Untamed

by Elizabeth Lowell

  Then he felt the taut veil of virginity and froze. He hadn’t dared believe in her innocence, yet the proof of it was pressing against him right now.

  Dominic’s passion doubled and redoubled in two heartbeats. Sweat glistened on his body as he fought for the self-control he had worked a lifetime to develop.

  Instinctively Meg tried to pull him closer, but he resisted with an easy strength that reminded her just how powerful he was.

  “Lie still,” Dominic whispered hoarsely against Meg’s neck. “No good will come for either of us if I hurt you.”

  “Will it be a greater hurt than John’s fist?”

  “Nay,” Dominic said, giving Meg’s cheek tender, biting kisses. “Never would I hurt you like that. But you are a virgin. If I press deeper, you will bleed.”

  “’Tis the nature of swords to draw blood.”

  “Only once in sensual battle. I promise you, small falcon. Only once.”

  With a sinuous shift of her body, Meg lured Dominic more deeply into her. This time he didn’t pull away. Instead he slipped one hand between their bodies until he could cherish the jewel of her passion with sultry fingertips.

  Meg’s eyes widened as fire shimmered up from Dominic’s touch. Instinctively she raised her hips, rocking against him. He rocked back gently in turn and smiled to see and feel the waves of passion melting her until she moaned and lifted herself again.

  “Do you want more?” he asked as he plucked delicately at the living jewel that was set within her softness.

  “Aye. Dominic, I—” Meg’s voice broke.

  “How much more? This much?”

  His fingers stroked, circled, pressed, tugged, until sensual fire licked over Meg with hot golden tongues. She began to writhe beneath him, calling his name, twisting, desperately needing something she sensed waiting just beyond her reach.

  And then it flared all around her, convulsing her subtly, relentlessly, consuming her to her core.

  With a low sound of need held in check too long, Dominic drove into the center of Meg’s golden fire. If she felt any pain it was overwhelmed by the far greater pleasure that came of being joined completely with her warrior, holding him so closely inside her body that she could feel the pulses of his consummation as distinctly as she had felt her own; and his words echoed in the shivering silence that was also ecstasy.

  Love me, Meg. Heal the land with my sons.

  23

  AS HAD BECOME DOMINIC’S HABIT in the three days since the Reevers had attacked during the hunt, he stood on Blackthorne Keep’s battlement in the condensing stillness after sunset.

  From his vantage point Dominic could see mist like silver fire shimmering over fish ponds, river, and the distant lake. He could see the lacy black silhouettes of just-leafed oaks on a nearby ridge and the dense black outline of the fells, where the last rosy bit of light lingered on the crags. He could see the last, laggard sheep being nipped and scolded into their folds for the night by quick-footed dogs. He could see the last skein of waterfowl spiraling down for a night on the lake.

  What he could not see was Duncan of Maxwell and his Reevers. Yet Dominic knew they were out there in the twilight and mist, waiting for another chance to strike at the heart of Blackthorne Keep.

  Footsteps sounded from the direction of the closest tower. Dominic didn’t have to turn his head to discover who was approaching him. The footsteps were almost as familiar as his own.

  “A fine evening,” Simon said.

  Dominic grunted.

  “A foul evening, then.”

  Dominic grunted again.

  “A vile mood, perhaps?” suggested Simon.

  A hard sideways glance was Dominic’s only answer.

  “I have news of your knights,” Simon said.

  That got Dominic’s attention. “Where are they?”

  “Nine days from here, unless more storms come. The muddy roads mired the carts so badly it was impossible to move for several days.”

  “God’s teeth,” Dominic muttered.

  “You could order the knights to come ahead of the household goods.”

  “Fourscore and nine animals laden with expensive goods,” Dominic said savagely. “Without knights to defend it from bandits, my traveling household is as helpless as a bird with a broken wing.”

  Simon’s fist smacked into his palm. “Would that I and my knights had come upon the Reevers instead of you and Meg.”

  “Aye. But even if you had, the Reevers wouldn’t have held and fought. Duncan is too clever for that. He knows he would lose a pitched battle. Most of his men are ill trained.”

  “Sven agrees.”

  Dominic turned to face his brother. “Is he back?”

  Simon nodded.

  “Send for him.”

  Even as Dominic spoke, a man walked from the corner tower. His soft leather shoes made no noise on the stone battlements. It was part of Sven’s odd skill in blending into whatever surroundings he found himself among. Dominic had never known a man more quiet, or more deadly.

  “Have you supped?” Dominic asked.

  “Yes.” Sven’s voice was soft. “Lord, I haven’t much time. I must be back at the Carlysle Manor before long to tend my flocks.”

  Dominic’s smile flashed whitely in the twilight. The thought of a man as fierce as Sven tending sheep was preposterous.

  “What have you learned?” Dominic asked.

  “The Reevers are growing in number.”

  “How many?”

  “Eight knights, twelve squires, thirty attendants.”

  “Mounted?”

  “That is their problem. Only two of the knights are riding chargers. The rest are mounted on ill-trained animals. Better horses are expected from Scotland within a few days.”

  “Arms?” Dominic snapped.

  “The knights are as well armed as we are. Not as skilled, but the men are as hard and unforgiving as stone. The Solway Scots have much Viking blood in their veins.”

  Dominic’s mouth curved in a faint smile. Sven’s fierce pride in his Norse bloodlines was a source of much amusement among the knights. But no wise man baited Sven on the subject.

  “The squires are old enough to be blooded,” Sven continued. “Indeed, some of them have been robbing their betters since they were old enough to draw a bow.”

  A shout from the bailey caused Sven to turn so quickly that his dark gray pilgrim’s garb flared. Light gleamed in his pale eyes as they searched for movement below.

  “’Tis naught but Leaper caught stealing bread,” Dominic said. “It happens as regularly as the sun sets.”

  “When will the rest of your knights arrive?” Sven asked bluntly.

  “Nine days. Perhaps more.”

  “Not soon enough. The Reevers will be ready to attack in half that time.”

  “We can hold out,” Simon said. “The keep is secure for a siege.”

  “Then they will simply attack the traveling household first and come at us later,” Dominic said.

  “Aye,” Sven said. “That is Duncan’s plan. He is a shrewd one, lord.”

  “What of the Reevers themselves? Are they content to follow Duncan?” Dominic asked.

  “The best are. The worst would follow anyone who promised bloodletting, including Rufus.”

  “Duncan’s cousin,” Dominic said musingly. “Is he half the leader Duncan is?”

  “Nay. Duncan is like you, lord. Men would follow him into Hell itself. Only dogs would follow Rufus across a room, and then only if he carried bloody meat in both hands.”

  Dominic looked thoughtfully out over the fields, letting the tranquility of the evening wash over him.

  He needed it.

  Since Meg had become his wife in truth as well as in law, she had awakened each night with her dreams a chill sweat on her skin. When he questioned her, the answers were always the same, because the dream was always the same.

  Danger comes.

  What kind of danger? Plague? Siege? Poison? Ambush?

&
nbsp; I don’t know. I don’t know! I know only that danger stalks Blackthorne Keep. Each night it comes closer, closer, closer! Hold me, Dominic. Hold me. I fear for you, my lord. I fear…

  He held her, stroked her hair, warmed her with his own warmth. And in time, dawn came.

  But night always followed day.

  “Well,” Dominic said finally, “at least I know what the danger is now. You may go, Sven. Thank you. As always, your information is invaluable.”

  Simon waited until Sven’s retreating footsteps faded into silence.

  “What do you mean that now you know what the danger is?” Simon asked.

  “My Glendruid wife dreams, but not clearly.”

  “Yet she is your true wife,” Simon said, emphasizing the final word. “Whatever her feelings might be for Duncan, she has given herself to you.”

  “Aye,” said Dominic in a low voice. “She is my true wife.”

  But she speaks not of love to me. She speaks of pleasure, of danger, of laughter, of the keep, of the garden, of spring’s green embrace…but not of love.

  Heal me, Meg.

  Love me.

  Give me sons.

  Simon clapped Dominic on the back with silent affection.

  “The people of the keep knew it,” Simon said with satisfaction. “The moment you returned from the hunt with Meg shining like the sun in your arms, they knew.”

  There was no answer.

  Motionless, silent, Dominic looked out over the serene land until nothing was left of light in the sky but the moon’s scimitar smile.

  Simon waited for his brother’s attention without impatience. He had waited in just this way many times after Sven had given a report and Dominic stood on a vantage point to study the place he must take by force or guile.

  “I think,” Dominic said finally, “it is time to give the Devil his due.”

  “Pardon?”

  “John of Cumbriland, Lord of Blackthorne, shall have a funeral feast.”

  Simon was too shocked to speak.

  “There will be music and mummers and games,” Dominic continued.

  “Games,” Simon said neutrally.

  “Aye. It is time that Duncan and his Reevers test the mettle of Blackthorne Keep’s knights.”

  There was a startled silence followed by a short bark of laughter.

  “Battle without bloodshed,” Simon said in admiration. “Very clever. But very dangerous. What if the Reevers decide to hell with games and fight in earnest?”

  “Then the dogs of war will feast on flesh again.”

  What Dominic didn’t say was that the flesh would likely be his own. The Scots Hammer was as formidable a foe as Dominic had ever faced over drawn swords.

  And Dominic would face him in single combat before he would allow the dogs of war to be unleashed.

  With a final sweeping glance over the battlement, Dominic turned away from the land he had fought to own all his life, and from the dream of peace that had always eluded him. Such things lay in the unchangeable past or the untouchable future. All that he could reach lay in the present.

  And the golden bells she wore called to him.

  Dominic left the battlements without a word, walking in long strides to Meg’s room. He didn’t pause to knock on the door, for he knew it wouldn’t be bolted against him. She would be inside, waiting for him, wearing the spicy fragrance that was hers alone.

  Eadith made a startled sound as Dominic appeared in the doorway to the inner chamber.

  “Leave us,” he said.

  The handmaiden dropped the jeweled comb she had been wielding over Meg’s hair and obeyed with unusual speed. Dominic wore the bleak calculations of the battlement like a dark aura. Only his eyes were alive, and they saw only Meg.

  As soon as Eadith left, Dominic shot the iron bolt. When Meg rose from the stool where she had been perched, bells stirred and murmured sweetly. Meg barely noticed the lovely sound. The intangible darkness around her husband made her heart clench.

  “What is wrong?” she whispered.

  Dominic’s silver eyes slowly swept the length of his wife. Her hair tumbled to her hips in a cascade of fire that was held back only by a frail circlet of emeralds and gold. A closely fitted tunic of green silk followed the curves of her body, emphasizing her breasts and narrow waist and the feminine flare of her hips. Several of the delicate gold harem chains served as a girdle. The smallest motion of her body set bells to shivering.

  Slowly Dominic walked toward Meg. When he reached out to run a long tendril of her hair through his fingers, his hand trembled from the fierce yearning in his heart.

  “You are…beautiful,” Dominic said in a low voice.

  Abruptly he closed his eyes and let Meg’s hair slide from his fingers.

  “Beauty is such a pale word to describe what you are to me,” he whispered. “’Tis like saying winter is cool and sunlight pleasant.”

  “Dominic,” Meg said, catching his hand. “What is wrong?”

  He opened his eyes and looked at her as though memorizing the elegant arch of her eyebrows, the faint tilt and clarity of her emerald eyes, the creamy texture of her skin, the sensuous color and curves of her lips. With aching care he brushed the backs of his fingers over her mouth.

  “I tried to stay away,” Dominic asked huskily. “But I cannot. I need you, Meg. Are you healed?”

  “Healed?”

  “When we lay together in the ancient place, I hurt you. Are you healed?”

  “You never hurt me,” Meg said.

  “You bled.”

  “I felt only joy.”

  Meg kissed the battle-scarred fingers that were caressing her mouth. A subtle tremor went through Dominic.

  “Does that mean you will come willingly to me?” Dominic asked. “Will you let my body worship yours?”

  It was impossible for Meg to conceal the thrill that went through her at the thought of once more being joined with her husband.

  Dominic’s breath caught as he saw the sensuous shiver take Meg. His fingers drifted from her lips to the quickened beat of her pulse in her throat.

  “I thought you wouldn’t want me so soon,” Meg admitted.

  “Soon?” Dominic asked, startled. “It has been days.”

  “Eadith said that it takes time for a man to want a woman again.”

  An odd smile changed the taut lines of Dominic’s face.

  “If the woman in question is Eadith,” he said, “a lifetime wouldn’t be enough to raise my, ah, interest. But for you…”

  “A half day?” Meg hazarded.

  Dominic smiled. “For you, my warm Glendruid wife, a half hour would be more than enough time to put steel back in my sword.”

  “That soon? Even a good ram requires…”

  Meg’s voice died as she heard her own words. She flushed brightly and said no more.

  Dominic laughed, feeling the dark chill of the battlement recede.

  “If I hadn’t been afraid of hurting you more than I already had,” he said, “I would have sheathed myself within you at least one more time before we left the ancient place.”

  Meg’s eyes widened. “Truly?”

  “Very truly. Did you mean what you said?” he asked in a low voice. “Did I give you pleasure?”

  Pink tinted her cheekbones. She glanced away and nodded.

  Dominic’s hard palm tilted up Meg’s chin. “Don’t hide from me, small falcon. I must know.”

  Dark auburn eyelashes shifted, revealing the jeweled depths of Meg’s eyes.

  “Did I truly please you?” he asked.

  The glittering silver of Dominic’s gaze held Meg in thrall. Her lips parted on an indrawn breath as a cascade of sensual memories poured through her.

  “Aye,” she whispered.

  Dominic’s long fingers slid deeply into Meg’s hair as he drew closer for a kiss.

  “Did I?” Meg asked against his lips.

  “Did you what?”

  “Please you.”

  “Aye.” H
e kissed her. “And aye.” He kissed her again. “And aye once more.”

  “Are you certain? Marie says men get little pleasure of a virgin.”

  “Hammer Marie,” Dominic said, biting Meg’s lower lip with exquisite care. “She knows little about virginity and less about men.”

  Meg looked uncertainly at Dominic, wondering if he were joking.

  “I beg to differ, my husband. Marie knows a great deal about men.”

  “She knows a great deal about spreading her thighs,” Dominic said bluntly. “It’s not the same thing. But if you don’t believe me, give me your hand.”

  Meg blinked. “Which one?”

  “Either will do nicely.”

  She held up her right hand. Dominic took it, guided it beneath his mantle, and pressed her palm against his rigid arousal. He smiled at the startled sound she made, and then he groaned as he urged her hand even closer. Slowly he guided her hand up the hard ridge of flesh. Even blunted by layers of cloth, the sensation was enough to make his blood pound like thunder through his body.

  “Men can lie about many things,” Dominic said huskily, “but not this. A man’s body can’t lie about desire.”

  The clear skin of Meg’s face revealed the blush that claimed her, but she didn’t pull her hand from beneath Dominic’s.

  “You pleased me in the forest,” he said deeply. “Just remembering what it was like to press into you is enough to make me harden. You were sleek and tight and untouched, yet you wept your passion for me. You were magic. A virgin spring that welled up at my touch.”

  With a stifled groan Dominic dragged Meg’s fingers from beneath his mantle and kissed them a bit fiercely.

  “Will you let me undress you?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Meg said, turning around so that he could reach the laces of her dress. “It is your right as my hus—”

  “Nay.” Dominic’s voice was sharp. “You are Glendruid. I have no rights but those you give me.”

  Sadness ached in Meg’s throat. “So that is why you are so careful of me. The Glendruid curse.”

  His fingers paused on the laces of her emerald dress.

  “I would woo you with great care in any case,” Dominic said.