I am in control of what happens here, she reminded herself. Me. I have chosen this moment.
One large finger slid inside her and her muscles contracted involuntarily, causing her to lift her hips up off the ground as some primal groan escaped from deep within her.
In control? Who was she fooling? She’d lost any control the minute Hall touched her. No one could control a feeling as intense as this.
He fit himself between her legs, and her feet hooked behind him as if the two of them had been carved by a master crafter to fit together as one piece.
He gripped her waist with his hands and pressed against her, and again her hips lifted up to meet him.
This time it was no finger entering to stretch her, but a shaft of velvet-covered iron. Slowly, inexorably sliding forward and back, pressing deeper inside her with each small thrust, he stoked the fire of an aching need growing within her.
He filled her, his hands cradling her lower back as her body clenched and tightened around him in sharp, rhythmic little contractions that brought with them a momentary precious relief.
She looked up at his face as he rose over her, his back arched, his head thrown back.
Maybe, just maybe, being in control was little more than seizing the moment and snatching from life what you wanted, as she had done when she’d initiated their lovemaking.
If she could do that, she could do anything. No matter how hard it might be, she would find the strength somewhere deep inside, and she would do what was necessary.
Even if that ended up being something as difficult as walking away from the man who would hold her heart forever. He had already made it clear he would be leaving her when their quest was done—but was that still his intent?
To know the answer to that question would require that she swallow her pride and ask it. Orabilis had cautioned her that she must let go to hold on, and that was what she would do. She would let go of her pride to hold on to her chance for happiness.
NOT EVEN THE guarantee of eternity in Valhalla could make him feel as good as he did at this very moment.
Hall kissed the top of Bridget’s head and tightened his arms around her. To lie like this, with this woman wrapped in his embrace, was all he needed in life and all he could ever want.
Then his stomach growled loudly.
And food, of course. Give him Bridget and food, and the rest of the world could find its own way without him.
With another kiss to the top of her head, he tossed back his heavy fur and hurriedly dressed before tending to the rather well done rabbit hanging over their fire.
“Meal’s ready,” he announced with a chuckle.
“Right, then,” Bridget muttered.
She reached out from under the fur they’d shared to snag her shift, appearing from the covering only after she’d dropped the garment over her head. Wrapping the fur around herself, she came forward and accepted the piece of meat he held out to her.
Even burned, it was the best rabbit he’d ever tasted. The way he felt right now, he suspected that even straw and dirt might taste good.
“You ken, do you no, that that”—Bridget tilted her head toward the spot where they had laid together—“is no going to happen again.”
The meat that had seconds before tasted like a king’s banquet took on the texture of the dirt and straw Hall had imagined.
“What are you saying?”
Bridget shrugged. “We’re very different people, Hall, each with our own path in life. Could you honestly say to me, here and now, that you’d give up all you know, all you have, to stay here with me?”
He wanted to say yes more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. He wanted to say the words she obviously wanted to hear from him.
But could he be like his father and think only of his own happiness? Could he abandon all those desperate souls calling upon Thor for help?
No. That simply wasn’t who he was.
“As I thought. You dinna have to speak it aloud; the look upon yer face is answer enough.” Bridget tossed the bone she held into the fire. “Morning light will come soon enough, and we have our journey cut out for us. Sleep well, Hall.”
She crossed to the opposite side of the fire and lay down, pulling the fur tightly around her, her back turned to him.
Sleep well? He doubted he would sleep at all. Not that he wanted to sleep, knowing that his dreams would be filled with nothing but Bridget, as they always were.
He should have counted himself fortunate to have had those precious moments with her to hold in his memory. But he couldn’t. The memory would torment him for the rest of his life.
Not having something you imagined to be what you wanted wasn’t nearly so awful as not having something you knew was exactly what you wanted.
After this night, Hall knew that Bridget MacCulloch was the only thing he wanted. And the one thing he could never have.
Twenty-five
IF SHE CLOSED her eyes and pretended hard enough, Bridget could almost make herself believe she rode this trail alone. But since closing her eyes meant missing valuable signs her quarry might have left behind, she forced herself to keep them open.
It hadn’t worked that well, anyway.
Hall’s big destrier outpaced her mount and constantly pulled ahead of her, forcing her to face the reality of his riding at her side.
Reality was not the most pleasant companion today. Neither was Hall O’Donar.
They’d barely spoken to one another as they’d broken camp this morning, or for the hours they’d spent following Mathew’s trail.
She’d have liked to believe that he carried a lump in his chest to match the one she felt in hers.
The more likely explanation was that he was simply embarrassed for her that she’d expect one bedding would convince him to give up his position and status for the likes of her.
He didn’t need to be. She was embarrassed enough for both of them.
Embarrassed, but not sorry she’d pressed the issue. Even if she could find some way to take back the question she’d asked, she wouldn’t. Though confirming the truth hurt, it was better to put that ridiculous dream to rest than to continue harboring it in her heart. It freed her to concentrate on the task at hand.
Scanning the ground in front of her, she searched for fresh signs of the boy they followed. “Have you seen any—”
“Shh!” Hall held up his hand, tilting his head to the side in the way he did when he listened to those things she couldn’t hear, a small frown wrinkling his brow. “One man, afoot,” he murmured. “Heading toward us.”
“Toward us?” Brie echoed. “Surely that canna be Mathew. But it could be someone who has seen him.”
Hall shook his head, the frown still fixed on his features as he urged his horse to a canter.
Brie matched his speed, pulling her animal to a halt only after they rounded the next hill.
Against all her expectations, ahead of her on the road, walking toward them, was Mathew. The boy spotted them almost immediately and looked around as if trying to choose a path of escape.
“Stay where you are, lad,” Hall called out to him. “I’ve no wish to harm you.”
Mathew lifted the great sword he carried in front of him as they approached, holding it at the ready, his gaze fixed upon Hall. “Keep yer distance, the both of you, and allow me free passage. We’ve all seen what the Dream Guardian can do. I willna hesitate to use her if pressed.”
Brie had no intention of letting Hall anywhere near that blade again.
“What rubbish,” she muttered, urging her horse to gallop ahead of Hall’s so that she might reach Mathew first.
He seemed genuinely surprised when he recognized her. “Bridget! It pleases me greatly to see that you made good yer escape from the laird of Tordenet. No everyone was so lucky, I fear.”
“Put down the weapon, Mathew.” She was in no mood for pleasantries, not with him threatening Hall as he did. “Put it down right now. Dinna make me pull out my bow and beat
you about the head with it.”
Hall arrived as she uttered her threat, his glare reflecting his anger.
“I have no idea what this Dream Guardian blether is, but I need that sword you’re holding, boy. And the scrolls you took. We’ve no time to waste.”
Mathew pulled the sword close to his body, tip still pointing toward the sky. “I named her Dream Guardian because, with her at my side, the red-eyed beast canna enter my dreams. You canna have her. She is mine.”
“Red-eyed beast, eh?” Hall exchanged a look with Brie before dismounting and approaching them. “That would be Fenrir. I think you’ve seen his work. He’s a beast of considerable power, and a terrible scourge to release upon this world. The death and destruction he’ll bring will put entire armies to shame. I wouldn’t want that burden of guilt to lie upon my conscience.”
“Nor would I,” Mathew agreed.
As they spoke, Brie shifted her stance, edging herself between Hall and Mathew. All it would take would be one small accident to re-create the precarious situation she’d worked so hard to remedy.
“It was this Beast Fenrir who murdered Hugo,” Hall said.
Terror clouded Mathew’s eyes and he clutched the sword to his chest.
“And by your actions at this moment,” Hall continued, “you are responsible for Fenrir remaining in this world. By your actions, you will be responsible for the atrocities he will commit in the name of evil. Atrocities much worse than the fate that Hugo met.”
Mathew’s face paled and he stumbled back a couple of paces. “What you say is not possible. It canna be my fault. I’ve done nothing. I’ve harmed no one.”
Hall shrugged, his expression void of all emotion. “So you may believe. But you withhold what I need. Without the sword and the scrolls, I cannot defeat Fenrir. Without the sword and the scrolls, the Beast will be free to carry out whatever evil he wants, and we will all be lost. For that, you will be to blame.”
“I will not be to blame.” Mathew dropped the sword to the ground and retreated another pace. “Take the sword. Do with it as you will. But I canna give you the scrolls. They are gone.”
Brie placed her foot squarely across the blade of the sword, just in case Mathew changed his mind.
“Gone?” Hall growled. “Gone where? What have you done with them?”
Mathew suddenly crumpled to the ground to sit, his head in his hands. “Dobbie Caskie. When I awoke this morning, he was gone with everything I had excepting the sword.”
Hall set his hands on his hips, staring down the road. “Then we must find young Dobbie. Would I be correct in supposing that having lost your possessions is what sent you backtracking?”
Mathew nodded. “I had no horse, no jewels or scrolls to sell, no food, nothing. No way to continue on with what I planned to do.”
In the face of the boy’s desolation, Brie couldn’t stop herself from asking, “And what was that, Mathew? What was yer plan?”
“After I found Hugo—” Mathew paused, eyes closed, to take a shuddering breath before he spoke again. “After I found what was left of Hugo in the laird’s solar at Tordenet, I realized it had fallen to me to provide for Eleyne. I took what treasures I’d found, planning to sell them so that I might collect my cousin and return her to our home, with the power of a fortune in my pocket as protection against our having left in the first place.”
“Surely you dinna require silver to return to yer own family.” The idea was preposterous to Brie. Family was family no matter what. Even her uncle, obsessed as he was with finding her a husband, would never require silver from her to return home.
“No to return, but to return safely. My uncle is no a forgiving man. Nor a charitable one.”
“We’ll have to deal with all that later,” Hall interrupted brusquely. “Finding Dobbie and the scrolls is our priority now. Where did you last see him?”
Hall leaned over to reach toward the sword, but Brie stopped him with a hand to his chest.
“Do you really think that’s wise? Best we keep the blade away from you, aye?” She looked up at him. “I’m thinking I should carry it, no you. Just in case.”
“As you wish. For now,” he agreed, and turned to remount his horse before sticking out a hand toward Mathew. “Well, come on, boy. What are you waiting for? We’ve a thief to catch and our time is running low.”
“Yer no going to leave me here?”
“Dinna be such a dullard,” Brie scoffed, reaching down to pick up the sword. “What do you take us for? We would never abandon you out here.”
Mathew rushed past her toward Hall, as if he feared they might change their minds, but any words the two exchanged as the boy climbed up onto the big horse were lost to Brie when her hand closed around the sword’s hilt.
The hilt molded to her hand as if it had been made for her, heating her palm. A great whoosh of roaring air filled her ears like a mighty storm wind blowing through the forest. It carried with it the voices of unseen hordes whispering messages into her mind that she couldn’t quite decipher.
She dropped the sword and the noise abruptly subsided, leaving a strange emptiness.
“Is there a problem?” Hall asked.
Again she reached for the weapon, and again the rush assaulted her ears. This time, prepared for it, she ignored the distraction. “No problem but a clumsy hold on a heavy blade.”
Crossing to her horse, she slid the weapon into the sheath on her saddle before mounting the animal.
Her hand still tingled from contact with the sword, but she could determine no other ill effects. After what she’d seen the blade do to Hall, she considered herself lucky.
When she lifted her gaze, she found Hall and Mathew staring at her.
“What’s all this dallying about? We dinna have time to waste. On with the both of you!”
THOUGH HE’D SEEN no sign of tracks, Hall had been hearing riders for the last half hour. Four . . . no, five of them, moving slowly, all spread out. Perfect formation for a search party.
The MacGahan men, or more of Torquil’s? There was only one way to know for sure.
He’d delayed sharing the information as long as possible.
“Make yourselves ready. Just around the next curve of the trail, we’ll be overtaking some riders.”
Bridget visibly jerked in her saddle, as if her mind had wandered far afield. To her credit, she recovered instantly and pulled her bow from her back to fit an arrow into it.
“Dobbie, do you think?” she asked, her gaze fixed on the spot ahead where the path disappeared around the side of a large hill.
“No. Too many of them and all on horseback. Five riders as best I can tell. Could well be more of Torquil’s men.”
Sharing his saddle, Mathew tensed. “Turn back. If it’s Torquil’s men ahead, we should turn back now. I have no desire to cross their paths again.”
“Calm down, Mathew.” Bridget had dropped her bow to her side but kept the arrow nocked in place. “It could be anybody.”
“We’ll know soon enough.”
As they rounded the hill the men he’d heard came into sight, along with a large ragged dog that loped toward them, tongue hanging out of his mouth as if he wore a wide grin.
“Jamesy!” Bridget leaned forward in her saddle and kicked her horse, sending the animal into a full gallop as she waved one arm in the air. “Jamesy!”
“I take it those are no Torquil’s men.” Relief was evident in Mathew’s voice.
“They are not,” Hall confirmed, urging his own mount to a trot.
“You seem well recovered, O’Donar,” Jamesy greeted him, though his look was anything but welcoming. “And still encouraging my sister to pursue this dangerous path, I see.”
Hall bristled at the accusation he heard in Jamesy’s tone, but he held back any comment. He’d likely feel the same if the roles were reversed, and a sister of his traveled with some stranger on a perilous cause. His best course of action was to maintain as much distance as possible from this argument.<
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“You think he could stop me from doing what I choose?” Bridget, on the other hand, appeared to be in no mood to hold back. “You tried as much when you left me behind at Castle MacGahan. How successful were you at that, brother?”
Unlike his sister, Jamesy seemed in full control of his temper. He turned his emotionless stare from his sister to Hall. “My apologies, O’Donar. It would appear all our hands are tied when it comes to Brie risking her safety to do as she pleases.”
“No apologies necessary, MacCulloch. I’d be the first to agree this is no safe place for your sister.” Not that he could think of a better alternative right now. Staying with them was much safer than venturing off on her own. “But I have little to say about what she does.”
“You have nothing to say about what I do, and no right to say it,” she asserted, pushing her wild hair back from her face.
“And what in the name of the Seven have you done to yer face?” Jamesy pulled his horse next to his sister’s and pushed back the hair covering her cheeks. “Oh, la, dinna tell me you gave yerself over to the auld stories. What fool allowed you to do this?” He turned a sharp eye toward Hall.
“No one allowed me to do anything. I did this of my own free will, choosing to honor the truth of our ancestors.” With a toss of her head, Bridget turned her mount, pulling away from the group to wait alone.
“They were but stories, Bridget,” her brother called after her. “Stories told to a small child to quiet her down for the night. And now look what you’ve done to yerself.”
“I dinna believe I’ve ever heard these stories, of beautiful women who decorate themselves as they might decorate their tapestries.” Jamesy’s friend Finn drew his horse closer, peering at Bridget. “But I would like to hear more of them.”
“Our mother’s stories,” Jamesy explained, shaking his head in disgust. “Children’s fantasies about our ancient ancestors, who painted their bodies with magical symbols to protect them in battle and frighten their enemies.”
“They’re not fantasies,” Bridget called, leaving little doubt she had heard every word even if she didn’t choose to respond to her brother.
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