“Perhaps to the ruins above the city. There is a very entrancing view from there,”
the man replied.
“He is a stranger here. Did he ask after the ruins?” Kyle asked.
“He seemed to know of them and inquired how to find the Wall of D’ron,” was the
answer.
“We’ll try there,” Kyle said, and nodded his thanks to the tavern keeper.
“Alsandair has always wanted to travel,” Rylee told her companion. “More than
likely he knows all there is to know of this place the tavern keeper mentioned.”
It was a narrow, winding flagstone pathway that led up to the older part of Sulan
and the legendary Wall of D’ron from which the earliest settlers had defended their city
against Kanus invaders. Far too many of the settlers had been slaughtered that day, but
they had managed to maintain control of their city, pushing the invaders back into an
uneasy co-existence in Midworld. A narrow strip of land separated the two cultures. On
the Sulan side, the land was rich and fertile. On the Kanus, rolling sand dunes and miles
and miles of nothingness marked the land as theirs.
As they climbed the path, Kyle felt uneasy. He was sure they were being followed
but when he would surreptitiously look back, he found no one behind them. Still, the
feeling persisted and he kept rubbing at the back of his neck, his well-honed sense of
self-preservation kicking in.
They found Alsandair lounging on a flat slab that looked as though it might have
been part of the famed wall. He was lying there propped up by his elbows and with one
knee crooked. Beside him were the empty bottle of beer and a small chunk of bread.
Kyle helped Rylee up the last few feet of uneven ground and over to the spot where
Alsandair lay. He gave the other man a quick smile. “Devastating view, isn’t it?” he
asked.
Looking away from Rylee’s flushed face, Alsandair gazed out over the stunning
vista the captain had told him was one of the loveliest in the known world. From the
steep hill upon which he rested, he could look down to the dazzling white-washed
buildings of Sulan that lined the waterfront, the verdant green palm trees swaying in
the breeze and then beyond to the turquoise water that stretched out as far as the eye
could see in the Gulf of Kanpor. It was indeed a spectacular view.
“What are you doing here, Striker?” Alsandair inquired as Kyle helped Rylee to sit
down on the massive stone slab.
“Interfering in your life,” Kyle said in a good-natured voice. He dusted off his
hands and drew his knees up, circling them with his arms.
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“You seem to make a habit of doing that,” Alsandair mumbled.
Kyle grinned unapologetically. “One of my finer talents, I believe.”
Alsandair snorted in reply to that claim. His attention wasn’t on Kyle but the one
who had been shadowing the couple as they made their way up to the ruins. Though
the man was stealthy enough, he had managed to catch the warrior’s eye and Alsandair
was watching him like a hawk.
“We decided the three of us needed to sit down and have a talk,” Kyle said,
momentarily dragging Alsandair’s scrutiny back to him. He spread his hands. “Well,
we’re sitting so we might as well talk, eh?”
Alsandair looked away again. “And what exactly is it you think we need to talk
about?”
“You and Rylee.”
The man who had followed Kyle and Rylee had moved up a few feet and was
reaching into his robes as he seemed to be keeping an eye on his targets. His entire
demeanor smacked of being criminal. He was a thief if Alsandair had ever seen one.
Alsandair knew the man couldn’t see him since the angle of the incline hid
Alsandair from view lying there on the slab. He sat up and as soon as he did, the man
stopped fumbling in his robes, his surprised eyes met Alsandair’s and then he spun
around and disappeared back down the pathway.
“Did you know you were followed?” Alsandair asked softly.
“I felt we were,” Kyle said with a frown. “Short man, bearded, headpiece with a
gold cord and a jagged scar on his right cheek?”
“From this distance I couldn’t make out a scar but that same man was lurking in the
doorway of the apothecary when I came out of the tavern,” Alsandair explained.
“That’s him. He was watching us earlier,” Kyle said.
“Most likely a thief or a slaver,” Alsandair stated.
“Or both,” Alsandair agreed. “Whatever he is he’s gone now, but I’d be cautious
going back if I were you.”
Kyle nodded. “So noted.” He glanced at Rylee then cleared his throat. “About you
and Rylee—”
“Sandair, I am sorry,” Rylee blurted out. “Please forgive me.”
Alsandair swiveled his head to regard her but remained quiet.
Rylee twisted her hands in her lap. “What I did was wrong,” she continued in the
face of his silence. “It was stupid and juvenile and I heartily regret accompanying
Kyle.”
“That makes me feel special,” Kyle muttered.
“I love you and I want to be with you,” she said as though Kyle hadn’t spoken.
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“Nothing’s changed, milady,” Alsandair told her. “I am who and what I am and
nothing is going to alter that.” When she would have replied, he shook his head. “You
knew what I was and who I was from the start. You knew it when you agreed to Join
with me. I never hid anything from you.”
“I thought you would leave the military,” she said. “I honestly believed you would
cease risking your life and we could settle down to a normal life.”
“What do you consider a normal life?” he countered.
“Being home every night to sleep beside me. Not riding out in the middle of the
night to chase down a team of bandits and then be gone for over a month without so
much as a by-your-leave.”
“I couldn’t always tell you where I was going,” he said. “Such knowledge would
have been dangerous for you.”
“Aye, and you thrive on that danger, don’t you?” she said, her lips trembling. “Why
can’t you be content to raise horses like my father?”
“I am not a horse breeder, Rylee.”
“You could be!” she said. “Papa wants to retire and he could turn the stud farm
over to us.”
“A leopard can not change his spots, Rylee. I am a warrior and I always will be a
warrior,” Alsandair reminded her. “I know I’m getting too old to be at the top of my
game for much longer but I have skills the military needs.”
“You’re not the only man with those skills,” she declared.
“No and I was growing as tired of being away from you as you were of me leaving.
After this last assignment, when I came back from leave, I was going to put in a chit to
be a trainer.”
“Even so,” she said. “You know as well as I do they could still put you back in the
field. A man with your abilities is like gold to them.”
“I would have trained Cowan to take my place,” he said. “I’ve given enough of
myself, taken too many lives, been too loyal for the Guard not to reward me with
something
I want for a change.”
“But, Sandair—” she began.
“Accept me as I am, milady. Stop trying to dictate what you think I should do and
should be and let me decide how to run my own life. Otherwise, let’s end it once and
for all right here, right now,” he interrupted.
Moisture filled Rylee’s eyes. “I love you, Sandair,” she said.
“I love you too, Rylee,” he was quick to tell her, “but I won’t jump to your
manipulations. Don’t you think I know why you slept with him?” He nudged a chin
toward Kyle. “It wasn’t just for spite. You thought to make me jealous and in achieving
that make me do what you want.”
“Did I instill the green-eyed monster in you, Sandair?” Kyle queried.
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Alsandair was an honest man and though he hated to admit, told Kyle he had. “For
a short while at any rate.”
“It’s good to know I’m good for something,” Kyle laughed.
“Can you take me as I am, Rylee?” Alsandair pressed.
Rylee was chewing on her thumbnail. A part of her demanded she force him into
doing what she wanted and yet another part of her deeply respected his decision to be
true to his duty as he saw it. His steadfastness and loyalty, his warrior’s abilities were a
large part of why she loved him as much as she did.
“I would be miserable if I neglected my obligations, Rylee,” he said quietly.
Rylee hung her head. “And I would be the cause of that misery.”
“Why don’t you two think on it overnight?” Kyle said. “Weigh the pros and cons,
and if you still wish to be together, go on ahead and have the good captain say the vows
over you when we are at sea again.”
Both his companions turned to stare at Kyle. He shrugged. “I recognize a couple
who should by all rights be together. You may have differences but what couple
doesn’t? Think it over then decide tomorrow. Nothing need be cast in stone today.”
Alsandair followed Kyle’s movement as the gambler stood up and held out a hand
to help Rylee to her feet. “I’m starving, dearling, and that chunk of bread he has left is
starting to torment me.”
Picking up the bread, Alsandair tossed it to his rival. “Never let it be said I went
through this life without feeding the hungry,” he quipped.
“You are a good man, Sandair Farrell,” Kyle said as he caught the bread. He tore off
a piece and offered it to Rylee, who shook her head as she stood.
She was looking down at Alsandair—her heart in her eyes—and couldn’t speak
past the lump that had formed in her throat. Had they been alone, she would have
thrown herself into his arms. She had already made up her mind about what to do and
she suspected Alsandair had as well.
“Go back with him, milady,” Alsandair said. “Let’s take the time he suggests to
think on this.”
Rylee nodded, still unable to say what was in her heart. She smiled gratefully at
Kyle.
“Shall I make reservations for the two of you at the tavern across from the inn this
evening?” Kyle inquired, threading his fingers through Rylee’s.
Alsandair squinted. “You seem much too eager to give up all claim to milady,
Striker,” he said. “You’ll not fight for her?”
“I never bet on anything save a sure thing, Farrell,” Kyle answered. “I am not a
dense man. I see the lay of the road.” He brought Rylee’s hand up to his lips and kissed
it. “I was but a momentary, poor substitute for you.”
Alsandair knew at that moment Kyle Striker had realized he was going to lose the
card game on the ship and had wagered Rylee—not as an afterthought—but
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intentionally. The gambler had thrown them together in the only way he knew neither
could back away from. His reluctant liking of the man grew.
Kyle arched a thick blond brow, his lips twitching with humor for it was obvious he
knew he’d been found out. “You’ve a comment to make, Farrell?”
Alsandair shook his head. “No. Just be careful as you go back down the pathway,”
he cautioned. “Your stalker may still be about.”
“I’ll be on my guard. Come along, dearling,” Kyle said, tugging at her hand to lead
her back to the pathway.
“And make that reservation for three, Cupid,” Alsandair called out.
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Chapter Seven
Alsandair had not come back to the inn until around four in the afternoon. Rylee
and Kyle were sitting in the gathering room playing a game of backgammon when the
Anlusian warrior stopped at the desk and asked about the inn’s bathing facilities.
“Through yon door,” the innkeeper’s elderly father directed, pointing to a gaily
painted door with a high arch. “I will have the water drawn for you, milord.”
“We dine at nine of the clock, Sandair,” Kyle called out to him.
Not having seen Kyle and Rylee when he had entered, Alsandair turned toward
them and nodded. “I’ll be there.” His gaze flicked to Rylee then away.
“He looks tired,” Kyle commented as he watched Alsandair climb the stairs to the
rooms above.
Rylee frowned. “He looks like he has one of his headaches,” she replied.
“Migraines?”
“Very bad ones,” she told him. “I have known bouts to keep him abed for several
days.”
“They say such maladies are worse in men,” the gambler observed.
“His are terrible, indeed.”
“There is a very potent medicinal that helps,” Kyle said.
“Aye, tenerse,” Rylee agreed, “but he will only take it when he realizes he can no
longer control the pain.” She sighed as she dropped the dice into the leather cup she
held and shook them. “He can be a very stubborn patient.”
“I can believe that,” Kyle laughed.
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Chapter Eight
Alsandair opened the door to his room and stepped inside, wincing as the light
from the sun shone directly through his windows. Squinting against the debilitating
pain that was tapping out a brutal rhythm above his right eye, he walked over to pull
the curtains together. The nausea from the pain was a steady burning in his throat and
he feared if he didn’t take a short nap to try and sleep off the attack, he wouldn’t be able
to eat with Rylee and Kyle later. But he was sweaty after his foray through the ruins
above the city and wanted to bathe before lying down. He was pleasantly surprised and
relieved when a servant came up fifteen minutes later to tell him the bath was ready for
him.
Rylee and Kyle were no longer in the gathering room when Alsandair—a clean set
of clothing draped over his arm—came downstairs to take his bath. Upon asking the
innkeeper’s father if he knew where they’d gone, the old man indicated he did then
held out his hand, indicating for a price he’d tell Alsandair where they went.
“I’ll see them later,” Alsandair said, not having brought money downstairs with
him.
Going into the bathing chamber, Alsandair stripped off his sweaty clothing and
climbed into the large, tiled sunken bath. As he stepped down into the water he sighed
as the warmth enveloped him like a silky cocoon and he sank down until the water was
lapping at his unshaven chin. Laying his head on the bath’s rim, he let the water soothe
his tense body and laid a wet cloth over his eyes to block out the light that was playing
hell with his headache. When the door to the bathing chamber opened, he snarled,
realizing he hadn’t locked it, and reached up to drag the cloth from his face. The angry
words died in his throat when he saw Rylee entering the room. In her hands she carried
a tall tumbler of what he thought might be lemonade.
“I brought you some tenerse,” she said, reaching into the pocket of the skirt. She
pulled out a purple glass bottle.
Alsandair winced at the mention of the strong drug. “I don’t have a headache,” he
lied.
She came over to the tub. “Truly?”
“I’m fine,” he lied again.
“I apologize then,” she said as she put the frosty tumbler of lemonade down on the
tile coping that ran around the perimeter of the bath. “I misread the signs.” She put the
tenerse back in her pocket.
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He could feel her gaze settling on the sudden erection that bobbed in the water, the
head of his cock lifting to get a better view of the beautiful woman so close at hand. He
shoved the washcloth down in the water to cover himself.
“Would you like me to wash your back while I’m here?” she asked softly.
He licked his lips. “Aye,” he said, heat creeping into his cheeks at the thought of her
washing another portion of his anatomy.
She smiled at him and turned back to the door and shot the barrel bolt on the lock
so no one would interrupt them. When she faced him again, she was rolling up the
sleeves of her gown.
He watched her kneel down by the bath and hold out her hand. His eyebrows drew
together. “What?” he asked.
“The cloth?” she prompted.
His face turned redder. “Oh. Right.” Feeling the warmth stinging his cheeks, he
lifted the cloth and placed it in her hand.
“You act as though I’ve never seen you naked before, Sandy,” she chided him as
she reached for the soap and began lathering the cloth. “How many times have we
shared a bath, do you imagine?”
“A few times,” he managed to say. His headache was a tight band around his head