"You do not throw the king's gift in his face unless you have a prophet-be-damned good reason to do so."

"I see. Joining would be a good enough reason," she said dryly.

He cocked a shoulder. "I've thought of strangling the bitch and being done with it, but with my luck, he'd send one even worse--like her sister Heqet--and I'd be right back where I started."

"So you're offering me the job of being the one to relieve you," she said with a grunt of disgust.

"Tell me you don't want it," he said, holding her gaze.

Aradia said nothing. She stared into his golden eyes, once more mesmerized by the reflection of the leaping flames, lost in the tawny depths that caused her lower belly to quiver again.

"Tell me you don't want me," he said in a throaty whisper that sent shivers down her arms.

She fought the urge to throw herself on him, pummel his chest and demand he release her from the supernatural hold he may well have cast over her. No mortal man could cause the conflicting emotions churning in her breast. Her skin felt hot, though she sat far enough away from the fire. Her knees trembled as though she had run a marathon, yet she felt calmer than she had any right to feel. Her heartbeat had slowed, but still thudded against her ribcage. She felt an ache in her loins she thought she'd never experience again, and that longing drew her to him like a moth to a flame.

"Let's just say, for argument's sake, I agree. How do I know you will be good to me, warrior?"

"On my honor, I swear I would never hurt you. Nor would I let anyone else hurt you. I would give my life for you, if need be."

His words made her quiver, but before she gave into him--as she knew she would--she wanted to define the boundaries of their bargain. "Youpromise to set Orithia free?"

"I vow I will see it done."

"You willnot hand me over to either the convent or the seraglio?"

"You have my oath. I would die before I'd allow you to be interned inside either."

"You willnot turn me out or give me to another."

"The only man who'll ever possess you is the one you now look upon. It will be to my quarters you go, and to no other's. And as I stated, I'd rather have my skin flayed from my bones than have you know a moment's pain, Milady."

Aradia looked at her hands, opening and closing her fists, wondering if she was doing the right thing. It was a decision she understood would last a lifetime and not one to be made lightly. "What if something should happen to you?"

"I'll make provisions that you are to be returned to Amazeen should there ever come a time when I cannot uphold my end of our bargain. I'll instruct my friend, Aluino, to see that my wishes are carried out. He's a good man and as honorable as they come."

There was one last area to discuss, and Aradia felt too afraid to broach the subject.

He, however, was not. "Should there be children from our union, they will be given a child's portion of my estate as befitting their position in the birth cycle, with the most going to the eldest son, my heir."

"And if there are no sons?" she asked, concerned.

"Females cannot inherit under Rysalian law, but a dowry will be set aside for each girl-child. If she would rather leave and make her home in Amazeen, I'll see that she has that option when she reaches her majority. She need not stay in Rysalia and be compelled to marry if that is not her wish. Her portion of the estate, however, will be forfeit if she leaves."

"Because?"

"Because her grandmother, the Amazeen queen, will provide for her."

Aradia drew in her breath. "You knew who I was all along."

"I know everything about you, Aradia Lykopis."

"But how?"

He smiled, but the emotion never reached his tawny eyes. "When the smithy finished cutting away the iron bands from my wrists, the Chief Guard told me all I wished to know, though he will not have remembered doing so." Aradia blushed. "Then you knew I belonged to..." She could not say his name no matter how hard she tried. "The prince?"

Jaelan's jaw tightened. "I knew."

"And you still want me?"

A severe look passed over Jaelan Ben-Ashaman's face. "As I have never wanted another woman."

The surrender was easier than she thought it would be. His declaration stilled the uneasiness in her mind and she relaxed, accepting her fate as the goddess no doubt had intended. Despite her warrioress upbringing and severe indoctrination that regarded men as nothing more than slaves, servants, and breeding potential, a part of her wanted to experience love again, the gentle touch of a kind and generous man. She ached to have a companion, a man to love and cherish her, one with whom she could share the burdens of life as well as the moments of happiness.

"I will do everything within my power to make sure you never regret your bargain, Aradia."

She left the safety of the rock ledge and sat beside him. He lowered his left leg, stretching it out alongside her leg, and entwined his fingers with hers. Her heart missed a beat when he lifted her hand to his lips and sealed their agreement with a gentle kiss upon her knuckles.

"It seems to be raining harder," he commented.

"I never knew it rained so much in the desert countries."

"We are in the middle of our rainy season."

It seemed natural to rest her head on his broad shoulder. She did not grow alarmed when he released her hand and moved his arm behind her, drawing her closer, holding her to his side. Her right hand remained on his taut thigh, feeling the power of the muscles beneath the sleek leather of his breeches. She closed her eyes when he lowered his head to hers. He covered her hand with his, again threading his fingers through hers.

"I feel safe, warrior," she admitted.

His grip on her fingers tightened possessively. "That is how I always want you to feel,wench ."

She smiled at his deliberate use of the word. To him, it had probably become a term of endearment. When she did not respond, he chuckled. Before sleep claimed her, she heard the patter of rain, felt the warmth of the fire, smelled the cinnamon scent of his after-shave, and ached with the pleasure of having his strong body so close.

"Sleep easy,aziza ," he whispered, and planted a light kiss on the top of her head.

Chapter 6.

Orithia had a bruise on her cheek, but the king had a bloody nose. Naked, she stood arms akimbo, moving as he moved, her eyes narrowed as she watched him circling her. His feints made her smile grimly. "Go ahead," she baited. "Try it again and see what it gets you, you wretched cur."

King Hasani Jaleem grinned wickedly. "Patience, my sweet one. We'll get there, you and I."

"The only thing you're going to get, you despicable ass, is a black eye to go with that dripping hawk beak of a nose."

The king had not had so much fun with one of his women since his 35thconcubine. None of his 27 wives had ever cared enough to do more than lie docilely beneath him as he took them, and only a handful of the 369 concubines had ever interested him enough to do more than bed them once out of courtesy, then forget they existed. It was only because the 35thhad developed a hilarious case of the hiccups as he rutted with her that he had enjoyed the romp. The memory still had the ability to make him laugh. This one was proving to be very entertaining.

"Tell me, little Amazeen," he said, sweeping a hand toward her and growing more amused as she gracefully sidestepped his half-hearted attempt to catch her, "are you one of those females who prefer the touch of a woman to the touch of a man?"

Orithia rolled her eyes. "Amazeen's are not bent in that fashion, you malodorous pig."

"That's good to know. I did not want to waste time seducing you if the effort would be useless."

Snorting her contempt, Orithia swatted away his hand when he had grabbed at her arm. "What part of 'no' don't you understand, you sniveling baboon? You aren't going to seduce me. I won't allow it."

Heaving a long sigh, the king--also as naked as the day he was born--stopped. He spread his hands in a gesture of confusion. "What is it I am, pretty one? A pig, a baboon, a mangy cur? I can't beall of them."

Orithia raised her chin and looked down her pretty nose at him. "You are," she said, advancing on him until she stood bare toe to bare toe with his regal person, "a vile, loathsome, repugnant, depraved, contemptible..."

With his arm, the king hooked her around the waist and drew her body to his, the sound of flesh slapping together rang loud in the opulent room. He circled her in his embrace and claimed her mouth with a deep, heady kiss that brought her eyes wide with surprise. When his tongue slipped between her parted lips, she felt her knees grow weak, but it did not stop her from digging her sharp nails into his shoulders. His grunt--muffled by her mouth--amused her, and she dug deeper, drawing blood.

Releasing his captive's lips, the king stared into her beautiful, defiant face and felt something he had not experienced since his teenage years--unbridled, overpowering passion that turned his shaft as hard as stone. He ached with a lust that brought sweat to his upper lip and caused his breath to go shallow and fast in his chest. "Let me go," Orithia commanded, not really wishing to be released from his strong embrace, but feeling she should protest.

"Marry me."

One fine blonde brow lifted in challenge. "Why would I want to do that?"

"I will make you my number-two wife," he said, breathing hard. "Should Nadira, my first wife, die, I will make you my prime wife with all that implies."

Orithia cocked her head. "And whatdoes that imply, you pitiful specimen of a man?"

"Wealth," he said, nibbling her neck. "Freedom such as you would not know if you were a mere concubine or lower-level wife." He flicked his tongue into the spiral of her ear. "Position at the court. Power as no other woman might wield in Rysalia." He moved his lips to her cheek, her forehead, her nose. "Me in your bed every night."

"No."

Stunned, he pulled back, blinking his confusion. "Why not? Do you not understand what it is I am offering you?"

"I don't want any man in my bed every night, you wallowing hippopotamus. Make it two nights a week and we have a deal."

He shook his head. "Five nights."

"Three," she countered, wiggling against the steely shaft poking her thigh.

"Done." He slid his mouth to hers, sealing the bargain.

As he took her to the floor of the silken bedchamber, Orithia grinned her triumph. To her, she had turned an onerous situation into one over which she had some control. Technically she was still a prisoner--albeit, a cosseted one--but also in a position where eventually she might brandish a measure of authority. That she could capture the king's attention had never been in question. That she could carry out her plan to make him her love slave and hold the man's unwavering attention had given her a few moments of doubt.

When first he had entered her silken cell, he had approached her with seeming indifference and had attempted to rape her, no other word for it. When she slapped him, he slapped her back, true anger brewing on his florid face. When she punched him in the nose, he staggered away, holding his wounded appendage, stunned surprise in his black eyes. Surprise turned to intrigue when she continued to elude him and refused to do his bidding. Intrigue turned to amusement, and finally, the amusement to delight.

"I am going to make you love me, you spineless eel," she whispered in his ear, biting the tender lobe to elicit another grunt from his questing mouth.

"You can try," he grated, thrusting inside her to the hilt.

"I'll do more than try." She ignored the stinging pain between her thighs and threw her legs around him, capturing his hips between her legs. If his wild coupling was any indication, she had him exactly where she meant to keep him.

Now, all she had to do was make sure Prime Queen Nadira met her Maker as soon as possible.

Aluino saw the king hobbling down the corridor and bowed. "Good Morning, Majesty."

"As good a morning as I have ever had, Vasquez," the king said hoarsely. "Where is Jaelan this fine day?"

Should he have straightened to his full six-foot, four-inch height, Aluino would have towered over King Hasani Jaleem. Making a conscious effort to slouch so as not to make the difference in stature any more noticeable, the Diabolusian smiled apologetically. "I am not sure, Your Grace. I believe he rode to Daedal last eve."

"In the rain?" The king frowned as he touched his swollen nose.

"You know how he loves such weather, Your Grace. The rain would not have deterred him in a quest for Olufemi's cooking."

"Ah, the caravansary. Aye, I know how he enjoys the company of peasants."

Aluino smiled through clenched teeth. "Do you wish for me to find Lord Jaelan, Sire?"

"I suppose you must, Vasquez, for I need to send a missive to Amazeen regarding my new wife."

Schooling his face not to show shock, Aluino cleared his throat. "Your new wife, Majesty?"

"Find Jaelan and tell him he will need to send a representative to Amazeen with news of my impending nuptials." He waved a dismissive hand. "Ben-Ashaman will know the right person to send. Pray tell him not to bother me with details."

Left standing with mouth open, Aluino stared after the monarch and wondered what ailed him, for he moved gingerly as though he had been injured in the privates. If all Aluino had heard about the Amazeen race--and the captive blonde girl, in particular--was true, he suspected the prospective new bride had shown in spades her protest of the upcoming marriage. That being the case, things might escalate past the point of easy control, if not dealt with immediately. Aluino suspected the captive's family would not be pleased with the news of her forced marriage to an Outlander and would retaliate. It was one thing for the girl to be cast into the seraglio and forgotten, ransomed easily once a request came from her kinsmen. It happened all the time, since the king bedded, then ignored, the women he purchased. Jaelan had been given orders to do with the women as he saw fit.

"I feel like a prophets-be-damned marriage broker," Jaelan had once complained. The Shadowlord was careful to see the discarded women made good matches from among the military men over whom he had authority.

It astounded Aluino that a foreign woman had not only garnered the king's attention, but that he would take her in legal Joining. That had never happened. Each of King Hasani's legal wives had come from Hasdu tribes wishing to make alliances with the House of Jaleem. Not one had come from beyond the Great Sea. Unheard of, and it presented a problem that would surely cause trouble in the Tribunal.

Anxious to find Jaelan and apprise him of this disastrous turn of events, Aluino practically ran for the stables.

"Good morn," Jaelan said as Aradia pushed to a sitting position.

She had spent the night lying beside him, her head in the crook of his shoulder, his arm around her. He had covered them with his still-damp leather jacket, for the fire had gone out long ago. "Good morn, warrior," she said, unable to look at him. Painfully aware she had shown this man weakness in so easily falling asleep beside him, she got to her feet, brushing the back of her robe.

"That thing reeks of offal," Jaelan commented as he looked up at her.

"It was rubbed with..." She blushed. "Well, you know what it was rubbed with."

Jaelan's left brow quirked. "May I ask why you felt the need to rub body waste on your robe, wench?"

She shrugged. "To keep men from paying any closer attention to us than need be."

Understanding made his tawny eyes sparkle. "I see the wisdom in what you did, if I don't care for the end result."

"I have other clothes on my nag. If I could find a stream in which to..."

"There's a village not far from here with a public bath house. We have time for you to bathe."