Diesa was horrified at the implication. ::No! I—:: She yelped as pain shot through her, and she sat up to find Marsden glaring at her.
"So," the elf said, "he broke through that one. Well, we’ll just have to see what we can do about that. What did you tell him, Diesa?"
"N … nothing," she stammered, her heart pounding.
Marsden’s eyes narrowed with anger. "Scanlon is not the only elf who utilizes the elfin web," he told her. "Would you like a demonstration?"
Immediately he swept Diesa up into a tight embrace of pain. It pressed against her from all sides like tiny needles pricking her skin. She sucked in her breath and fixed her gaze on Marsden.
"That is the web at its weakest," the elf said. "I can increase, at will, the pain it gives."
Diesa winced as the tiny needles became more like large thorns piercing her body. Still she refused to cry out but glared at him in hate.
"More, Diesa?" he asked.
Again the pain increased and a small moan escaped her lips. Marsden smiled.
"The web can kill," he stated. "It can be done instantly with one great agonizing burst of pain, or it can be done slowly over a period of time. Which would you prefer, Diesa?"
Diesa found her voice. "Then you wish me to die? How can I serve you if I am dead?"
Marsden laughed. "Good point!" He abruptly released her from the elfin web and she slumped forward, reeling. "But I will tell you this. I have tied your mind into the elfin web, Diesa. Scanlon contacting you won’t cause any pain, but if you answer …"
She stared at him in despair. How could she not answer? Scanlon would think she was ignoring him, would think that she was with Marsden because she chose to be. Magus either hadn’t understood her reasoning for sending him on alone or hadn’t conveyed it to Scanlon. But surely Scanlon wouldn’t think …
"Diesa!" Marsden’s voice broke into her raging thoughts. "If he comes after you, keep this in mind. I will kill him. And his little woman-boys too."
"No," she breathed, her gut twisting in horror.
Marsden said nothing more but returned to his blanket to sleep. Diesa huddled into hers as well, though sleep was very far away.
Marsden allowed only a brief rest before once more taking to the trail. He drove the stallion hard and fast, his fear almost palpable. That gave Diesa some consolation. If Marsden was this afraid of Scanlon she could only hope it was because Scanlon’s magic was stronger. Still, Kittellan and Drake had no magic. And Diesa could not see Scanlon coming after her without at least one, if not both, of them. This would mean that little Magus would be dragged along too. And he made a very easy and vulnerable target. Diesa had no doubt that Marsden would not hesitate to use that to his advantage.
The day passed in a blur as they rode through ever thickening forests. The weather had chilled and rain began to fall in late afternoon. Still Marsden rode, showing no signs of stopping. It was as if he strove to reach some particular place with all due haste. Diesa frowned, pondering that fact. Perhaps his own land? she wondered. Was he stronger there? Was his magic impenetrable there? No. He had walked right through Scanlon’s ward spell that night. Diesa could see Scanlon doing the same thing. What then? Where were they going in such a hurry? She could only speculate and even that did no good.
By nightfall the rain had stopped, leaving everything saturated and fresh smelling. Hemlock scents mingled with fir and something headily sweet that Diesa thought was osmanthus. The scent overwhelmed her with memories. Omerron was thick with the small shrub. She had planted it purposefully all along the path to her mother’s cottage. It reminded her of her mother and the short life they had had together. That, combined with her fatigue, hunger and pain, drove Diesa to seething rage, a rage that she was unable to control when Marsden finally stopped for the night.
He tossed the saddlebag at her feet, demanding dinner. Diesa stared at the pack in fury, then brought her gaze up to meet his, challenging him silently. His eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "And you will say what, Diesa?" he asked quietly.
Diesa stiffened as she felt the web about her tighten. "Nothing, M’lord," she mumbled and bent to retrieve the pack.
Marsden took a flask of wine from the other saddlebag and uncorked it. He took a long, steady pull, his gaze on her all the while. "I’m hungry," he stated. "I would like some dinner and some tea. Then you may brush down the horse."
Diesa watched him move away to wash his face in a small stream that gurgled nearby. And tonight, she thought, you’ll have special tea, Marsden. With a small, satisfied smile, she set to work. She had some trouble getting the fire started with the damp wood, and at last Marsden did it with magic, sending her a magic slap of disapproval for her ineptness. She managed to prepare a satisfactory meal from the foodstuffs in the saddlebags and, while he ate and sipped at her wild thyme tea, she started to work on the horse.
He was a beautiful animal, proud and haughty, much like his master. He watched her through dark eyes wide with suspicion. She moved the brush gently across his skin, murmuring to him softly. She took her time, making sure that she did a thorough job, hoping that Marsden would fall asleep in the meanwhile. She could see him lounging near the fire and hate swelled inside of her. Her gaze swept over the dark woods about her, then to the horse before her. Right now she could not command him. He would not listen to her. But perhaps she could win his trust, his loyalty. She cooed to him quietly and led him to the stream for a drink, all the while stroking his soft, warm neck.
As the horse drank, she perused the area. Her gaze fell on a tall, dark-barked tree not far away. Black willow. She glanced toward Marsden. He was still stretched out before the fire, though he had replaced the teacup with his flask of wine. She cringed at the thought of what the wine would do to his sexual desire and her gaze went back to the willow. Black willow was a powerful anti-aphrodisiac, something Marsden could use. But how could she collect it under his watchful eye? An idea formed in her mind and she could barely contain a wicked smile.
"Diesa!" His call startled her and she braced herself before answering.
"Yes, M’lord? Your horse is about done with his drink here."
"Bring him up and tether him," Marsden ordered. "Then come over here."
Diesa did as instructed, then went to stand before him. He had kicked off his boots and motioned her to his feet with the end of the wine flask. "A foot massage," he said and took another long pull of the wine.
Diesa grimaced, then gasped as he snapped her with magic. She dropped down beside his feet, took one in her hands and began to knead the sole, trying to curtail her disgust at touching his sweaty and smelly feet. Marsden watched her for a moment before speaking.
"The meal tonight was barely passable. I know you can do a much better job. I have seen evidence of such. Henceforth, if the meal is not up to my specifications you will be punished. Is that clear?"
Diesa stiffened but answered calmly. "Yes, M’lord."
"M’lord? I am not your Lord, Diesa. I am your master. You will call me master."
Diesa clenched her jaw in anger, her rebellious spirit leaping forward. "Yes, M’lord," she replied.
Marsden’s eyes went wide with surprise, then he chuckled. "You do enjoy being in pain, Diesa," he asked, then nudged her with his foot. "Continue. Then perhaps, afterward, you can help me relax the rest of my body."
Diesa averted her gaze. She prayed that he would fall asleep under her gentle touch and forget about anything else. If she could just get to that willow he would not even want her in the future. The thought was almost invigorating and she put her best efforts into the foot massage. But it was to no avail.
The wine had only served to increase his desire for her and, as soon as he had finished the flask, he pulled her to him in a crushing embrace. He assaulted her mouth with his, while his hands roamed freely over her body. She went limp in his arms, not fighting, not participating, not knowing what else to do. She certainly couldn’t fight him. But her lack of response didn’t seem
to matter to him. He pushed her to the ground and effortlessly removed her clothing. She shivered as the cold evening air touched at her bare skin.
Marsden ran his finger from her cheek, down alongside her jaw and onto her throat. "I can understand now what Scanlon saw in you," he said quietly. "You have a fire about you, a determination, a strength. There is pride in those green eyes." He loosed his leathers and straddled her, then leaned forward and kissed her lightly, almost gently. "And there is something else there, too. Something deeper. What is it, Diesa? Who are you that you could mesmerize the elfin crown prince?"
Diesa stared up at him in silence. He smiled and began to kiss her neck, softly, teasingly, while his hands played through her hair. She frowned, caught off guard by his actions, by his gentleness. What was his game here? To make her love him? To take her heart just as Scanlon had done? To rip what was left of her soul to shreds? She quivered under his touch, unable to stop the tears that crept into her eyes. This was worse than if he had just satisfied his lust. At least that would have been quickly over.
He slowly, deliberately worked his way down, kissing and licking, taking whatever part of her he desired. She closed her eyes and withdrew into herself, blocking out his movements, steeling herself against his touch. When was the last time she had felt a lover’s caress? Had she ever? Really? Her mind floated back to the night with Scanlon.
She remembered how his hands had felt on her, how he had touched her, caressed her. There was love behind the touch, a gentleness she had never felt before. She trembled now, recalling the passion and the heat that had swelled within her. She had felt whole, complete in his arms. It was as if their souls had linked, combined, become one. There had been no pain, only pleasure. At the moment of their supreme ecstasy, his gaze had locked on hers and she had seen pure love in their gray depths. She remembered it all now as Marsden continued to torment her body. Under his hands she felt dirty and used, no matter the gentleness he afforded her, and her body stiffened in revulsion.
Marsden noticed at once and turned his gaze on her. A sob escaped her and she covered her face with her hands. Marsden pulled them aside and leaned close.
"He didn’t love you, Diesa," he murmured. "The only difference between him and me is the fact that you loved him."
She stared up at him through her tears. "Then you know that I love him?"
He shrugged. "What difference does it make now?"
"The wager! You have lost. You knew it, and yet you still claimed me as the prize!" Rage flew through her and she struggled wildly against him.
A wicked gleam came into his dark eyes and he pinned her arms to the ground. "You still fight me?" he breathed. "You like pain so much, Diesa. That I can give you!"
She screamed as he took her. With every hard thrust of his loins, jolts of pain swept through her body like wildfire. Her cries only intensified his desire and at last he shuddered violently and groaned with ecstasy. Diesa sobbed aloud and tried to escape him. He let her go and rolled to his blanket. She snatched up her clothes and stumbled to the stream. Marsden didn’t try to stop her.
Weeping, she splashed into the cold water and sank down letting the icy liquid wash away Marsden’s scent, his touch, everything that was part of him. Her only consolation was the tea he had drunk at dinner. By this time tomorrow, Marsden would be too sick to even think of touching her again. She shuddered away her humiliation, climbed from the stream and used her blanket to dry before re-donning her clothes.
Marsden was already snoring softly by the fire and Diesa looked off into the dark forest, wondering. Quietly she moved away from the camp, one eye on him, one eye on her footing. She hadn’t gone more than twenty paces when she was thrown backward by a force so strong it left her sprawled on her back on the ground. For a moment only confusion reigned in her mind, then slowly understanding took hold. A WardSpell. Like the one Scanlon had enclosed her and Kittellan in so many months ago.
Diesa sat up rubbing absently at her bruised back and tried to dislodge the thoughts of Kittellan. Of Drake. Of Scanlon. But they were too strong and she flung herself face down in the dirt and sobbed.
Chapter 14
* * *
A nudge from Marsden’s foot wakened Diesa the next morning. She still lay where she’d collapsed the previous night and she looked up at him through blurry eyes swollen from too much crying and not enough sleep. But even in her lethargic state she could see his pallor and the sheen of sweat on his face. It was all she could do to keep from smiling.
"I would like breakfast," he said curtly. "Something light."
Diesa stood slowly and looked up at Marsden. "Is M’lord not feeling well?" she asked, trying to sound concerned.
He glared at her, then returned to the fire, which he sent to flames with one burst of magic. "No, I am not! And I am hungry."
Diesa took up the pack and looked in it for something suitable for breakfast. "Tea and toast would be best if your stomach is unsettled," she suggested.
He motioned his consent and settled back, closing his eyes. Diesa took out the bread and sliced several pieces from it then laid some green sticks across the fire in a grid fashion. She took fresh cold water from the stream and put it to boil, all the while keeping one eye on Marsden. He was trembling as if chilled though his clothes were damp with sweat.
"You look as if you may have a fever," she said. "I saw some willow trees just over there. Perhaps I could gather you some bark."
He opened his eyes to look where she gestured, then nodded. "Do so then. But be quick."
She nodded, took up a dagger and walked away. The trees were willows all right, but they were black willow. Not only would the bark relieve his fever, it would also serve to deaden his sexual appetite. With a grin of satisfaction she collected both bark and catkins and returned to the camp. The water was boiling and she made a tea of both willow and the wild thyme. By nightfall Marsden would be lucky if he could stay astride his horse.
He ate slowly as if testing his stomach’s ability to handle even the toast. He sipped at his tea and wrinkled his nose. "What is this?"
"It’s the willow that makes it taste slightly bitter," Diesa explained. "I could sweeten it with some honey if you would like."
"Never mind," he mumbled and drank it in one gulp. "Clean up here and then we move on."
She nodded and did as she was bid. They were on the trail within the half hour. Diesa could feel him shaking as they rode and more than once he had to stop to let his stomach settle. He refused lunch, keeping his stallion at a slow, steady pace as if he could not tolerate the motion. Toward mid-afternoon, Diesa felt Scanlon touch at her mind and involuntarily gasped. Marsden caught on at once.
"Remember what I said, Diesa," he murmured. "Answer him and the web reacts."
Diesa stiffened.
::Diesa?:: Scanlon sounded worried and fatigued. ::Answer me.::
She remained silent, though pain tore through her heart.
::Diesa!:: His tone became more insistent, as if he thought he needed to wake her. ::Diesa, please answer! I need to know where you are. Magus can’t remember exactly where he left you. Diesa!::
Diesa trembled with anger and desire. She drew a deep breath and answered. ::M’lord—:: It was all she got out before agonizing pain cut through her. She cried out and slumped forward against the horse’s neck.
"You had to try though, didn’t you?" Marsden said. "I expected that you would. The pain you felt was mild compared to what you will feel if you try again. Don’t be a fool, Diesa."
Tears sprang to her eyes and she clenched her jaw, forcing them to recede.
::Diesa?:: Scanlon’s voice sounded confused. ::Why won’t you answer me?:: There was a long pause before he spoke again but when he did, his words brought relief. ::I suppose that Marsden has prevented you from answering me. Very well, don’t. But know this. I am following you. I will find you, Diesa. I promise you that. Don’t jeopardize yourself. Do as Marsden tells you.::
Diesa shuddered, won
dering if Scanlon knew what Marsden was asking of her.
"I tire of this!" Marsden snapped and sent a jolt of magic through the elfin web and straight to Scanlon.
Diesa shrieked even as she heard Scanlon gasp in surprise. Then she heard Marsden’s voice in her head speaking to Scanlon.
::Stay away, Scan. Diesa no longer belongs to you. We had a wager. You lost, and now I lay claim to her.::
::Marsden.:: Scanlon’s voice nearly dripped with rage, though he did not dispute Marsden’s words. ::Return her at once and your punishment will be light. Keep going and I cannot guarantee anything.::
Marsden laughed. ::Keep coming after me, Scan, and you’ll find her dead.::
Diesa’s eyes went wide in disbelief. She wanted to talk to Scanlon, to tell him not to risk his life for her, to tell him that he had not lost the wager at all, that she loved him with her whole heart, but she was afraid to utter a single word. Marsden closed the mind touch with yet another snap of magic fired toward Scanlon but affecting her as well and this time she simply could not absorb it and slumped forward into darkness.
She woke with a raging headache. Marsden had stopped for the night and taken her from the stallion. She blinked several times into the darkness, not seeing him. But she could hear him retching in the bushes not far away. A small smile crept over her face and she got up to begin dinner preparations. She had barely gotten started when he staggered toward her. He had his blanket wrapped about him and his face was the color of clay, enhanced by the moonlight that stole through the forest canopy. He collapsed on the ground.
"Gather some wood," he ordered. "I’m cold."
"Yes, M’lord."
"M’lord?" he snapped. "I told you to call me Master!"
"Yes, Master." Diesa amended her statement and turned away to gather kindling. It didn’t take her long as this part of the forest was old and had dropped many limbs to the ground. She piled the dry sticks and waited for him to light it with his magic. He did so almost grudgingly, then looked at her.
FREE SPIRIT Page 17
