The Barbarian Prince (21 page)

When he looked into her eyes, he could see the powerful drugs the doctors had given her were still influencing her and her mind was hazy. He didn’t care, so long as she was safe. For the first time since finding her nearly dead on the bathroom floor, he felt as if he could breathe.

"Hey," she murmured again. Her hand was too weak to stay lifted to him and it fell to the mattress. "What happened? I can’t feel anything."

"That is the medicine," he whispered softly. "It is to keep you from hurting."

Morrigan nodded, blinking heavily. She almost drifted off before catching herself. Her wide eyes shone brightly as she looked at him.

"I was dreaming of dragons," she uttered. The medicine lowered any filter between her head and mouth. Ualan chuckled to himself. He didn’t care, letting her ramble.

He smiled tenderly, teasing her in a hush, "Just dragons or one dragon in particular?"

Her eyebrow rose but could not hold the pose.

"What did you do to me, caveman? Hit me over the head and drag me home?" she muttered.

Ualan’s relief intensified. He heart soared to hear her quick wit. He had been so worried she would hate him for not protecting her better, as he hated himself.

"You were butterfly poisoned," he answered. "But don’t worry. The doctors said you would be fine so long as you rest."

"I don’t have butterflies in my stomach," she protested, her mind drifting as she mumbled, "I’m not too nervous to sleep with you."

He would have grinned like a fool if her skin wasn’t so yellow. "I’m glad to hear it, wife."

"Who?" she asked suddenly, trying to get up. "Poison?"

"Easy," he uttered, urging her back. "They will be dealt with."

"Oh," she mumbled, with an amazing show of trust. "All right."

Ualan glanced over to the table by her bed, moving to get her a drink. She took it gratefully before closing her eyes. Seeing the small eye camera lens the doctors found in her eye next to the emerald trigger, he couldn’t help but asking, "Why did you have the camera, Rigan?"

Morrigan sighed. Before falling asleep, she murmured, "It’s my job. I’m going to expose you after I leave you."

* * * *

Ualan growled like a thundering brute. Gripping the center horn of his mount, he swung up behind the beast’s bare shoulders. The ceffyl’s wide back shifted low at the weight of its warrior rider, used to the rough handling. His fanged mouth darted open with a hiss of its long tongue. It had the eyes of a reptile, the face and hooves of a beast of burden, and the body of a small elephant. It was wickedly fast for an animal of its size and equally deadly.

Adjusting the long blade at his side, Ualan grunted.

"There will be enough blood for all of us," growled Zoran, seeing his brother’s mounting rage, though not exactly disapproving of it. He too swung up his animal.

"Your wife will recover," said Olek, joining them. "Her mind is well."

"Not if I strangle her into the grave," roared Ualan fiercely. His face shifted briefly in his rage.

Olek and Zoran exchanged weary looks as the King rode up beside them.

"For there is not enough blood in all the land to kill a husband’s wrath when he has tasted the bitterness of his wife’s deceit." Ualan hit his steed, murder flashing in his yellow eye as the ceffyl took off.

The King looked at his sons. They merely shrugged in return. Kicking their mounts, the three men were quick behind Ualan.

* * * *

"They’ve gone where?" Morrigan looked wearily at the Queen from the depths of Ualan’s couch. She hadn’t seen him since his brief visit in the medical ward that morning. She could barely remember it, for the drugs the doctors had given her to flush out the poison had been strong. He hadn’t been back since. So much for a caring husband, she frowned.

"To give justice," Mede answered calmly. She was dressed simply in cotton slacks and a shirt, not looking anything like royalty in her attire. It was her intelligent eyes that gave her position away.

Mede was visiting her sick daughter-by-marriage, as she had promised her son she would do. She wondered what Morrigan could have said to Ualan to make him so angry. Even though she could read the fury in Ualan when he said this woman’s name, she could tell he cared for her and would never really hurt her. He had been a wreck since finding her poisoned and no amount of comforting would ease his pain or his guilt. So they did what was best and left him alone.

"Who? Where…?" The young woman tumbled forward in confusion. Her eyes shone with concern. Mede considered her carefully. "Will there be danger?"

"Most certainly."

Morrigan stared at the woman as if she had grown another head. She said it like it was a good thing.

"Where is he? I’ve got to see him," she uttered, trying to fight to her feet.

Mede stood back, refusing to interfere with the woman’s will to stand. Though she knew Morrigan would be better off seated.

She was right. Morrigan trembled and fell back into the couch with a huff.

"You are in no position to ride out. Do not fret. None of the other Princesses have gone to battle. You are not being left out."

"Gone to battle?" squeaked Morrigan, staring in horror at her mother-by-marriage. Were Qurilixian wives expected to go to battle with their men? She turned her eyes to look at the dragon beasts on the blue tapestry. She knew a lot of races believed in such things. Did this one? "I don’t know how to fight."

Mede smiled. "You do not know your own strength, daughter. Only a fighting spirit could have withstood the butterfly’s poison. And I am guessing that only a fighting spirit could have resisted her husband with slavery."

Morrigan thought about that. There was approval in the Queen’s words. When she called her ‘daughter’ Morrigan nearly teared up. She’d been on her own for a long time. She had no family. Suddenly, it hit her. Here she had a family, a strong, close, protective family. And they all wanted her.

Thinking of Ualan, Morrigan knew the Queen was right. It was much harder to resist him than it had been to fight off death. How did she ever do it? Why had she even wanted to try? None of the rest seemed important anymore. Not if they had a chance of working it out and being happy. Would it be so bad to be the barbarian’s wife?

Mede waited patiently as the girl collected her thoughts. She watched as the discovery of Morrigan’s feelings crossed over her pale face. That was one thing the warrior men of her race never understood. It took much more than crystals and destiny to win a woman’s heart. It took patience and time. And, sometimes, it took almost dying.

"Are all men on this planet as stubborn as your son?" Morrigan asked quietly.

The Queen smiled. "Only if you’re lucky, dear. Only if you’re lucky."

* * * *

Morrigan looked up from the table in surprise. The news arrived more than an hour ago that the men had safely retrieved Princess Olena from captors and were heading back to the keep. Morrigan was too tired to go to the courtyard to greet them, but she sent her blessings down through the Queen.

Seeing Ualan, she darted to her feet. She wobbled slightly, still weak from her ordeal. Her pleasure turned to horror when she saw his blood splattered face. His clothes were soaked to crimson, his hair matted to his head with dirt and sweat. Trembling, she stumbled forward.

"Are you hurt?" she rushed.

It was an insulting question and Ualan didn’t answer it.

"Ualan?" Morrigan breathed. She let her fingers roam over him, searching for wounds, glancing at the gore-covered sword that hung at his waist. He winced once when her fingers skimmed his ribcage. Satisfied that it was only the one injury, she demanded, "Why weren’t you wearing armor? Are you insane?"

"Stop pretending," he fumed bitterly. "What would you care if I were slain?"

"Ualan?" she gasped in surprise at the personal attack. Seeing his tired eyes, she forgave him. She had been sick with worry and was too happy to see him well and together to give his surliness much mind. "Come on, let’s get you cleaned up."

Ualan shrugged out of her grasp. "I do not require your help, wife."

"But--" Morrigan began, her eyes round.

"Quit coddling me, woman," he growled, withdrawing his arm from her achingly tender hands. His body tingled with treacherous desire. He didn’t want to feel anything for her. Roughly, he pushed past her, spinning her weakened body on its heels as he stormed into the bathroom. He would have slammed the door for good measure, but it was still broken off its hinges.

Morrigan waited. After a minute, she heard splashing in the hot spring. Putting her hands on her hips, she shook her head, "Oh, no he did not!"

With her limbs empowered by determination, Morrigan went in the bathroom after him. She placed her hands mincingly on her hips and stared him down. Ualan looked up in surprise to hear her. His nostrils flared and he had been poking at a gash on his side like a wounded animal.

"First you want a wife," she yelled angrily, "and you get mad when I want nothing to do with you. Now you’re yelling at me because I was worried about you? I think not, caveman."

"Rigan," Ualan said. His tone warned her to use caution.

"Quiet," Morrigan warned, her eyes flashing unafraid. "You wanted a wife. Well, guess what buddy, you’ve got one."

"Have I?" he inquired softly, watching her raging eyes.

Ualan knew the deceit that lingered there and yet she drew him in. He wanted to believe her. He wanted it more than anything.

"Oh, yeah, and so help me, you are going to let me tend that wound, help you with this bath, and then I am going to make you dinner if it kills both of us." Morrigan dared him to disagree, before adding, "And with my cooking, it probably will."

It took all of Ualan’s strength not to laugh. The fact did not make him happy.

Although he was stiff and unresponsive, except in the basest of manly ways, Morrigan managed to wash his skin and hair. Ualan nearly went mad when her hand dipped to clean his hard stomach. Her fingers faltered almost shyly as she neared his erection. His eyes flamed with liquid fire when she finally ran her soapy hand down the length of him. She swallowed, waiting for a sign of his approval.

Standing, abruptly, Ualan said, "I think you’re done."

Morrigan drew back, mortified.

He climbed out of the bath and wrapped a towel around his waist, shielding the obviousness of his desire from her view. Morrigan wasn’t so easily put off once her mind was set.

"Where is your first aid?" she asked.

Ualan, who had been concentrating on smelling anything but her clean scent, looked at her in confusion.

"Bandages," she ordered, pointing to his seeping stomach. Now clean, it wasn’t so bad. She pushed his bloody clothes onto a pile on the floor with her kicking foot.

Soon they were on the couch, his arm lifted over his head as she poked at his wound. Ualan glared, but said nothing. Lightly, she asked, "So are you going to tell me what happened?"

"No," he answered darkly. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t concentrate with her so near. When she lay dying, he had been so scared. He never prayed for anything like he prayed for her safety. Then she awoke and had said those words that replayed in his brain a thousand times. She was planning on leaving him. She had lied to him. She had no intentions of staying and being his wife. It was a most cruel betrayal.

Standing as soon as the bandage was finished, he announced, "I’m going to bed."

Morrigan glanced at his towel where the heavy protrusion still vied for her feminine attention.

"Would you like me to come with you?" she asked, rising to touch his arm. Her body was weak, but she didn’t care. She had been so scared with him gone and would be content to just hold him. Slowly, her fingers trailed to touch his bandaged waist.

Ualan took her hands in his. He could see what she was offering. It shone tentatively from her wide dark eyes. For a moment, she was sure he would kiss her. To her astonishment, he put her away from him and let her go. Without a word, he walked alone to his bedroom, leaving her to sleep alone yet another night.

Chapter Fifteen

That first night of rejection could have been battle fatigue. The next day? All right, Morrigan could buy that it was still battle fatigue and maybe post-rescue contemplation. But the second night and third day? Morrigan shook her head. No. Day three was definitely heading into rejection territory.

Now that she was a free woman, Morrigan was given leave to explore her new home. The palace keep was a dazzling place. There were five wings build into, up, and around the tallest mountain on the planet. She was told that each Prince had designed his own section. To her amazement, and judging by their homes, she discovered that the brothers were anything but carbon copies of each other.

Whereas her home with Ualan was all fire, marble, and fur, Zoran and Pia’s wing was constructed with a wood finish, giving the place a real oriental lodge feeling to it. Olek and Nadja’s home had a giant water fountain in the front hall, surrounded by high backed, comfortable chairs and exotic fish tank walls. She didn’t see Yusef’s and Olena’s section, but she guessed it would be equally marvelous. Yusef was still in the medical wing. He was recovering, but she hadn’t heard much else.

For a palace designed and decorated by a race of antiquated, warrior men, Morrigan thought it was fantastic.

When she saw the courtyard, she discovered the palace made for a flawless fortress. From the ground, because of the angle, you couldn’t see the windows or balconies that were adjoined to the royal family quarters. They were carved just so, that even from a distance it looked just like a mountain cliff. It was impenetrable.

Within the surrounding valley, near the breeding festival grounds, sat a small village under the protection of the House of Draig. The roads were of rocky earth, smoothed flat and even. The village was kept immaculately clean, built with almost a military perfection of angles.

The houses were of rock and wood, so that even the poorest of families looked to be prosperous. Everyone wore light linen tunics during the day much like the royal family, but minus the dragon crest and finer embroidery.