The Golden Barbarian

  “I was, but I’m not any longer.”

  She was not reassured and blurted out quickly, “I know you told me I wasn’t to come here, but it was necessary.” She frowned as a thought occurred to her. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Kalim followed you.”

  “Kalim …” She leaned forward in her chair, peering at the shadowy contours of his face. Now, she was beginning to suspect the reason for his anger. “I suppose he told you about that foolishness he—”

  “I don’t want to discuss Kalim.” The spark caught, and suddenly the wood burst into flame. “His role in this is done.”

  “I have to discuss Kalim, if I’m to—” She inhaled sharply as he turned his face toward her. The features were the same, but his expression made them alien to her. He looked younger, harder, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight, his lips curving in a reckless smile that held an element of cruelty. “I think it would be best if we talk,” she murmured.

  “I’m done with talk.” He shrugged off his cloak and dropped it on the carpet in front of the hearth. “And I’m done with waiting.”

  Waiting. The word stirred something in her memory, a realization that had come to her in that half-waking state only a moment ago. “You’re not yourself. Let’s go back to the palace and we’ll—”

  “On the contrary, you’ve never seen me more myself than I am at this moment.” He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off, and dropped it carelessly on the floor. His tone was soft, easy, almost carefree, and yet Tess found herself tensing as if confronted by a wild animal. The comparison was apt because in this moment Galen seemed a magnificent catlike creature, lithe, silken, completely sensual.

  He crossed to the windowsill and half sat, half leaned against it as he pulled off his boots, then his trousers. “Remove your clothing.” The words were spoken casually. “I wish you to be ready for me.” He glanced up at her and smiled faintly as he saw the way she stiffened. “As you must always be ready for me from this time on. At any hour and in any way I want you. I may not be sure your babe is mine, but I will not be cheated. There will be a child for the El Zalan.”

  “Not yours?” She should be arguing with him, perhaps even be growing fearful, but she found she was only curious, fascinated by this new side to him.

  “My pleasure will be in the result, if not the creation.” He was naked now and moving toward her across the chamber. She was again aware of his vibrant animal grace, the rippling muscles of his thighs that flexed as he walked, his arousal.

  “Stand up,” he commanded.

  She jerked her gaze from his lower body and slowly got to her feet. She could feel excitement pounding through her as she stared at him. “You really should listen to me.”

  “That’s what I told myself.” He smiled. “But then I realized a man can blind himself with logic. Why try to find excuses for what is a woman’s nature? You were brought up by a strumpet, and it was unreasonable for me to expect you not to have the same morals.” He began to unfasten her gown. “You lusted, and I was not here to satisfy.” His smile widened as he saw the shiver run through her when his knuckles brushed against her breasts. “I won’t make that mistake again. You’ll travel wherever I go from now on.” He parted the bodice of her gown and looked down at her breasts. A dark flush mantled his cheeks, and his voice became thick. “But you’ll learn to please only me with your body.” He reached out and cupped her left breast in his hand.

  She bit her lower lip to smother a cry. His palm was hard, callused against her softness, and sent a strange heat through her body.

  His thumbnail flicked back and forth across the nipple, watching it grow hard and distended. “You like this, don’t you? Tell me, was Yusef a good lover?”

  “Yusef wasn’t—” She broke off as his thumb and finger closed on her nipple, not roughly, but with just enough pressure to send hot flame tingling through her. Her spine arched helplessly toward him. She had not dreamed her flesh could be this sensitive to mere touch. She couldn’t breathe. Her breasts were lifting and falling as she tried to force air into her lungs.

  “I believe we won’t talk of Yusef.”

  “I wasn’t the one who brought him up,” she said indignantly.

  “I was wrong. I didn’t know how angry I’d feel hearing his name on your lips.” He drew a deep breath, his hand opening and closing on her breast. “And I didn’t think I’d care if I hurt you, but I find the idea oddly distasteful.”

  He was only squeezing her breast, yet the caress was generating a mysterious aching emptiness between her thighs. She moistened her lips with her tongue. “I wouldn’t let you hurt me.”

  “A woman is helpless in certain positions.… And I intend you to know every one of them.” His hand dropped away, and he turned his back on her. “I’m growing impatient. Strip off your other garments if you don’t wish me to tear them from you. You must have clothing to wear back to the palace.”

  She hesitated, trying to decide what to do. Instinct urged her to continue to try to explain, but he clearly didn’t want to listen. Besides, wasn’t this what she, too, wanted? The anticipation he had fostered in her for this new experience was approaching fever pitch. She wanted to know. Why should she deny what she wanted because his words annoyed her?

  She slipped the divided gown off her shoulders and let it fall into a pool at her feet.

  “Why did no one feel compassion for the witch?” Galen asked in a low voice.

  She blinked. “What?”

  “The witch must have felt affection for Rapunzel to have wanted to keep her safe from the sorrows of the world. Yet the sympathy is for those who betrayed her.”

  “I don’t know what to—”

  “Never mind. The thought just occurred to me.”

  She stepped over her gown, sat on the chair, and took off her stockings and suede boots. Then she stood. What did she do now? What did he want of her? She stepped closer and began to loosen the ribbon tying his queue.

  The muscles of his back rippled as her breasts brushed his flesh. “What are you doing?”

  “Isn’t this why you turned your back on me?”

  “No.” His voice was hoarse. “I turned my back so that I could keep myself from lifting you and thrusting in you as you stood there.”

  She was immediately interested. “Is that possible?”

  “Yes.” His breathing was uneven. “More. Probable.”

  “I don’t believe I ever saw Pauline do—” She stopped as he turned to her. “Will it hurt?”

  “Not if you’re ready for me.”

  “How do I know if I’m ready?”

  “How? Yusef must have proved very inadequate if you don’t know—” He broke off with a sardonic smile. “Good, I dislike the thought of him teaching you everything.” His lips tightened. “Anything.” He stepped closer, his hand cupping her womanhood, rubbing, caressing. Two fingers probed, explored. “Lord, you’re tight.”

  She gasped as she felt the intimate intrusion. “Perhaps we’d better not—”

  “The hell we won’t,” he muttered. “But not this way.” He pulled her down on his cloak and knelt, facing her. “You’re too little.”

  She dimly remembered what he had told her on their wedding night. “You said a woman was meant to take a man.”

  “I obviously shouldn’t have been so general. You were meant to take me.” His tone was almost a growl as he pushed her onto her back and parted her thighs. “Be quite still, and let me look at you.”

  But looking wasn’t the only thing he was doing. His fingers were parting, probing, his gaze fastened on that most private part of her. Sudden shyness overwhelmed her, and she quickly shut her eyes. She felt as if she were melting into the cloak beneath her. Her breasts lifted and fell with every breath as she lay exposed and vulnerable before him while shiver after hot shiver stabbed through her.

  His palms moved upward, sliding over her hips to fasten on either side of her slim waist. “Merde, you’re tiny. My hands almost reac
h around you.” His grip tightened, letting her feel the hard power of his hands. “I could break you, if I wished.” He released her waist, and his palms glided slowly over her flesh down her belly to the curls surrounding her womanhood. “But I’d have to be mad to destroy this.” His fingers tangled, combed, petted the soft curls. “Look at me.”

  Her eyes opened. He was bending over her. His dark eyes glittered wildly in his flushed face as his hand searched. “I want to see you enjoy me. Do you know how many times I’ve thought about doing this?” He found what he had been searching for, and his thumb and forefinger closed upon her.

  Her eyes widened in shock as a hot wave of convulsive pleasure tore through her.

  He plucked and squeezed gently, skillfully, his gaze narrowed on her face, absorbing every nuance of expression. “Heat, Tess?”

  “Yes …” She could barely force the word through the haze of pleasure he was bringing her. The tempo of the plucking accelerated, and she bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out. She could feel the muscles of her stomach clenching, her spine arched helplessly up from the floor toward him. “Dear heaven, what—what are you doing to me?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he muttered as he widened her thighs and moved between them, nudging at the heart of her womanhood. “You had to be ready for me.”

  She tensed and immediately felt his hands on her belly, stroking, smoothing, soothing her. “Easy …” he murmured.

  She doubted if he was even aware of that last action, for his expression reflected only a heavy dazed sensuality, and the words were spoken abstractedly. A flutter of warmth surged through her as she realized that no matter how deep his anger, he was instinctively trying to make the experience more palatable for her. She mustn’t be such a coward about an act that happened to all women, she thought impatiently. This was what she had wanted him to do to her. “Go ahead,” she whispered. “Now. I’m ready.”

  A harsh sound burst from him as he plunged forward.

  She cried out as he broke through the barrier and buried himself deep within her.

  She heard his shocked oath as he froze above her, but she was too busy trying to adjust to the intruder in her body. Pain was fading, and she was beginning to feel a delicious fullness.

  “The hell you were ready,” he said hoarsely. “Why didn’t—”

  “Hush.” She was savoring their joining, but rapidly discovering it wasn’t enough. The aching emptiness was still not satisfied. “Don’t talk. Move. I want to feel you.”

  He was still a moment, and then a crooked smile crossed his face. “Oh, you will. You’re right, it’s too late for talk.” He withdrew, then began to thrust, slow, fast, shallow, deep. “Like this?”

  She nodded frantically, her head moving back and forth on the cloak as a hot tension began to build within her.

  He stopped for a moment, his hands reaching blindly out to cup her breasts. “Merde, you’re holding me too tight—you’re killing me.”

  Did that mean she was doing something wrong? Yet he didn’t look in pain. He hunched over her, driving in and out, his dark hair streaming about his shoulders, his eyes shut, and an expression of agonized pleasure on his face.

  She tried to move, to help him, but he was losing control, bucking, lifting her from the floor with each thrust. She could only hold on to him, lost in a delirium of sensation.

  He rolled over, muttering wild words beneath his breath as he pulled her on top of him and bucked upward, again and again and again. Then, still not satisfied, he rolled over again and sat up, lifting her legs to curve around his hips. “You’re not taking enough.” His flesh was pulled tight over his high cheekbones, his lips heavy with sensuality as his hips jerked feverishly back and forth. “I need you close, part of me …”

  “I’m trying.…” She didn’t know if he heard her. There was no trace of the controlled Galen she had come to know in this untamed sensualist leading her through an erotic haze. He shifted again, changed positions, and fresh waves of sensation jolted through her.

  Her nails bit into his shoulders as the pace quickened. She couldn’t take any more. The heat was too intense, yet it continued to rise feverishly within her.

  Beauty. Hunger. Searching.

  He plunged deeper, stronger. She could hear the harsh rasp of his breath above her. “Close.” His teeth were clenched. “So close. I can’t—”

  From somewhere far away she heard the low animal cries she was making deep in her throat. Mating. Splendor.

  Completion.

  She heard Galen’s low groan above her as he threw back his head, a massive shudder racking his big body.

  Beautiful, she thought dazedly as she looked up at his face above her. Galen’s expression in this moment was almost as beautiful as the release climaxing through her. She had given him that look of supreme pleasure, she realized with fierce satisfaction.

  He fell forward, his elbows braced on either side of her to spare her his weight. His chest moved in and out as he tried desperately to catch his breath. He didn’t move for a moment, flexing within her. She could feel his heartbeat heavy, fast against her breast.

  Then, slowly, jerkily, he sat up, his chest still heaving painfully with every breath. He muttered an oath as he got off her and stood up. He padded barefoot to the hearth, snatched up her cloak from the chair, and came back to where she lay on the carpet. “Sit up.”

  “Not yet.” She didn’t want to move. She wasn’t sure she would ever want to move again. What a delicious languor, she thought dazedly. It was almost more delightful than the sensations that had gone before. “Later …”

  He frowned down at her. “Did I hurt you?”

  She tried to remember through the after-haze of the emotional storm through which she had just plummeted during the last moments. “I think so. A little. At first …”

  “It was entirely your fault. Merde, what stupidity. Don’t you know what I could have done to you?” The roughness of his voice was belied by the gentleness of his hands as he knelt and tucked the cloak about her. “You should have told me Yusef hadn’t touched you.”

  “You didn’t want to listen.”

  “You should have made me listen.” He sat down on the carpet beside her and linked his arms over his knees, the muscles of his shoulders and arms ridged with tension. “It was a matter of the utmost importance.”

  “Would you have believed me?”

  He was silent a moment. “Probably not. I—I was not myself.”

  Yet she believed the passionate recklessness she had discovered in Galen tonight was as much a part of him as the disciplined man she had learned to know. “Then why are you angry?”

  “I believe the question should be why you aren’t angry with me for forcing you.”

  “Because you didn’t force me.” She sat up and drew his cloak around her. “You should know that. Merde, you took long enough arousing my curiosity about the act.”

  His gaze narrowed on her face. “I hope more than your curiosity was satisfied.”

  She nodded briskly. “Oh yes, I enjoyed it very much. No wonder Pauline is so fond of the sport.”

  The faintest smile touched his lips. “Then you’ve decided she doesn’t indulge herself merely because she has nothing better to do?”

  She frowned thoughtfully. “It’s very …”—she searched for a word—”strong, isn’t it? I never realized …”

  “It has to be experienced.” He was silent a moment. “Do you still hurt?”

  “I’m a trifle sore.” She wrinkled her nose. “But no more than I was after that first day I rode astride. Actually, your pounding was far gentler than Pavda’s gait.”

  Surprise crossed his face, and he threw back his head and laughed. “Dear God in heaven, if you’re not comparing me to your father, you’re likening me to your horse.”

  She grinned. “You shouldn’t object. I’ve heard gentlemen delight in calling themselves stallions.”

  His smile faded. “With strumpets a man can
be a stallion. A virgin deserves gentleness.”

  “I didn’t mind. I found it all very interesting. I believe I must not have been a proper virgin.”

  His eyes twinkled. “A virgin cannot be anything but proper, else she wouldn’t be a virgin.”

  “You know what I mean.” She glanced away from him. “As usual, I was too bold. I liked it too much.”

  “To my infinite delight.”

  Her gaze shifted back to him. “Truly?”

  “Truly,” he answered solemnly. “I should have expected nothing else from you.” He gently touched her hair with his fingertips. “Life, kilen.”

  Joy surged through her with a heady force that dispersed the languor. She smiled radiantly. “I’m glad you don’t mind my lack of meekness. I should hate to have to—” She broke off as she heard a familiar tinkle of bells, a dry rustling. “Alexander!”

  “What?”

  She threw the cloak aside, scrambled to her feet, and ran across the chamber. “It’s Alexander. He’s back.”

  “Who in hades is Alexander?”

  She ignored the question as she reached the window. “Come in, you idiot. It’s a wonder you didn’t get lost in the dark.”

  Alexander flew through the window and landed on the mantel above the fireplace.

  Galen stared in astonishment as the pigeon waddled along the wide stone mantel. “A bird?”

  “Not just any bird. He’s my homing pigeon. I told you about him the second day I arrived in Zalandan.”

  “Ah, yes. How could such an important tidbit of information have escaped my memory?” He watched her pick up the bird and carry it toward the wicker cage under the window. “I confess my mind was occupied by a few trifling matters. Bandits, tribal wars, unity … I take it this Alexander has something to do with why you’re here?”

  “Of course.” She glanced at him in surprise. “Kalim was going to cut off Yusef’s head. Besides, the flight from Yusef’s roof was no longer a challenge for Alexander.” She frowned down at the bird. “No, I’m not going to give you any grain. You don’t deserve it. You were supposed to go back to Zalandan.” She closed the cage. “I get very impatient with him. The silly bird probably flew all the way to Said Ababa and back.”