The Golden Barbarian

  Her cheeks grew hot, and she looked hastily away from him. “That isn’t thinking, that’s lusting.” She leaned forward and gazed out the window, and was immediately rewarded with a glimpse of a familiar sign. “Oh, there’s that interesting café. I asked Sacha to take me there, but he refused.” She turned to Galen. “Will you take me … tonight?” She added quickly, “Providing Selik is doing well, of course.”

  “Naturally, any bridal repast would have to be postponed if Selik isn’t in the pink.”

  “Why are you smiling, Galen? We both know this ceremony has no importance.”

  “It’s of the utmost importance.”

  She gestured impatiently. “You know what I mean—only the alliance is important. Will you take me to the café?”

  “Why not? I owe you a supper for your labor with Selik last night, and it may prove an enlightening experience for you.”

  “I like it,” Tess announced, her gaze roaming the noisy café. The boards of the wooden floor were warped and sagging, and the torches affixed to the walls sent out plumes of smoke that stung the eyes and made the air blue with haze. “Isn’t it exciting, Sacha?”

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Of course I should be here.” She glanced mischievously over her shoulder at Galen as she sat down on the chair he was holding for her. “I’m a married woman, and therefore privileged to go where I wish. Isn’t that correct, my lord?”

  “Within certain limits.” Galen’s expression was impassive as he glanced around the room. “However, I see little to recommend this establishment.”

  “How can you say such a thing?” Tess folded her gloved hands on the scarred table. “It’s perfectly splendid, and I’m sure the food will be excellent.”

  “Providing there are no cockroaches in the stew.” Sacha sat next to Galen and motioned to a burly servant.

  “There were no cockroaches in the stew on board the ship. The food was a bit boring, but the cook was clean, and I’m sure that—Is that a strumpet?” Tess stared at a fair-haired woman in a dirty green dress who sat on a sailor’s lap. “She’s quite pretty, isn’t she?”

  “Prettier than most of her breed,” Sacha said as the waiter unceremoniously plopped down three glasses and filled them with red wine from a huge leather carafe slung on a strap about her neck.

  “Breed?” Tess frowned. “I don’t like that word. It makes her sound like a horse or a cow.”

  Sacha waved the waiter away as he appraised the woman’s huge breasts spilling over the neckline of her gown. “There are some similarities, you must admit.”

  “I do not admit to anything of the sort. She’s a woman, not an animal. She obviously lets herself be used because she has no other means to support herself.”

  “And what about your Pauline?” Galen asked softly. “Why does she let herself be used?”

  “Pauline isn’t a strumpet, she’s …” Tess hesitated, thinking about it. “She’s not overly bright and has few interests. Perhaps she does it to keep from becoming bored.”

  Sacha choked on his wine. “Quite possible. She certainly applies herself to … er, entertaining herself.”

  Tess knew they were laughing at her, but she didn’t care. The subject of physical pleasure was not really important to her except as a curiosity. This place was too interesting to waste time on trivialities. “I’m hungry. May we eat now?”

  “But of course.” Galen’s lips quirked. “It’s a husband’s duty to satisfy his wife’s … appetites.”

  “Stop it, Sacha.” Tess giggled helplessly as Sacha swung her in a wide circle all the while moving across the courtyard toward the inn. “You’ve had too much to drink. We’ll both end up in a heap on the ground.”

  “You insult me,” said Sacha, looking owlishly at her. “You think I can’t hold my wine. This is a felicitous occasion, and I’m merely happy. Extraordinarily happy.”

  “You’re extraordinarily drunk.” Tess smiled indulgently as she steadied him against the door-jamb. “You would think this was your wedding day by the way you’re celebrating.”

  “I’m celebrating because it’s not my wedding day.” Sacha’s smile faded, and his eyes filled with morose tears as he touched her cheek with a gentle finger. “Poor little imp.”

  “She seems to be doing better than you are at the moment,” Galen said as he caught up with them. He threw open the door. “Come on, I’ll help you up the stairs.”

  “Not necessary.” Sacha lurched through the door toward the staircase. “I’m perfectly able to—” His foot slipped on the second step, and he pitched forward.

  “Perfectly able to fall flat on your face.”

  “I stumbled,” Sacha said with dignity. “How do they expect a man to see to get up the stairs with only one candle left burning?”

  “Strange that I have no trouble seeing.” Galen helped Sacha to his feet and slipped his arm around his waist. “I’ve just finished nursing Selik, and have no intention of acquiring another patient.”

  “Are you comparing me to a horse?”

  “Only when you’re sober. When drunk, your intellect bears a distinct resemblance to that of a sun-addled camel.”

  “Insult upon insult.”

  “What else can you expect from a barbarian?” Galen started up the steps, bearing at least half of Sacha’s weight.

  Sacha began to sing beneath his breath.

  “Shall I call his servant?” Tess asked.

  “Sacha no longer travels with a servant.” Galen paused to shift his hold and drape Sacha’s arm about his neck. “Said takes care of both of us when we travel.”

  “Indeed?” Tess closed the front door and watched them climb. “How odd.” The Sacha she had known had always traveled with a full entourage of servants ranging from cooks and valets to grooms.

  “Not so odd. Servants get in the way when traveling in the desert.” Galen had reached the top of the steps and looked down at her. “Go to your chamber. I’ll join you shortly.”

  She felt the smile freeze on her lips as shock rippled through her. “You will?”

  “Of course.”

  “Of course,” Tess muttered. What else could she have expected? This was her wedding night, wasn’t it? A child was part of the bargain, and she was no ninny, ignorant of how one was conceived. Yet he had said he would give her time, and she had thought—

  “Tess,” Galen said softly over his shoulder. “Go to your chamber.”

  Tess nodded jerkily and flew up the staircase, edging around him and Sacha to get to her chamber. She should not feel so disappointed by Galen. She knew that few men kept their word to the women of their households. She slammed the door behind her and pressed back against the panels, her heart pounding wildly, her cheeks fever-hot. It would not be so terrible once she got used to it. Pauline had actually liked being mounted. Tess had often heard her beg for it.

  But Tess was not Pauline.

  Still, she had made a bargain and must keep her part of it.

  Undress. She knew that was part of it. To ready herself for the act, she must shed her clothing. She should be unclothed when Galen came to her.

  Tess drew a deep breath and pushed away from the door. Her fingers went to the delicate pearl buttons marching down the back of her spring-green gown.

  Five minutes later she was completely nude and lying beneath the covers. The room was warm. There was no reason for her to be shivering. Everything would be fine. Pauline liked it, and the woman at the café had not seemed to mind when the sailor fondled her bre—

  The door opened. Galen stopped just inside the door and lifted the candle he carried. He saw Tess huddled against the oak headboard and his lips tightened with displeasure. “How delightful to have such an accommodating bride. I admit I didn’t expect to find you so compliant.”

  “I don’t feel compliant.” Her voice was trembling, and she forced herself to steady it. “I have no liking for this.”

  The grimness faded from his expression. “Then why are you
being so meek?”

  “It’s not meekness. It’s honor. We clearly cannot have a babe if I do not accept you into my body.”

  “I see.” He closed the door behind him. “But I believe I told you I could wait for consummation.”

  “But you said—” Relief surged through her. “I thought you’d changed your mind.”

  “I keep my promises. You’ll be the first to know when I change my mind.” He set the pewter candle-holder down on the closest table, removed his coat, and laid it across a chair. “I have no intention of forcing you.”

  “It wouldn’t be force. A bargain is a bargain.”

  “It’s a quirk of mine that I prefer enthusiasm to forbearance.” He untied his striped cravat and pulled it off. “You may not conceive a child at once, and I dislike the idea of you gritting your teeth every time I touch you.”

  “I cannot promise you enthusiasm.” Her hand clutched more tightly to the blanket. “I don’t think I’ll care for it. Though I admit I’m a little confused by it all. Pauline likes it, but I have seen mares mounted by stallions that don’t look as if they’re very …”—she paused, searching for the correct word—“comfortable.”

  “Comfortable?” He smiled. “No, there’s little comfort in it. And I can’t promise you there will be no pain, but I believe you’ll find it interesting.” He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. “When I show you the way of it.”

  She stared at his powerful muscles. They ridged his shoulders, grew large on his upper arms, and chest. Her gaze followed the black triangle of hair on his chest to where it disappeared into the waistband of his black trousers. His flesh looked like burnished bronze. A queer fluttery feeling started in the pit of her stomach. “If you aren’t going to fornicate with me, why are you removing your clothes?”

  “I’m going to bed.”

  “With me? Why? You have a chamber of your own.”

  His lips twisted. “Unlike the nobility of Tamrovia, in Zalandan husbands and wives not only sleep in the same chamber but the same bed.”

  “How peculiar. I should think the lack of privacy must be something of an imposition.” She shrugged. “Oh well, I suppose I’ll become accustomed to it.”

  “I trust so. Lower the cover.”

  She stiffened, her eyes widening. “What?”

  “Sit up and drop the cover. I want to look at you.”

  Her cheeks began to sting. “I see no purpose in looking if you’re not going to do anything.”

  “There’s a purpose. Lower the blanket.”

  She forced herself to release her grasp, and the cover fell to her waist. She felt as if her flesh were ablaze as she lifted her chin defiantly to glare at him. “What rhyme or reason is there in exposing myself? I’m no beauty like Lady Camilla. You’ll get no pleasure from staring at me.”

  “No, you’re no Camilla.” His gaze lingered on her shoulders before traveling down to her breasts. “But sometimes the smaller jewel has the most beautiful facets.”

  “And sometimes the facets are so small you can’t tell whether they’re beautiful or not.” She couldn’t breathe. Her breasts felt tight, yet they were swelling under his gaze. “May I pull up the blanket now, my lord?”

  He slowly shook his head, his gaze never leaving her breasts. “I think not. I believe we’re making progress.”

  “Toward what end?”

  He smiled. “Why, to the end of becoming accustomed to each other. From now on you will sleep naked in my bed, and I will fondle and caress you whenever I am moved to do so.” He sat down in the chair by the door, pulled off his left boot, and dropped it on the floor. “Kneel on the bed, facing me.”

  She didn’t look at him as she threw aside the blanket and knelt on her haunches, facing him. “You cannot be enjoying this.” She heard his other boot drop to the floor. “I believe you’re doing this to shame me.”

  “Don’t you like to have me look at you?”

  “It makes me most uncomfortable.”

  “You shouldn’t be uncomfortable. You’re quite lovely.”

  She snorted derisively. “I have hideous red hair and eyes too big for my face and—”

  “The most exquisite breasts and limbs I’ve ever seen.”

  She inhaled sharply and kept her gaze fastened on the wall behind his shoulder.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  She swallowed. “No.”

  “Then I suppose I’ll have to furnish proof. Look at me.”

  Her gaze moved reluctantly from the wall. He was naked, standing perfectly at ease, his legs slightly astride, a brawny study in sleek bronze and black.

  Her eyes widened as they traveled down his body to rest on his rampant arousal.

  His gaze followed hers. “Proof,” he repeated softly.

  “You look … different.”

  “Different from what?”

  “From when I saw you naked before.”

  “You were only a child.” He chuckled. “Besides, you saw me after the fact, not before or during. Proof is not always in evidence.” He paused. “Though I’ve had a damnable time keeping it from becoming so today.” He took the candle and started across the room.

  She instinctively tensed, her gaze clinging to his.

  “Listen very carefully,” he said softly. “I do find you desirable, so desirable I ache with it.” He stopped before her and set the candle on the bedside table. “Can you doubt it now?”

  She couldn’t speak.

  His hand reached out and touched her hair with exquisite gentleness.

  “You’re so tiny,” he whispered. “Last night as I watched you, I kept thinking how tight you’d be around me. Every time I think about you, I grow hard, wondering …”

  She felt as if she were drowning. He was scarcely touching her, and yet she felt a deep tingling in her palms, in the nipples of her breasts, even in the arches of her feet. She tore her gaze away from his face. “I doubt you’ll fit.”

  “You know better. A female is created to accept a man.” His hand moved from her hair to caress her throat. “To want a man. A mare may not appear to enjoy mating, but haven’t you seen one back up to a stallion, looking over her shoulder, wriggling her tail at him?” His thumb pressed the hollow of her throat, and she knew he could feel the leap of her pulse beneath the pad of flesh. “Do you know how much I’d like to have you do that for me?”

  Shock caused her body to flinch. “I’m not an animal.”

  “I meant no insult. Sometimes my words have no grace.” His hand left her throat and both arms fell to his sides. “I’m not entirely undressed. Help me.”

  She gazed at him in bewilderment. What was he talking about? He was already naked.

  He turned his back to her. “The ribbon tying my queue. Unfasten it for me.”

  She rose onto her knees and with trembling fingers tried to unfasten the black grosgrain ribbon binding his hair. Her breasts brushed the warm flesh of his back. She felt a shudder go through him. She tried to arch away from him as she worked at the knot, but she brushed him again. This time the shiver that went through him was echoed by hers. Her breasts were aching, the nipples pebble hard, a strange throbbing between her thighs. What was happening to her? “I can’t seem to—Perhaps you’d better do it.”

  “No.” His voice was guttural. “In Zalandan it’s traditional for a wife to do this. It symbolizes that only she has the privilege to set her man free.”

  But the act did not set Tess free. With every passing moment the feeling of being held and possessed by Galen was increasing. She finally managed to untie the ribbon and pull it from his hair. She tossed it on the bedside table and sat back on her heels with a sigh of relief. “It’s done.”

  He shook his head, his back still turned to her. The candlelight caught the thick luster of his black hair as it flowed down to skim his shoulders, the play of muscles in his shoulders. She felt a sudden wild desire to reach out and stroke those muscles, tangle her fingers in his mane and pull him down to—

&nb
sp; He turned to face her, huge, primitive, untamed. His eyes were glittering, a dark strand of hair now fell over his forehead, the rest of his loosened hair framed his face. His nostrils flared then, slowly, he slid both palms down his thighs in blatant invitation. Tess gasped, the muscles of her stomach clenching. He had not touched her, but she felt as if he had drawn her against his body with that one sensual gesture.

  “Lust can arouse the animal in any of us, kilen. As I hope you’ll soon discover.” He drew a deep, harsh breath and closed his eyes tightly. “Dear Lord, very soon.”

  His lids flicked open, and he stepped back. He leaned forward and blew out the candle.

  Tess supposed she should have felt relieved, but the darkness only made her feel more vulnerable.

  She could see Galen’s shadowy bulk before her, she could smell his scent.

  “Lie down.” Galen’s low voice vibrated with tension. “I can’t take any more. It’s over for now.”

  It had not really begun, Tess thought dazedly. He had only touched her hair and her throat, he had only looked at her body and murmured a few words of need and desire. Why did she feel this sense of bondage?

  “Now.”

  She scrambled under the cover and moved to the far side of the bed.

  The next moment she felt the mattress give under Galen’s weight.

  He lay beside her, not touching her, every muscle hardened with tension.

  She lay beside him, her heart pounding, the odd throbbing in her groin.

  “I don’t understand what this is all about,” she said haltingly. “Why?”

  His voice was thick, his breathing harsh in the darkness. “I’ll have you the way I want you or not at all.”

  “It’s only for the babe. What difference does it make?”

  “A great difference.” He was silent for a long moment. “We are two civilized people. I will not play stallion to your mare.” He was silent, and when he spoke again, his tone was fierce, desperate. “Because, by God, I am not a barbarian.”

  Chapter 3

  Galen was gone when Tess awoke the next morning, and she experienced a rush of relief mixed with disappointment. His presence was exciting; he intrigued her mind while inspiring a curious vitality to possess her body. She wasn’t sure she was ready yet to try to understand his effect on her. Last night had been a most unsettling experience. What an unusual and unpredictable man Galen Ben Raschid was proving to be.