“If we cannot prove him guilty of any crimes, we will have to free him. Do not take too long with your ablutions, please. Tempers are flaring.”
Lis had left a washbasin of water, a comb, and bread and cheese on the tray along with the coffee. Murdoch made himself as presentable as he was able, grateful that their patients were taking the fresh sea air and had left him alone. The food and coffee revived him.
He didn’t take time to shave. He needed to be on deck to guide the ship. Once they reached Bridgwater Bay, they would have to wait until high tide to slip into the mouth of the Parrett River. He and Ian had marked the channels two years ago when Ian had first bought his property. It took expert timing of the tides and knowledge of the currents over the mudflats to reach the place Murdoch had in mind. His keener senses would make him better at the job than the captain.
Once upon a time it must have been possible to sail right up to Glastonbury, but time and tide had changed that. Now flatland dotted with livestock filled the old bay. Still, Ian had chosen his estate wisely for Aelynn purposes. Their knowledge of tides and ability to See what Others could not would allow their swift ships to slip unnoticed up the nearly invisible waterways.
Pierre and Amelie greeted Murdoch as he strolled down the deck. Unaware of Murdoch’s extraordinary role in running yesterday’s blockade, the crew barely acknowledged his existence. He would have resented that when he was younger but now shrugged it off. He no longer required adulation.
For once, he felt easy inside his skin. If he turned his mind to the problems they faced, anger and frustration would knot him up inside, so he chose to enjoy the sun and the breeze and the brisk sail up the coast. The damned elusive chalice was a problem for another day. For now, he hoped they could reach the farmhouse tonight where he could have Lis to himself.
He kissed her cheek in view of all, claiming her as his own, and she didn’t reject his assertion. With the wind billowing his shirtsleeves, he took over the wheel with the assurance of a man who had everything he wanted. For now.
Letting her hair blow back from her face, Lissandra admired the way Murdoch steered them through the murky waters of the estuary even though night had fallen and visibility was limited. Barefoot, unshaven, his queued hair blowing in the wind, he looked like a pirate. Wearing Trystan’s breeches and the shirt she’d made for him, he commanded the wheel as if he had the world at his fingertips.
She opened her senses to the dark landscape. She heard the crew grumble that they would run ashore, that there was no wealthy port filled with food and women here, but she understood Murdoch’s course. Ian had told her of the land he’d purchased in England, an estate where his wife’s horses could run free, a haven the same distance north of Aelynn as Trystan’s Breton home was to the south. From Aelynn, on swift Aelynn ships, they could reach either destination in a day.
Under Murdoch’s uncanny guidance, the fishing sloop slid down an invisible river channel hidden by willows and reeds. Sleeping ducks and geese flew up in surprise. Small animals onshore splashed into the cover of water. Murdoch gestured for the anchor to be lowered even before she saw the dock.
The shoemaker limped up to stand beside her, puzzled at the silent English countryside. “Are we near London?”
“No, on the other side of the country, but I understand England is not so large a place as France. You may rest here with us until you are strong enough to make the journey. The fresh sea air will be better for your recovering lungs than the coal smoke of the city.”
“We cannot take advantage of your extreme kindness any longer,” he protested. “We owe you far too much already.”
“You owe it to your daughter to be as healthy as you can be,” she reminded him. “There is a town not far from my brother’s home. Perhaps you might prefer the coast to London and whoever awaits you there. Take time to consider your choices.”
Pierre did not know to shield his emotions from her, but Lissandra politely shut them out. She already knew he hoped to find relatives in London, that he wondered if the sloop might go there next. In that, she couldn’t help him. He had to make his own decisions.
While Murdoch consulted with the crew, and paid the captain the remainder of the fare for their safe journey, Lissandra returned to the cabin to fetch her bag.
After all they’d been through, she longed for the familiarity of home. At the same time, her blood raced in expectation of the possibilities that lay ahead. She and Murdoch had shared the same dream of the chalice. Deep down in her heart, she prayed that meant the holy relic had accepted Aelynn’s leader and was ready for the true Oracle to take it home.
But most of all, right this minute, she hoped there was a bed nearby that she and Murdoch could share. She’d had far too little time to experience the pleasures of their bodies, and knowing the uncertainty of the future, she considered wasted every hour they spent apart.
Responding to the tug of Lissandra’s desire, Murdoch appeared silently at her side, and took the bag from her hand. “This is all Ian’s land. He lets most of it to tenants. There is a tenant farmhouse on a slight rise not far from here. It is not much, but the couple who live there are accustomed to receiving late arrivals.”
“What about our passengers?” she whispered. “Will the crew take them elsewhere?”
“I would like to truss up our Minutor and heave him into the river, but I cannot in all good conscience do that. He’s sticking to his story, claiming he traveled straight from his home to Pouchay and knows nothing of a priest or soldiers. He wants to get off now.”
“It’s possible,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Or, since he does not reek of guilt, he may believe whatever he’s done was in the cause of the justice he seeks.”
Murdoch, who had sought justice in France, and in so doing had set fire to water and nearly killed Ian, knew how misguided the search for justice could become. Wounded creatures of any sort were inherently dangerous.
“We can watch the Minutor now that we recognize his shield. There are minerals in the distant hills, so we can hope he will leave us. As you say, I’m in no position to judge him. Our shoemaker has agreed to disembark also. Unless the farm couple already has guests, there will be room for all. In the morning, we can take other transportation to Ian’s home.”
Lissandra accepted the wisdom of his decisions.
At her silence, he hugged her close, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. The beat of her heart accelerated with expectation, and Murdoch chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. The intimacy of the gesture heated her all over.
“Soon,” he murmured.
“Soon isn’t fast enough,” she whispered back.
But it would have to do. The crew assisted their passengers to land, eager to prepare for the turn of the tide rather than be stranded in mud. Frogs croaked in the reeds. Odd plops in the water spoke of nocturnal creatures going about their usual business. Lissandra sensed this was sacred land, blessed by the gods long ago, as mystical as the home she’d left behind but in ways she did not yet comprehend. Ian had chosen well.
The city dwellers stared up at the starlit sky and the Stygian countryside and huddled together on the newly constructed dock. Apparently frozen in his angry thoughts, Badeaux merely waited for direction.
“It’s not far,” Murdoch reassured the company. He led the way down a boardwalk built over water overhung with willows.
Lissandra lifted Amelie as if she were a toddler. The child clung to her neck and stared around her with wide-eyed wonder.
“Are there other children here?” she whispered. “Will they like me?”
The child’s fears echoed Lissandra’s own. “They will like you very much once you learn to speak English as they do. You will need to learn lots of new words.”
“Papa studied English. He can teach me,” Amelie replied proudly. “I already know ‘How are you?’ and ‘I am fine.’ ” She parroted the phrases in English with a charming accent.
“That is excellent. I
think you will like your new home.”
Lissandra swallowed a lump in her throat and prayed she spoke the truth, for unless they found the chalice, Murdoch, like Ian, might end up living here, and she would have to sail home alone.
“I wish I understood the will of the gods in matching an amazing woman like you to a scoundrel like me,” Murdoch murmured.
In the privacy of their farmhouse bedroom, he slid Lissandra’s sleeve off her shoulder and pressed a warm kiss to the flesh he bared.
“You are not a scoundrel,” Lissandra murmured, running her hands into his hair and releasing the tie that held it back. Every particle of her thrilled in expectation of these next minutes, hours, and she could barely think to speak the words. She flattened her hands against the solid muscle of his chest to feel his heart pound in tandem with hers. “The gods have given you handicaps to keep you humble.”
“Now I am to be a humble Oracle? You ask the impossible.” He laughed and pressed eager kisses to her throat. “I don’t believe the gods have succeeded in teaching me humility.”
“No, but there is always hope for the future.” As her gown slid to the floor under Murdoch’s capable hands, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him carry her to the tidy bed in their attic room. Tomorrow, she would fear the future. Not tonight.
“You make a most imaginative priestess if you See a wretch like me as a holy man.”
Below them, their company prayed and slept and worried. But for now, they did not need her attention, and for this brief reprieve from responsibility, she thanked Aelynn. “I only interpret as I’ve been taught.”
“I would that we could do this in the temple. You deserve the blessings of the spirits,” Murdoch murmured as he climbed in bed beside her, not releasing his grip on her until she was under him.
By the light of a single candle, she watched him tug his shirt over his head as he knelt over her. Shadows danced along the bronzed planes of his wide chest and the narrow line of curls that disappeared into the band of his trousers. She had seen him like this many times, and each time was new and even more exciting.
“Our time must come.” She spoke her beliefs, not her thoughts. If she had to think about it, hopelessness would wash over her. “For all we know, we will tire of each other.”
Murdoch laughed. “Not in this lifetime.” Propping his hands on either side of her head, he leaned over and plied her mouth with kisses as deep and fiery as the volcano of home.
She thrilled at the certainty of his pledge and surrendered to his lovemaking with all the joy she possessed. With Murdoch’s confidence to shield her, she could be as free and irresponsible as she liked. If he stayed with her for long, he would have her dancing in the moonlight like a child again.
The rest of their clothing fell swiftly to the floor. The need was too strong in them to linger over loving caresses. Lissandra arched her hips into Murdoch’s, demanding satisfaction when he suckled at her breast. He licked her nipple, and she nearly wrestled him to the bed to get what she wanted. She’d been patient much too long.
Laughing, he rolled over, placing her on top of him. “My queen, I am yours. Do with me as you will.”
And she did. Without shyness or hesitation, she positioned herself over his erect phallus and sank down until she was filled to bursting. His groans of pleasure and desire urged her on.
When she did not move at the rate he desired, Murdoch rolled over again, thrusting deep and high as soon as her backside hit the sheet.
Even in their mating, they competed, but it was a wonderful competition, an encouragement to spread their wings and soar beyond their normal bounds. As she reached the heights, Lissandra dug her fingers into the sheets, clung to Murdoch’s pumping hips with her legs, and let her spirit fly free. She closed her eyes at the wondrous liberation of their bodies exploding together. Stars spun behind her lids and the universe was hers for the taking.
In the climactic moment of release, she escaped outside herself and discovered her spirit guide waving with delight. A burst of gold dust showered from her guide’s hand, and—
Liquid lightning seared her womb.
Inhaling sharply at the strange sensation, Lissandra tumbled back to earth, only to have Murdoch catch her in ethereal arms, slowing her fall. He stared at her with the same startled wonder she was experiencing as they floated into their bodies, firmly grounded on the mattress. She felt him inside her and out, knew the strength of his muscled arms, the potency of his maleness, the immensity of his spirit.
The tenderness in his midnight eyes brought her to tears.
Not until he kissed away the moisture running down her cheeks did she fully comprehend that she had returned to the real world.
And that a child now formed in her womb, a miracle child, one not conceived at the altar of the gods as expected—and yet powerful enough to make its presence known at the moment of conception.
Twenty-four
The vision with which Lissandra had gifted him filled Murdoch with such joy and fear that he contemplated never moving again. Nevermore would he view sex as a mere physical release. It was a gift of the gods as surely as his ability to steer the wind.
A child? Had they actually created a child? Or had this just been a vision of the future? A future he scarcely dared hope to see.
“Your spirit guide has an unholy sense of humor,” Murdoch grumbled, unable to shift from between Lissandra’s legs, although he knew his heavy weight must be crushing her.
He was frozen between his own selfish elation and his fear that a child would force Lis to return to Aelynn—where he couldn’t follow. Until that moment, he’d not allowed himself to think of the future and what it might bring. He didn’t want to lose Lis again.
“Then I did not dream or imagine that.” She lay there thoughtfully, not crying out in shock or protest over what had just happened. Shouldn’t have happened, if all they’d been taught was right. Only after their union in the temple should they be blessed with a gifted child.
“We shared a dream before,” he stupidly reminded her, still groping for the sense of their shared vision, and too confused to believe in miracles.
The blood had not yet returned to his brain and was pooling stronger in his loins. He wanted Lis again. He leaned to one side so he could splay his hand over the silky softness of her flat abdomen. “A child is far beyond anything I dared dream. Can it be true?”
“Baby Murdoch.” Her lips turned upward. “A miniature you.”
“The gods forbid such a disaster,” he said with feeling. Still, he swelled with pride that Lis did not regret the possibility of a son like him. “Rather hope for another you.” Another Lis would be a blessing he could truly take delight in. He discovered a sudden overpowering desire for his child to live and breathe in his world, a child fashioned out of the best of both its parents.
An entirely new future widened before him, one he could no longer reject or ignore.
The immense responsibility of a child ought to be overwhelming, but chuckleheaded joy prevented him from seeing any dark side. He turned and ran his hand from Lis’s abdomen to her breast and attempted to show her how he felt. “I ought to regret that I have placed the burden of a new life on you, but I know I can trust you to do what is best for it, and I’m proud to bursting that you will carry it for me.”
Tears streaked her cheeks, and Murdoch ached in helplessness that he’d put them there, that he couldn’t honestly reassure her that the future would be perfect. He kissed her softly, wrapped her in his arms when she sobbed, and did not mind when she fell asleep on his shoulder.
Now he had two precious treasures to guard. He was no longer a free man but chained to the mundane like all others. He tried not to panic at the possibility of failing them.
After years without any ties, he would need time to adjust to this new bond. Despite his brave words, he feared his heart was too hard and his spirit too calloused to open up and let in the light that Lis and a child would require.
&n
bsp; Just as Lis had forced him to think about the future, he would have to care again.
“They’re such beautiful creatures.” Riding through the morning mist, Lissandra patted the proud neck of the bay mare they had found stabled at the farmhouse. She’d never ridden a horse before, but she’d found that connecting with the animal’s mind was amazingly simple.
Ahead, the marsh flats spread as far as the eye could see. Willows dipped into rivulets. Egrets took flight in splashes of white. A humid breeze spread thin gray clouds overhead. This land had an exotic beauty all its own.
I carry a child who will inherit the spirit of this land. She shook her head in disbelief at the enormity of what they’d done. “I see why Ian has become so enamored of horses,” she continued, rather than sink into silent contemplation as Murdoch had evidently done.
They’d made love again when they’d woken. The sexual bond between them was stronger than ever, but no longer as immediately demanding.
She was grateful for that. They would have burned to cinders quickly otherwise. She had observed enough to know that once a man achieved sexual satiation, he often turned his eyes to new territory to conquer, but she didn’t sense this desire in Murdoch. She did, however, sense that the child had renewed his determination to shelter her as if she were fragile porcelain.
Which was why she had insisted on riding the mare rather than traveling in the cart with the others. Much as she enjoyed the feminine thrill of a man’s attention, especially that of a warrior like Murdoch whose inner vision roamed so far that he could not see the nose on his face, she knew it was selfish to demand his attention when she was perfectly capable of caring for herself.
“Ian uses the speed of the animals to focus his Sight,” Murdoch said gruffly, studying her seat and the harness for the hundredth time, as if they’d come loose if he did not. “I’ve seen him fly across these flats as if he would take wing.”
Mystic Warrior Page 22
