Roger asked nothing else, which suited William, for he had little or nothing else he could say in reply to queries. In battle, William was skilled, strong, and ruthless, but he always controlled his actions and the path he took when fighting. Just a few minutes ago, he’d felt like a madman, ready to kill for no reason.
Though his control had returned, William could not rid himself of the suspicion that this was but the first strange incident and that many more dangerous incidents would follow in his quest for the king. Peering over the rolling lands just beyond the forest’s edge, he knew he and his men were not safe.
“Send Herve to Gifford to find out what he can about Lord Hugh’s whereabouts,” he said, handing the skin back to Roger. “And send Gautier for the rest of the men. They should travel in small groups so they do not draw attention.” When Roger nodded, he continued, first pointing to a place higher on a nearby hill. “We will move our camp up there. Better to see the whole of this valley and easier to defend ourselves.”
“Defend?” Roger stared at him. “You think we will be attacked?”
“Aye.”
William knew they would be. He could see it in his thoughts, the waves of men pouring from the keep and out into the forest and running up the hill at them. No, not men . . . Though they resembled men, there was something almost inhuman about them.
He could also not determine the time or the day of his vision; he knew only that they would come. “Aye, we will be attacked.”
He spent the next few hours making a list of supplies and discussing the weapons they would need. Two of the men waiting outside Dunfermline were experts at the long bow and would be sorely needed in the coming battle. Battles.
William had gold from the king and could buy the weapons they needed—and that might be the course of action he would take. First he needed his men in place. Then he must determine Lord Hugh’s plans.
And he must discover the reason why the young woman Brienne was so important to him.
Later, when the sun was high in the late-February sky, he and Roger moved their camp higher on the hillside.
Suddenly it made sense to William: This was more than just the king’s quest. There were other players in the game that was unfolding around him. He just could not see his place on the board yet.
* * *
The fire hummed inside of her, whispering its call, its invitation, quietly and testing its bounds. She could not ignore or resist it now that it had awakened. Though Brienne carried out her daily tasks over the next days, her thoughts drifted to the extraordinary exchanges she’d had with both James and the warrior William.
James had never kissed her in spite of his obvious affection for her. His proposal and her father’s permission had emboldened him to take such an action now. A pang of sadness pierced her, as she knew that she would never marry him. The words she would use to tell him eluded her, but that did not change the result or the disappointment she would see in his eyes when she did.
William had not returned to the village. Gavin had warned her with stern words to avoid the strangers. He’d reminded her of what could happen to women caught outside the village by strangers. He begged her to stay within the well-worn paths and among those she knew. And for all his concern and warnings, Brienne watched along the shadows and at the edges of the village for any sign that the outsider had returned.
After she’d finished her chores, Brienne walked along the stream, feeling the fire push at her control. What would happen if she let go? Would she truly be able to create fire? Could she control it as she had in her father’s smithy? Would it do her bidding?
Searching for a secluded spot where she would not be seen, she decided to test out this new power. As she crept along the water’s edge, she saw him. He knelt there, scooping water in his hands and drinking it. His brown hair hung down, hiding his face from her, but she remembered his fierce gaze and his pale blue eyes. After her father’s words of warning and her mother’s plea to remain close, Brienne knew she should be wary and probably afraid, but all she noticed was a shameful amount of curiosity—about the man, his purpose, and the world from which he came.
“Good day,” he said when he’d turned and noticed her. Standing, he shook off the water from his hands, wiped them on his cloak, and nodded to her. She noticed how he towered over her, though not as much as James did.
“Good day,” she replied. Glancing around the area, she saw no one else. He was alone.
“You are looking for the others? My men?” he asked. She nodded. “They are not here.”
His gaze did not waver, and a small shiver of excitement and nervousness pooled deep within her. No man ever stared at her in this manner or took more than a sidelong glance at her. Oh, her father could meet her eyes when they talked, and her mother as well, but few others in the village dared. Brienne’s molten gaze was something she had inherited from her true sire, and everyone who’d seen him knew it.
Could he sense it?
“I must get back,” she began, lifting her hand in the direction of the village behind her.
“So soon, demoiselle?” The word spoken in such a soft tone seemed strange coming from such a large and dangerous warrior. Then he continued. “I did not mean to frighten you away from whatever task brought you to the stream. I will go.”
“Nay. Stay,” she said, shaking her head. What she wanted more than anything was to talk with him. Talk to someone whose life was from outside Lord Hugh’s demesne and control. Yet she could not say such a thing to him, knowing he had business with Lord Hugh. “I was but walking before helping my mother with our supper.”
“Very well,” he said, turning back to the water and dipping his hands once again.
Her feet would not move. In spite of the warnings, she wanted nothing so much as to remain here and speak with him. Part of her wanted to speak with him about Lord Hugh, while another part knew the dire consequences that could happen to her or, worse, to her family, if she did. Brienne doubted that being his natural daughter would stop Lord Hugh’s hand if raised in retribution. She shivered at the thought.
“Are you chilled? Here now. Come into the sun and out of the shadows,” he said. Reaching out, he took her hand and tugged until she took the few paces out from the cover of the trees to where he’d crouched at the water’s edge. Then he tugged the edges of her cloak together. “Better now?”
She nodded, knowing it was a lie. She never suffered the cold and wore a cloak only to avoid questions and inquisitive glances. She never had felt chilled, now that she thought on it. Closer to him, the fire inside her grew even more, swelling and pushing against her limits. Every step toward him made it intensify and strengthen.
Brienne gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, hoping to keep it within. If she had doubted she could bring forth fire without a hearth or pit, she did not do so any longer. It was there, barely contained, barely restrained, waiting for a slip in her grasp. She dared not.
She dared not.
“Why are you not at the keep?” she asked, trying to distract the heat within her from its purpose. “If you have business with Lord Hugh, surely you would be welcome there.”
He wiped his hands against his trews and tunic and met her gaze. “Lord Hugh knows not of my visit or my business yet. I did not wish to ask for the hospitality of his house until he arrived.”
She sensed that those few words, that short admission, cost him much. Does he think me a risk?
“Aye, it is not my custom to speak of my matters with others.”
“How did you know? Can you hear my thoughts?” she asked. Then, gasping at her words, she covered her mouth with her hands. Why did I say that to him?
“Not hear them so much as sense the questions you have,” he said, shaking his head. “I cannot fathom how it happens either.” He glanced at her, and his eyes narrowed. “Nor why I need to tell you things I should not as well
. Why do you draw me as surely as if you call my name?”
He touched her hands first, lifting them away from her face, and then he outlined her cheek and jaw with only a finger. She lost her breath, for it was the lightest of touches, but it held the power of a blow. His eyes never left hers as he turned his hand and let the back of it caress her cheek.
Now the heat pulsing through her body had nothing to do with the fire she controlled. This heat came from a growing ache in her core, her breasts and skin. It was a different kind of heat, and he leaned in closer and touched his lips to hers.
In that moment, Brienne knew that this was what she should fear. This power, this heat. It wasn’t the one she’d been born with that should terrify her. His mouth tasted hers in the gentlest of ways, not forcing or pressing her for more. Not yet. But she could feel his control, hear the shallow, panting breaths that spoke of his arousal, and she shook in response.
“Brienne,” he whispered as he moved his mouth from hers to kiss along her jaw. “Brienne.” He touched her ear with the tip of his tongue and she shuddered from it, her body not her own.
The loud whistling of a bird pierced the quiet of their secluded spot, and William stilled. A second one roused her from this stupor of passion he’d created. He lifted his head and canted it, listening, and then released her when a third one followed.
“I . . . I must go. Forgive me if I trespassed.”
Within a few seconds, he’d disappeared from the spot where they’d stood, sharing an intimacy she’d never shared with any man before. The rustling of leaves as he walked away quieted, leaving her alone, confused, and filled with a feeling she’d never felt before.
Was this desire? Her body ached and throbbed in places she’d hardly noticed before. Her skin tingled and her lips burned. And this kiss, this touching, by a stranger made her body answer his caress in a way that James’s had never done.
There was more, too. Sharing this personal, private moment with him aroused the deeper need within her to be with another, to speak about important matters. She wanted to speak of her dreams and fears with another person.
The cool water of the stream tempted her, and she walked to its edge. Pulling on the laces that held her cloak around her, she dropped it before kneeling beside the water. As she dipped her hands into the water, steam rose from the surface. Releasing her power, she watched as her hands turned red and then orange and then like gold when the metal was heated over the fire. With an unpracticed motion, she extended her arms, lifting her hands out of the water and cupping her palms together. And then she created fire in them.
Fire!
She had created fire.
Laughing, she stood and forced the fire higher and wider, spreading her hands apart and spreading the flames into the air and around her. Urging it on, Brienne strengthened it with whispered words she did not understand. Glancing around, she closed her eyes as the flames caressed her, never burning her as they became one.
She could do it!
She could bring fire into being and be one with it.
She swirled around inside the cocoon it formed, the flames moving around her as ribbons on a pole, outlining her body, moving her hair on its currents, making her feel their power and hers. Touching and caressing her almost as a lover would. And yet never did she feel in danger of being burned.
All it took to end it was the sound of a branch breaking behind her. Brienne stopped the flames with a thought and they were gone. She spun around and watched as William entered the clearing.
Had he seen her? Had he witnessed what she could do? From his level gaze, she could tell nothing. But she could feel that the fire wanted him, too. She could feel its need to surround and engulf him as it had her.
“I would speak with you, Brienne. About what happened,” he said, striding toward her. He stopped only a pace from where she stood. “Meet me here on the morrow.”
’Twas a bad thing, to be torn between wanting to meet him and knowing that there was such danger in doing so. The woman within her ached to explore the world he’d just opened to her. The passion and intimacy of the kiss they’d shared still echoed through her even while the daughter of the villager knew that it would lead to heartbreak and ruin. Yet the firemaker within also wondered how he was involved in her power, for she knew it for the certainty it was.
“I should not.”
“Nay, you most likely should not. But,” he said, glancing at the water that she’d turned to steam, “I think you will.” His face gave away nothing to tell her what he’d seen. Or if he had. Since she did not want Gavin to know of their encounters nor of her expanding power, she would concede.
“On the morrow?” He nodded. “I will come after my father breaks his fast, but I cannot remain long.” The corner of his lip curled as though attempting a smile. She remembered the feel of his mouth on hers. That other heat filled her, and she felt a blush creep up into her cheeks.
“Until then,” he said.
Brienne nodded and he left, not as quickly as the last time. She listened as his footsteps moved farther and farther through the trees and brush until only the silence surrounded her.
With questions filling her thoughts about what he could have seen and what had been between them, she made her way back to the village and to her parents’ cottage. ’Twas times like this when she wanted—nay, craved—someone with whom she could talk about these things. None of the village girls would friend her because they feared her true father’s attentions. Even the mother who’d raised her seemed to fear her at times as Brienne had approached womanhood. And Gavin knew about her power and yet he did not welcome talking.
So in the dark of the night as she sought sleep that would not come, Brienne wondered if the warrior had seen her bring fire into existence.
On the morrow, he’d said.
On the morrow, he’d tempted.
On the morrow, he’d promised.
On the morrow . . . she feared.
Chapter 6
Loanhead of Daviot, Northeast Scotland
Hugh strode across the rolling countryside . . . again. Each time he did, each time he circled the standing stones, his men drew farther and farther away. Each failure to locate and read the signs told those he controlled that someone would pay for his failure.
The stones had been fashioned centuries ago to mark the positions of the sun and the moon, the passing of the seasons, and to aid in the worship of the old gods here on this plain. Though the forests encroached, the view of the sky to the south was unimpeded. This must be the place for which he’d searched.
His first quandary was that there were two circles of stones, one lower on the hill and this one, farther up. But examination had revealed no symbols or signs or enchantments of any kind on the lower circle. And no altar stone. Which led him back here to this one.
“Well?” he called out to the man who dared to stand closest to him.
With the power to sense spells, Paulin was a druid’s son whom Hugh’s father had raised to this purpose. The man’s own father had left some godsforsaken island where the priests and scryers yet studied and had somehow found his way to Brittany, another Celtic region. When the truth of his origins was discovered and the man would not reveal the island’s location, Hugh’s father executed him in front of his family, teaching young Paulin that obedience and service were the only correct answers.
“Still nothing, my lord,” he replied, bowing.
“You said the changes in the moon would reveal the markings.”
“I hoped it would, my lord,” Paulin said. “I do not sense any trace of power here in the stones. Even the altar stone bears no sign of . . .”
“Sacrifice? Worship?” Hugh finished. Human blood left its own memory on sacred altar stones, and there were those like Paulin who could see and smell it decades and centuries later. Paulin nodded and watched him with the same warine
ss that everyone did.
Hugh’s patience snapped like a worn thread, for they had been here for more than a sennight, watching the phases of the moon and waiting for the signs. He knew that those of the blood were waking, their powers stretching and opening. Soon they would be drawn to the stone circles. Hugh could not allow them to find the symbols and close the gateways, trapping his goddess for eons to come.
Hugh grabbed Paulin by the throat and held him off his feet. Shaking him, he watched as the man’s face changed from red to purple.
“I cannot fail in this endeavor,” he warned, shaking him once more. “So you cannot fail me,” he repeated. “Where are the symbols? Where are they?”
“My lord.”
Paulin’s eyes bulged, and he gurgled as his throat closed under Hugh’s grip. “You do not have much time. Where are they?”
“My lord!” The man who led his human troops called to Hugh, so he turned his gaze away from the seer clawing at his fist. “He is the last one, my lord.”
Eudes’s words gave him pause. As much as he wanted to kill the seer who could not see, he did need him. Hugh screamed his displeasure as he threw Paulin to the ground. Gasping and trying to suck in the air he’d been denied, Paulin struggled on the ground.
“See to him, Eudes. Two more days and we return to Yester.”
“Aye, my lord.” Hugh’s half brother bowed and then helped Paulin to his feet and away.
How had the symbols—that must be here—been hidden from his sight and that of this druid? Walking to the nearest stone, Hugh placed his hands on it, feeling the heat that radiated from within. That was not magical, for some stones simply absorbed the warmth of the sun and held it, releasing it slowly over hours. They must be here. They must be—
The pain struck him quickly and took his breath. His fire raged within him, answering the call of another. Another?
Another fireblood?
Bending over and gasping at the pain that was neither exquisite nor arousing, Hugh knew it was not his wife or daughter Adelaide. His daughter had demonstrated no ability to control fire in spite of his sire’s careful plan to find and breed the trait in the children of his son and daughter-in-law. So many years of planning and finding the right bloodline to breed with his own and it had ended in failure. It had seemed that Hugh was their bloodline’s last chance.
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