A River of Orange Read online

  "Heaven help us all for being her pawns,” Zailia sobbed, throwing herself down upon a layer of fallen palm branches. There in the lush, green foliage she wept for the task she had ahead. “I care not for myself,” she wailed aloud. If it had only been her hide in jeopardy she would have sooner died than agree to Devora's plan. But her aging, sick father would be made to suffer the consequences if she did not obey the witch queen.

  Zailia ran her fingers through her snarled hair, yanking at the roots in her agony. Her mission was to befriend the maiden castaway, then betray her. “Nay ... I cannot ... I cannot.” How could Zailia take someone's life?

  Her sobs caught in her throat as the sound of heavy footsteps neared. Quickly, she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and turned to find Ibrehem standing behind her.

  He rushed to her aid and knelt down beside her. “Zailia, lass, what ails you? What is hurt ... tell me and I shall do my best to ease your pain."

  Zailia cast her glance away, “I am just tired, my friend,” she lied. It would do no good to tell Ibrehem the truth. Why get another involved in her plight? If she confided in him the reason she was so distraught, he would definitely interfere, and Devora would have him killed as well. She sighed. “Just very, very tired."

  Ibrehem placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face so her gaze met his, “Please let me help you, lass.” His voice cracked with emotion. “The castle is no place for a young, innocent girl to work ... to reside.” He chuckled lightly. “Hell, ‘tis no place for even me to be.” He looked deep into her eyes. “You belong home, with your father, and I can make that possible."

  Zailia sat up. “I cannot take your money."

  Ibrehem frowned. “Why the hell not, Zailia?"

  "Because ‘tis all you have, Ibrehem."

  "And what good is having it if I cannot help those I care about?"

  Zailia's lips thinned. “You mustn't care for me.” For Ibrehem's sake she must push him as far away from her as she could. Her life was no longer her own, she would not subject him to the same fate.

  Ibrehem reached out and took Zailia's hand. “Why, lass?"

  His touch sent excited shivers through her body; his soft, charcoal eyes held kindness and pity. Zailia did not want his pity. “I can take care of myself, Ibrehem.

  "Why are you so afraid to be happy?"

  Defiantly she raised her chin. “And what makes you so sure you can make me happy, Ibrehem Chancelor?"

  He folded his arms across his chest. “What makes you so sure I cannot?"

  Zailia stood up and stomped a foot. “You infuriate me. Your head is as big as your ego."

  Ibrehem stood. “Why do you always pick a fight when I am trying to be nice?"

  "Because ... because...” Zailia sputtered.

  He smiled widely. “Because you like me ... and you know it."

  "I do not!” Zailia protested.

  Ibrehem's eyes twinkled mischievously. “Aye, lass, you do ... and if you give in to it..."

  "Shut your mouth, Ibrehem! I am in no mood for your cocky ways. Your charming wiles will not work on me."

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, you admit then, that I am charming."

  Zailia stomped her foot again. “I admitted nothing of the kind."

  Ibrehem moved closer to her. “You are even more beautiful when you are angry."

  Zailia rolled her eyes. “Listen now to the lies you are speaking.” She looked down at her soiled, tattered clothes. “'Tis a gown fit for a ball that I wear,” she snapped sarcastically, trying desperately to hold back the tears that stung her throat. She pulled at her hair. “And my curls are just so lovely, brushed till they shine."

  Ibrehem frowned. “Stop it, Zailia."

  Zailia bit her bottom lip, the ache in her heart, the hurt in her soul, nearly too much to hold back. “I am anything but beautiful, Ibrehem."

  Ibrehem gently stroked Zailia's cheek. “That is far from the truth, lass. In all your worn garments you are still more beautiful than any lady of the court dressed in all her finery."

  Zailia pulled away quickly, afraid his gesture of affection would break her entirely. Her heart cried out for his strong embrace, to be pulled tightly against his muscular chest and feel the safety she so badly needed. But it would put him in danger. “I must get to the cottage to check on father."

  Ibrehem reached out for her hand. “Zailia, wait."

  She stiffened. Another touch of affection and she would truly fall to pieces before his very eyes.

  Ibrehem quickly stepped away. “I am sorry; I know you wish to spend all the time you can with Tobiah."

  "Aye, I am not granted much chance to visit home, and when I am allowed away from the castle, I want every precious moment to be spent with Papa."

  Ibrehem gave a taut nod. “I understand fully, and I will detain you no further."

  Zailia smiled and turned to leave.

  "Would you mind if I walked with you?” Ibrehem called after her.

  Zailia turned to face him and smiled warmly. “Nay, I would not mind."

  Ibrehem offered her his arm. “Then let us be on our way."

  Sitting cross-legged on a nearby branch, Titiana watched the two make their way to Tobiah's cottage. How could she help Zailia, and how would she be able to save Meav without revealing her secret place?

  * * * *

  Rule carefully carried Meav in his mouth, back to his cave. Placing her gently down on a bed of animal skins, he gazed at the pure beauty of her naked form. Every inch of her was perfect. He nudged his nose against her cheek. It was soft, smelled sweet, as he knew it would.

  Tenderly Rule licked a nipple, round and round he twirled his tongue over the rosy peak. Her flavor melted in his mouth, longing mounted in his loins.

  He watched her intensely. She slept on, not so much as an eyelid fluttered. Rule feared he had lost her. Quickly he brought his ear to her chest and listened for a heartbeat. To his relief it thumped strong.

  He sniffed her taut, smooth belly, and then circled her navel with his tongue. Slowly he neared his nose to between her thighs. Her scent was intoxicating. Drawing closer he inhaled deeply; taking in all that was her and let it penetrate his senses. It left him drunk with desire.

  His phallus became engorged, hanging heavy between his hind legs. He wanted her, needed her. Ah, to implant himself in her warmth, to take pleasure from the contact, the release.

  Gently he stroked her with his large, rough tongue. She quivered. He smiled to himself. Again he tasted her, desiring now to spread her wide and lick her till she woke, or he climaxed, which ever occurred first. But Rule could not take the chance of her seeing him as he was.

  He stifled his urges, and did what he thought was best for Meav. Reluctantly he backed away, but for a long moment stared hungrily at the woman in his bed. When she shivered, Rule gripped a fur pallet with his teeth and covered her with it. Then he went to an opposite corner of the cave and willed his transformation to come quickly.

  Meav felt so warm and cozy, she almost hated to open her eyes. But when she did, she almost regretted she had.

  She found herself lying on a pile of animal skins in a cave, torches lit and hung from brackets mounted on the wall. The light cast an eerie shadow to the nightmare that was happening in the corner of the grotto.

  With its back to Meav, the biggest, blackest panther stood on its hind legs ... front paws outstretched upon the wall, back arched, and its large head thrown back as it wreathed in pain.

  Meav swallowed hard, and watched paralyzed in her makeshift bed.

  The large cat growled, its tail bent upward, and slowly its fur turned to flesh.

  Meav watched the beast transform itself into a man ... a very large, muscular man ... a stark naked man. Meav sat up quickly, the animal covering slipping from her shoulders.

  Rule heard the gasp, and quickly spun around to find Meav staring at him with large, frightened eyes; her bare breasts rising and falling with her rapid breathing. Dam
n, he had hoped he would have been done with the ordeal before she woke. Now she was staring with those beautiful blue orbs in disgust, or was it in total panic, either way Rule could not blame her for her reaction.

  Meav's mouth fell open as she looked deep into his eyes. “I know you ... the amber eyes ... the ones of the cat belong to the man."

  Rule nodded slowly. “Aye, they are one in the same."

  Meav gasped again. “How ... how can this be?"

  Rule stepped closer. “Please, do not be frightened. I will not hurt you."

  Meav scooted away, her eyes wandering down to his broad shoulders, muscular chest, taut stomach, and then to ... to...

  She inhaled sharply. “Saints preserve me.” She continued to gape at the large phallus hanging between his legs.

  Rule felt a thrill of pleasure mount with her curiosity, and remained in her full view, allowing her to observe his endowment thoroughly. He suddenly pictured himself walking to her, reaching for her hand and placing it on him. The thought of her fingers folding over his manhood excited him. He began to grow.

  Meav's eyes widened as Rule's male member grew hard and erect before her eyes. “Mercy,” she choked out. “I have never seen a naked man."

  It was then that Rule became embarrassed for his boldness. The maiden was just that ... a maiden, innocent of knowing a man. How stupid he had been, of course this would all be a shock to her young, pure eyes. He quickly turned his back to Meav and reached for his breeches. “I am sorry ... so very sorry, Meav.” His face burned with humiliation. “You should have never seen any of what you have."

  Meav liked looking at the other side of him as well ... his backside round and tightly formed atop of two muscular thighs. She watched while he slipped on his bottoms, tunic, and sandals.

  While Rule buckled his knife holster around his waist, Meav cast a glance down at her own nakedness and screamed.

  Rule spun around. “What ... what now?"

  Quickly she brought the animal skin up to cover her breasts. Her own cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Where are me clothes?"

  Rule moved closer and squat down on his haunches. “You were not wearing any clothes."

  Meav scooted farther away; her bare back scraping against the cold, cavern wall. “I do not understand any of this. What has happened ... why am I here, lying naked in this cave?"

  "You do not remember?"

  Meav shook her head, swallowing the tears she felt rising to choke her.

  Rule sat in a cross-legged fashion in front of her and began to explain.

  Meav held the animal covering up to her chin ... tightly, as she listened. “I thank you then, milord, for saving me life."

  Rule smiled. “I promised no one would harm you, lass."

  "Aye, that you did.” Suddenly Meav realized, as the events of the day came back to her, that Rule had seen her naked ... in the river, wantonly displaying herself. No man had ever seen her without her clothes. And then he carried her here ... without a stitch on. She colored fiercely. If there were a hole for her to fall into, she would welcome the chance. She cast her gaze shyly away. “What happens now?"

  "I would say the next thing is the problem of your clothes, or lack there of."

  Keeping her eyes down, Meav only nodded. For a silly moment she almost thought if she did not look at him, he could not see her.

  Rule stood. “I believe I have a remedy for the situation."

  Slowly Meav looked up. “You do?"

  "Aye, I do,” he said, making his way to another corner of the cave and pulling out a large, brown trunk. “In this chest I have all the things a lady's heart desires in the way of fashion."

  Meav strained her neck to see from where she sat, her grip never lessening on the pallet that covered her. “How is that?"

  Rule snapped the lock and opened the lid. “My mother was a lady all admired, wore the most beautiful dresses; made from the most expensive cloth.” He pulled out a blue dress, white lace bordering the collar, cuffs, and hem. He held it up for her to see. “What do you think of this one?"

  Meav's face brightened. “Ah, me. ‘Tis fit for a queen."

  "And that she was, till the day she died,” Rule said sadly.

  Meav's eyes widened. “Your mother was a queen?"

  Rule nodded and reached inside the trunk for a pair of slippers, stockings, bloomers, a petticoat and a camisole. “I believe these are the things you ladies wear along with the dress.” He handed everything to Meav.

  With a trembling hand Meav reached for the items. “And your father, he has passed as well?"

  "Aye."

  Meav brought the clothes to her chest, inhaling the scent of jasmine that faintly clung to the garments. “Then that would mean now you are the king."

  Rule remained silent.

  Meav searched his handsome face. “You live in this cave because of ... because you are...” The words caught in her throat.

  Rule's lips thinned. Angrily he closed the trunk's lid and made his way to the cave's opening. “I will give you some privacy in order to dress."

  Meav swallowed hard. “How could anyone become what you are?"

  Rule turned around quickly to face her.

  Meav gasped at the sudden hate that filled his amber eyes, the anger that was etched on his face. Again, the man had changed before her very eyes.

  Rule's voice grated hoarsely. “Never speak of it again, lass, do you hear me?"

  Meav nodded.

  "Now hurry and get dressed so that I can return you to Wysteria,” Rule snapped. “Knowing the old woman as I do, she is probably sick with grief and lays mourning on her cot,” he added before stalking out of the cave.

  Chapter Eight

  Meav did not know when she had gotten dressed in so many clothes, in such little time. And trying to quickly fasten each tiny, pearl button of the beautiful dress with trembling hands made the task all that much harder to accomplish.

  All she knew was that she wanted to be gone from the musty smelling cave, and away from the half man, half beast that brought her here.

  Rule called into the door opening. “Have you finished dressing, lass?"

  Meav's voice was shakier than she liked. “Aye, I am ready, milord."

  When Rule entered the cave, he just stared at Meav. “The dress fits you perfectly."

  Meav smoothed the puffy skirt down and backed away from him, wanting to keep as much distance as possible between them in case he turned angry again.

  Her actions riled him. “Do you really think I would harm you?” he snapped. “If I was going to do anything to you, I would have already. I certainly had the chance.” He stomped over to the trunk, grabbed it by the handle and dragged it to the door. “I have no use for these things. You might as well bring them along to Wysteria's with you.” He hoisted the trunk to his shoulder and walked out of the cave.

  Meav was momentarily taken back by his strength. He lifted the heavy chest like it weighed no more than a loaf of bread.

  "Are you coming, lass?” he called back to her.

  "Aye, I am right behind you,” she said as pleasantly as the situation would allow. There was no sense in getting him irritated again.

  Meav had trouble keeping up with Rule's long strides. Even toting a trunk upon his shoulder, he was swifter than she. She was a farm girl, and not use to wearing the many clothes of a grand lady. Even her Sunday best was not as elaborate as what she now wore. The island's heat made the mounds of fabric that wrapped her flesh that much more unbearable to withstand, and Meav's throbbing feet made the trek to Wysteria's cottage seem endless.

  She looked past her billowing skirt, down to her slippers. Her toes were being murdered. The beautiful shoes were made for dancing, not hiking up and down hills. ‘Twas Meav who was feeling irritated now. She did not care how angry Rule became; she could not go another step without freeing herself of the cumbersome petticoat and giving her feet a rest.

  In exasperation she sat down on a rock. The stiff undergarment pu
ffed the skirt out and up, knocking her off balance. Meav fell backward, the skirt and petticoat flipping up and over her head. No matter how hard she tried, she could not stand.

  "Help, help me,” she cried out.

  Rule stopped walking when he heard her calling. He looked around. Where the hell had she gone off to now? Quickly he back-tracked his steps, and found her toppled over backward, legs kicking the air and the sun bouncing off the stark, white bloomers. Rule lowered the trunk to the ground and took in the comical scene before him, then threw his head back with hearty laughter.

  Meav tried to push the full skirt off her face. “'Tisn't a wee bit funny. I could have cracked me head open on a rock."

  Rule's voice held a trace of humor. “And did you?"

  "Did I what?” Meav snapped.

  "Crack your head open on a rock."

  "Nay ... but I could have for all you care,” Meav snapped again.

  Rule made his way to the distressed damsel and gently wrapped his large hands around her waist. Effortlessly, as if she was a doll, he lifted her up and placed her squarely onto her feet. Then he reached up beneath her skirt for the waistline of the petticoat, and with one yank, pulled it down to her ankles. “There, now you should be able to navigate freely."

  Meav gasped. “How dare you, sir."

  Rule continued to help Meav out of the bulky garment. “I have seen you with much less on, lass. Slipping down your petticoat should not have you even batting an eye."

  Before Meav could respond to his remark, he sat her down on the rock and began to slip off her stocking.

  "What are you doing now?"

  He continued to peal the fancy footwear off her leg. “You look warm."

  Meav placed her hands on her hips. “I am warm, extremely warm, and me foot is killing me ... but I am perfectly capable of doing this for meself. I am not a child needing help in undressing."

  Ignoring her words he removed the right shoe. A tiny pebble fell out. “Ah, the culprit for all your discomfort, no doubt.” He slipped off the stocking and lifted her foot. “Let me check for a wound.” When he inspected the delicate heel, he spotted the crescent shape. He stared at the mark, bewildered at first; then suddenly disturbed. He knew this sign, he had seen it before; but where?