They both were soon lost in a maze of lovemaking, twisting, turning, grasping, gasping, as they made their way through the tormenting maze that took them ever deeper into the center, the apex of it all. When they could no longer contain themselves, they burst like a torch ignited and allowed the fire to consume them and the maze.
After her sanity returned, Zia bounced up, crawling over Artair to slip off the bed.
“I’m starving,” she said, and went straight to the table where hours ago platters of food and pitchers of wine had been left for them. Once there, she munched on a hunk of cheese and reached for a slice of black bread.
“You should eat while naked more often,” he said sitting up to rest against several pillows he piled behind his back. “I enjoy watching you.”
With a start, while still munching, Zia hurried into a soft green silk robe Addie had given to her recently.
“I am so hungry that I forget myself,” she said with a grin.
“Forget yourself all you want. I love seeing you naked. You are beautiful.”
“For that,” she said raising a finger, “I will bring you food.”
“I feared you would let me starve.”
“Never,” she said hurrying over to him with one of the smaller platters of cheese, to which she’d added cold mutton and bread.
“Mother tells me that you had time to speak with your grandmother today,” Artair said while digging into the plate of food.
Zia knew it appeared a casual question, but it was far from one. And she would give him his answer if…“Ask me directly what you wish to know and I will tell you.”
But would she? She had given thought to her grandmother’s warning, and knew that Bethane was right. The information could prove more harmful than helpful to far too many people. With that in mind, Zia had decided that for now her father’s identity would continue to remain a secret.
“Did you discuss Ronan?” Artair asked anxiously.
Zia shook her head. “But then, that wasn’t really your question. You think my grandmother and I keep something from you about your brother.”
“Do you?”
“I have confided everything to you except one thing. I gave my word to someone and I cannot go back on it.”
Artair rubbed his chin and nodded.
Zia knew he would remain calm and think over her response. He was and would no doubt always be a sensible man, except when it came to her. She almost sighed at the beauty of it.
“Does this promise interfere with me locating my brother?”
“No, it would no way impede your search for Ronan.”
He nodded again. “What of Bethane? Does she know more than she tells me?”
Zia sighed and dusted her hands over the plate. “I truly don’t know. I was surprised when we returned to my village and found Ronan gone.”
“What you tell me is that it would have been difficult for him to leave your village without someone knowing of his departure. You said so yourself when you told me and my men about the posted sentinels.”
“You’re right. Someone would have seen him,” Zia confirmed.
“Or helped him?”
Zia nodded.
“And you know who that is?”
“As do you,” she said.
“Bethane.”
Again Zia nodded. “She had to have given her word if she has not confided this to you.”
“Which means—”
“She will not tell you why your brother left or where he goes.”
Chapter 33
“You know I will need to tell Cavan of this,” Artair said with a sense of betrayal that disturbed him. Either way, he felt as if he betrayed someone with his decision. If he didn’t confide in Cavan, he would betray his brother, and if he told Cavan, then he felt as if he betrayed Zia. He did not like the position he was in and would not tolerate it.
“I assumed you would, but then I believed you and Cavan already had plans to speak with my grandmother,” Zia said, gathering up morsels of the food that fell on the blanket, to place them on the empty plate before bouncing off the bed to take it to the table.
“I would have spoken to you first.”
Zia turned, slipping her robe off and walking toward him. “I know that.”
Artair’s loins tightened rock hard and his mind began to muddle with each lazy step she took toward him. “I—I—”
“Want me,” she said, her voice dripping with a sultry passion.
Or was it simply what he wanted to hear? Artair shook his head.
“You don’t want me?” she asked, pouting as she stopped by the bed.
Artair had lost all sound reasoning, and while somewhere his mind reminded that he should pursue questioning her about Ronan, another part urged him to assuage his aching loins.