Lady of the Mountain

by Lyn Armstrong

  Harding his features, he rose to his feet and averted his gaze from her loveliness. “I am sorry, Drucilla. I have to leave you here.”

  “Pardon?” Her angry tone cut through to his heart and he turned his back on her as she quickly donned her clothes.

  “You will stay here until I have Merlin’s staff.”

  “You… you…”

  He waited for the foul oaths to sting his ears. When nothing came, he turned back and she punched him in the stomach. The air whooshed out of his lungs as he bent over in pain.

  Pivoting, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot in agitation.

  He straightened his bruised and sore stomach. He went to touch her stiff shoulders, but lowered his arm and stepped backward.

  Do not lose control.

  “I am sorry,” he said quietly and walked to the mirrored wall. “By the blood of Merlin, liberate me,” he whispered and instantly arrived outside, the cold blasting his warm body. He looked down at the glass box that sat at his feet, the original size was no more than a handful, but it held a bundle most precious.

  He picked up the box, a miniature sorceress glared at him, her arms folded.

  “Release me!” she yelled, but it only came out as a small whisper.

  He blew her a sad kiss and placed the box safely in his pocket.

  When he arrived back at the cavern, he found Tremayne awake.

  “Master Braen, if you want to get some sleep, I will take the next guard,” Tremayne offered and rested his back on the clay-wall.

  “No need,” he said, “I have captured the sorceress.”

  Tremayne jolted and hit his head on the cavern roof. “Pardon?”

  “I have the sorceress trapped in here,” he explained and held out the glass box.

  Rubbing his head, Tremayne leaped up. “That is not possible, my mother would never…”

  The sorcerer’s words stopped as he stared at the lady in the box.

  “I do not think this is your mother,” Braen said. “She was a maiden.”

  “This lady is not my mother.” Tremayne took the glass box from him and held it closer to the flame. “Yet, she looks almost identical to her.”

  “Let me out,” a tiny voice bellowed.

  Tremayne looked at Braen. “She must be one of my mother’s minions. In which case, you must destroy her.”

  Braen snatched the box from his hand. “Nae, she is no threat to us now.”

  “My mother will come for her, and when she does, we are all in peril.” Tremayne grabbed his arm. “Kill the lass. She is evil. I can sense it.”

  Braen glanced at the lady in the box; she was silent and deathly pale.

  “Please, release me,” she asked, her eyes pleading to him.

  His heart clenched, and he forced himself to look away.

  “Kill her!” Tremayne’s harsh voice broke through his thoughts. “She is dangerous.”

  Callum stirred awake and rose to stand beside Tremayne. “What vexes you?”

  Braen ignored them both and held the box up. It was one thing to imprison the lady of the mountain and another to allow Tremayne to kill her. Without thinking, he blew on the glass. Burnt steel invaded his nose as the box exploded, releasing the sorceress.

  She stood before him, exquisite and vulnerable, tears streaked her cheeks.

  Tremayne muttered a fail oath and went to grab her, but his hand went straight through her body. “Argh,” Tremayne snarled. “Tell my mother to stay away from my family.”

  She wagged her finger at him. “I do not know your wretched mother.”

  “Your mistress,” Tremayne returned, his eyes darkening. “Lady Torella.”

  “Torella is your… mother?” she asked, shock replaced anger upon her face.

  Braen stood back, curious to know how everything connected.

  “Aye, she is.” Tremayne replied.

  “Torella is my mother.” If her face was pale before, it was now the color of snow as her eyes shone with uncertainty.

  All three of them stood with their mouths open.

  Callum stepped forward. “Is my father, Laird Phillip Roberts, still alive? Master Braen said he was in the mountain.”

  She shook her head, her hand touching her brow.

  Terrific, she will tell them I lied. Phillip is not captive in the Mount Suilven. Braen shoved his cold hands in his pockets and waited for the inevitable.

  “Phillip is your father?” she asked. “Who are you people?”

  “Is he alive?” Callum growled.

  “Aye, my father is alive and I will not let you take him away,” she said, her tone bordering hysteria. “So you either turn back or I will show you how evil I can be.”

  Within seconds, she vanished.

  “Dammit, Braen, why did you have to let her go?” Tremayne said and returned to his bedroll.

  “You just found out you have a sister and all you can think about is how I let her escape?” Braen returned. He was amazed that Phillip really was in Mount Suilven. It seemed that everything connected in a way, which made him suspicious. Was he being led to the mountain for another reason?

  Callum sat down on the spot. “I have another sister? But how?”

  Tremayne threw a piece of stale bread at Callum’s back. “My mother and your father fucked, it’s that plain.”

  He twisted around with rage in his eyes. “My father would never take another woman. He loves my mother too much.”

  “The sorceress is not just any women; she has the power to seduce. You, of all people, should know that,” Tremayne replied.

  “Are you impugning the honor of my father?”

  “That woman is proof your father was not faithful.”

  Callum shot to his feet when Braen stood between the two. “Enough!” He glared at them. “Let us consider the battle plan. We know that your father is definitely at Mount Suilven.

  Callum nodded, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “And that your sister,” Braen pointed at both of them, “is the lady of the mountain, perhaps a sorceress, but I am not convinced she is evil like her mother—your mother,” he pointed to Tremayne.

  They nodded.

  “I still want my family heirloom, and we still need to rescue Laird Phillip. So I purpose we keep a vigilant eye for both of the sorceress’ and travel faster.”

  “Agreed,” Tremayne said.

  “Aye,” Callum added.

  Tremayne picked up his blanket from the ground. “Besides, if that lady really is my sister, she has a lot more to worry about than us.”

  Braen jerked his head up. An unwelcome tension stretched across his shoulders. “Why?”

  “Judging by her age, she does not have much longer to live.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Two brothers.” Drucilla paced the floor. A single candle flame flickered in her chamber. “I have two brothers.”

  In looks, they were complete opposites. Where one had light hair and soft features like her father, the other was dark and unapproachable, like her mother. Then there was the one called Braen. Although still furious from his entrapment, she could not discount the touch of his hands upon her body and the way he looked at her as though she was more attractive than her mother. His persuasive copper eyes caused her to feel drugged as if she had swallowed one of the sorceress’ desire potions.

  She must stop these foolish reflections. Aye, she made love to him. But, he was still the enemy, and at the first chance would no doubt capture her father, steal Merlin’s staff and leave her for dead. She would not succumb to his body again.

  A light knock came on the door and she opened it. Silas walked into her chamber in unicorn form.

  “There is no need for pretence,” she said and closed the door behind him.

  Lowering his luminous horn, he transformed into an attractive virile man, leaning on one knee. He rose gracefully. The long beige tunic swept the floor, and a silver rope tied around his waist emphasized his slim lean form.

  His mouth opened t
o speak but clamped shut when he saw the scrying bowl. “What have you been doing?”

  Unhooking the cloak’s clasp around her neck, Drucilla dashed over to the bowl and covered it with the heavy garment. She stood in front of the table, blocking his view. “You have your intrigues…”

  “If the sorceress found out—”

  “She won’t if you do not tell her.”

  “If I do not tell her, she will have me tortured until both my legs are useless.”

  Drucilla grabbed his forearms. “Please, keep this between us.”

  He stared at her from behind half lowered lids. A purple light swirled around his aura and Drucilla smiled. He was aroused by her nearness. Was it her touch?

  She smiled. She could use this to her advantage. Edging closer, she pressed her body against his and wrapped her arms around his neck. The familiar sweet scent of hay lingered on his breath.

  “If you keep my secret, I will kiss you.”

  “A kiss? That is all I get for risking my life?”

  “And you can watch me bath under the waterfall anytime you like,” she added, enjoying the power of his arousal. The warm energy seeped into her body, making her feel alive and giddy with magick.

  He licked his lips, his hypnotic gray eyes seared into hers. “We have an accord.”

  Tilting her head, she closed her eyes and pressed her open lips to his. His kiss was surprisingly gentle and sent a shiver down her spine, her arousal mingling with his. Although she enjoyed the earthy taste of his mouth and the way his tongue mingled with hers, Silas did not have the same sexual impact as the wizard.

  She pulled back and smiled. “That was delicious,” she said. “The power is intoxicating. I need more though, if I am to defeat…”

  “Defeat who?”

  Drucilla turned her back on him. She was not good at lying.

  He circled her, studying her closely. “You seem different.”

  Her hand flew up to her neck nervously. “I do not know what you mean.”

  “If I did not know any better, I would say you had sex recently.” He leaned closer to her and sniffed. “I smell a man’s seed on you. But how could that be? You would have to leave the mountain to…”

  “I do not know how it happened, it just did. I went to the wizard, and he trapped me in this—”

  “Your mother will kill me.”

  She laughed at his somber face and patted his firm chest. “Oh Silas, you worry too much.”

  Her touch changed his appearance. His face held a passionate beauty, almost unrefined with animalistic desire. She inhaled deeply, enjoying her newfound powers—her womanhood.

  “Take care, Drucilla. The more you indulge your powers, the more you will hunger for sex until it consumes your every waking thought.” He gathered her into his arms. “Even now, your eyes are turning black.”

  She smiled. Her body ached with need—a need the erotic wizard woke inside her. By the time he arrived, she would be ready to defeat him.

  “Then we will not indulge,” she said, pressing against his body. She licked Silas’ warm lips. “Perchance, we could still kiss though?” She drew an invisible pattern on his chest. The energy she received from his desires would fuel her powers—it would have to do.

  His face softened, and his eyes lowered to where she touched him.

  He was under her spell. If only the wizard were as easily enchanted.

  “Curse that girl,” Torella growled at the vision of Silas and Drucilla embracing in her scrying bowl. Her daughter had finally succumbed to her sorceress’ desires and somehow discovered her unicorn was a man.

  The rotten horse.

  Silas had one last duty to perform, and then she did not need him anymore. After the next full moon, it would not matter how powerful her daughter became from sexual energy. She would not be able to stop the curse of a devil’s mistress.

  Torella slammed the door behind her and searched for Phillip. Damn the long halls in this palace, it took forever to walk anywhere. Why did her daughter insist on a large abode?

  She closed her eyes and thought of the chieftain, his golden hair and thick lips, his sleek torso and trim waist. Suddenly, she transported herself to the leafy garden where Phillip practiced sword training in a simple tunic and breeches. The mist from the nearby waterfall laid a moist sheen over his long hair tapered to his neck with a tie. He did not register that she was there, his blue eyes remaining focused on the technique of battle—the man’s body was shaped like a God’s.

  A smile formed on her lips, and she sat on a marble bench surrounded by lavender flowers. She breathed the rich scent and relaxed her shoulders. Everything was coming together. Over the past year, many obstacles had shielded her from gaining the ultimate power, but that never deterred her ambition. No Celtic witches, warlock, sorcerer or wizard could stop her. She was too powerful—and by far more cunning. Her greatest ally is patience, and being immortal, she could afford to wait. The day would come when she ruled the world of darkness.

  Torella smiled at Phillip when he acknowledged her, his sword lowered to his side.

  These weak mortals all played nicely into her plans. She called to him over the roar of the waterfall, “I have distressing news, my laird.”

  His face fell with concern, and she resisted the smile tugging on her lips.

  “Pray tell,” he said and hastened to her side on the bench.

  “Three desperate warriors ride toward the mountain as we speak. They are our enemies and come to brutally kill our daughter.” Torella watched his emotions closely, enjoying the horror that passed over his eyes.

  He shot to his feet. “I will not allow that to happen, my love.”

  “Aye,” she offered her hand for him to take and regally rose. “I am certain you will not.”

  “When do you expect these barbarians?” His tone was firm and self-assured.

  “Perchance, the next sunrise.” She ran her hand over his damp tunic and kissed his mouth, gently biting the bottom lip. “You are the greatest swordsman in Scotland. I am sure you will swiftly deal with these men. Remember, they will show no mercy to Drucilla if you fail.”

  Phillip’s chest muscles stiffened under her hand.

  “I will not fail.”

  Chapter Ten

  Braen stretched his arms, trying to release the tension in his shoulders. He had been dealing with apprehension all day, since Tremayne told him his sister did not have long to live. Braen wanted to question him further, urge the sorcerer to tell him everything, but he remained silent.

  Braen sighed. What was it to him that she had tribulations? She was trying to keep Merlin’s staff from him. He would not get involved. He let her out of the box didn’t he? Surely that was enough. He had to stay focused on getting into the mountain and finding the staff.

  So why did he feel like a disloyal knave? Curse it all, he had to know.

  “Stop!” He pulled on his reins to face the sorcerer. “Tell me why your sister is going to die.”

  Tremayne’s face creased into a smug smile. “I told you he would ask before the sun reached its peak.”

  Callum chuckled. “Aye, I knew his eyes twinkled for the lass.”

  Braen fumed at their ill humor. “Wonderful, the only time you both agree. By the way, you are wrong. I feel… nothing… for the minx.”

  They proceeded to laugh harder.

  “Just tell me.”

  Tremayne’s smile faded, his dark eyes, somber. “It is the curse of being the offspring of my wicked mother. Be it son or daughter, we must face it upon the day of our twenty-fifth year. The Gods steal our soul and send it to hell to be tortured for all eternity. This way my mother does not pay for her sins, and heaven and earth are balanced.”

  “How did you escape the curse?” Braen asked.

  “By knowing the name of my mortal father, I redeemed my evil blood in a ritual that I found in my mother’s book of Dark Magick.”

  Callum added, “But even that did not completely work.”

/>   “Aye,” Tremayne agreed. “There was one last vow I needed to complete the ritual and save my life.”

  “What was that?” Braen asked.

  “Love.”

  “Love?”

  Tremayne nodded. “Only the love of my wife saved me.”

  The horses’ shoes crunched the snow, breaking the silence of the endless moorlands. Braen squinted into the distance, the glare stinging his dry eyes. “So for your sister to live, she must do this ritual and find love?”

  Tremayne and Callum nodded, both staring at him expectantly.

  “Nae, do not look at me like that.” Braen turned away. “I will not be manipulated to love any woman, no matter how fair she is.” I am not weak like my father.

  “Then she is doomed,” Tremayne added.

  Braen’s horse sidestepped beneath him while the other horses raised their heads, the whites of their eyes showing. “The horses’ are skittish,” he said and leaned over to pat his mount’s neck.

  Callum pointed ahead. “Look there.”

  On the rise of the next hill stood the lady of the mountain. Braen’s heart raced as he rose up on his stirrups to get a better look. Drucilla stood in her gray cloak, the sunset streaming behind her back creating a glow around her slender form.

  “What is she up to now?” Tremayne asked suspiciously.

  Suddenly, five shadows stood by her side.

  Wolves.

  Her hands gently caressed a black creature on both sides of her. They snarled in their direction, and even from his distance, Braen could see the gleam of their sharp teeth.

  The men were having a hard time controlling their mounts as fear drove their animal’s survival instincts.

  Drucilla pointed at Braen and the ferocious pack ran down the hill toward them.

  Callum’s horse reared up, he fought to keep the stallion still. “What are we going to do?”

  “Get off your horses,” Tremayne shouted.

  Tremayne threw his reins at Braen and he struggled with both horses. “Where is he going?”