Delectably Undone! Part 16

She awoke to soft light, cool and pale like oversaturated ink, flowing through the thin silk walls of her bedchamber. Dawn painted the skin of Miku and Takeshi's bare legs as they lay entwined with each other. She pressed herself closer to his bronzed chest, and his arms instinctively tightened around her, his lips seeking out hers.

And then without warning, his mouth was gone from hers. "The shoko sounds," he said.

Miku struggled to her elbows, pushing back a thick lock of black hair from her eyes, and listened to the large bra.s.s gong that hung at the front gate of her uncle's manor. Its distinctive clang rang through the courtyard, shattering their morning's serenity. Servants were signaling her uncle's return.

Almost immediately, a rumble of footsteps foretold her uncle's imminent arrival at the door to her suite. Before she could do more than hastily wrap a robe around her naked form, the old man and his entourage of servants trampled through her parlor and pulled away the screen that enclosed her bedchamber.

Her uncle stopped abruptly, his irritable instructions to a servant broken off midsentence as his sharp gaze took in Miku's disheveled appearance and Takeshi's sword and bow, abandoned in the corner of the room. Though he'd managed to step back into his short cotton robe, the samurai's shoulder-length hair was loose about his neck instead of tied up tightly in the formal knot required of his military station.

"No attempt to escape was made in the night, Master," said Takeshi, sliding on his helmet and plated armor and calmly moving to retrieve his weapons. But before he could reach his katana, Miku's uncle signaled for armed guards to retrieve the blade.

"Yes, I see that my niece is still here, as I commanded. Yet I wonder if she remained truly safe?" asked Miku's uncle, his fury barely contained. "Or was her greatest threat lurking here, in my own home?"

"The only threat I face is from you," said Miku, moving angrily toward her uncle as his scandalized servants backed away. "I will not-"

"What you will or will not do is my decision," snapped her uncle. "Dress in your finest robes and come to the grand hall."

"You cannot force Miku to obey you any longer," said Takeshi, stepping between her and her uncle. "She is no longer yours to command."

Turning toward his private guard, the old man pointed a gnarled finger toward Takeshi. "Arrest this traitor. He will be put to death...after he watches my niece marry another." He rolled an eye toward Takeshi, smirked and said, "You seem to have forgotten that you are not armed."

With a battle cry, Takeshi rushed toward his former Master, but a dozen guards with weapons drawn moved to block him.

"You will follow this sniveling coward?" roared Takeshi, as one soldier pressed his sword to the base of Takeshi's throat while a second wrapped a strong leather rope around his wrists. "Then you are not true samurai-for samurai are men of honor and courage!"

Their faces flushed with anger and humiliation, the two guards pulled the still-fighting Takeshi from Miku's room, their violent exit ripping holes in the delicate silk walls of her bedchamber.

Looking from the tattered fabric to her uncle, Miku trembled with rage and shock. But before she could speak, he snarled, "My request is clear-appear in one hour, or your samurai will die immediately. Your cooperation ensures him at least a few more hours before I end his miserable life."

Now, as she hurried to dress, Miku seethed with barely contained fury. Weighed down by multilayered robes of crimson, green and gold silk, without glancing into her polished bronze mirror, Miku stepped from her chambers and made her way down the long corridor connecting her quarters to her uncle's main house.

Takeshi was unarmed, yet surely he would find a way to defend her-and save himself. But how, she could not fathom. Perhaps such a dream was nothing more than a poet's fancy after all.

Miku stepped into her uncle's large sitting room, her sensuous curves concealed beneath formal robes and her face hidden behind heavy makeup. She had painted her ripe lips to appear smaller, as was the fashion, and her luxurious hair had been pinned back with a golden ornament shaped like a tiny sh.e.l.l. From his position between two armed guards near the Master, Takeshi's heart lurched to his throat as the memory of the simple parlor game they had played pierced through the armor of his heart.

Miku's uncle leaned to Takeshi and in a harsh whisper said, "Do not forget, samurai. You will be killed instantly should you speak to my niece or in any other way acknowledge your...connection...with her. Her future husband must not know of this dalliance, at least until the wedding has been completed and the contracted alliance between our families formalized." The old man snorted, then added, "Although, of course, at that point I will have you executed."

"Why are you keeping me alive now?" asked Takeshi.

The old man shrugged with affected surprise. "Why, so that you can watch your beloved poet presented, body and soul, to the man of my choosing, of course. When you are put to the blade, I want your last thought to be of her in the arms of another."

Takeshi lunged toward Miku's uncle, but the sharp edge of the other soldiers' swords held him at bay.

"Your prisoner seems quite volatile," whimpered the bloated aristocrat seated nearby, oblivious to the pervious conversation between Takeshi and his host. "Perhaps you should call for a larger contingent of guards? And why is he here, anyway?"

"No reason that should concern you, my honored friend," said Miku's uncle quickly, snapping his fingers to signal for more guards. "The man is merely a wayward peasant who needs my attention after we have concluded these more agreeable affairs. But I will call for additional soldiers as you request, to put your mind at ease."

As more samurai filed into the room, Miku glided forward, stopping before her sharp-eyed uncle and the paunchy man who sat next to him. She knelt on a cushion and raised her eyes, a demure smile on her face. "Dear uncle, your quick and safe return gladdens my heart. The house was quiet without your presence."

At the melodic sound of her voice, Takeshi started slightly. Miku did not look toward him. To express the excruciating emotions ripping at her heart-even with a soft word or knowing glance-would risk his life, so she carefully played the part her uncle expected, even if the old man knew it was all a lie.

"My niece, I have returned with an honored guest and glad tidings. Orochi has come this long way from the capital Heian-kyo, where he serves as an a.s.sistant to the Emperor's butler. A very prestigious position, of course."

"Quite impressive," said Miku, nodding stiffly to her uncle's guest. The man wiped his watering eyes and licked his lips in response.

She tried not to shudder as a wave of revulsion swelled within her stomach. Had she not shared the past evening in the arms of another, had she never learned the pleasure that a man's loving touch could bring, then perhaps she would not find this pompous slug so repugnant. But though eminently brave and unquestioningly strong, Takeshi was now unarmed and seemed no match for the army of swords and bows around him.

"I see you are satisfied with this man," continued her uncle. Miku declined her head in forced deference to her uncle's statement. "And he is obviously satisfied with you. But what man wouldn't be, eh?" he asked, poking a pointed elbow into the fleshy rolls surrounding the other man's stomach while sending a goading glance toward Takeshi. "My niece may have an uncomely wildness to her spirit at times, Orochi, but you see that she can be tamed."

The men laughed as Miku caught a look of strangled rage pa.s.s across Takeshi's face. Her heart lurched with desperate hope. Was Takeshi going to act? Could she be saved from the revolting fate of sharing a bed, and a life, with Orochi? But her hope withered with the renewed realization that for Takeshi to defy her uncle would be an instant death sentence, carried out at the hands of the other samurai.

"You will wed Orochi," said her uncle slowly, his eyes sharp on Miku's face. "Now."

She kept her hands clenched tightly on her lap and said nothing. Miku well knew the stories of sensuous excess and erotic debauchery that permeated the wealthy elite who lived in Heian-kyo, where monogamy was the exception and multiple liaisons were expected. Though tantalizing for many, she knew such wantonness would only lead to her own heartbreak. How could she expect her new husband to be faithful in a climate such as that? And how could she hope to find happiness when all she wanted was the deep satisfaction that came from being fully known and loved by just one man-by Takeshi?

"He will take his wedding night here, in your quarters, and tomorrow you will return with him to the capital." Her uncle poked Orochi in the ribs again and added, "Where she will set aside her poetry and begin giving you many sons and daughters!"

Miku's mind swam with horror as she fought to maintain a tranquil outward appearance. "You show me great love by finding an important man to be my husband," she said finally, choking on the words. "I am not worthy of such an honor."

"True, and yet it is an honor you will accept," said her uncle as Orochi leered with watery eyes. "For it is an honor that will grant me favor in the eyes of the Emperor and his court."

Takeshi's bound arms and broad chest trembled with barely contained fury as he looked from Miku to Orochi, his eyes dark and jaw set.

Unaware of the silent drama between his intended bride and her warrior lover, Orochi leaned toward his host. "Yes, the handsome dowry you will send with her to Heian-kyo will go far in impressing His Highness. Your peasants will be honored to know their extra grain is going toward such a magnanimous gift."

Both men laughed as Miku slowly shook her head in disbelief. Not only was she being given to such a repugnant man, but her uncle's serfs would also be further starved to pay her dowry.

"No such dowry will be taken from the peasants, or paid to the emperor." Takeshi's deep voice cut through the room like the blade of a knife. "Now, release me."

Miku's eyes shot to Takeshi and the corps of men surrounding him. Even with arms bound, the strength of his presence, the dark piercing gaze of his eyes and unquestionable authority of his voice expressed more power than any other man in the room. And though ostensibly there to provide extra guard, the soldiers were now instead cutting the leather cord from around Takeshi's wrists and slipping a katana into his outstretched hand.

"Stop him," cried Miku's uncle, his voice catching with fear, but the few soldiers who moved tentatively toward Takeshi were quickly halted by the warning snarls and outstretched swords of their braver comrades, now loyal to Takeshi alone.

Takeshi nodded with solemn authority to his men, who acknowledged him with bows of respect, though not so low as to drop their eyes from the two old men quivering at their feet.

"For years, we have followed you with unwavering loyalty," said Takeshi, boldly stepping toward Miku's uncle.

The time had come for him to act, and he was ready. He had always been ready, he realized. It had just taken the fiery temper, gentle touch and courageous spirit of his Master's niece to finally unleash the maverick that had always lurked within his warrior's heart.

"And for years," continued Takeshi, brandishing his weapon, "we have honored our vow to serve you. Yet for years, you have repressed our families and starved our people. You have abused your responsibility toward everyone under your authority." He paused, and Miku's heart leapt to her throat at his next words, spoken in a low growl. "Even those within your own household."

A snarl rumbled through the tightly packed room as dozens of samurai nodded and shifted their weight, as if ready to attack. Takeshi put up a hand, and the murmuring ceased.

"We understand the meaning of loyalty, of honor, of respect. It is you who have no concept of anything more than power and greed and petty l.u.s.ts. And so it is you who will leave. I will no longer allow you to ravage this land and its people, taking what you want and leaving the peasants to starve. We will no longer permit such injustice," he said, an arm sweeping toward his fellow soldiers. "Rather than bleed the peasants any further, these brave men can swear a fresh allegiance. One to honesty and justice and compa.s.sion. One to me as their new leader."

"I thought you were just a peasant," whined Orochi, who now lay in a quivering pile of robes at Takeshi's feet. "You should be killed for this treasonous act."

"I am no peasant," said Takeshi, "and my actions are not treasonous to the villagers who truly deserve my protection."

"I should not have permitted you to leave my niece's room alive," said Miku's uncle, ignoring the look of confusion that pinched Orochi's face. "Yet as for my niece..."

Takeshi took another threatening step toward his former Master, raising his sword to the man's quivering jowls. "To hear you speak of Miku boils my blood," he bit out, then paused. "But, nonetheless, she must choose her own destiny."

"So you will permit her to leave with me, her beloved uncle?" he simpered. "I need someone to care for me in my aging years, after all."

"I will go nowhere," said Miku, rising from the cushion on which she knelt and moving quickly to Takeshi, her head high and resolve firm. "I belong here, with the man I love."

She stopped before him, looking deeply into his eyes. His desire for her had always been clear, but in his face, she also saw strength tempered with gentleness, pa.s.sion made complete with love. She now knew he was a man who loved her with all of his being, and whom she loved in return.

"Your niece stays," said Takeshi, putting a protective arm around Miku. "But you will leave at once. My men will escort you on your journey to the capital, where perhaps your would-be nephew-in-law will see fit to put you up in his home and fund your extravagances. For the people of this land no longer will."

Miku's uncle and Orochi, along with the cowardly soldiers who had arrested Takeshi, were dragged from the room by several samurai. Miku turned in Takeshi's arms to face him. "Will the Emperor send troops once word of your insurrection reaches the capital?"

"Perhaps, but I believe the Emperor will be happy as long as adequate taxes continue to flow to his coffers. And that can be done without bleeding the peasants, so long as we samurai and n.o.bility are willing to live more modestly henceforth. My warrior brethren will be in agreement that this shall be so."

"As am I," she said eagerly, her facing shining with adoration and respect. Then, looking deep into his eyes, she whispered, "You have saved the people of this village, and you have saved me."

"If that snake Orochi had laid a finger on you..." His voice trailed off, full of barely controlled rage.

Miku reached up and turned his face toward hers again. "No hands have touched me but yours. And I desire for no other hands but yours again."

Takeshi lifted her into his arms then, and moving through the crowd of milling samurai like a sword parting the mist, he carried her toward her quarters.

"Can it be true that you love me, a mere soldier?" he asked, his voice husky and low as he made his way down the sun-kissed open corridor between the houses.

"You may not come from n.o.ble blood," she said, her head resting against his strong chest as he entered her chambers, "but you have n.o.bleness of spirit. How could I not love a man of such conviction and courage?"

"But I cannot read the poetry you write," he said, looking past her to the writing desk, "and poetry is who you are. It is your soul."

She ran a soft finger across his beard, and he looked into her eyes again, an expectant hope softening the hard planes of his face and making her heart ache with tenderness for him. "I will teach you to read," she whispered, "and until then, we will create a different poetry together."

They gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment before he kissed her forehead tenderly and murmured the words she had just read so perfectly in his clear gaze: "I love you, my poetess."

"And I love you."

Takeshi moved through Miku's bedchamber, its silken walls a glowing coc.o.o.n in the midmorning sun. Gently seating her upright on the sleeping couch, he knelt before the woman he adored. This free-spirited poetess with a gentle heart and fierce courage. The one person who had finally broken through the hardened defenses of his heart. The woman who had already inspired him to acts of greater goodness and bravery that he could have done before knowing her.

Cupping her face tenderly in his bow-calloused hands, Takeshi pressed his lips to Miku's eager mouth. As her tongue traced the curve of his lips, she ran her fingers through his hair, loosening the formal samurai knot and allowing it to fall to his shoulders in a thick black mane. The warrior who knelt before her was all hard muscle and barely restrained strength, yet his touch remained tender, the gentle embrace of a lover.

Coaxed by his tantalizing kiss and the memory of his more intimate caresses, Miku's body responded with the first throbs of a deeper need. She arched her back and, wrapping her legs around his chiseled waist, pressed herself to his kneeling form. His grip around her waist tightened and his kiss deepened, his tongue piercing her mouth and tasting her fully.

She writhed against his hard, muscled abdomen as sparks of pleasure began to ignite between her open legs. With each roll of her hips, she recognized with growing delight her own ability to control that incomparable pleasure Takeshi had earlier released with his fingertips...and mouth.

At the memory of his hungry tongue against her wet core, she shuddered with antic.i.p.ation and leaned back to open herself fully to her willing warrior. Unable to contain his own desire as he witnessed the unfettered abandon with which Miku used his body for her pleasure, Takeshi slid his hands down her back and lifted her b.u.t.tocks to his mouth. As her shoulders pressed into the soft cushions of the couch, Miku moaned with expectancy.

With an unconstrained hunger, he licked at her wetness, his tongue sliding across her soft flesh to probe deep within her before emerging again to flick repeatedly cross her point of greatest pleasure. She cried out in ecstasy, overcome by the complete control with which Takeshi mastered her desire. Though her lover, he was still a samurai, and she couldn't deny the intensely arousing realization that, although he cherished her deeply, he could still do with her what he wished.

He gripped her more tightly in response to her sighs of pleasure, his tongue relentlessly flicking across her heated flesh as she writhed against his mouth. She was his completely now, with no one waiting to force her into the arms of another. The certainty that he could enjoy her for the rest of his life filled him with a fiercer desire than he had ever known. Not even on the battlefield, when he had parried an opponent's sword and faced down an enemy's bow, had his blood rushed so hot and his vision seemed so sharply focused. All he could see now was Miku, and all he wanted was to please her-and possess her-forever.

With a deliberate motion, he lowered her waist back onto the couch, her legs still lifted in his grasp. Without waiting, Takeshi thrust into her, taking her fully in one swift motion. She gasped as he filled her, then cried out as he pressed into her again and again, every hard thrust penetrating deeper than she had yet imagined possible. He was possessing her, overwhelming her...yet making her pleasure his supreme focus.

Though initially overcome by her samurai's unbridled pa.s.sion, Miku quickly responded with an equally fiery desire of her own. Her cries of surprise turned to moans of utter abandon as she gave herself fully to his carnal onslaught, each thrust penetrating deep within the slick wetness of her aching arousal. She gripped the sides of the sleeping couch with trembling hands and arched up toward Takeshi, seeking to take his full length with each pounding stroke.

Yet in giving herself over to him completely, Miku realized she was in fact achieving her greatest power. Choosing to accept his undying love, and to give hers in return, strengthened her in a way she could never achieve alone. To love and be loved was stronger than his sword and more beautiful than her poetry.

In that moment of comprehension, Miku's body shuddered over the edge of control. Undulating waves of pleasure exploded from between her legs as she tightened around Takeshi's shaft. He answered her cries of pleasure with his own deep moan, stiffening within her as liquid heat filled her inner core and spilled down her still-lifted b.u.t.tocks. Then he collapsed onto her, all his furious need replaced in an instant with tender kisses and gentle words of love.

They lay in each others arms, their bodies and hearts entwined, the frantic ecstasy of their shared pa.s.sion ebbing as a sated joy washed over them. Sighing with contentment, Miku traced a finger languidly across the bronze skin of Takeshi's taut chest, no longer hidden from her by plated armor.

"That tickles." He grinned, capturing her hand in his and kissing her fingertips.

She paused, then smiled. "It is calligraphy."

"What were you writing?" he asked.

Her heart fluttered as she gazed into the inky darkness of his eyes, so full of love for her. "Your name," she admitted. "Takeshi. It means warrior."

"Yes," he said. "And yet, in finding you, I have begun to discover that there is more to who I am."

"You are a leader, and a poet, and my lover, too," Miku said proudly. "Yet you will always be a warrior. And I love you for that strength."

Takeshi looked into Miku's face, radiating confidence in him. "And I love you," he said, kissing her again.

After a moment he paused to speak once more, his voice low and full of emotion. "Your uncle expected there to be a wedding here today. We will send news to him in Heian-kyo that the nuptials have been consummated after all."

"If that is your will, so be it," Miku said, tenderness coloring her cheeks as she gazed into the dark eyes of the man who would henceforth be her husband. "For you are now Master of this manor."

Nuzzling her long, dark hair, he whispered, "And you will be mistress of my heart forever."

ARABIAN NIGHTS WITH A RAKE.

Bronwyn Scott.

Author Note.

Alex and Susannah's story was so much fun to write! Alex is a rugged intellectual, which gives him a very s.e.xy edge. He seems the perfect comrade for Crispin Ramsden. The idea to set the story in the desert sprang from a remark Crispin makes in his story, Untamed Rogue, Scandalous Mistress, about how he acquired his horse. I thought it would be intriguing to use an Undone to explore where Crispin has been during his three-year absence from England. This adventure in the desert seemed ideal.

I hope you enjoy the backdrop for the story. Many of my readers are like me and love to learn something from the books they read. For those folks, here's a great chance to learn about desert life; the moussems, the souk, the relationship between camels and horses, are all as authentic as I could make them. For history lovers, I based Alex and Crispin's foray into the desert specifically around the events happening after the French take over Algiers. Abd al-Qadir was a real historical figure and was considered a great hero in Algerian history for his rebellion against the French, which was indeed staged from Mascara.