Nuworld: The Saga Begins Read online

  It was hard to conceal her relief when Reena finally came out the back door of the house with several other women, and announced they were through with yet another quilt.

  “Help me load everything, now be a dear, my girl,” Reena said, as she dumped the contents from her arms into Tara’s.

  “What is all of this?” Tara adjusted the folded piles of material, trying not to hide anything.

  Reena laughed and glanced over her shoulder as several of the women gathered children in the yard.

  “To be certain child, it’s the makings for the next quilt. I’m thinking anyone could see that.” Reena didn’t speak loud enough for anyone else to hear, and Tara got her point. A typical Gothman woman would grow up around this domestic life. Tara couldn’t imagine such a thing and fought not to feel sorry for the suppressed existence. Yet, these women didn’t look unhappy.

  Tara managed to put all the materials in the back of the car in a somewhat orderly fashion. She watched Reena mingle with the other women, who now were chattering outside the house. From what Tara could hear, their conversation didn’t appear to be about anything important. They discussed what someone had worn the other day, and a pregnancy that didn’t appear to be normal. Tara knew she should listen and learn the ways of these women. After all, that is what a Runner did when entering a new community. But her thoughts continually strayed.

  The image of a tall, powerful-looking lord kept consuming her thoughts. Although she knew the Gothman lord would view all women as docile and simple, it seemed to her that a woman like that would be boring. She could offer him more excitement than any of these women could.

  “Are you about ready then?”

  Reena’s question startled Tara, and she chastised herself for the fantasy she had just created in her mind.

  “I guess our next stop is the Bryton home.”

  Tara noticed this last comment immediately brought whispers from the remaining women, who were now openly studying Tara. She looked down and reached for the handle to get in the car. This time she wasn’t practicing the humility of a Gothman woman, but trying to hide her embarrassment at the realization she would soon be the topic of the latest gossip.

  “You aren’t having second thoughts now, are you?” Reena asked once she sat in the car next to Tara.

  Tara noticed worry in the older lady’s tone. “No, of course not.” Tara tried to reassure Reena with a smile. “We talked about this last night. Moving into the Bryton home and helping Hilda with the housework will be a wonderful opportunity to learn more about Gothman.”

  “Not to mention you will see much of Lord Darius, I’m thinking,” Reena added with a chuckle.

  “True.” Tara couldn’t deny she felt some sort of attraction for the man. But the smug look Reena gave her made her nervous. “He has my bike, Reena. That is why I want to keep an eye on him.”

  “Okay child, whatever you say.” Reena’s expression didn’t change.

  Tara knew she hadn’t fooled the woman for a minute.

  The two guards on duty in front of the Lord’s house didn’t pay any attention to Tara and Reena as they parked and ascended the porch stairs.

  Hilda greeted the two of them with open arms and laughter.

  “Reena, you are too good to an old woman to share such a fine young lady with me, you are.” Tara was sure there were tears in Hilda’s eyes. “You’ll be treated quite fine, I will say. Do come inside, the both of you. Reena, you’ll inspect the chambers to see if they don’t suit her, won’t you?”

  Hilda and Reena entered the house. Tara followed them carrying the cloth bag Reena had given her. They climbed the wide, winding staircase and walked to the end of the hallway where Hilda inserted a key into a door.

  “This is my wing of the house, it is.” Hilda led the two women through the door. She pointed to a closed door. “These are my chambers, and you’ll be next to me. As safe as can be, don’t you think, Reena?”

  Tara was curious about the question of her safety. Hilda seemed to be emphasizing this to Reena as if it was a concern. She smiled to herself at the thought of two old women worrying about her wellbeing.

  Hilda then led the two to the farthest door at the end of the hallway. She took them into a beautifully arranged bedroom. The carpet on the floor was as thick as the carpet had been in the living room, except that it extended to the wall. A single bed had several comforters spread over the top, and an afghan was folded at its foot. A bureau and dresser were on one wall and a small couch was on the other. Two glass doors led to a balcony that looked over the backyard and provided an excellent view of the rocky hills spreading for miles beyond the back of the house.

  Tara was certain she had never seen anything so magnificent in her entire life. This was to be her bedroom? A servant in a lord’s house certainly lived well. No wonder Reena had encouraged her to live here. Tara walked over to the glass doors to survey the view and then turned to the two old ladies and smiled.

  “I do believe she likes it,” Reena said.

  “You consider this your home,” Hilda said. “Arrange the room as you please. You unpack your bag, and I’ll see Reena to the door, I will. Come down when you’re ready, and I’ll show you what chores you’ll be doing. It’s a true pleasure to have you here, child, that it is.”

  Hilda walked out the door with Reena, and Tara could hear her say, “She’ll bring life back to this house if she does anything, that much is certain.”

  “I know she was only with me a couple days, but I’m sure going to miss her,” Reena replied.

  “You’re the one that brought her into town and went all about showing her off, you did.” That was the last Tara heard as the door at the end of the hallway closed.

  Tara set down her bag on the bed and looked around the room once again. She walked to the glass doors, opened them, and stepped onto the balcony.

  Oh, if Patha could only see me now. Here she was, a Runner, living in the house of the Lord of the Gothman. She smiled again.

  The Gothman were a tolerable people. They needed a lesson in equality, though. Again she wondered why these women put up with the way the men treated them. Tara knew she could never be the submissive person the females of this culture were. And she figured that surely if they were given a clue about the type of life they could have, they would give up this submissive lifestyle in a second.

  What kind of thinking was this? Tara wondered about her thoughts. She wasn’t here to change this culture, just observe it, right? So, when did her feelings change? Suddenly, Tara felt very confused. She was beginning to feel some type of attachment and loyalty to these people. That scared her.

  For a minute she wondered if she shouldn’t try to leave. It wouldn’t be hard to get her motorcycle now. She’d seen the men put it out in the backyard, unattended and unguarded. Maybe she could sneak out after dark, be away from Gothman territory within the hour.

  She mulled over the possibility as she stared at the beautiful hills rolling farther than the eye could see. The rocks jutting up from the earth added to the glory of the sight.

  Far in the distance she saw someone on a motorcycle racing along side of a hill. The rider dodged the rock that sprang up from the earth with a skill equal to her own. Even from this distance, she could tell the person was accustomed to the terrain; she imagined the rider enjoyed the challenge of the path he’d chosen.

  She yearned to be on her bike and take the same path. She wasn’t familiar with the terrain, yet it called out for her to accept its challenge. Her hands itched with the temptation, and she rubbed them on the soft material of her dress. Remembering she was expected downstairs shortly, she turned from the tantalizing scene with a heavy sigh and reentered her new bedroom.

  The bureau held ample space for the dresses Reena had given her. The older woman had spent a great deal of time over the past couple days creating this wardrobe. Tara gazed at her Runner clothing at the bottom of the bag. The black leather looked so appealing after having worn Gothman dresses.
If anyone found the outfit, it could mean her death. But leaving it at Reena’s would endanger the woman’s life. Too many people moved through that house for Tara’s liking.

  She grinned as she recalled how she’d managed to pack the Runner outfit without Reena noticing. Tara stroked the silky headscarf and fingered the embroidered symbol of her clan, then wrapped her Runner clothing around the landlink from her bike. She grabbed the bundle and was looking around the room for an appropriate hiding place when she heard voices coming up the stairs. Quickly, she stuffed it back into her bag and put it under her bed. Then, she straightened and walked out of the room as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

  Hilda and Torgo were climbing the stairs; she went down the hallway to meet them.

  “So, you’re coming to live with me, now?” Torgo didn’t hide his pleasure as he grinned from ear to ear. “Do you want to see my room?”

  “Ah, all in good time, my child.” Hilda patted the boy on the head. “Tara, have you met Torgo?”

  “Only for a moment.” Tara almost caught herself clasping her hands behind her back, the pose of a warrior. Instead, she relaxed her features and stared at innocent gray eyes. “We’ve not been properly introduced, though.”

  “Well, this is my youngest son, Torgo. He is quite the handful, he is.” She hugged the boy and ruffled his hair. “Go play, child. Tara and I have work to do, we do.”

  “Will you spend time with me later?” Torgo asked Tara.

  “I look forward to it.” Tara winked at the boy and his face lit up before he took off running down the hallway.

  “It’s too bad for the boy, it is. He has no papa to teach him how to be a man. His mama might as well be his grandmama, and Darius is so busy he’s no time for him, that’s for certain.” Hilda walked down the stairs with Tara. “He’s a good boy, high-spirited like they all were at that age.”

  “Maybe I could spend some time with him,” Tara said quietly.

  “Ah, that would be nice, it would. It’s the training of a man he needs though.” Hilda led Tara to the kitchen and opened up a back pantry. “Well now, here are all the supplies. You’ll be cleaning the house for now, you will. Over time, I’ll teach you how to prepare Lord Darius’ favorite dishes. Until then, I’ll keep doing the cooking. I like to cook, I do.” She laughed and patted her stomach. “I like to eat my cooking too. It wouldn’t hurt you to eat my cooking either, you know.” She laughed again, then turned as the kitchen back door opened.

  Lord Darius entered the room, his hair tossed wildly. Tara concluded that he was the rider of the motorcycle in the hills.

  “Glad to see your help has arrived,” Darius said as he studied the young woman standing in his kitchen.

  * * * * *

  The light material of her dress made it easy for Darius to see how toned her body was. This woman hasn’t birthed a child, he reasoned, and she sure doesn’t look like she spent a lot of time sitting and chatting the day away like so many other Gothman women. He imagined her to be full of energy and always busying herself with one task or another.

  He noticed the intelligence in blue eyes fighting not to return his stare. She struck him as someone with whom he could have a conversation. And from the spark in those sapphire eyes—that dared him to end his mental evaluation—he imagined she could get a bit feisty, as well.

  He chuckled to himself. Whoever had taught her how to be a lady had failed. She didn’t appear shy or humble in his presence, like all the other females he’d known since boyhood, and he found her demeanor refreshing. Darius smiled, having caught himself deciding a strong woman might prove welcome.

  * * * * *

  For the first time, Tara saw a genuine smile light up his face. The transformation of his already devastating looks was almost more than her heart could handle. She felt like her insides were melting from her toes upward, and an unaccustomed warmth climbed through her entire body. With the sudden onslaught of awakening desires, an electric current seemed to suddenly charge the very air around her. She licked her parched lips then blinked so she could focus on his wonderful face

  “Reena just brought Tara to me, Milord.” Hilda shut the pantry door, and gave her son her attention. “And where have ya been? Traipsing around the countryside alone again, I’d say.”

  “The hills called out to me. Besides, I needed to rest my brain, I did.” He glanced from his mama back to Tara. “Have you ever been on a motorcycle, Tara, niece of Reena?”

  The directness of his question took Tara aback for a second, and she had to bite her tongue to keep the defensive answer from betraying her fears. Think she demanded of herself, think. Don’t give yourself away. True, she’d been on a motorcycle for as long as she could remember, probably longer if she knew Patha. But to admit that would surely risk her being found out.

  So, how did she answer, and even more important, why would he ask such a question? Reena had explained to Tara that she and Hilda had thought of the idea of Tara staying in the Bryton home, but had Darius somehow put the thought in his mama’s head? Tara glanced at Hilda and had to acknowledge that the woman would do whatever her son suggested. Hilda stood straight and tall, her focus centered on Darius. This was a woman proud of her son.

  The only conclusion she could come to was that he suspected her true identity. That would explain his desire to bring her under his roof: he wanted to keep an eye on her. And he certainly was keeping an eye on her at the moment.

  “For heaven’s sake, Darius. Of course she hasn’t been on a motorcycle before. Look at her, she couldn’t possibly even get it to a standing position,” Hilda said pointing to Tara’s thin body.

  * * * * *

  Lord Darius didn’t have to look. He’d already memorized her face, her figure, even though her curves were hidden tantalizingly beneath her thin shift, and he suddenly realized she drove him to feelings he hadn’t experienced before. This Tara was unlike any woman he’d ever seen. He was a trained warrior, the leader of all Gothman, skilled at controlling his feelings, his emotions. But what he saw before him was a challenge. A challenge he meant to overcome. This had to be the Runner who had escaped them in the forest—he could feel it in his gut—and he would prove it…in time.

  He covered his lapse in conversation by clearing his throat, then he answered his mama, “I’m looking at her, I am.” Darius smiled, and decided it was time to start proving his theory as to who this woman really was. “Come with me, woman. I’ll take you for a ride on a motorcycle.”

  “Darius!” Hilda protested. “I would think…we were just starting—”

  “Ah, your housework can wait woman, it can.” Darius put his hands on Tara’s shoulders and quickly escorted her to the back door.

  * * * * *

  Tara almost turned on him when he grabbed her shoulder. Winters of training had her ready to defend against such a touch. Her body tightened before she could think, and she had to consciously make the effort to relax. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the lord. Big mistake. Powerful gray eyes were devouring her, and she couldn’t look away.

  Up until that moment, Tara had worried she had given herself away by almost reacting in a hostile manner to the lord’s touch. As she met his gaze, however, she realized that discovering her identity wasn’t what was going through the lord’s thoughts at all. Instead, Tara saw unbridled passion. She turned back around and stepped through the door. Fresh air helped clear Tara’s thoughts, which enabled her to focus on the matter at hand.

  As they walked through the yard, Lord Darius took his hand from her shoulder, and she stepped to the side a bit, giving herself a broader view of the man and his actions. He was very, very tall, and even broader through the shoulders. His golden hair capped his head in curls and she had the sudden urge to run her fingers through their softness.

  “I’ve something to show you, I do.” Darius walked in the direction of his bike, which was parked next to the shed. The very same shed which harbored her bike!

  Tara fought the urge to
rush forward and throw open the doors to check on her beloved cycle. Instead, she took the time to appraise his motorcycle. It was much larger than her bike, and was of Gothman style with its long narrow seat that came up in the back. She could tell it was not designed for speed. Instead it was large and sturdy—obviously made to handle the rough terrain it traveled each day.

  Instead of showing her his motorcycle, Darius opened the shed door.

  “Look at this, if you will, my Lady.” He walked into the shed and pointed. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

  “Both are very nice. Are they yours?” Tara noticed the shed wasn’t locked when he pulled the door open.

  “It’s a Runner’s bike, it is.”

  Darius sounded proud as he ran his hand over the bike that Tara had cared for lovingly all these winters.

  “Can we ride it?”

  “Ah, I wish we could, I do.” Darius looked at her. “It has some kind of lock on it. I haven’t figured out how to start it yet, but I will. You can believe me on that one.”

  “I do believe you.” Tara stroked her bike. She was glad to see it wasn’t damaged during its ride on the truck. It didn’t appear tampered with either. Her eyes did a mental inspection as she fought the urge to squat next to it and reassure herself that all was still in working order.

  “Let’s go.” Darius walked out of the shed and shut the door after her.

  Reluctantly she followed him to his bike. Tara turned to face the Gothman cycle and stifled a gasp when large hands encircled her waist and lifted her onto the bike.

  “Goodness, girl, you’re heavier than you look, you are. You’re quite the thin one, I’d think you’d be light as a feather, but every muscle of yours is built up like a man’s.”

  He looked at her with deep gray eyes, so unlike any eyes she’d ever seen before. They held her captive although she tried to look away. His hands still stayed around her waist, and Tara wriggled from the unaccustomed sensations his nearness was causing. When he dropped his hands to his sides, she almost wished he would put them back.