Read Online Cursed by Fire by Jacquelyn Frank - Free Book Online Page A

leggings being black, they would have been truly obscene. Selinda found herself swallowing back a strange and unexpected dryness in her throat, her face flushing hot as she thought of what he might look like without those leggings on. She shocked herself. She was not the sort to think such things. In fact, wondering about men was something she simply didn’t indulge in. She had neither the luxury nor the inclination. She had her unhappy life to attend to; there was no room in it for sexual flights of fancy.
    Yet her mind was drifting into that particular sky. He wore a tanned leather vest and no shirt, leaving his powerful arms and defined chest and belly bare for all to see. The fact that his arms bore the scars of burns meant very little. It was impossible to notice the scars when there was so much beautiful flesh to see everywhere else.
    He looked hard and capable, and Selinda wondered what it would feel like to be held up against such an undeniably powerful and male body. What would it mean to be a woman in that man’s arms? A real woman. One with the luxury to indulge in such a very real sort of man.
    Apparently everyone agreed with her stunned surprise at his appearance, for a deadened silence fell overthe room, the sound of movement and action ceasing. All were seeing him for the first time, save for Selinda and Grannish, but Grannish looked just as shocked as she must have. Instantly that gave her pleasure. Grannish no doubt had been certain she would be humiliated by the presence of the mud farmer. It would explain why the only chair left empty was the one by her side, instead of one farther down and closer to the end of table where those of lower rank would sit.
    One of the dinner stewards brought the tidied-up man to the seat beside her and she watched with obvious amazement as he came to the chair, nodded his head to her, and then sat down as though there was nothing at all unusual about the situation. As though he sat at the table of the grand all the time. If Grannish had been hoping the man would be awkward and out of his element, he was being rudely divested of the notion.
    “Sor,” she heard herself saying, marveling within herself that she had found the wherewithal to speak. “I was so rude as to not ask your name earlier. Now I do not know how to address you.”
    “My name is Dethan,” he said carefully, almost as though he weren’t sure he wanted to share the information. She found herself feeling honored that he had.
    “Sor Dethan, this is my father, Luzien, the grand of Hexis. He welcomes you to his house and table.”
    “Indeed I do!” the grand spoke up, surprising Selinda. She had thought him too wrapped up in Gwynn to have even taken notice, but how silly she was to think anyone in that room had not taken notice of Dethan. “My jenden tells me you defeated the city’s champion two years running at the shivov fights!”
    “If you wish to call it a shivov match. Where I come from, the shivov is a fight to the death. With real weapons.”
    “And where is it you come from?” Luzien asked.
    There was a slight hesitation. “I was born in Toren.”
    “Toren! That is at the very southern edge of the Black Continent! That is very far from here. Two deserts and an ocean away. The Grinder Mountains stand in between as well. How is it you come so far over such treacherous territory?”
    “Just traveling the continent, sor,” Dethan said.
    “ ‘My lord,’ ” Selinda corrected him gently. “Here men of rank are referred to as lords or your lordship. Men without titles are sors.”
    “And women?”
    “Women of no rank are called ‘sora’; women of rank are ‘lady’ or ‘my lady’ or ‘her ladyship,’ ” she informed with a smile. She felt everyone’s riveted interest at their end of the table and she nervously tugged her veil into place, though it had not moved an inch. He reached out and took her hand, pulling it away from the nervous gesture. The whole table audibly drew in