Page 7 of Tashama
If he were in her palace, he would bow to her, so she had no problem doing so before him in his own palace. She curtseyed the way she remembered to do when she was young. It surprised her to find her memories slowly returning, but it felt odd to curtsey in a pair of jeans and not a gown. She felt like she was in a medieval movie script; she was an extra who had forgotten to dress properly for her role in the film.
The prince sat down on the edge of his desk, then flipped his gold-trimmed, royal-blue, satin cape off his shoulders while he dangled his bare legs over the side.
Her eyes roved over the short cut of his tunic, hiked up some. Muscular legs, like a runner might have, spread apart, and she couldn’t help but eye the shadows centered between his legs underneath the tunic. What did men wear under their tunics? Codpieces? Or just some kind of a wrap?
Or like the Highlanders of Earth world, who went commando, did they wear nothing at all? Having spent way toomuch time considering the matter, she found lifting her gaze from the forbidden area proved harder than she imagined.
His lips smiled almost imperceptibly. Conceited bastard.
She studied his dark hair and eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, and her legs felt like they’d turned to boneless mush.
He was the one from her dreams.Hewas the ruler of Maldovia?
Her heart thumped hard. How could he be the one whose lips tantalized her so? She studied his perfectly muscled arms. Not muscle-bound like bodybuilders, but just developed enough to hold her tight.
Knowing he was not the one for her, she couldn’t understand why she wanted him to wrap his arms around her and squeeze so hard she would lose her breath. She…his enemy? What would he want with the likes of her? Did she only imagine he desired her as well? She was disgusted with herself for feeling any wanton desire for her enemy.
You have gotten me into a fine pickle here, Bal…She glanced over at Carissian when he walked into the room.Ballerina…figure that one out, oh seer of naught. You were trying to read my thoughts from the prince’s…She glanced into the other room.Bedchamber.
Her brows lifted slightly, then her gaze shifted to the prince. How could she possibly find a mate and lead her people to victory here? She should never have left Texas.
Carissian cleared his throat. “She’s curious about your bedchamber.”
The prince’s lips curved up maliciously. “Oft you have told me I need to take a love slave, to work off some of the pent-up frustrations I have over this everlasting war.” He stood up from the desk, then walked over to her. “The lady I met with earlier, who requested my blissful attentions, did not meet with my expectations. But this wench…”
His love slave! If he even thought for one moment that she would go along with such an absurd notion…
He touched her hair, but she swung her hand to slap his away. Instantly, he caught her wrist. Her heartbeat thundered out of control, and the palms of her hands grew sweaty. The heat of his grip sent electrical charges swirling through her veins at hyper-speed. Resenting his controlling her, she tried to break free, but a devilish smile elevated his lips and reflected in his dark eyes.
“She needs to be stripped of her clothes and scrubbed clean first. I wish to consider her further. I couldn’t bed someone as unkempt as this.” He stared at the skin around her eyes, then turned to face Carissian, his voice changing instantly from amusement to barely contained anger. “The area around her eyes is darkened like a raccoon’s. I thought it was merely dirt, but it appears she has been injured. Did my men do this to the woman?”
“Nay, sire,” Carissian said quickly. “We found her like that, watching us from the woods near the lake.”
“She looks similar to the one…” Aleron quit speaking and shook his head.
“Karthlander women all look the same,” Oshon growled from the threshold.
Tashama swallowed, her throat feeling as parched as if she’d crossed the Arizona desert without a drop of water to drink. Had the prince shared the same dreams with her? Did he recognize her from them?
“What do you think, Carissian?” He touched her cheek.
She meant to swat away his hand, but he seized her free wrist and raised a brow. Clenching her teeth, she fought the urge to tell him to go to hell.
“I think, sire, you will find the siren a deadly advisory in bed, or otherwise. My advice to you is to select a genteel lady from ourstaff. Send this one to your castle in the south, under strictest guard.”
“Clean her up.” Aleron released her and folded his arms. “I haven’t had a good battle for a fortnight. We will see who the victor will be.”
Carissian spoke to Aleron in private, though Tashama read the words on his lips. “And if she is the witch of your dreams, sire?”
Aleron glanced back at her. “Then she’ll earn her pay for keeping me awake one more night.”
3
Aleron leaned forward on the desk. “Truly Carissian, she doesn’t look to be much of a threat to me.” He stared at the discoloration around her eyes and frowned. “You are sure my men did not injure her?”
“We found her like this, sire. She was alone.”
He cursed the interest he had in the woman. Would his soldiers not see him as weak for desiring the wench, an enemy of his people? “Are we certain she is a Karthlander?”
