Untouchable. Part 9

He had expected that without the blue paint she would look ordinary, but she did not. She was beautiful, and he wanted her again. She was so close he could feel her body heat, he was a.s.sailed by her scent, and he was reminded of that afternoon by the stream, when she had come so close to him but had not touched. She was as enticing now; more so, since he knew what she felt like, how she laughed, how she gasped when she reached o.r.g.a.s.m. He thought of that isolated farm, he thought of the life she would never settle for...the life he could never have. His hands itched to touch her, but he did not. Mali watched closely, and Sanura was still not his to take.

When all their exposed skin was cleaned of the blue, they broke off a few pieces of the plant with which to finish the job at a later time-when Mali was not watching. For now, the job they had done was sufficient. They could walk among others without drawing attention to themselves.

Well, almost. He looked Sanura up and down, taking in the skimpy and foreign outfit, the gold and jangling girdle at her hips, the bangles at her wrists, the anklet adorning a shapely ankle. There would be no more music, and he already mourned the loss.

"Mali," he said calmly, "Does your mother have a dress she'd like to sell?"

IT was much later than they'd intended when they left the cottage. Sanura fidgeted and pulled at the collar of the uncomfortable dress Donia had sold her. The fabric was heavy and it itched. She was covered from neck to foot. The boots were a nice change from the torn slippers, as they protected her feet from the hard and often rocky ground, but the rest of the outfit was horrendous.

And oddly enough, she felt naked. More covered than she had ever been, she felt horribly exposed.

The blue paint had protected her all of her adult life. It kept her apart. It screamed don't touch to all those who saw her. Now her skin was like everyone else's, and there was nothing to protect her. Nothing but Alix and Trystan.

"We will come back for Mali when we can, won't we?" Sanura asked, her eyes on Alix's back. She rather hated watching his back. It was his eyes which revealed so much, his eyes which told her what part of him was in control.

"We will fetch Mali and Donia when the time is right," Alix said.

"Of course," Sanura whispered, agreeing even though she knew Alix was wrong. Donia did love her daughter, but she would be very glad to see Mali in someone else's care. Permanently. The young woman longed for a husband and other children, she longed to have friends again, but did not dare to chase that dream while Mali was a part of her life. Mali would flourish away from her mother, she would do well away from a woman who was afraid of her. One would not think love and fear could live together in one heart, but they did.

Sanura and Alix walked in the direction of the closest village, which was half a day away, according to Donia. They would ride part of the way, but most of the time they would walk. The horse could not carry two riders endlessly, and as Alix often pointed out, they might find themselvesin a circ.u.mstance where they'd need the horse to be well rested and ready to run.

Once again they would spend the night on the ground. If it was cool tonight, as it had been last night and probably would be again, they would keep one another warm. She did not think the night would end as last night had, however. Alix was stronger than Trystan at the moment, and though he wanted her, he was staunchly opposed to taking that which was not his to take.

n.o.ble to a fault, the prince was.

Trystan was not at all n.o.ble. He took what he wanted without concern for others, without thinking. He was a slave to his impulses, just as Alix was a slave to his rules. For many years, the darker side had slept, but now that he had tasted freedom, he would not rest so easily, he would never sleep. Trystan would fight for control. So would Alix. Who would win? Who would be sent into the depths to live in darkness, and who would live?

It was unthinkable that Alix, a good man, might lose this battle, but Sanura could not say with any certainty that he would prevail.

They traveled for quite a while before Alix chose a proper camp for the night. A flat section of ground was protected from the wind on two sides by ma.s.sive rock walls. A gentle creek bubbled nearby. No one could approach without being seen.

For a while after they'd stopped, Alix gave his attention to the horse. He brushed the animal and spoke to it in hushed tones, checked the hooves for damage and pebbles, and fed the animal a handful of the oats Donia had provided. Thanks to Donia, this part of the journey was much more pleasant than the first part had been. They had a blanket, a small sack of food, and a tin cup with which to catch and drink the water they found along the way.

Nice as those luxuries were, Sanura and Alix were still wanted for murdering the princess-and Alix continued to battle his own demons.

It was well dark before he joined her. He started a small fire-for warmth, as their bread and fruit needed no cooking-and they ate in silence. They had pieces of the plant which would remove the blue, and should perhaps see to the task of removing what they had missed earlier, but that would mean undressing and tending to their most private body parts. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and b.u.t.tocks, his p.e.n.i.s and fine behind. Given the tension in their camp, perhaps that ch.o.r.e should wait.

Then again, perhaps it should not. Never before had she been concerned with what she wanted, what she desired.

Alix was bothered; she caught that much from him as she watched him eat. Of course he had a right to be worried, given all that had happened of late, but this felt like a new worry. She could not tell what that worry was until he looked at her and asked abruptly, "What if there is a baby?"

Sanura blinked, and she immediately dismissed all thoughts of seducing him on this night. He could not know that his question hurt, that he had found and irritated her deepest heartbreak. "There is not."

"How can you be certain?" he snapped. "Do you take a potion of some sort? Is a part of your magic the control of your childbearing abilities? Was it simply the wrong time for you to . . ."

"I cannot have children," she interrupted to end his questioning.

He seemed deflated but also relieved, and he was confused by the warring responses within him. "I did not know," he said softly.

"The women of the Agnese are created to give pleasure, and to be in a constant state of pregnancy would be inconvenient for those who possess us." A flare of anger rose within her, even as she kept her voice even and calm. "Most men who are gifted with one such as I do not wish to be bothered with b.a.s.t.a.r.ds or the distended bellies of their lovers or the squalling of babes when they wish only for their own desires to be fulfilled. It is the males of the Agnese, my brothers and those like them, who a.s.sure that the bloodline continues. They marry outsiders who become mothers to the gifted ones, like me, and to sons who will ultimately insure our survival. The females born Agnese are all as I am, owned by others, gifted and barren."

Alix either saw or heard her pain. "I'm sorry."

She had never before complained about her childless state. What purpose would such complaints serve? Any sacrifices she had been called upon to make were offset by the gifts which were hers to share. She was a woman of the Agnese, and other women envied her. They wished to be like her-no, they wished to be her. Still, on this night when it seemed that in this new world all that she was, was not good enough, when she was trapped in a place where she did not belong, where she was despised and distrusted, what had been taken from her seemed more egregious than ever.

"When I was fifteen, just before my training began, I was taken to a special and isolated encampment and given a concoction which sent me into spasms of pain for five days and five nights." She could still remember the sharp anguish, the way she had gripped her abdomen and shouted for her mother. The pain had continued. Her mother had not come. "I cried. For two days I thought I was going to die. For the next three days I wished to die, for the pain was like a knife ripping through my insides, day and night. That's why the camp designed for this purpose was so far away from everyone and everything else, you see, so no one else would be bothered or frightened by the screams of girls in agony." Remembering, she could easily cry for what had been lost, but she did not. "In the end, all that died was my womb, as was intended. I do not bleed as other women bleed, I do not worry about catching any man's child, and you, Prince Alixandyr, do not have to worry that I might present you with an inconvenient b.a.s.t.a.r.d in nine months' time simply because the part of you which you cannot control took what you will not."

When she was done, she turned her head and looked into the night, hoping that Alix would not see the s.h.i.+ne of tears in her eyes.

"I am so sorry," Alix said again. "What was done to you is not right. If I had been there, if I had known, I would never have allowed such an atrocity to take place."

She heard the sincerity in his voice, she felt it, and somehow his outrage eased her heartache.

"I feel as if I should hold and comfort you," he said, "but I cannot. I cannot hold you and not have you, I cannot wrap my arms around you and go no further."

"Of course not," she whispered. She did not expect comfort. No one had ever offered such a luxury, and she did not want or need it now. Yet, she did remember what it had felt like to wake that morning with Alix's arms around her. She should cease her prattling and leave the man in peace. She had lived with her heartbreak for many years, always accepting that to remain childless was a small price to pay for being cherished and honored. "It's Mali who has stirred these feelings to the surface," she confessed, her tone changing as her anger faded. "She is unwanted, even by her own mother."

"Surely you understand. The child is half-demon, and her creation was likely not pleasant for Donia."

His defense of Donia made her angry. "And yet, Mali is still a child who has no choice about who she is, just as I have no choice." She looked squarely at Alix. "Just as you have no choice." She was glad to see that his eyes remained a pale green. Even in the firelight, she could tell which part of him was in control.

"What of you? Do you have children?"

He shook his head.

"Do you want them?"

"I've never given it much thought."

Sanura smiled wanly. "Do not lie to me, Prince Alixandyr. I see you too well, even now."

"I suppose I have thought about it," he confessed. "It is expected that I will marry and have children. It's my duty as prince."

"I did not ask if it was your duty," she clarified, even though he knew quite well what she'd asked. "Do you want children?"

"Yes," he whispered.

Of course he did. Almost all men wished to see themselves in their offspring. They wished to teach and play and train and watch their bloodline survive. That was not her purpose, and it never had been.

"You can hold me, you know. Now, tomorrow morning, whenever you wish. We can have s.e.x again, as often as we please, and no one need ever know. There will be no child, and I expect nothing of you but pleasure given and pleasure taken in the days we are together." She looked him squarely in the eye, brave as she had always been. "What you deny yourself is the reason I was created. s.e.x. Pleasure. A moment of physical wonder in which we can forget the darkness of the world."

"You are Jahn's," he said simply.

"Not yet," she whispered.

Alix shook his head. "You are Jahn's," he said again. He studied her quizzically. "Will you call the other to you if I won't accede to your commands?"

"I make no commands; I merely offer suggestions."

"That does not answer my question."

"I don't want the other, I want you. You possess a kindness he does not. He scares me," she confessed. "I called him to me once before, when we escaped the camp where we were accused of murder, but I won't do so again."

"You did not call him to you early this morning?"

She shook her head. "He came on his own. I did not know it wasn't you until it was too late."

Alix nodded, and she was relieved to see that he believed her. "I think you are the only one who can call him. He has appeared a time or two on his own-when I've been sleeping and on that afternoon when I lost my temper with Edlyn- but if I work very hard, if I try, I believe I can keep him contained. " His large hands flexed and he rolled wide, tired shoulders. "It won't be easy, I suspect. He wants you."

"So do you," Sanura said honestly.

"Yes, but I can and will control my impulses. That's the only way to keep him down. He's stronger than he's ever been, and I'm afraid the time will come when he is here and I am gone. What if he learns to keep me in the shadows, as I have learned to restrain him?"

Sanura knew she could have what she wanted from Alix. He would hold her, make love to her, offer her pleasure and connection and even the affection he denied. All she had to do was move closer and place her hands on him. If she made the first move, if she practiced all that she had been taught of seduction, he would not be able to resist her.

But she did not move. "Are you not stronger than he is?"

"I used to think so. Now I'm not so sure."

VERITY was annoyed. She wanted to retire to her tent and wait anxiously for the other travelers to sleep so Laris could join her, but her Aunt Louiza insisted that they all sit around the campfire and share stories, as the night was mild and no one felt the need to rush immediately to shelter.

Their traveling party was fairly small: Verity herself; Aunt Louiza, serving as the necessary chaperone; Gregor Wallis, the pompous deputy minister of something or another; Laris and the other two sentinels, Alroy and Cavan. She'd paid those two little mind on the journey. Until tonight she hadn't been sure which was which. Now she knew that Alroy was the older, quieter sentinel with the slightly crossed eyes and the horsey laugh; Cavan was younger and not quite so shockingly unattractive, though he did not hold a candle to Laris, who easily outs.h.i.+ned them all.

Her father had wanted to send a maid along, but Verity had refused. No, she had insisted that a maid who was not accustomed to traveling on horseback would only slow their progress, and she was anxious to get to Arthes and have this whole empress episode taken care of so she could begin her new life. It would be best if she had a chance to settle in and learn her way around the palace before the wedding took place.

Her father always gave in when she insisted. The emperor would be the same way, she imagined.

Louiza laughed at something Wallis said, and then she began, "When Verity was a child, she was such a trial. Why, I remember one time..."

Verity shot up from her uncomfortable position by the fire. "No! You cannot tell amusing stories about me as a child." After all, one day these men would be her sentinels, her minions, if you would. She could not openly declare that she was confident she'd be chosen, but she was confident, and to have these men laughing at her childhood exploits was unacceptable.

Louiza's smile died. "I didn't mean to embarra.s.s you, Verity. You were a funny little girl." Her father's younger sister was a sweet enough woman, widowed too young and too often at loose ends. It was no wonder she'd volunteered to chaperone on this trip.

Verity hated to be the one to spoil her aunt's fun. She resumed her seat. "Oh, all right. Go ahead and humiliate me."

She noted that Laris was paying extra attention as Louiza began her tale. Of course he was paying attention. The love potion made everything about her more special, more important. Louiza went on and on about one winter's holiday, and with a long sigh Verity realized which story her aunt was sharing.

The bucket tale.

"We stepped outside," Louiza said, her grin widening, "and there was Verity swinging a tin bucket toward her little friend's head. Her mother screamed, 'Don't hit Jana in the head with a bucket!' Verity turned about and looked at her mother with a very grown-up expression and said, 'Well, then, what can I hit her with?' "

Everyone laughed, even Laris.

"She had ripped the head off my favorite doll," Verity whispered beneath her breath. "One whack with a small bucket didn't seem like such a harsh punishment for the crime."

Across the fire, she caught Laris's eye. She could not afford to hold it for too long, she could not afford to let anyone else see that she took great comfort from that gaze and the smile he sent her way. It was a smile meant just for her, she knew, and in that moment she felt a burst of emotion wash through her. What was it? Affection? Desire?

Guilt?

THE night was warmer than it should've been, and Sanura was more comfortable. A blanket kept away the night's chill, and arms surrounded and cradled her.

A child's arms. Mali's arms.

In her short lifetime Mali had been held no more than Sanura had, though the reasons they were rarely touched were very different. Sanura wore the blue; Mali was rejected and untouched because of her mother's fear.

This was a dream and yet more than a dream, Sanura knew. Mali was experiencing the same vision and sensation at the same time. The child, too, longed to be held. She longed to be touched by someone who did not fear her.

The child whispered in Sanura's ear. "Mother thinks I don't remember, but I do. When I was an infant, she placed a pillow over my face, but I did not die. She fed me poison weeds, but I did not die. She tried to take a knife to my throat, but could not make herself finish the task. She did not wish to see my blood spill, even though she despises that blood. Even if she had, I would not have died."

"She loves you," Sanura said.

Mali sighed. "Sometimes."

They held one another, and it was very nice. In the way of dreams, one minute they were both blue and the next they were not. They were connected; they belonged to one another. Sanura felt so much love for this child, she thought her heart would burst.

Mali was the daughter she could never have, and in that same way Sanura was the mother who was capable of accepting and loving this child for who she was, not how she had come to be. She could not hold her tightly enough, for she knew the dream could not last. She knew the comfort was temporary.

"Come back for me," Mali whispered as she began to fade away.

"I will," Sanura promised.

"He doesn't like me."

"I do."

"Don't forget me," the child commanded.

"Never."

And then Mali was gone, their connection severed but not forgotten.

When Sanura woke before dawn, the dream was still clear and real to her. She could remember every word, and more important, she could remember holding Mali and soothing the child. She had long ago put away all maternal inclinations, knowing them to be senseless and a waste of her time and energy, but Mali brought them all to the surface.

Alix was already awake. No, Sanura realized as she looked at him, he had never slept. He was afraid the other would rise to control while he was sleeping, and so he did not allow himself that luxury. He had spent the night watching her, watching and wanting what he could not have.

What he truly wanted at the moment, what he wished for himself more than anything else in this world, was to prove himself innocent of murder and be rid of her so he would not be pained by his physical desire. Seeing the truth in him, seeing who he was and what he wanted, hurt her to the core. Here was a man she could choose, a man she could love no matter what inner battles he fought, and he wanted nothing from her beyond the s.e.x they had already shared.

Physical pleasure was the reason for her creation, it was the gift she offered, and yet at this moment it was not enough. It was not close to enough. Not for him; not for her. A rush of emotion brought heat to her cheeks. If she was going to live in a land where she could have the luxury of choosing, she would insist upon more. She would insist upon love.

Chapter Nine.