Temptation of the Warrior

by Margo Maguire

  Unless the husband were someone like Matthew. He could not have been more different from Mr. Ellis than Reverend Usher was from her own father.

  Matthew had a commanding presence, a natural superiority that must have been bred into him. With Jenny having no noble background to raise her to Matthew’s social standing, their attraction was entirely misplaced, and ill-advised.

  No doubt Matthew would soon be missed and someone would come searching for him. Then all would turn out well for him, as he returned to his home and resumed the life he was meant to lead. With his clan and…very likely, a wife.

  Jenny looked toward the caravan where Matthew rested and knew she could not go back, not when their attraction burned so fiercely between them.

  “Look. Tsinoria begin,” said Rupa.

  One of the newcomers started out with an entourage of men toward Bardo’s caravan, and when he was halfway there, started calling to its owner. Bardo gave an exaggerated appearance of being disinterested in what the visitor had to say, and everyone standing at the nearby caravans acted as though nothing unusual was going on.

  But it was clear, even though Jenny could not understand the Rom language, that the visitor was trying to engage Bardo in marriage negotiations. With the way everyone in the camp participated in his own way, it was clearly a ritual they all enjoyed.

  “What are they saying?” Jenny asked.

  “Jivin Bovil tells Guibran Bardo his daughter very nice.”

  “I didn’t realize Bardo had a daughter.”

  “Yes. Er…three daughters. One already go married.”

  “And Jivin has a marriageable son?”

  Rupa nodded. “He want…” She struggled to find words to describe what was happening. “Show no hurry to Guibran.”

  “I think I understand,” said Jenny. “Jivin cannot appear too anxious to engage Mr. Bardo’s daughter.”

  “Guibran same. Much talk first. Bride price later.”

  “Bride price?”

  Another nod. “Show value of bride.”

  Jenny had no dowry that she knew of. Her parents had lived comfortably, but any inheritance Jenny might have had had gone for her keep at Bresland. At least that’s what her uncle had said when he’d shipped her off to school. She possessed nothing of any value to bring to a marriage. And there was that troublesome quirk that caused all kinds of havoc when she was upset or emotional. Could she hide such a thing from a husband?

  “No childrens, you?” asked Rupa.

  Jenny felt her face heat. “No. We, er…haven’t been married very long.”

  Rupa laughed and touched Jenny’s stomach. “Soon he fill you with babe. Then you be real wife.”

  Too embarrassed to reply, Jenny felt her heart skip when Matthew joined them and slid one arm around her waist, drawing her against his side. She would never be his real wife.

  Forcing herself to ignore the heat of his body and the unearthly pull that drew her to him, she hoped he had not heard Rupa’s words. He needed no encouragement.

  Jenny sensed Tekari Kaulo watching them, and allowed herself to enjoy a few moments of security in Matthew’s embrace. She introduced him to Rupa and told him Rupa was the one who’d brought them food and her clothes.

  “I am verra glad to meet you, Rupa,” Matthew said, earning a blushing giggle from the Gypsy woman, confirming Jenny’s impression that Matthew held sway with the ladies with nothing more than a smile. In spite of her resolve to go her own way, her heart sank. Of course he had a wife. Or a fiancée at the very least.

  “What was the explosion?”

  “The children,” Jenny answered. “They’ve been throwing something into the fire.”

  “Is krábateysapa…What English say?” Rupa tried to think of the word. “Burn powder.”

  “Gunpowder?” Jenny asked.

  Rupa grinned. “Rom likes big noise. Come. We make tables for kompania. Much festive.”

  Matthew had come out of the caravan just in time to overhear Rupa tell Jenny he would soon give her a child. His loins tightened at the thought of it. Aye, he would give her his bairn, mayhap tonight. The headache and dizziness persisted, but they’d subsided sufficiently for him to make love to his wife, and he wanted to. Desperately.

  Her worry that he did not know her was unfounded, and he was going to prove it to her. It did not matter that his memory was faulty. What he felt for her transcended mere memories of events they’d shared. He felt a connection to her that he knew—aye, he knew—he’d never felt with anyone else.

  Clusters of men had gathered outside several caravans and were conversing cordially, all but Kaulo, who stood near one of the dark and deserted caravans, keeping his eye on Jenny. Matthew felt a surge of pure male possessiveness.

  He’d come up behind Jenny, slid one arm ’round her waist, and pressed a kiss to her temple. She stiffened at first, but soon eased her body against his, making it clear to Kaulo, and every other Gypsy who could see them, that Jenny was his. No matter how infirm he might be, he would brook no male interference.

  Matthew took Jenny’s hand, and they accompanied Rupa to the center of camp. He admitted only to himself that he still felt a bit unsteady on his feet and dizzy when he turned his head too fast. But if Kaulo came close to Jenny, no amount of vertigo would keep him from laying the man flat.

  There was a merry atmosphere among the Gypsy families, and Matthew noticed a second camp nearby. A few of the older boys began to light the lamps that hung on all the wagons, giving the grounds a magical, festive glow. The women set up tables and put out bowls of food and loaves of bread, while the men drank from flower-patterned cups and talked with the newcomers.

  “Matthew, don’t you think you should go back inside?” Jenny asked.

  “Doona worry about me, moileen. I’m well enough.”

  In spite of her apparent desire to be rid of him, she clung to his hand tightly and glanced nervously about the periphery of the camp. “What is it?” he asked.

  “So many people…”

  “Then we should go,” he said, drawing her close. He suspected she wasn’t referring so much to the new group that had gathered, but to Kaulo. “Let’s slip away, Jenny. The Gypsies are so occupied with their guests, they willna notice if we leave the camp and go on our way.”

  She dug in her heels. “No. ’Tis already dark and you are not well, yet.”

  “I am more resilient than you think, Jenny. Come,” he said, turning back to their caravan. “We’ll take a couple of the horses and ride to Carlisle.”

  She walked alongside him, but suddenly stopped. “No. I’ve seen how you cringe with pain every time you move your head. And you’re still dizzy, aren’t you?”

  “No’ enough to keep me here if you wish to go.”

  There was a loud cheer, and they were suddenly drawn back into the crowd by Rupa and the others, who laughed together and drank toasts. The Gypsy celebrations meant naught to him. He bent to speak into Jenny’s ear. “Let’s get away from here.”

  He took her away from the crowd and once again headed back to their own caravan, anxious to be alone with her. To show her that he remembered her well enough. He pushed open the door of the caravan and followed her inside.

  Matthew didn’t give her a chance to worry about his health or his memory. He took her in his arms and turned her, then lowered his head to hers. “’Tis been too long since I’ve tasted you, moileen.”

  He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to each of her knuckles. She sighed and started to pull away, but before she could form the words to try and send him to his sickbed, he touched her mouth with his own. He slipped his hands inside her cape and drew her hips tight against his erection.

  Her nipples pebbled against his chest, and he felt her shiver. He deepened the kiss, moving to press her back against the wall of the caravan. She moaned quietly and tangled her tongue with his, skating her hands up his chest and ’round to the nape of his neck. Her touch sent flames of need darting through his veins and he ro
cked against her, wanting to be inside her.

  But not yet.

  Without breaking the kiss, he unfastened the ties at her neck and let her cloak drop to the floor. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her, to explore her as though it were their first time. His heart hammered wildly in his chest as he loosened her blouse and lowered it to her waist. He brought his hands forward and cupped her breasts through the thin cloth of her chemise, then lowered her straps and bent his head to take one pebbling tip into his mouth.

  Jenny made a desperate sound and held his head in place at her breast while he licked and sucked each sweet nipple in turn. She was so soft, yet she was possessed of a backbone of strength that drew him inexorably to her. Matthew tossed away his greatcoat and pulled his sherte free, ripping off buttons in his haste to feel her naked against him.

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her two steps to the bed, laying her down gently. Her pale eyes glittered in the light of the candle he’d left, and they drifted closed when he took her mouth once again in a fervent kiss. She arched against him, tangling her legs with his.

  She reached ’round to his buttocks, kneading his backside, pulling at the fabric of his trews. Her breathing was unsteady, as was his own, but he managed to unfasten his buttons, freeing his erect shaft to her touch. She moved slowly, but Matthew soon felt her fingers at the tip of his cock. Shyly, she began to explore him as he took her nipple into his mouth once again, sucking the honeyed tip as though it were the sweetest fruit.

  Her tentative touch teased him and drove him mad. He jerked in her hand, then released her breast and shoved her skirts out of his way. Remembering how wildly responsive she’d been to his touch, he wanted to see her come apart with pleasure before he entered her. And again, after.

  Using the pad of his thumb, he found the sensitive nub at her apex and rubbed lightly.

  Her face became suffused with color as she bucked against his hand. He slid one finger inside her slick sheath and felt her shudder. “Oh dear heaven,” she said on a breath. “Matthew…”

  She tightened her hand ’round his cock. He growled with pleasure and placed his own hand over hers, showing her how to please him.

  “You are so beautiful.”

  Her lips were swollen from his kisses, moist and pink. Her eyes were dark with passion, and the sound of her voice resonated deep within him. She was his life mate, the one woman who would satisfy him forever.

  “Matthew…Oh, please…”

  “Moileen. My sweet wife.”

  Her eyes changed suddenly, their focus becoming sharper. She let go of him and moved suddenly, drawing her hands up to his shoulders, caressing.

  No, she was pushing, pushing him away and shaking her head. “Matthew…”

  She shifted her position and started to move away from him.

  “Aye. You take the top.”

  With one swift move, he was lying on his back with Jenny straddling him. He took her hands in his and placed them on his straining cock. “I need to be inside you, moileen. Now.”

  Her breasts, full and pink-tipped, swayed above him. She closed her eyes tightly, and her mouth quivered. “No,” she whispered.

  “Jenny…” ’Twas painful to wait any longer. He wanted her desperately.

  “We can’t, Matthew,” she whispered. “I’m not your wife.”

  Chapter 5

  The Isle of Coruain, 981

  The wind on the cliffs whipped at Ana Mac Lochlainn with a fury that fairly matched her temper. She shoved her cloak behind her, and with fists clenched in worry and grief, resumed her pacing, her boots crushing the rich, soft moss of her island home.

  “Eilinora and her Odhar will break through all our charms and protections, Ana,” warned Cianán Mag Uidhir, leader of the Druzai elders. “’Tis no matter how—”

  “Nay, they will not!” Not while Ana had breath in her lungs. She was as noble as her cousins, Merrick and Brogan, and wielded as much power as any Mac Lochlainn. The wicked Eilinora and her minions could—would—be held at bay with her own lòchran magic until her cousins brought the brìgha-stones home to Coruain. Even if the task drained Ana of all her energy and stole her life force, she would hold them, by God, until Merrick and Brogan returned.

  Cianán clasped his hands behind his back and watched Ana pacing near the edge of the cliff, oblivious to the wealrach gliding over the waters before her, searching for prey, its wingspan greater than the height of two men. He turned to Ana. “You know the ancient tales of Eilinora as well as I, mo curadh. The witch will quickly learn to use the magic of Kieran’s scepter and then we will be—”

  “Brogan and Merrick will return with the blood stones before that happens,” she snapped, resenting Cianán’s intrusion. She needed to concentrate her full attention on her protective magic, as did he and the rest of the elders. Ana knew she would need all the help she could get.

  Of course Ana knew the tales. The evil and capricious sorceress had instigated violent unrest between the Celtic clans eons before. Who she had been before taking the Druzai name Eilinora, for queen, was unknown. But she had cruelly used the Tuath Druids to foment petty jealousies that led to war. With her followers, Eilinora had caused many a bloody battle, resulting in the deaths of countless worthy Tuath warriors, as well as women and children.

  The details of Eilinora’s defeat had been lost in the mists of time, but ’twas said that the corrupt sorceress had been vanquished by one commanding Druzai who was her perfect antithesis. The two had met in battle, good against evil. And though the particulars of that contest were unknown, the result had been retold in Druzai lore for centuries. Eilinora and her minions had been imprisoned in some distant netherworld, a barren, bòcan forest. She and her vile Odhar were bound together in unbreakable numinous bonds, and destined to remain suspended in the colorless world forever.

  Yet something had freed her. After a thousand years’ imprisonment, some powerful force that Ana could not yet see had loosed the witch upon the world.

  An ear-wrenching shriek forced Ana and Cianán to clap their hands over their ears. At the same time, a surge of dark magic spewed forth, suddenly piercing through Ana’s protective lòchran field. She felt a crushing blow to her chest and some dark malevolence sucking at her mind. She sank to her knees, even as she launched what should have been a killing strike of her own.

  “Cianán! Help me!” she cried.

  But with the horrible roaring noise in her ears, Cianán’s voice seemed very far away. A whorl of wind and debris rose up to swallow Ana, nearly pulling her to the very edge of the cliff. A harsh feminine voice pierced through the horrible howling in her ears. “I will not relent, fledgling!”

  Ana resisted the torrent of pure evil that tore at the core of her power. Using every ounce of her will, she pushed herself up to her feet and caught sight of a female face, high above the magical shield, a filmy apparition that dissipated the moment Ana’s eyes touched upon her. Eilinora!

  “Nor will I, witch! Begone!” Ana raised both hands and drew upon every bright force, every decent power of nature that she could muster. Feeling Cianán’s strength behind her, she repelled the witch’s attempt to pull her thoughts from her brain.

  “Do not fool yourself, gurach,” the witch rasped in Ana’s ear, her shrill voice making Ana wince in pain. “I will find your brothers. Their prize will soon be mine!”

  “You doona even know who they are,” Ana whispered as she launched an attack of her own and flung the apparition far from Coruain’s shores.

  She felt something cold upon her face. “Ana!”

  “Aye.” She opened one eye to see Cianán crouched over her.

  “Let me help you.”

  Ana took hold of the elder’s arm and pulled herself to her feet. She stumbled and would have fallen but for the elder’s strong grasp. “’Twas Eilinora, was it not?”

  Ana nodded. She felt weak and spent after her brief encounter with the witch. “You didna see her?”

  He shook
his head. “But I felt her evil assault. Did she learn where Merrick and Brogan have gone?”

  “Nay. And she will learn naught from me.”

  “’Twas best that you kept their destination to yourselves. ’Twould no’ do for the witch to tear that information from any of the elders.”

  “Aye,” Ana whispered, feeling weak and drained. She and her cousins had decided not to tell anyone where they were going, on the chance that Eilinora might isolate one of the elders and coerce the information from him.

  “You have not slept in the hours since your cousins left Coruain, Ana,” said Cianán. “Have you eaten?”

  “I am all right.”

  “No, you are no’. You are pale, and the light is gone from your eyes.”

  “I must keep watch.”

  Since Merrick’s departure, she did naught but pace the cliffs outside the chieftain’s dwelling, warding off the Odhar’s attacks, shoring up the shields she and the elders had cast ’round the isles. The Odhar’s surges of energy were more powerful than she’d anticipated, their attack more personal. And she’d just discovered that Eilinora was as formidable as the legends said. The witch had come close to penetrating Ana’s mind and learning the details of her cousins’ quest.

  She knew ’twas only a matter of time before Eilinora’s evil minions recovered from Ana’s rebuff and mounted their next attack.

  Cianán was correct—if the witch and her mentor learned to wield the chieftain’s scepter, then Coruain would surely fall to Eilinora and the Odhar, who had nearly conquered the world without it. This time they would destroy the Druzai and enslave the Tuath.

  “Your kin are the most powerful among us, Ana,” said Cianán. “Yet we can all see how this challenge exhausts you.”

  Fatigue was not the worst of it. Unable to see the outcome of this struggle, Ana worried that she would not have the power to withstand another attack. Brogan and Merrick needed to hurry.