Unexpected Bride (Warlord Series Book 6) Page 2

  As her lids grew drowsy, Melane rested her head on her forearm only to hear Saran’s chair scrape back. He placed the half-finished work in a neat row and strode in her direction with a familiar look in his eyes.

  “I am ready once more.”

  Even if he hadn’t made the statement, his hard length would have signaled his intent. Melane rolled to her back and held in a happy sigh. Her favorite nights were the ones in which he didn’t tire easily. For tonight, she’d enjoy having his body near hers because during the day, he kept his distance.

  During the day he was more warrior than man but tonight like many others, she had this. “I am willing, Warlord.”

  Chapter 2

  “Warlord Saran.”

  Saran turned at the sound of his name. Casin crossed the outer courtyard, steering clear of the robust training taking place this morning. Unlike yesterday, Saran limited himself to watching from the steps of the main building. The stretch of sore muscles was a vivid enough reminder but he did not regret his actions. Acting in Vaan’s stead, he needed to maintain constant vigilance in his sword work and fighting tactics. To do less would be a disservice to the trust his brother placed in him.

  Casin neared and stopped on the steps below Saran as he looked up. Dried mud caked the lower half of the black leathers Casin wore. His braided black hair held a dull sheen but his Kabanian brown eyes seethed with rage.

  “What news have you, Casin?” Saran had sent his friend out with his assigned warriors two days past.

  “Our scouts were unable to close in on Kuran. We came close several times but always they stayed ahead. Finally, they crossed into Kaban territory not under the Overlord’s control. We turned back at that point.”

  Not Warlord Kuran. None of them would use the respectful title when speaking of him after his latest stunt. Not long ago, Kuran led a band of renegade warriors to Raasa. They used the outlawed practice of fire hashi to burn several Raasa homes and went so far as to abduct Saran’s nieces, Erana and Arane. With the unexpected help of the Aerilians, the youngling were found and returned safely.

  Saran wasn’t sure he would ever lose his fear from that day and gave thanks to the Blessed One for seeing the youngling home. Now it seemed Kuran had once again escaped their reach for the moment.

  “Those lands prove dangerous, yes? He seeks to escape my brother’s vengeance.”

  “He is a fool to risk his men in those areas. Questions now arise for our strongest wish to repay Kuran for his treachery and pursue him there. Have you word from Overlord Vaan?” Casin adjusted his stance and clasped his hands behind his back to ask the question in a respectable tone.

  “My brother will be here later tomorrow and I will speak of this to him.”

  Vaan would surely wish to discuss this. Saran was also excited to see Vaan and his family. The youngling drew stares due to their mixed heritage. Part Kabanian and part Raasa, they were the first born from such a joining. Arane and Erana bore the tanned skin of their mother, her bright green eyes with diamond points and tiny fangs. They would not be the last from such a union as two of the Warlords who made their home with Vaan also mated Raasa females. Times changed and alliances formed on much less.

  Casin’s mouth curved up, not quite a smile. “We await his arrival with urgency and pleasure, Saran. All hail the Overlord.”

  After another nod, Casin walked away leaving Saran once more to his thoughts.

  “How long do you think this will last, Warlord Saran?”

  The voice grated and Saran folded his arms over his chest as Sellic from the Council joined him. Sellic hated the Galip family and made his feelings very clear on Saran ruling in Vaan’s stead as did many on the Council. It had been over a year and a half and still the Council was not satisfied. Still they sought to force Vaan back to Kaban.

  Saran’s presence was seen as a temporary measure long past its due and while many offered no concern some like Councilor Sellic would ever complain. Continued efforts to have Vaan move back from Raasa were met with silence from his brother. The Overlord stated his wishes and all would adhere to them or be ignored.

  Sellic, much to Saran’s amusement, was being ignored.

  At least the other members of the Council accepted the decree. They expressed their displeasure but let the matter stand.

  “Speak clearly, Councilor Sellic.” His demand was met with a glare. Saran turned slightly to keep the man within his sight and waited.

  Sellic’s hands toyed with the folds of his rich red robe, the clothing indicating his status as a member of the Council. “The people of Kaban need an Overlord who is present. You are but a pale replacement for the rightful ruler of our home.”

  Saran stifled a growl. “I am a Warlord and a Galip. Do you dare seek to insult me?”

  It would not be the first time he heard the comparison. Saran did not doubt his prowess in battle. He was not as seasoned as Vaan but fought with the same ferocity. In Fenal, the battle rage, he took down more warriors then any in Kaban. Others could whisper behind his back if they chose. He was a Warlord by right of blooding and no Councilor would say him different.

  “I seek no insult, Warlord Saran.” The rebuttal contained a level of acrimony Saran could not miss.

  Only a small few believed he did not have the fire of a Galip because he had lived with his mother as a youngling and missed out on early training. When his father was slain, his mother took Saran with her to rear away from the land that brought her sadness. She’d wanted to take her eldest but his uncle Dakar halted her efforts stating Vaan needed to continue training in hopes to become Overlord one day.

  Saran could not fault her actions. Dakar proved as wicked as his actions, using his role on the Council to hide his greed. He had wanted to lay claim to the beautiful Ashaya Galip but she fled to her sister’s home and became the bride of another.

  “I only voice the concerns of many Kabanians,” Sellic continued. “The Desani and Raasa alliance holds in place but it is no secret Warlord Kuran attacked the Raasa home to strike against the Overlord. Some claim only ten warriors are with him now but we know there are more. I fear others will join Warlord Kuran’s cause if your brother does not return where he belongs. No intended disrespect, of course.”

  Saran had this same concern as well but would not tell Sellic. Rumors already abounded of Kuran’s numbers being larger than the original ten who banded together with him. Saran let his arms drop to his side and shifted to point to the far section of the compound where he’d had warriors move the sturdy beam posted upright in the dirt. The display though weathered still remained. It served as a reminder to all who dared to threaten the Overlord.

  “You see what I see Councilor Sellic, yes?”

  After glancing at the sight, Sellic swallowed and jerked his head back. His skin paled and he fussed at his robes again. It had only been a few weeks and the corpse already bore no semblance to the former warrior. Rolon’s body was mounted to a pike, head slumped to the side but arms tied upward so all would not miss his lack of hands. It was obvious by Rolon’s numerous wounds that Vaan had taken sincere pleasure in his punishment of the warrior who had played a part in the attack on his mate’s people.

  “It is hard to miss.”

  Initially, Rolon was propped at the center of the courtyard. Questions rose from the curious, awe and fear on their faces. Days later, Vaan rode in on hapfe, surrounded by five of the Warlords who lived with him. “To harm those I care about is to harm me. All who seek to harm me will suffer as cowards and be shown no mercy.”

  Every Kabanian warrior and Warlord present that day understood his meaning and Rolon’s mutilated body drove home the point more than words. Vaan hadn’t stayed to talk to anyone, his anger palpable as he stormed off, his men riding on his heels. It was a blatant show of strength and arrogance to ride from Raasa to Kaban strictly to deliver a simple message then return home within the same day. Admiration lasted long after he left.

  “That Councilor Sellic is the Overlord
’s response to any who go against him. Do you wish to go against him?”

  The hasty step Sellic took back would have been humorous if Saran’s own anger wasn’t a vivid heat beneath his skin.

  “I wish you well, Warlord Saran. Mayhap we will discuss this when you are not distraught.”

  Before Saran could offer a retort, Sellic scurried inside.

  Distraught. He was not distraught.

  He was unsettled. Kuran plotted while they had no choice but to wait and see.

  Saran resumed his vigil, gaze on the training warriors as unexplained tension strummed down his neck and shoulders. Standing here would achieve nothing. He needed a distraction and of late only one thing kept his mind from the trouble he sensed coming.

  ***

  “Melane, I have need of you. You will follow me to my room.”

  Melane jumped from Saran’s unexpected decree. She lowered the dish she’d been washing and faced him. Chatter in the bustling kitchen fell to a murmur as stares turned their way. Her mouth flapped but words failed her. Never did Saran intrude upon her work.

  “I am not free until later.”

  His thick brows lowered and none could miss his displeasure as he braced his hands on the counter separating them. “Do you refuse me?”

  Something was amiss. The flicker in Saran’s brown gaze declared this more than bed play but she could not figure the why of it. “I would not refuse you, Warlord.”

  Satisfaction gleamed and he leaned back. “Then you will come.”

  The arrogance in his stance caused a spurt of anger. For the first time since he offered invitation she grew mad at Saran. Her reaction caught her off-guard and Melane’s voice shook when she spoke next. “But Lanna has assigned me tasks I have yet to complete.”

  “You are saying you wish to stay and finish these tasks?” His lips curled on the end of the question. The expression was sneering and beneath him.

  Melane slammed her palm on the counter at the derisive frown. Several servants gasped and turned in their direction. In spite of her embarrassment and the sudden attention, Melane worked hard to hold Saran’s gaze. Beneath his mockery she sensed...disappointment? Because she wouldn’t stop what she was about? Melane blew out a breath and gentled her tone. “Warlord Saran, if you would bid me time, I would join you later.”

  He broke her gaze to glance around the kitchen. None could miss every stare aimed in their direction and those pretending to work while listening for every word. He faced Melane with a dark frown. “It would seem my presence is not wanted.”

  Without giving her a chance to respond, he spun on his heels to leave. The abrupt action left her dazed. Then concern set in. Urgency gave Melane strength as she pushed off the counter with both hands and circled around the barrier to stop him. There were low giggles behind her and Melane realized she had done the unthinkable. She had refused this powerful Warlord in front of others.

  “Warlord Saran, wait. I beg of you.”

  The swinging door of the kitchen almost hit her in the face as she raced to keep up. His long stride widened the distance quickly. Lifting her skirts, Melane chased, her face heating as she drew more stares. Saran didn’t stop until he reached the entry to the main hall where warriors alike sat around playing the cube game dilek and sharing stories. The roar of so many drowned out conversation.

  Flushed, she moved in front of him and blocked his way. Surprised at her boldness, he raised a brow and waited. “There is little to say, Melane. You have made your wishes clear.”

  She blew a frustrated breath. Why must he be thick headed? “I am not refusing you.”

  He crossed his arms over his wide chest and her heart fluttered. “You told me no.”

  The intimidating pose almost distracted her but Melane refused to give up. She did something she’d never done before outside of bed play. She reached for his thick forearm to touch him and he flinched. Her hand fell instantly.

  “I need finish my work then I am yours.”

  There was no way he could miss the entreaty beneath her statement. She expected his expression to soften but he was ever the stubborn Warlord. Except this was more than stubborn. Saran’s behavior of late was different. Unless he planned...Melane broke off the thought, her heart rate picking up even more.

  “And I have need of you now. It is a simple enough request, Melane.”

  A Warlord called out his name and Saran turned from her. Once more Melane pushed the boundaries of the leniency he gave because they shared bed play by reaching out and grabbing his arm. She’d never been this bold.

  The corded muscles flexed in her grip and this time his gaze locked on her hand. Heat rushed to her face. Her fingers curled inward, holding on as Melane’s gaze followed, taking in the golden skin a match to her own. Rough and broad, his warrior build showed the time spent on training.

  In comparison to his thick forearm, her fingers appeared delicate and inconsequential. Which was how he made her feel with this harsh demand. When Saran lifted his eyes to hers, a storm brewed deep in their dark depths.

  Ignoring her instinct to release him, Melane pleaded, “Will you let me finish my duties with Lanna first?”

  She wanted to beg more but Bran came over toward them, a jovial expression on his face. He slung an arm over Saran’s shoulder, the glance he gave Melane filled with a hunger that scared her more than usual.

  “Saran, we are in need of another for our hand wrestling match. There is much talk of who is stronger.” Bran spoke to Saran but his lascivious gaze stayed on Melane.

  “I will be a moment, Bran.”

  The Warlord hesitated, seeming as if he wanted to say more. Perhaps Bran sensed the undercurrents between the two of them. One look assured her Saran’s mood held the potential to become ugly and do serious damage. Bran was smarter than Melane gave him credit for and left them alone.

  The step Saran took backward disconnecting her touch tore a piece of Melane’s heart. He looked her up and down, his upper lip twisting in a snarl. “Will you come to my room with me now?”

  This time when his name was called out, he didn’t turn from her. His glare smoldered and every line of his body posed ready for a quick defense.

  “We have to wait,” Bran suddenly yelled out. “Saran must get control of his woman first.”

  Saran stilled and Melane’s breath caught in her throat. Laughter rippled in the wake of Bran’s comment. Melane fought the whisper that warned her to run. Without reason she knew what Saran said next was going to hurt in a way he’d never hurt her before.

  “Melane, decide.”

  From the way he stared, she read his unspoken threat. How had it come to this? Either she went with him or he’d end things between them. Breathing became difficult. “Warlord, surely you—”

  “There is only one answer, Melane—yes or no.”

  “Saran, hurry!” Bran called.

  Melane risked a glare for Bran. If she gave in, Saran would never look at her as anything more than the woman he sought release from. They now had the attention of every warrior and Warlord present. Stifling her nerves, Melane let her silence give him her response.

  “Your answer remains the same, yes?” Remorse darkened his brown eyes. “We will speak later of this.”

  Later. Melane twisted her fingers. When he walked away this time, she let him. Her mind raced with the possibilities and none of them good.

  Chapter 3

  The gentle knock had Saran stiffening. “Enter.”

  He knew before the door opened who would walk into his bedroom. Melane hesitated at the entryway, then came in and closed the door behind her. She tossed a gentle smile in his direction before twisting the lock and Saran had to firm his resolve. It was not easy. She wore her hair in a single braid pinned up in the back. Her fair skin held a soft spray of pink as she approached, brown eyes shining.

  Distracted, he took in the blue dress she wore lined in silver, which identified her as a member of the Galip household. Narrow bands at the elbow flow
ed to bell-shaped sleeves at the wrists. She possessed uncommon beauty. Tall and curved, her height and form a sturdy fit for his physical excesses. When need rode him hard and battle rage faded, Melane provided him with necessary relief. More than necessary for he never tired of the pleasure he achieved between her thighs.

  From his position by the mantle of the fireplace, Saran watched her take in the weapons he’d left about on his work table, the freshly made bed and finally his fully dressed figure. He wished he could call back his rash threat of earlier but he’d let his pride run away from him in a weak moment.

  She waited until last to meet his eyes. Knowledge glittered in their depths. Yes, she already had an idea of what he planned and why that slayed him he could not say. Never had he doubted his actions when confronted with a woman who held his invitation.

  “Have I displeased you, Warlord Saran?”

  The question prodded him to move and sit at the bottom edge of his bed. When he resolved to let her go it seemed the right idea. Faced with the choice he wondered now how to get out of it. Except he couldn’t because his fellow Warlords had made much of the incident they witnessed. The jokes had rolled freely spurred by Bran and soon were picked up by the others. It would shame him as a Kabanian warrior and a Warlord of note if he did not go through with this.

  “I wish to speak with you about matters between us.”

  Melane didn’t fidget and while her mouth quivered, she showed an unseen before boldness by asking, “Is this because of earlier? It was not my intent to cause harm to you before others.”

  Ever proper. Ever the perfect Kabanian female. Humble as she stood in front of him. Saran should have been beyond pleased. Instead, anger unfurled in tiny parts. Where was her mettle? Her irritation with his demands? His fingers curled into fists.

  “This concerns the invitation I extended.”

  She winced and Saran fought the odd urge to go to her and soothe. Warlords did not soothe women and women did not complain about the lack. They followed behind their warrior without question. It was not their fault they were weak and without the strength to battle.