Untouchable. Part 3

"You should go," she answered, her voice even softer than his own. "If you are found here, you'll be killed."

"Only if there is blue on my skin, isn't that the way of the rule? Only if I touch you is my life forfeit." He leaned toward her, and she could see that his eyes were still green, but they had taken on a darkness which made them resemblethe forest at night, or an angry sea. Lamplight flickered over one side of his face, which was so close she could see the small lines at the corners of his eyes, the creases by his mouth. His dark hair was more mussed than usual, loose and waving thickly to his shoulders and beyond. He was a hard warrior in many ways, outside and in, and yet he was also very much a man. A good man. A needful man.

"You want to touch me," she whispered.

"I do," he admitted with a smile. "So does he."

"Prince Alixandyr," she said softly.

"Yes, that cowardly, uptight, do-gooder Alix."

She wanted, so much, to reach out and touch him. "Like it or not, you are, in many ways, one and the same."

His eyes grew darker, and his mouth went hard. A long hank of hair fell across the illuminated side of his face, hiding so much. Too much. "We are not one. We are two very different men in one body, and I have been silent for far too long. I'm done with being silent, with being constantly imprisoned."

The prince's hand skimmed a fraction of an inch from her cheek. She closed her eyes, and still she could almost feel the touch of his hand. Even though it was forbidden, she wanted his warmth as much as he wanted to touch her. She held her breath as his hand moved so close, and beneath closed eyelids she felt her eyes roll up and quiver. A mistake on her part or his could mark him, so she was very careful to remain still, to soak in the closeness without losing control and reaching for what she wanted.

The part of him he had just denied-Alix, he said- remained within, sleeping but certainly not dead. Resting, not gone. The darkness and the light which had done constant battle from the time of his birth were a part of one soul, one man. He wasn't ready to hear that, however. In his eyes, in his heart, they were two.

In hers, they were one. One man who struggled. Which part of him would win? He thought the battle was over, but she knew it had just begun.

"You could make a man crazy." His hand floated over her chest, almost touching, almost condemning. "You could get inside a man's head and overshadow everything else he holds dear. Duty. Family. Honor. Life itself. All gone, in the name of Sanura. Are you a witch who's cast a spell upon me? Upon him?" She felt and heard his sigh. "Upon both of us?"

"No." She breathed her answer. A shout would bring her guards to her, but she didn't want this encounter to end. Nothing could come of it, nothing could come of them . . . but she enjoyed having him so close. She enjoyed it much more than she should.

He buried one hand in her hair, catching the strands fast and holding on. She felt his fingers against her scalp, felt the warmth of his hand against her head. His cheek rested against her hair, but he touched her nowhere else and she could not touch him.

"If you claim you are not the man I know as Prince Alixandyr, what shall I call you?" she asked.

"You needn't call me anything at all," he whispered against her hair. "Simply snap your fingers and I am yours. Crook one finger in my direction, and I will come running. Even your hair smells good," he added. "Like flowers and suns.h.i.+ne and...woman. You smell like a woman, Sanura. "

"I wish to call you something," she said. "Alixandyr or Prince, perhaps." Dearest or lover, even better.

He sighed, and she felt his warm breath in her hair. "Call me Trystan, if you insist upon giving me a name."

"Trystan."

"He was Trystan for many years before he became Alix." A thumb touched her nipple, not coming into contact with her forbidden bare flesh but warming and arousing through the thin fabric that covered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Sanura closed her eyes and held her breath as Alix-Trystan- made small circles with his thumb, circles which made her nipples grow hard and her body tremble. No one had ever caressed her this way, and she had been so long alone that her reaction was unexpectedly intense.

"Have I found a flaw in the laws that protect you, Sanura? " Trystan teased as his touch grew harder. "I can touch you very well." He removed his hand and a moment later his mouth was there, carefully and expertly suckling at her breast through the gold fabric. Her body shuddered. Her toes curled. His mouth lifted away and he blew a long, slow breath onto the damp fabric before saying, "If I'm very careful, I can pleasure you without getting a particle of that d.a.m.ned blue paint on my skin."

"You do not understand," Sanura said, her voice breathless and uneven. "The women of the Agnese do not take pleasure, they give it. The men who own us do not keep us for the offering of gratification, but for the taking. You can touch me thus without condemning yourself with the blue, but I cannot touch you." And she wanted to touch him, shadows or not. Alix or Trystan or Prince, she did not care.

He seemed amused. "So, no man has ever touched you like this?" Again he kissed her through the gold fabric. He caught a nipple between gentle teeth, and she gasped.

"No."

"What about this?" He reached between her legs and, with the fabric of her skirt against his hand, stroked her where she trembled for him. She could very easily clamp her thighs against him and spread the blue paint on his hand and his forearm, but instead she opened herself for his touch. His stroke continued, rhythmic and beyond arousing.

Since the first time she'd seen this man sitting at the king's supper table, she had often wondered what it would be like to have Prince Alixandyr for a lover. She liked him; she was drawn to him. He was kind and strong and everything a man should be. He was a protector, an honorable man, a n.o.ble and cautious and unbelievably stirring man. He stirred her body and her heart. He made her wish for a different kind of life.

But this was not Prince Alixandyr, not entirely. Not completely. This was not the man she had come to admire and to want. Her body stiffened as she made the distinction. Physically the two parts of him were the same, but if the darkness ruled his soul, as it did now, he would no longer be the man she had come to admire. Was she wrong in her understanding that they were one and the same? Or was he himself correct when he said they were two? She should know, she should be able to tell, but she could not. In many ways this man remained a mystery to her.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked.

Sanura looked him in the eye, studying the dark green and looking deeper, trying to see more. There was not much of the man she truly desired present, at the moment. "I want Alixandyr."

The man who touched her smiled crookedly. "No, you don't. Alix would never dare to touch you this way." His stroke continued. "It's not proper. It's not right." Every word dripped with sarcasm. "You are meant for his brother, after all, and Alix would never dare to covet what his brother possesses. Not a woman, not the throne, not even a mother's love."

"Is that why you want me?" Sanura asked. "Because I'm his? Because I have been given to the emperor?"

"Yes," he whispered, and she felt the truth of his easy confession.

He might as well have thrown a bucket of cold water over her. What had been wonderful and promising was now unclean. Her body grew cold, and she attempted to move away from his touch without staining him with the blue. Alix was not guilty. It wasn't easy to dismiss Trystan entirely, to shake off her womanly reaction to his attentions, to his touch.

She did not like the man before her, but the body he claimed was that of a man she liked very much.

"You should go," she said.

"Too bad." He moved away from her, taking his hand from her body and sitting back, but showing no indication of leaving. "I wanted to watch you scream, love. I wanted to hear you gasp and moan. I wanted to feel you lurch against my hand."

"I want Alixandyr," she whispered. "Go away and send him to me. Now." She wanted the warm green eyes, not the black/green that stared through her. She wanted the man of honor, not the thief who coveted what his brother possessed. "Go away, and send him to me."

She asked for Alixandyr even though she knew Trystan would touch her, take her, while the man she craved would not.

His smile did not fade. "No. You can't have him. I have learned to take control, and I won't relinquish that control easily."

"You're not as strong as he is," Sanura said softly. "He'll be back."

"I imagine so, but not now, and not permanently." He grinned. "I'm coming into my own, and I like it very much. Alix won't survive this journey, my blue seductress. If I think he's winning the battle, if I believe that I will never have possession of this body, I will take you, willing or not. I will cover myself in the blue that stains your skin, and then I will present myself naked and deliriously happy to your sword-toting guards." He moved closer. Too close, and yet still he did not touch her skin. "If I don't win the fight for this body before we reach Arthes, you will be the death of your precious Alixandyr."

ALIX woke feeling as if he had not slept at all, but there was no time to lie about simply because he'd pa.s.sed a restless night. His first order of business was to ask Sanura to ride beside him as she had in the early days of their journey. Being near her was a kind of torture, but keeping peace between the two women he was escorting to Jahn was of the utmost importance.

Even though Sanura had been avoiding him since their conversation by the stream, he was surprised when she turned about, saw him, and visibly flinched. She was not a shy woman, and he had never seen her cower or recoil from anything. He had certainly never given her reason to fear him. He crossed the camp to speak to her, and she remained wary. Openly suspicious. He could almost swear that she was about to run from him-or at least she wanted to run.

Sanura did not flee as he approached, but she had told him more than once that what she desired did not matter.

"It would be best if you rode with me today," he said in an authoritative tone of voice. They would take this one day at a time, in a sensible manner.

She stared into his eyes, studying them more fiercely than was necessary, and then she relaxed. He could actually see the tension leave her body, he saw her limbs and her mouth relax until she was once again the sensuous and confident woman he had come to know.

"Why do you wish it?" she asked.

Alix attempted to inject a touch of cheerfulness into his voice, even though he did not feel at all cheerful. "Do you enjoy listening to the princess complain with each step the horses take?"

At this, she smiled. "No more than anyone else who travels at the rear of the column, I imagine. Is my comfort of such importance to you?"

He would not lie to her. "No."

A light of understanding came into her eyes. "Ah, this is Edlyn's doing, isn't it? She wants me as far away from her as possible."

"Yes."

Sanura c.o.c.ked her head and studied him for a moment. He didn't like the calculating intelligence in her eyes, or the sense that she saw more than she should, as she always did. She was just a woman, no different from any other who was not his to take. And yet, he did not react to her as if she were any other woman.

"A more perverse woman would refuse your offer and spend the remaining days making conversation with our troublesome princess, simply to make the journey more difficult for you."

"Are you perverse?" Why could he suddenly smell her hair, as if it were directly beneath his nose? Why did he have to clench his hands into fists to keep from shaking? Such a woman could surely bring stronger men to their knees, but he had never thought himself vulnerable to such nonsense.

"On occasion," she admitted. "But not today. I will ride with you if it will make the journey easier for you . . . and for everyone else, of course."

Alix bowed to Sanura in appreciation, and then he allowed his eyes to roam over her body. Her outfit was still gold and scanty, but the s.h.i.+mmer was of a different and darker shade. "You changed your traveling outfit."

Her smile disappeared. "The top was stained."

"Traveling is often the end of a suit of clothes. You will ruin two instead of one if you are worried about something so insignificant as a stain."

She did not care for his observation, and he wondered if she blushed beneath the blue. It was impossible to tell. "Surely the emperor will replace any clothing that is damaged in my journey to him. Is your brother a miserly man? Will he expect me to adorn myself in a common fabric which is not the best?"

At the mention of his brother, Alix's jaw clenched. There were moments when he forgot that Sanura was Jahn's, a gift, an offering from the henpecked King of Tryfyn. "You will find the emperor to be most generous, especially where his women are concerned."

Sanura nodded. "I'm glad to hear it."

Women always liked Jahn. Sanura would be no different. It was a waste of time to wonder what might've been if he were emperor, if he had been born a few minutes before his brother.

One thing was certain. When Sanura saw what Jahn was at the pit of his soul, there would be no surprises, no battles, no shadows. No confusion. Jahn was exactly as he presented himself to the world: irreverent, fun-loving, and inherently good.

She was better off that Jahn had been born first.

WHEN the party stopped at midday to rest the horses and grab a bite to eat and a sip of water, Vyrn grinned at Tari and winked broadly. His mind was not entirely on the willing and suggestible maid, but was more focused on those at the head of the column.

Last night Prince Alixandyr had visited Sanura's tent. Vyrn had seen it with his own eyes. The prince and leader of this expedition slipped past the sleeping guards and into the forbidden tent. He had remained in the woman's tent quite a while. Long enough, at least. And this morning the blue wh.o.r.e rode at his side, as she had in the early days. The implications were most unsavory-and yet they offered a new and neater opportunity than the one Vyrn had planned.

He had originally thought to make it look as if Princess Edlyn's suitor from Tryfyn, one Tyren Mils, was the guilty party, but he had not yet been able to come up with a proper and foolproof plan. He still had lots of time to see the deed done, but with each step they took toward Arthes that time decreased.

Vyrn very casually made his way to Tari. He gave her his most charming grin and a small, private wave of his hand. The homely girl smiled as he approached, happy to be chosen on this day. He'd taken pains to give attention to all the female servants, as he had not begun this journey knowing whom he might need. Now he knew. He needed Tari.

"You look lovely today," he said, staring into her eyes with sincerity and a touch of pa.s.sion he knew she would see.

Tari blushed and glanced away. "Thank you. I know I don't..."

He grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. "Don't do that," he said sharply. "Don't pretend you don't see your own unique beauty."

Her skin was soft and smooth against his fingers. It was one of her few truly good features, and he could not say he did not enjoy the feel of it against his stronger, rougher hand. Youth was kind to Tari in that way, but the sharpness of her features would make her a truly ugly old woman. Not that he would ever see her in that state.

She blinked and met his stare. Of course she wanted to believe that she was beautiful, she wanted to believe that some man saw beyond the thin face and the slightly crooked nose. "Do you find me beautiful?" she asked, the uncertainty of her question tinged with hope.

"I do," he said with a forced smile. "In fact, I wish I could kiss you here and now, in front of all these people."

Again she blushed. Had she ever been kissed? Perhaps not. That was a pity, since girls who were unacquainted with pa.s.sion made terrible lovers.

"Tonight," he said with yet another wink. "Tonight perhaps we can steal a moment alone. What do you say, beautiful? "

Tari nodded subtly and briefly, and Vyrn walked away from her with a satisfied smile.

Bedding one ugly girl in exchange for the perfect plan of action was a small price to pay. If he did not find Tari pleasing as a s.e.xual partner, he would close his eyes and think of the former Empress Rikka and all she offered in exchange for his loyalty.

Chapter Four.

THREE days pa.s.sed, and Sanura saw no further signs of Prince Alixandyr's darker side. Trystan, as she had come to think of him in order to distinguish between the two very different parts of one man, had likely expended a lot of energy in rising to control on that night when he'd touched her, and was compelled to rest. At least for now. He'd seemed determined to take his place in the world, to send Alix into the depths where the shadows had been trapped for so long. Perhaps he had overestimated his strength. She could hope that was true.

The prince did deign to speak to her on occasion, but there was a formality in his air, a distance, a wall he created between them. She did not feel that she could tell him what had happened that night. He would not believe her, in any case. No, he did not think himself in danger of losing the inner battle he fought.

At the present time, he fought more than one battle. Though Alix did not remember that Trystan had touched her, he was s.e.xually attracted to her and at times was certainhe knew what she felt like, how she tasted. That lost memory had created a new conflict as his senses fought with his usually disciplined mind. That much of him she could see well.

Their travels had been blessed with good weather until the afternoon when clouds obscured the sun and the wind pulled with great force against the two banners which marked their party as regal and of two countries. Columbyana crimson and Tryfyn green whipped side by side, furling and snapping in the wind.

When the first drops fell, the prince's eyes turned to Sanura. "Will the rain wash away your cosmetic?"

As he asked, a raindrop fell on her shoulder and meandered down her arm, leaving no mark. "No," she said. "It takes the oil of another's skin or a special ointment to remove the blue."

"Then we can continue."

Sanura nodded. Princess Edlyn was safe and dry in her coach, and the others were of no concern to Alixandyr, who wished only to move forward as quickly as possible.

The rain felt quite good on her skin. It was gentle and not too cold, and while the other women-the four maids who served the princess and the gift-covered their heads and cowered beneath the falling drops, Sanura continued forward as the sentinels and soldiers did-spine straight and head high. She was unafraid of rain. She was unafraid of what awaited her in Arthes. The women of the Agnese knew no fear. At the very least, they showed none.

More than once, as the journey continued through the soft spring rain, she turned her head and caught Alixandyr staring at her. More rightly, he stared at the way the rain-drops slipped over the blue without was.h.i.+ng it away. He stared at the way her wet clothing clung to her body. Sanura did not pretend to be shy or demure, she did not pretend that she was ashamed for any man to see the shape of her body, whether it was bare or encased in wet golden fabric.

After a while the prince removed his crimson cloak and, moving his horse close to hers, draped the cloak over her shoulders and around her body.

"I am not the only one intrigued, Sanura," he said in a lowered voice only she could hear.

"It does not matter," she said as she clung to the cloak, which smelled of him. "I am accustomed to men watching me and craving what they cannot have."

"I am not," he said tersely.

She should feel a surge of pride that he wanted her so, that he went so far as to protect her from the prying eyes of other men. No one had ever really protected her, not even Zeryn, who had on occasion claimed to cherish her above all his wives. Alixandyr protected her. He asked about her comfort and s.h.i.+elded her from the eyes of the other men.

But she knew too well that nothing could come of it. Nothing could come of them. Her heart skipped a beat. At least, nothing good.