Oath of a Warrior

by Mary Morgan

  She gaped at him. “Ye should laugh more often.”

  “Aye, another point my family would agree upon.” Turning his back on her, he bent and cast his hand over the ground. Plucking forth a violet, he turned around and held it out to Erina. “I shall endeavor to laugh more, but only with ye.”

  Erina glanced at the offering. “What a beautiful shade of lavender.” Taking the flower from him, her fingers brushed over his, and Rory’s heart raced. “I don’t recall seeing any along the path.”

  “They are a beauty,” he uttered softly, though his meaning was meant for her.

  She clasped the flower against her breasts. “Thank ye.”

  They stood silently together. Clouds drifted by. A doe and her fawn ambled among the trees, uncaring of their presence. Leaves flutter down from the oak trees, and time moved forward with no sign of Erina’s friend.

  Erina broke the quiet serenity with a heavy sigh. “I fear Betty will not be coming here today.”

  He glanced down at her. “Do ye believe the lass will attempt to travel at night?”

  “Goodness, nae. But I have to consider how badly she requested this item.”

  “Which is what?”

  She averted his gaze. “Only a small pouch of herbs.”

  A love charm. “For?”

  When she lifted her head toward him, he noted the red splotches on her cheek. “They are herbs to attract the man she wishes to marry.”

  “Ahh…’tis a shame the lass cannot let her heart guide them both.”

  “Aye. Love can be fickle. I did tell her this.” Erina waved her hand about. “Though did she listen to my words? Nae. Mind ye, when I have had others making the same request, I always try to counsel them first.” She held the violet out in front of her. “Love can be as fleeting as the flower I hold. One moment it enters your life with its beauty, and the next, it withers and dies.”

  The twilight danced off her auburn locks, and Rory ached to take her into his arms. How he wanted to bring love into her heart once again. “Are ye speaking from experience?” He stepped nearer, her scent filling him.

  “Me?” She shook her head. “Nae,” she whispered.

  Rory brushed his hand against the side her gown. Ye deserve to love again.

  Erina glanced sideways at him. “And ye? Has love ever claimed your heart?”

  Aye. Ye have captured my heart and soul. ’Tis yours until the end of my days, Erina. No other will I take. No other shall I love. “Nae,” he lied.

  Smiling sadly, she tucked the flower in the bodice of her gown. “I assumed with all your conquests ye would have found love.”

  Regret filled him of her knowledge of his bedroom liaisons. They had meant nothing to him. Rory longed to shout his love for her. He withdrew his hand from near her side and stepped away. Raking a hand through his hair, he said, “None have captured my heart.”

  When she said nothing further, Rory glanced over his shoulder. A frown marred her features.

  “Ye are a man on a journey, aye? Love will find ye one day, Rory MacGregor.”

  His breathing became labored, and he slowly made his way back to her. He brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. “I might be on a journey, but love is not on the path.”

  “Why?” she asked, trembling from his touch.

  Rory placed his hands on her shoulders. “I am destined for another destiny in life. One where there is no room for love.”

  “So ye rather give your body, but not your heart?”

  Her words slashed viciously at his soul, and he hated himself. How true she spoke. Never once did he consider what he had been doing when he took others to his bed. “Mayhap one day I will share a truth with ye.”

  Sadness filled her eyes. “Soon ye and I will depart. There are nae truths to be told. Ye owe me nothing. Though, I have a question for ye.”

  “Ask me anything.”

  She arched a brow. “Only one. Do ye regret kissing me at the smithy?”

  Unprepared for her question, Rory remained silent. The air warmed around them, and he brought her closer to him. Unable to stop the tide of his affections, he replied, “Aye.”

  “Oh…” Erina bent her head.

  Rory cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Since that day, I have thought of nothing else, but the taste of ye on my lips. It was wrong, Erina, for I crave more.”

  “May I ask one more question?”

  His mouth twitched in humor, though he knew his eyes held desire. “Anything.”

  “Will ye kiss me one last time, Rory?” She placed her hands upon his chest and quickly added, “Only one.”

  Grabbing her around the waist with one hand, he crushed her to him. Rory leaned near her ear. “Then let this last kiss be my parting gift to ye, Erina MacIntyre.” His mouth grazed her earlobe and traveled a path down the side of her neck. “When your nights are filled with longing, recall the fiery claim of my lips.”

  Erina moaned, and Rory sought her mouth, taking fiery possession. The touch of her lips on his sent a shock wave coursing through his body. His tongue sought entry, demanding hers. Rory devoured the taste of all she had to give. Blood pounded in his brain, and his cock swelled. He held nothing back, giving Erina all his passion.

  One kiss would never be enough.

  The world spun around them, and the more he deepened the kiss, the more Rory ached to profess all to the woman who held his heart and future.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “A Fenian Warrior is honor bound by a code of ancient laws. If broken, a schism can fracture the foundation of the Brotherhood.”

  ~Chronicles of the Fae

  Erina fought the desire to toss off her cloak as they made their way along the path near the river’s edge. Though the late afternoon contained a biting wind, her body burned in places she had never imagined. Rory kissed her for what seemed an eternity. When he had finally released her, his eyes glowed in the soft fading light. Never before had she witnessed such color. Did the Gods gift him with the light of the stars? She was sorely tempted to ask him, but found herself tongue-tied and weak after his passionate kiss. Each time she licked her lips, Rory’s taste filled her.

  “How can I want another, when ye have showed me such desire?” she whispered.

  As she ducked under a heavy limb, she let out a sigh. Though they were attracted to one another, their journeys were leading in two different directions, and she must close the door on her feelings for this man. He had granted her one last request, so now it was time to move forward.

  Yet, each time she glanced at him, she yearned to ask what journey he was on that would not include love. “A life without love is only half a life,” she muttered.

  An owl hooted in the distance, bringing Erina’s focus to her surroundings.

  “Mocking me, wise one?”

  The owl took flight from one of the trees, and she watched its ascent. With no one to talk to, Erina was often spouting her problems into the trees for any animal—fur or feathered—to hear her troubles. Why she thought they cared was a wonder. However, it did bring her comfort.

  “What would ye do, Grandmother? Can ye show me a sign? Speak from the veil?”

  Erina brought her horse to a halt. Looking around the woods, she waited and listened. The rustle of leaves swirled around her. She removed one of her gloves and clutched her pendant beneath her cloak. Closing her eyes, she slowed her breathing and allowed herself to become one with the land and spirits.

  Oberon snorted and pawed the dirt, but Erina kept still.

  Something touched her face, and she opened her eyes to find Rory staring at her.

  “Where are ye?”

  “I…I was thinking of my Grandmother,” she stammered, frustrated with his intrusion.

  “Has she crossed over?”

  Erina lowered her head. “Aye. In early spring.”

  Rory reached out and squeezed her hand. “Yet, her spirit surely is with ye.”

  Smiling, she lifted her head and nodded.
“Most do not speak in this manner. I find it refreshing to ken another.”

  He drew back. “And ’tis rare to encounter someone who embraces all the land has to offer, including the ancients.”

  Erina stared at him, the stubborn set of his jaw, the way his brow lifted in challenge. She noticed others feared him, but she found Rory intriguing. “I wish ye could have known my grandmother. She spoke as ye do, and believed in the old ways.”

  Charming creases framed his smile. “So, she was your teacher.”

  “Everything I am is because of her.”

  “What about your mother?”

  They rode along, side by side, and Erina shifted in her saddle. “I never knew her. She died giving birth to me.”

  Rory halted his horse. “My apologies. I did not ken.”

  Erina stole a glance at him. His expression was one of shock, and she could not fathom the reason. “There is nae need.”

  He returned to her side. “Then ’tis fortunate ye had a loving and wise grandmother to teach ye.”

  “Aye, but ’tis fear that rules the land. Even my own brother worries.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “Why can’t we follow our own hearts when it comes to a certain belief? Nae, we must be ordered to obey one over the other. So many cower with each new queen or king, changing their religious convictions as surely as they change their clothing.”

  “Are ye fearful of the new king?”

  Erina waved her hand dismissively. “The man is many miles away, so I am not troubled. Although, I am nae fool either. There are many here who would point a finger at their neighbor, accusing them of some foul deed.”

  “People are ignorant of what they cannot understand,” acknowledged Rory, leading his horse upward and in front of hers.

  “Aye,” agreed Erina.

  As they came in sight of Kileburn, they journeyed once again side by side, and she was saddened their time together was ending. The sun slipped silently behind them, and she wiped her nose on the back of her gloved hand. “What about your family? Do ye visit them often?”

  He gave her a dubious look and remained silent.

  She reached out and touched him on his arm. “Forgive me if ’tis too painful to speak about.”

  Rory glanced down at her hand. “Nae,” he uttered softly and then lifted his gaze to hers. “Sadly, I have not seen my mother in some time. My father passed to the other side many years ago during a battle.”

  “Nae siblings?”

  His smile was one filled with sadness. “Only a brother. Our paths have not crossed in many months. I pray one day I shall see him.”

  Smiling, Erina squeezed his arm and pulled away. “Your words are filled with love when ye speak of them. When ye take your leave, I suggest seeking out your mother. Time is precious. Here today and gone tomorrow.”

  He gaped at her, and Erina laughed. “Forgive me. I have an inclination to speak in odd ways. So my brother keeps telling me.”

  Rory stunned her by leaning forward and brushing a feather-like kiss on her mouth. When he broke free, he whispered, “Never stop.”

  Nudging his horse, he galloped on ahead, and Erina urged her mount to follow.

  As they entered the portcullis, Darren strode forth from the bailey. He cast his sight to Erina and then to Rory. A frown marred his features as he approached her.

  “Let me assist ye,” he offered, reaching his hands out to her.

  “I am stunned to see ye here, Darren. I assumed ye would be returning tomorrow,” she stated, allowing him to help her dismount.

  “I was able to conclude my business earlier.” His tone gruff.

  “Are ye cross with someone? Or is your tone directed at me?” asked Erina, taking the reins of her horse and leading him to the stables.

  “Both.”

  Erina halted her stride and looked at the man. “Since I have not seen ye in several days, please explain.”

  Darren approached and gently removed the reins from her hands. “Forgive me for saying, but why did ye not take Catherine and another guard with ye? Ye barely ken the MacGregor. We grew—”

  “We?” she interrupted. She tapped her foot in frustration. “Did my brother happen to tell ye I argued against having Rory escort me? Or that I wished to have another one of his men? Or that it was his suggestion to have Rory come with me?”

  Darren bowed his head. “He shared none of this with me.”

  “Humph! I reckon my brother is trying to stir the pot and cause friction. I suppose he grew frantic when the day grew late.”

  The man snapped his gaze to meet hers. “For what purpose would he do this?”

  “One can only guess, Darren. Ye will have to ask him.”

  “He is my laird. I dinnae question his orders.”

  Erina shook her head and turned from him. As she walked away, she tossed out over her shoulder, “And he is your friend, so consider my words.”

  Her brother was most likely seeking suitors for her and considered Darren to be one of them. Furthermore, her brother was a fool to even think of the man. His guard was more like a brother to her and not husband material. If she didn’t love Graham so much, she would disregard his orders to remain and depart in the morning. She was sorely tempted to make a love charm for her brother, so all the women would become besotted and drive him mad.

  Upon entering the castle, Thane bounded toward her. After greeting him with a gentle pat, Erina hurriedly swept past the Great Hall. As her foot landed on the first stone step, her brother’s words made her pause once again.

  “Come walk with me to my solar, Erina.”

  Fighting the barb on her tongue, she turned and followed him along the corridor. The glow from the candles flickered, and their shadows followed her. She shivered slightly and pulled her cloak tighter. No matter how many years had passed, she always dreaded walking back into this room. When Graham opened the door, he stepped aside to let her enter. Erina hesitated, but lifted her chin and went inside.

  Though the room was warm with a blazing fire, her body trembled. Memories of her father standing at his desk flooded her mind, and Erina gripped the back of one of the chairs.

  “Ye are as ugly as the one who bore you,” sneered her father. “Do ye practice the dark arts like she did?” He pointed a finger at her. “I ken she bewitched me, luring me to her bed with chants. I should banish her from the lands.”

  Erina stood rooted to the floor. The man in front of her could not be her father. He spoke evil, and his eyes were one of a monster.

  “Can ye not speak? Has the devil taken your tongue?”

  Her chest tightened from fear. “I am Erina Mac…MacIntyre.”

  “Nae!” he bellowed. “Ye are not mine. No claim shall ye make on my name or lands.” He stepped from his desk and loomed over her. “From this day forward, do not show your face at Kileburn. Ye are naught. Take that message back to your mother.”

  She swallowed the bile coating her throat and turned to leave. Throwing the door open, she glanced over her shoulder. “Your message will die in this room, since my mother has been dead these past ten years.”

  “Erina? Erina, what is wrong?”

  Graham’s soothing words and touch banished the cold and fear she once held for the room. Their father was dead and buried. She would not allow the ghosts of the past to haunt her. Lifting her head, she blinked back the tears. “This was the place where I had the one and only conversation with our father.”

  Her brother wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “And did he spout pleasantries?”

  Nervous laughter bubbled forth, and Erina coughed into her hand. “Nae, quite the opposite.” Letting out a sigh, she added, “Did ye ken I was only ten?”

  “Since this is the first ye have mentioned the conversation, nae. Our father was a cruel man, Erina. None of this surprises me.” He led her to a chair by the hearth and went to a side table. “At least ye only suffered his bruising words—once. I had to endure the lash and his verbal outbursts many times.”

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nbsp; “Goodness, I did not ken.”

  Graham reached for a pitcher and poured some wine into two cups. Handing one to her, he then took a seat across from Erina. “Ye and I have not spoken of the cruelty of our father. We have kept it locked inside us. Your scars are inside your mind and heart, whereas, mine are on my back.” He swirled his wine and gazed with intent inside the cup. “After the first lashing—at five—I made a vow that when I had bairns I would never take a hand to them. Nor would I let his words put fear into my mind. When the lashing began, I thought of other things. Not once did I cry out, which only made him seethe with fury.”

  Placing her cup down, Erina extended her hand and he grasped it. “I believe we both made vows to not let our blood rule us. Ye are a much wiser, kinder, and generous laird, Graham. Ye will never be like him.”

  “In truth, we have the blood of our mothers to guide us,” he offered quietly.

  Erina withdrew her hand and picked up her cup. “I’d like to believe my mother is guiding me, along with my grandmother.” She took a sip of the wine, letting the warmth settle within her. “Why did ye wish to speak to me?”

  Graham chuckled low. “To give ye yet another lecture. But I can see that bringing ye to this room was an error on my part.”

  She twirled a finger in the air. “Mayhap, our mothers are warning ye not to speak your mind.”

  He downed the contents of his cup and leaned forward. “I deem I must always speak truthfully with ye, Erina.”

  Worried and confused, she asked, “Is this about my journey today? Are ye concerned because Rory and I returned late? Or do ye not trust me? Because if so, be warned, I did argue for another.” Stop rambling, Erina or the man will become suspicious.

  From the furrow of his brow, she thought she’d struck a nerve. “I think,” Graham said carefully, “that ye should consider what ye are doing. Making love charms is seen by the church and others as devil’s work.”

  Erina gripped the side of the chair. “How…did Rory speak to ye? Did he run to your side with this knowledge the moment he stepped foot inside the castle?” Traitorous man. She thought they understood each other. How dare he!

  “Nae, sister. Do not blame Rory. Remember, the walls here at Kileburn are rife with ears listening everywhere. Eventually, all is revealed, even to the laird.”