting man. Calia lacked the courage to look below his waist to see if he carried the most common scars, on calves and thighs. She knew that warriors often attempted to disable their opponents by hobbling them or gelding them. She required no proof that Garit remained a whole man. Her feminine senses told her all she needed to know on that score.

  “Excuse me a moment.”

  He turned aside and then she did dare to look. She saw taut buttocks, and calf and thigh muscles that were heavier than those of most knights, who tended to develop large shoulders and arms after years of practicing with sword and Sapaudian lance, while their lower bodies were usually thinner because they rode horses and seldom walked. Garit was remarkably well proportioned, both above and below his waist.

  She noted that he was aroused. She knew about that, too, from her years of castle living, and she wondered if her presence had caused Garit’s condition. The sight – and the possibility that she was responsible – sent an unfamiliar jolt of heat into her own insides. Even as she looked he snatched up a quilt and wrapped it around his waist, tucking in one end to secure the fabric.

  “I apologize for disturbing you,” she said, before she considered that he could understand her words in a way she hadn’t meant.

  “You didn’t disturb me. I merely assumed that you were Anders because I’ve been waiting for him.” He took the basket from her and set it on the bunk. “How is my grandmother this morning? Not sick like Mairne, I hope?”

  “Not likely.” Calia laughed, as much from her own embarrassment as from amusement at the very idea of Lady Elgida succumbing to sea sickness. “She insisted on dressing, though I was able to convince her to remain on her bed unless someone is present to catch her if the ship rolls unexpectedly. She claims to be hungry, so I ought to take some of this food to her.”

  “I would very much like to know how you convinced her to do anything that she hadn’t already decided to do,” Garit said.

  “By threatening her with the immediate end of her travels if she falls and injures herself.”

  “Clever woman.”

  The warm look he gave her seemed to pull Calia closer to him. Knowing that she ought to leave at once, still she remained by the cabin door for a moment or two, while he stood beside the bunk, swaying a little as the ship pitched and then rolled yet again.

  When he had snatched up the quilt to cover himself, he had thrown his towel onto the table where the pitcher and basin sat. Feeling entranced, as if a mage had worked a sweet, mind-numbing spell on her, Calia slowly crossed the cabin, took the towel, and used it to dab at his still moist chest and shoulders. Garit caught his breath and then caught the hand with the towel, holding it well away from his body.

  “You should not do that,” he said, his voice harsh. “You have no idea what you are doing.”

  “I am drying you before you take a chill.” Truly, she did not understand what magic was holding her. She knew better than to remain alone with a man who was unclothed. The knowledge of what lay beneath the quilt that he wore as if it were the finest raiment heated her cheeks and sent a flame curling into her heart. Yet her mind refused to command her feet to move to the door.

  What was happening to her wasn’t Garit’s fault. Lady Elgida had told her that he possessed no Power an
d on his first day at Saumar, Calia had tested him for herself, probing very cautiously, so he wouldn’t guess that she was hiding her own Power.

  “Calia.” He took the towel from her.

  “Yes, Garit.” She did not move.

  She heard the hiss of air expelled between his teeth, as if he had been holding his breath for a long time with his jaw clenched. Then she was in his arms, his cheek against hers, his beard scratching her skin.

  “You should go now,” he whispered, tightening his arms around her in a way that made Calia wonder if his mind, like hers, was issuing warnings that his body refused to obey. He ought to release her and she ought to leave his cabin. Neither of them moved. They stood as they were, fitting together beautifully, until she remembered who she was and thus found the courage to pull away.

  “Shall I tell Lady Elgida you will join her shortly?” To her ears her own voice sounded unnaturally husky. She looked into his blue eyes and saw that he did want her.

  “One day soon,” he whispered, “we will have more time and greater privacy.”

  For what? she longed to ask him. After you know who and what I am, will you still want me? I greatly doubt it, Garit, my love. She gasped then, realizing the progression of her thoughts and frightened that her emotions had come so far so quickly in regard to him. She had known him for less than a month, yet her heart was solidly and firmly fixed upon him.

  She was free to love him, but she could not allow him to love her. Not unless she wanted him to hate her when the truth was finally known, as it soon would be. She could not bear the thought of Garit hating and despising her, so she fled from his arms and his cabin.

  In the narrow corridor she leaned against the wall beside the closed door, fighting back the tears, telling herself it mattered not if her heart were to be broken in a few days’ time. She could bear that; she had endured far worse from people she’d loved and trusted and then lost to betrayal. But she must protect Garit’s heart. He had suffered too much already. He would not be hurt because of her; not if she could help it.