a Pleasure Rites, #1 by Ines Johnson (top ten books of all time TXT) 📗

by two equally blonde males. Lord Dain's parents, three of a small number of erotic artists. The portrait hung high on the wall, out of reach, much like their performances. You could look, you could imagine, you could yearn, but you couldn't touch Lady Darlyn.

At Chanyn's door, Jian hesitated. His hand paused in the process of forming a fist to knock. He lowered his hand and took a step back. Jian leaned his back to the opposite wall and stared at the door.

He'd spent the last forty-eight hours in silent meditation, praying for clarity, for strength. He would go for long stretches of peace, but then Chanyn's name or her face would pop into his mind and his heart would rend.

He'd given her time to think things through. She was a smart woman. She would come to the best decision for herself. She would accept Lord Dain's proposal and agree to conceive his heir. The decision would put her in the best possible position, one of wealth and security. It was that particular thought, the thought of Chanyn being cared for and comfortable, that set his soul at ease. It made him happy, prideful even, that he would have something to do with putting her in that position.

Still, he dreaded crossing the threshold and watching, hearing, her take back her affections in exchange for the comfort they both wanted for her. The last time a woman withdrew her declaration of love he hadn't been standing face to face with her. This time he had to stand up like a man and take the rejection. It was a high price. One he knew needed to be paid in order for Chanyn to have a life of ease.

"She thinks she's in love with you."

Jian turned to see Lord Khial striding toward him. Dressed in a cream shirt that opened to reveal the rich mahogany of his chiseled chest. The man moved like a cat. A seductive grace that hinted at quick strength.

Jian straightened away from the wall. "I'm not going to run away with her, if that's what you think."

Lord Khial shrugged. "I wouldn't stop you."

That was not the answer Jian expected. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "She believes you do not like her."

Lord Khial's stoney face cracked into a grin. "I didn't, but we've come to an understanding."

Jian averted his eyes from that mischievous grin. Of course they had. They were both about to become very wealthy with the imminent demise of Lord Dain.

As though reading his mind, Lord Khial said, "I'm not after his money."

Jian could believe that of Lord Khial, he knew the man descended from royalty and wealth.

"Neither is she," Lord Khial continued.

"Everyone wants comfort, be it money or family."

"Even you, monk?"

"I have family," Jian said. "My brothers at the temple. They took me in."

"You're a third? Your family discarded you?"

The term never failed to rankle. "Yes, my mother gave me up." Jian's mother turned him out of the house at the age of twelve. Once a male child reached twelve, he could be legally cast out without repercussions from the Sisterhood.

Khial placed his back to the wall and regarded Chanyn's door. "My mother liked to measure my emotional and mental responses to different stimuli. Once, she told me I was technically a third, because she'd had two miscarriages. So, she cast me out. It was only for two weeks, and only to the back woods of the family estate. She was testing the theory of nature versus nurture. She wanted to find out if my base human instincts would help me survive or would my nurtured upbringing cause me to perish."

Lord Khial paused, detached, but still lost in memory. "I was five years old at the time."

Jian's hand reached out on instinct, but he caught himself just in time before making contact with the young lord. He'd heard the tales of Lord Khial's mother. A descendant of royalty, a great beauty, and an intellectual who did many controversial, but groundbreaking, studies on the human mind. She was also the only woman in recent history serving a sentence for second-degree murder. Her final experiment caused her bondmates to kill each other in a fit of rage. Rage she'd stirred within them.

"She couldn't feel empathy," Lord Khial continued. "Sociopath, is what the disorder is called. It wasn't her worst experiment. Dain was born with a weak heart but his mother willed him to live with her love alone. I spent my childhood as a human lab rat. Chanyn spent hers in isolation with a neglectful mother. And you were discarded by yours. I can't blame any of us for seeking comfort where we can find it."

Lord Khial's face molded to stone once more. He pushed off the wall, but then he paused, looking at Chanyn's door. He turned and leveled a glare on Jian. "Do not upset her." Lord Khial's own vehemence must've surprised him because his expression cracked, just slightly. "Dain wouldn't like it."

He turned to go, but paused at the sound of Jian's voice.

"Anger is a weather system."

"What?" Lord Khial scowled, turning back.

"It's something my mentor taught me. Anger is like a weather system. It has heat and pressure. Its winds are righteousness. But at the eye of the storm are fear and powerlessness."

"Don't try to psychoanalyze me monk. I survived the best."

"That's my point, my lord. You're not the system," Jian said. "You're a tree. You stood stubbornly in the wind and it made you strong. But the system has moved on. You can let your guard down."

Lord Khial's blue eyes were as cold as granite before he turned and walked on.

Jian gathered his courage and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Chanyn called.

She sat in a chair, clothed in a modest day dress. She didn't stand.

"Lady Chanyn," Jian bowed.

"Hi," she said from her perch.

He straightened and dared to look at her, and then almost fell to his knees. She had been crying; the red around her eyes evident. The liquid gold churned. Her mouth was set