That was where he and Kahlan were to have spent their wedding night. "I wouldn't feel right about that, just now. Is there another bed I could use?"

Mistress Sanderholt gestured with a bandaged hand. The bandages were less bulky now, and cleaner. "Up that wing, at the end, take to the right and there is a row of guest rooms. We have no guests right now, so you can have your pick."

"Where are the Mord… Where are Cara and her two friends sleeping?"

She made a wry face and pointed in the opposite direction. "I directed them to the servant quarters. They share a room there."

The farther the better, as far as he was concerned. "That's good of you, Mistress Sanderholt. I'll take one of the guest rooms, then."

She elbowed Ulic. "What would you big boys like to eat?"

"What do you have?" Egan asked, with a rare show of enthusiasm.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Why don't you two come to the kitchen and choose for yourselves?" She saw the glance to Richard. "It's just a short distance. You won't be far from your charge."

Richard threw the sides of his black mriswith cape back over the arms of the chair. He waved for them to go as he took a spoonful of the vegetable stew and a swig of the tea. General Reibisch clapped a fist to his heart and bid him a good night. Richard acknowledged the salute with a flourish of brown bread.

CHAPTER 20

It was a relief to be alone at last. He was weary of people standing ready to jump should he command it. Though he had tried to put the soldiers at ease, they had been apprehensive about having him along, seeming to fear he would strike them down with magic should they fail to find Brogan's trail. Even when they couldn't and he had told them that he understood, it didn't put them at ease. Only near the end had they relaxed a bit, but they still watched him constantly in case he should whisper an order they might miss. It unnerved Richard to be surrounded by people who held him in such awe.

His mind churned with troubled thoughts as he downed the stew. Even if he wasn't half starved it could have tasted no better; it wasn't freshly made, but had simmered for a good long time, bestowing on it the rich melding of flavors that no ingredient but time could add.

When he looked up from his mug of tea, Berdine was filling the doorway. His muscles tensed. Before he could tell her to go away, she spoke.

"Duchess Lumholtz of Kelton is here to speak with the Lord Rahl."

Richard sucked a piece of the stew from between two teeth as he locked his eyes on Berdine. "I'm not interested in seeing petitioners."

Berdine's advance was halted by the table. She flicked her wavy brown braid back over her shoulder. "You will see her."

Richard's fingertips stroked the familiar nicks and scratches on the hickory handle on his knife at his belt. "The terms of surrender are not open to discussion."

Berdine planted her knuckles on the table and leaned toward him. Her Agiel, at the end of the fine chain at her wrist, rolled around her hand. Her blue eyes were cold fire. "You will see her."

Richard could feel his face heating. "I've given my answer. You will get no other."

She didn't back away. "And I have given my word that you would see her. You will speak with her."

"The only thing I will hear from Kelton's representative is unconditional surrender."

"And that is what you shall hear." The melodious voice came from a silhouette just beyond the doorway. "If you will agree to hear me out. I have not come to make any threats, Lord Rahl."

In her soft, humble tone, Richard could hear the hesitancy of fear. It evoked a pang of sympathy.

"Show the lady in — " His glare returned to Berdine. "—and then shut the door behind yourself on your way to bed." He left no doubt in his tone that it was a command, and he would brook no violation.

Showing no emotion, Berdine went to the door and held her arm out in invitation. When the duchess stepped into the warm glow of the firelight, Richard rose to his feet. Berdine cast him a blank glance and then shut the door, but he hardly noticed.

"Please, Duchess Lumholtz, come in."

"Thank you for seeing me, Lord Rahl."

He stood mute a moment, gazing at her soft brown eyes, her curvaceous red lips, and her thick mane of black hair, ringlets of it framing her flawless, glowing face. Richard knew that in the Midlands the length of a woman's hair denoted her social standing. This woman's long, luxurious hair bespoke a standing of high order. The only hair he had seen that was longer was a queen's, and above that, the Mother Confessor's.

Dizzy, he drew breath, and suddenly remembered his manners. "Here, let me get you a chair."

He didn't remember the duchess looking like this, possessing such pure, captivating elegance, but then, he hadn't been standing this close. He remembered her as ostentatious, with unnecessary glitter and paint, and a dress not at all simple and delicate, like the one she wore now, of simple, supple, rose-colored silk flowing easily over the contours of her form, complementing her voluptuous shape, cinched just below her breasts.

Richard groaned when he remembered their last encounter. "Duchess, I'm sorry I said such cruel things to you in the council chambers. Can you ever forgive me? I should have listened; you were only trying to warn me about General Brogan."

At the mention of the name, he thought he saw a flash of fright in her eyes, but it was gone so quickly he wasn't sure. "It is I, Lord Rahl, who should beg forgiveness. It was unpardonable of me to interrupt you before the assembled representatives."

Richard shook his head. "You were only trying to warn me about that man, and as it turns out, you were right. I wish I had listened to you."

"It was wrong of me to express my opinion in the manner I did." A demure smile graced her features. “Only the most gallant of men would try to make it seem otherwise."

Richard blushed at her calling him gallant. His heart was thumping so hard he feared she would be able to see the veins in his neck throb. For some reason, he imagined his lips brushing back the loose wisp of downy hair hanging free in front of her exquisite ear. Pulling his gaze from her face was almost painful.

A small voice of warning was sounding in the back of his mind, but it was being drowned out in the roar of a river's flood of warm sensations. In one hand, he snatched the twin to his tufted chair and spun it around in front of the table, holding it out for her.

"You are most kind, ' the duchess stammered. “Forgive me, please, if my voice is less than steady. It's been a trying few days." As she moved in front of the chair, her eyes tilled up to meet his again. "And I'm just a little nervous. I've never been in the presence of such a great man as yourself, Lord Rahl."

Richard blinked, unable to leave her gaze when he thought he had tried. "I'm just a woods guide a long way from home."

She laughed, a soft silky sound that turned the room into a cozy, pleasant place.

"You are the Seeker. You are the Master of D'Hara." Her expression slipped from amusement to reverence. "You may one day rule the world."

Richard reacted with a wincing shrug. "I don't want to rule anything, it's just that.." He thought he must sound a fool. "Won't you sit down, please, my lady?"

Her smile returned, radiant, warm, and of such tender charm that he found himself frozen in its glow. He could feel the sweet warmth of her breath on his face.

Her gaze lingered. "Forgive me for being so forward, Lord Rahl, but you must know your eyes drive women mad with longing. I'd venture you broke the heart of every woman in the council chambers. The queen of Galea is an extremely fortunate woman."

Richard's brow furrowed. "Who?"