He leapt to his feet. So this was how she wanted to play. A smile slid into place. He could play rough when need be.
He went after her, intent on bringing her down and holding her there until she realized he was the stronger of the two.
She slammed her fist into his sternum with a series of powerful blows before sending a kick to the groin and a whack across his back that sent him to his knees. “What the hell,” he wheezed.
She knelt down beside him. “Are you going to stop fooling around now?”
Fooling around? Was the woman mad? With a swift move he took her down hard, using his full weight to hold her, but damn if the woman didn’t have moves he had never seen in his life. Before he knew it, he was the one on his back with her straddling him. He would have liked the position if she hadn’t insisted in beating him to a pulp. Her fist slammed into his nose, sending a fine spray of crimson blood in the air.
“I think you broke my nose,” he wailed.
“Oh aye. I did.” She jumped off him and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Come on. Stand and greet me like a man.”
He saw stars, but she seemed not to care as she waved to him, enticing him to come after her.
“Now stop playing around and give me your best shot, Trey. Or don’t you have it in you?”
Fine, he hadn’t started this fight, but he was damn well going to finish it. He jumped to his feet, wiping away the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. He went after her.
He fought or rather he defended her blows and finally got in a few of his own. He was one bloody and bruised up mess by the time she was through with him. She still looked like a goddess with her dark silky hair shining bright in the sun’s rays. Her blue eyes assessed him with a wicked gleam.
He lay sprawled on the ground for the hundredth time, trying to catch his breath. She stood over him, offering her hand to help him up. “Truce,” she said. “You’ve had enough for one day.”
“Geeze, thanks.” He took hold of her hand and came to his feet. Funny how he ached everywhere imaginable and yet he’d never felt more alive. It was as if he made it through a trial of some sort and came out the victor.
“Aye, you did well,” she said, again with that mind reading ability of hers.
He gave her a half-cocked smile, mostly because his lip was swollen. “You beat the crap out of me and you’re telling me I did well.”
“Aye. You did well. You lived and will have another day to fight. There is no dishonor in that. Now come with me. There is a spring that will heal your wounds and I’ll rub a herb ointment on your body to sooth the tension in your muscles.”
“Now that sounds like something I’ll enjoy.”
The gleam in her pale blue eyes raked over him. “You were good on the field. You have the heart of a warrior. I wonder how you are when it comes to bed play.”
Did she just ask him how he was in bed?
“No answer?” She stepped closer, running her hand leisurely up his arm, using only her fingertips.
“I…that is…I have had no complaints,” he sputtered and cursed under his breath for his lack of finesse.
A low chuckle reached his red-tipped ears. “We shall see, won’t we?” Then she turned on her heels expecting him to follow.
Of course he did. How could he not?
He thought he would be led back to the tent but his quarters were within the castle of Dú Scáith, a fine stone structure with all the comforts of home. Fragrant rushes covered the wood floor of his room. The sconces were lit and a warm roaring fire glowed red and orange within the fireplace, adding more light. He smiled when he caught sight of the large spacious bed that stood near the hearth with furs spread across it for added warmth. This may be a dream of some sort, but Dú Scáith was in the heart of Scotland or Alba as it once was called and the nights could be quite chilly.
Draped in a towel that one of the servants had left for him, he followed the steps down to the lower level of the castle where a hot spring waited for him.
Scáthach told him the waters would sooth his aching muscles and heal his wounds. He hoped she was right. His muscles felt stretched to the limit and pain throbbed in places he didn’t know could ache with such a burning intensity. Even his hair hurt, if that was possible. Probably from the few times Scáthach had managed to drag his sorry arse back into the fight. He had never met anyone who was that determined to make him throw a punch. “You have the heart of a warrior”, she told him. Somehow that image fell short when he tried to imagine himself wielding a sword.
He was a professor at a community college and the only physical strain his muscles endured was a trip to the gym four times a week. This was all before he became ill three months ago. Only yesterday, lifting his head off the pillow had proved to be a challenge. However, in this realm his destiny had shifted. He wasn’t lying in a hospital bed. He was being trained for warfare by a goddess. “Just go with the flow, Brennan and see where it leads you,” he murmured under his breath.
The room below the castle was actually a cave. Rock forms of different sizes surrounded the spring and steps were carved out of the stones to give easier access into the pool. He left the towel on one of the rocks and slid beneath the froth that churned on the water’s surface. Warmth immediately seeped into his pores like tiny massaging fingertips, working to smooth the kinks out of his tired muscles. The rhythmic rise and fall of the water churning and rippling around him lulled him until he felt his eyelids closing. He jerked awake, knowing he couldn’t fall asleep while he lounged in a pool, unless he fancied a death by drowning.
He waded toward the steps intent on retrieving his towel and heading back to his quarters, but his gaze locked onto a vision walking toward him, a sacred beauty draped in a transparent garment. “Scáthach.” His voice came out in breathless wonderment. He wanted to cross the chasm that separated them and take her into his arms, feel the softness of her flesh as his hands caressed her. Damn, he would sell his soul for just one kiss.
The seductive smile she threw at him made his body heat to a boiling point, and he feared he’d melt into the bubbling froth of the spring.
“Were you expecting someone else, Trey Brennan?”
He loved the way his name rolled off her tongue as if she were a siren calling him home. “No. I didn’t think you’d…” He cleared his throat. To hell with what he thought. She was here and it looked like she planned on joining him. If she did, it would be at her own risk. She may be the master on the field, but this was his battleground and his skills of seduction would make her surrender to his will. He would win her over until a throbbing desire rolled into one slow roll of want.
She seemed to sense what he wanted and let the thin garment that covered her slide off her shoulders and pool at her feet. She sure had a body that pushed all his buttons. Her hair cascaded over one shoulder in riotous waves of black silk. She was a warrior firm and strong but also incredibly feminine and curvy, with a small waist and rounded hips. “You’re heart-stopping gorgeous,” he told her in all honesty.
Her long legged gait was a pleasure to watch as she sauntered over to the pool. For a second, he questioned his ability to seduce her. She was doing a mighty fine job of seducing him, but heck that was easy. All she had to do was show up.
She entered the water and glided toward him. Her hands caressed his chest with purpose. “Your heart is beating strong for one that has stopped.”
“It’s only an expression. You’re so beautiful.” He took her in his arms, feeling every curve against his body. God in heaven, he wanted her. She leaned close as if to kiss him, but her tongue stroked his lips with a soft sensual lick. If there had been any doubt of his need to take her, there was no uncertainty now. His hands plunged into her hair, pulling her head closer, and with one smooth move he covered her mouth with his own. His tongue boldly swept in and took more, kissing her with all the pent up stress of the past months, and she growled in approval.
Energy flowed between them, and the heat o
f it threatened his control. She must have sensed his need or maybe it mirrored her own. She wrapped her legs around his waist, giving him access to what his body craved. His hand stroked her back, finding the deep curve that gave rise to her firm bottom. Her hips flowed into his, their bodies intimately and perfectly aligned.
Her gasp of pleasure slid along his senses, making his body ache with need for release, but not yet. Aware of the strength and warmth of her flesh, he wanted to savor the embrace.
Gripping a fist full of her hair, he slanted his mouth over hers. Her lips demanded long slow kisses that would cloud the mind and he ravished with pleasure. He hadn’t moved inside her, but already her hot tunnel clutched and gripped him, threatening to make him lose his control.
Her mouth tore away from his with breathless abandonment and light smoldered in the liquid blue of her eyes. “Now, my warrior.”
There was no mistaking her meaning. His hands held her hips as their bodies moved in time with the hypnotic sound of the water lapping against the rocks. She clung to him desperately and his eyes closed relishing the way her flesh felt against him. His heart thudded erratically against his chest, wanting more of her. He sunk into her body over and over again until the heady rush of pleasure ignited as she spiraled up and over, taking him with her.
His mouth found hers again and his fingers slid into her hair, bringing her closer as he plundered her lips with a kiss that was sure to reach her soul.
His eyes opened and he looked at her with a satisfied smile. “You are a goddess.”
Her mouth pressed against the pulse in his neck. “Aye, I know.” Her seductive voice caressed him.
He could feel himself hardening inside of her again.
She pulled away to look at him in surprise. “My you’re a generous lover.”
His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It might be selfishness on my part. It’s been a long time.”
Her gaze met his with a mischievous gleam. “You were strong and determined on the field today, my warrior.” Her hand slid down his back, bringing every nerve ending to life. “As a reward, I’m honor bound to serve you this night.”
God, if he had died, then this was indeed heaven.
Chapter Five
Centuries had come and gone with her never finding a worthy partner. Trey Brennan had proved a surprise. She gave herself freely and he in turn had been a generous lover, catering to her needs with pleasure. She was a goddess and men worshiped her for many reasons, but Trey had treated her as a woman.
He slept soundly now, his breath slow and even as it should be in slumber. His body needed rest and time to rejuvenate. The hot spring’s magical properties had healed and mended his body in this realm, erasing the effects of the rigorous training he had endured yesterday. His skin was smooth and unblemished and when he awakened his muscles would feel worked but not worn.
Lying on her back, her gaze turned toward the window where she could see the silvery light as it broke through the thick cover of darkness. The new day dawned and her warrior would have to battle once more.
“You’re awake.” His deep voice was rough from sleep.
She turned toward him with a smile touching her lips. His hair was in disarray, standing on end with strands falling over his brow. Exquisite perfection with just a touch of wildness is how she liked her men and Trey Brennan was all that and more. “Aye. You have a long day ahead of you. Today you must learn the art of wielding a sword and …” she trailed off, wondering if she should teach him what she had taught Cú Chulainn. He seemed worthy or was her mind clouded by their love play? Trey may be a man, but he loved like a god. He used her body for his pleasure as well as gave it, and she had been the one to tire first, not him.
He moved to his side, sitting up and resting his head on the palm of his hand. His gaze held hers. “I must be honest. I have never used a weapon of any kind.”
She lifted his free arm, gliding her hand down the length of it, from shoulder to wrist, caressing the taunt muscles. “Your limbs were made to hold a sword. As we speak, one is already being fashioned for you. You will need to master the use of the weapon for the final battle.”
He pulled his hand away. “You keep mentioning this final battle. No matter what you think, I’m not a warrior. I’m just a man.”
It amazed her how Trey had impacted her resolve to save him. She wasn’t just doing this for the little boy who had prayed for her help. She was doing this for her, too. Trey’s smile, his gentle touch and aye, his fierce fighting instincts had seeped into her heart, making her more than determined to see he won the fight.
“Aye, you are a man, but you must become the warrior to win. It’s the only way you’ll survive.”
Confusion darkened the color of his expression and he sat up in bed, leaning against the back frame.
“What’s wrong?”
“For a moment I forgot that this was only a dream. You talk about me becoming a warrior and fighting a battle, but in reality I’m dying, aren’t I?” His amber eyes sought hers for the truth. “The fight you speak of is the fight for my life. Isn’t that right?”
She wouldn’t lie to him, but it didn’t make it easier to tell him the truth with the ache that settled behind her heart. He would survive or he would not. She screamed silently at the injustice of it all. Trey had a good soul, a man who would make a difference in the world and there was a little boy who still needed him. Death could not have him. She pursed her lips together, forging a plan in her mind. She would do it. She would teach him how to use the deadly barbed spear she had given to Cú Chulainn. Trey would not dishonor the weapon and would use it well. “Your nephew prayed to me,” she told him.
“Joey? He prayed to you?” Bewilderment clouded his features and she could see the wheels working as he tried to wrap some sense around what she told him.
She nodded. “The boy loves you and feared you had given up.”
He closed his eyes with a sigh. “I heard the doctors talking when they believed I slept.” He chuckled then without mirth. “I’m not a fool. I’ve slipped into a coma, and this is all a dream, a lovely, lovely dream.” His gaze met hers, wanting the truth from her. “The doctors believe there isn’t any more they can do for me.”
Words could cut like a knife as easily as a sword could cut through flesh. The doctors had given up on him. No wonder he had considered welcoming death. She sat up, too and reached for his hand, surprised at how tiny her own hand felt in his. “You can fight this. You can win.” She spoke with determination, trying to evoke hope in him.
He shook his head, his eyes looking achingly vulnerable.
“Listen to me,” she demanded. “You can win. I am Scáthach, the Warrior Goddess and I do not train men without worth.”
Chapter Six
She didn’t train men without worth. Her clear melodic voice demanded him to hear her words and obey them. The thing was: He didn’t know if any of this was real. Scáthach insisted there were many realms of existence and the Isle of the Mist was one such place. He’d love to believe her, but there could be another explanation. One, he wasn’t particularly fond of, but it proved more logical. His fever-racked brain had retreated to a safe part in his subconscious and planned on waiting it out in this fantasy of warrior meets goddess. This couldn’t last forever though. His body would finally give up. He never thought of himself as having such a vivid imagination, but who knew what kinds of drugs were being pumped through his veins. This could be a side effect.
Some side effect, too. Taking a trip to the magical Dú Scáith of Alba and making love to a demanding goddess who insisted he had the heart of a warrior—yep, it was one hell of a fantasy.
He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration then stopped. “What the hell?” His nose was broken yesterday and hurt like the devil. He gingerly felt his nose, expecting to feel pain but there was none. “The spring.” She told him the waters would heal him. He hadn’t thought literally. He lifted his shirt and stared at his torso, feeling his ribs
where a nasty blue and purple bruise had been, but only smooth unmarred skin met his eyes. He hadn’t noticed last night, but then again he had been preoccupied. He pursed his lips together. “Of course you’re healed, dimwit. This is a dream.” He said the words, but he didn’t believe them wholeheartedly. Somehow this was all too real. “I will have to fight for my life.” The realization of what was happening finally dawned on him. A quick assessment of what he would fight told him he might not come out the victor.
He took a deep breath against the panic that threatened to take over. “Do you want to live, Brennan?” he asked himself. The answer was simple: yes. Hope was in his reach and he’d be damned if he didn’t take it.”
He grabbed his sword and went out to find Scáthach.
She stood waiting for him in the courtyard dressed to kill figuratively and literally. Her long legs slightly apart and her hands were on her hips. She lifted her chin and gave him a blue-eyed stare of approval. Then she leaned down and picked up a weapon. It appeared to be a long barbed spear. One direct hit with a weapon like that would prove deadly. “This is my creation, the Gáe Bulg,” she told him with pride.
He knew his Irish legends. Scáthach had only taught Cú Chulainn the technique of using the spear and he had defeated Ferdiad in a final battle with it. Some believed the Gáe Bulg was made from the bone of a sea monster. Seeing the weapon for himself, he could well believe it had been. The barbs, ivory in color were long and jagged, a weapon that would tear its way into the flesh, slicing muscle and severing arteries on its way. His gaze sought hers. “Why are you showing me this?”
“Why you ask?” She shook her head with a smile. “I plan on teaching you its secret, Trey Brennan.”
She didn’t just hand over the infamous weapon. He would first have to prove he could handle it properly without spearing himself by accident. She was ruthless in her teaching, taking him down again and again, but he would force himself to his feet each and every time.
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