Soul Magic

by Karen Whiddon

  “I fear for the boy.”

  “The boy?” Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this. “What of your lady mother?” Geoffrey swallowed, working to keep his expression neutral.

  “I worry for her as well. Yet I believe her situation might have improved if Morfran sent her with Alanna’s son. Wynne – the wise woman of Rune – has seen a vision. And now Ellette had a dream. Truly I believe the threat to his life is imminent. We might not be able to reach him in time.”

  With a snort, Geoffrey felt obliged to point out their own position. “Our lives are in danger. More than our lives, actually. If this Gorsedd was going to slay a child, he would have done so by now. I think Caradoc will be fine.”

  Darrick stared at him as though he spoke a foreign tongue. “The boy has some sort of power.”

  “Power?” Geoffrey’s lip twisted. “Black like the force behind these awful attacks? Is it possible the child does not want to be rescued?”

  “He has but five summers. Of course he wants his mother. Who wouldn’t at that age?”

  A strange and awful expression crossed Geoffrey’s face. “I was three when my mother sent me to live with your family at Thorncliff.”

  “You had no father. She wanted you to learn from mine.”

  Geoffrey swallowed. “And I did. I loved your father. But still I longed to be with my mother. Because it would hurt her, I did not give in to my desire to become a priest. You are right. But I fail to understand how Caradoc had any power at all. Even Alanna seemed surprised when you said it.”

  “Who knows? Wynne believes he has power. He is half Fae.”

  “But their power fades. Or so you have told me.”

  Darrick frowned. “I know not. The Fae legends and puzzles are too much for me. Great weariness showed in his voice. “Would that things were much more simple.”

  “What would you do then?”

  With a grim smile, Darrick shook his head. “I would collect my mother and Alanna’s son and take them all with me to Rune.”

  Confused, Geoffrey glanced back at the others. Did Darrick mean to make Alanna his wife? He looked at her and Sarina. The two women rode side by side, their shining heads close together.

  “I seek to understand,” he said. “Tell me of Alanna.”

  Darrick frowned again, clearly undecided. “What do you mean? You have known her nearly as long as I have.”

  Sadly, Geoffrey smiled. “Nay. Once you met her, things changed. You came walking out of the woods with her on your arm, and thought of nothing else. I watched you and her from a distance. The two of you seldom included me when you were together.”

  After a moment of silent consideration, Darrick dipped his head. “I did not realize. Why have you never spoken to me of this before?”

  “Because I am a fatherless bastard.” This time, Geoffrey did not try to hide his bitterness. “And well I knew I was at Thorncliff only by the grace of your parents.”

  “I would never have sent you away.”

  “My own mother sent me away. If she could do such a thing--.” Checking himself, Geoffrey lowered his voice. “`Twas long ago. We were but children. It matters not.”

  “So this fear that I would make you leave, is this the reason why you dislike Alanna?”

  His stomach burning, Geoffrey nodded. “Perhaps. It could be that I was jealous of what you had. It seemed I lost your friendship. Yet how could I begrudge you such happiness.”

  “I should have found a woman for you.”

  Geoffrey’s laugh sounded hollow. “If I had wanted a woman, I would have found my own. I wanted to be a monk. I did not understand about women.”

  “And now?”

  With a choked sound, Geoffrey indicated the others. “Now I have met Sarina.”

  “Confusion and women go hand in hand.”

  “I think you might be right.”

  “I know I am.”

  They rode in silence for a few moments, Geoffrey wishing he could make Darrick understand his fears. All of his life he had been forced to suffer quietly, while things around him changed. His mother had sent him to foster at Thorncliff and, in order to please her, he had struggled to do as she wished and become a warrior rather than a priest. The absence of his father – indeed, the lack of even knowing the man’s name – had created within him a deep, aching hole that he’d sought to fill with God. The one constant in his life had been – and still was – his deep, abiding faith.

  The concept of the Fae and magic and Rune did not fit in the careful world he had constructed around himself. The foundations of even that were now starting to shift. Geoffrey didn’t know how he would bear it.

  “Sometimes I wish I lived in some monastery, far from ordinary travails.” The words burst from him, full of pent-up emotion.

  Darrick turned to look at him in surprise. “Still? I know when we were children you longed for this, but would you so change your life now?”

  With glum certainty, Geoffrey nodded. “Aye. I would.”

  “Then why don’t you? Your mother is dead. As if my father. All of the people you feared to disappoint are gone.”

  Except you. Too afraid to say the words out loud, Geoffrey simple shrugged. Then, unable to help himself, he glanced back over his shoulder at Sarina.

  Of course Darrick noticed.

  “Monks cannot consort with women,” Darrick pointed out.

  Geoffrey’s laugh sounded hollow, even to his own ears. “Consort. Interesting choice of words.”

  “My friend, your torment is written all over your face every time you look at her,” Darrick pointed out.

  “`Tis only lust.”

  “If you want Sarina so badly and she is willing, I fail to see your dilemma.”

  “More proof of how we differ.”

  Giving him a startled look, Darrick shrugged. “We choose our own happiness.”

  “Is that so? Then what of your choice? I fail to see how wanting Alanna makes you happy. I cannot help but notice you suffer with care for her.” A decided gamble – he had no way of knowing how Darrick would take his words.

  Instantly, Darrick expression went closed and cold. “You know nothing of what you speak.”

  Geoffrey bowed his head. “Then again, I must apologize.” But his apology was not sincere. It was the first time he’d ever spoken falsely to his friend and liege lord. His words were only truth and he was not sorry he’d said them. If only Darrick would open his eyes and truly see…

  Darrick sighed. “Perhaps the subject of those two women is one we should avoid.”

  Relief flooded Geoffrey. “Yes. What did you want to discuss with me earlier?”

  Shifting in his saddle, Darrick gazed out over the wintry landscape. “I ponder the possibility that Caradoc could in fact, be my son.”

  “Your son?” Geoffrey’s mouth dropped open. “But--”

  “`Tis plain you think me deluded. But Alanna and I shared one night of love. `Tis possible my seed took root rather than Morfran’s.”

  “Does Alanna--”

  “She believes him to be Morfran’s.”

  “But you have reason to think otherwise?”

  Darrick gave a decisive nod. “Aye. I do.”

  “I see.” Geoffrey looked away, struggling to compose himself. Now at last he understood why Darrick seemed to hell-bent to help the woman who’d deserted him.

  “I see from the set of your jaw that you do not believe.”

  “`Tis possible. But how will you ever know?”

  With a sigh, Darrick rubbed the back of his neck. “I will talk to Alanna about this.”

  “When?”

  “Soon.” His voice changed, became brusque. “Now to other matters. I have no doubt that those who seek to stop us will try again. I need you to be ready.”

  “What form will they take?” Geoffrey thought of the shadowy riders who’d attacked them in the church and shuddered.

  “I know not, though I doubt they’ll send their shades next time.”

  �
�Then what? How?”

  Frustration evident, Darrick growled. “I know not. Mayhap the same thing that killed Bart.”

  “We did not see what killed Bart,” Geoffrey pointed out. “We have only Alanna’s word for--”

  “Enough.” The command was spoken quietly. “When will you realize there are things out we cannot see?”

  Geoffrey pushed away the bitterness that soured his stomach. “I have come to know the truth of this. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  With a chuckle, Darrick cuffed him on the shoulder. Geoffrey found himself smiling back. He fingered his cross, glad too of the rosary beads tucked in his saddlebag. Faith had never deserted him in the past. Thus his faith would serve him well now.

  “I will not relax my vigilance.”

  “Good.” Sounding pleased, Darrick motioned ahead. “We will ride as long as we are able. My war horse is still strong, but some of the others grow weary.”

  Again Geoffrey found himself glancing back at the two women. Only to check the condition of the horses, or so he told himself.

  Darrick laughed out loud. “Go on back and join them. I need to be alone with my thoughts for awhile.”

  “I too,” Geoffrey said, turning his mount so that the rest of their small column would pass. He’d eat dust for awhile, but that was all right. He had much to digest and sort out.

  * * * *

  They made camp as the sun slowly sank behind the western horizon. Tired and hungry, the men went about their duties with mindless precision, each keeping to himself. Geoffrey was no exception. He pitched his tent, made sure the guards were posted, and crawled inside to gnaw on his meager rations of hard bread and cheese. He lay down, not to sleep, but to wait. He had no doubt that before long she would pay him a visit.

  Waiting, he told himself he was ready for her. On the long ride, alone with his thoughts, he’d drilled it into his stubborn body that he would not want her, would not lust for her. He would remain unaffected and unmoved. Not a man with base desires, but above them, as befits one who longed to become a man of God but must, while his mother still lived, be a warrior.

  When Sarina entered his tent, obviously just having emerged from bathing, his resolutions fled as though he’d never made them.

  Greeting him with an unaffected smile, she lowered herself to the pile of furs that would make up his bed and grinned up at him. Her damp hair curled around her shoulders, and she smelled of some floral fragrance or scented soap.

  His gut clenched. Never had she seemed so beautiful to him. Nor more alluring.

  “We need to make a plan,” she announced, still smiling.

  “A plan?”

  “Yes. To show Darrick and Alanna they should not be together.”

  “Ah.” He’d nearly forgotten she’d asked him to be her partner in their mutual quest to save their friends from themselves and each other.

  “Do you have any thoughts?”

  He blinked. “Thoughts?” Oh, he had thoughts, plenty of them. None of them fit for a pious man.

  Her laugh rang out, clear and lovely. Despite the way his mouth felt suddenly dry, Geoffrey found himself smiling.

  “On how we should go about convincing them,” she clarified.

  “I tried to talk to Darrick today. He would not listen.” Saying this felt disloyal, especially since he’d included Sarina in his argument to Darrick.

  “Hmmm.” Chin in hand, she regarded him seriously. “Let me think. I know.” She snapped her fingers. “How about if I seduce Darrick and make sure Alanna finds out?”

  Geoffrey’s heart stopped. Next, rage filled him, a rage so powerful that for a moment his vision blurred.

  “You--” Words failed him.

  Apparently oblivious to his reaction, Sarina continued. “I don’t think seducing him would be too difficult – he is a warrior, after all, and has desires like any man.”

  “I--” Still he could not seem to articulate. To his chagrin he realized he was shaking.

  Something in his expression must have registered, for she climbed to her feet. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “You,” he exploded. “You’re what’s wrong. How can you think of doing such an immoral thing?”

  “I fail to see the wrongness.” Though she spoke quietly, her gaze was intent. “Darrick is a man, with needs. Alanna rebuffs him every time he touches her. He is obviously in need of a woman.”

  “But I--”

  “And you,” she continued on, as though he had not reacted at all. “You have made it plain you do not want me.”

  At a loss for words he could only stare at her. The emotions that buffeted him were strong and shocking. Jealousy and anger, yes – these he would expect. But the hurt, now that was new and different and disturbing.

  Why would the mere knowledge that she could want another man hurt him so?

  Like a wounded animal, he lashed out. “Harlot.”

  Sarina only looked amused. “I take no offense. Among my people, we love as we will. We find nothing ugly or debasing in the simple act of--”

  “Don’t say it!”

  Her amused expression changed to smugness, like a cream-fed cat. “You do not want me, but you don’t want others to have me either.”

  “I want you.” The words burst from him. The instant he’d said them he wanted to call them back. “I mean I--”

  She cast him a sidelong look of challenge. “If you truly want me, then prove it.”

  Ah, `twas the Garden of Eden all over again, only her lush body and ripe lips were the apple. Forbidden fruit. If he took but one small taste of her, all would be lost.

  Her smile vanished, her pleased expression changing to hurt reproach. “Do you speak false?”

  Geoffrey wanted to cradle his aching head in his hands. “Why is it that every time I speak to you, I feel as though I’ve been buffeted about in a fierce windstorm?”

  Was it his imagination or did her lower lip tremble?

  “Very well then.” She turned to go. “I see you are in no mood to work with me on making a plan.”

  “Sarina, wait.” Without thinking he caught hold of her slender shoulder and yanked her close. She stumbled against him, her soft curves and feminine scent taking away his already limited capacity for rational thought. His body, already aroused, roared to life.

  God help him, rather than pushing her away, he kept her against him with his arm around her back.

  “You do want me,” she whispered, gazing up at him while her full breasts pushed against his chest. “I know you do. Why do you try so hard to fight your desire?”

  He heard only a few words. Desire. And hard. As he was now. So damn hard he thought he might shatter.

  When he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse. “Aye, I want you Sarina. More than I could have believed possible for a man to desire a woman.”

  Her blue eyes darkened to black. “Then kiss me.”

  His heart pounded in his chest. He heard a roaring in his ears. And his breath sounded like the rasp of wood against rock.

  She raised herself on her toes. Then, watching him still, she placed her mouth against his tunic and kissed his chest. Her hands slid across his belly, then down, until she covered the bulge of his raging erection with her hands.

  “Feel how much you want me.” She squeezed him.

  Geoffrey couldn’t help himself, he pushed against her hand. Another squeeze and a groan escaped him. With every ounce of willpower he possessed, he captured her arms and held her still.

  “Sarina, don’t.”

  “Your protest sounds weak.”

  So it did, even to him. Still it was a protest, and he tried to gather enough resistance to mean it.

  But the warmth of her soft body as she curved into him proved too provocative.

  “You would do these things with Darrick?”

  At his harsh words, she stilled. “I--”

  Too far gone to think rationally, he slanted his mouth across hers, hard, punishing. She gasped, her eyes w
ide.

  “Would you kiss him thus,” he rasped, capturing her lower lip between his teeth, invading her mouth with his tongue. Lust fueled his anger, and he finally allowed himself to touch her as he’d long wanted to, letting go of her arms to allow his hands to roam across her soft flesh and lush curves. She arched into him when he found her breasts, and her nipples pebbled between his fingers.

  He lowered her against the furs. When he loosened his braes to free himself, she closed her small hands around his aroused manhood and began to stroke him.

  “Geoffrey.” She moaned his name, arching again as he touched her mound. She was wet and hot and eager.

  He was more than ready. Too far gone to think rationally, he felt primitive, savage. He pushed himself deep inside her. She sheathed him fully, tight and warm.

  If he’d worried he wouldn’t know what to do, his body took care of that for him. Head thrown back, Geoffrey gave a primal cry and began to move.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Though Ellete slumbered peacefully beside her, Alanna could not sleep. Instead, she lay watching, struck by the child’s petite delicacy and femininity. Ellette was so different from Caradoc, even in slumber. Where Caradoc was a restless sleeper, Ellete barely moved. One hand tucked beneath her head, a faint smile curving her lips, she apparently dreamt peacefully of better things.

  Caradoc! Ah, Caradoc. How Alanna missed him. Soon, Goddess willing, she would hold him again in her arms.

  Though she wanted to think only of her son, thoughts of Darrick intruded. Alanna had never forgotten how his body once fit with hers, nor the wild, earth-shattering passion of their single mating so long ago. Once she had longed for him in every waking hour, with every breath she took. When they’d finally given in to their mutual desire, the result had been passionate and beautiful. What Morfran had done to her after, the brutality and ugliness of his rape, had managed to banish her memory of Darrick’s lovemaking.

  Until now. Recently, they’d begun to resurface. And now, where she’d once only ached, she burned.

  She feared to be alone with him – knowing how easily the passion flared to life between them. Having Ellette stay with her was her own way of cowardly making sure it did not. If Darrick were to come to her tent again, she doubted she would find the strength to resist him. Having the small child with her acted as a barrier.