Prince of Desire

by Donna Grant

  And it had felt wonderful.

  Slowly, so as not to wake Lucian, she rose from the bed and spotted her blood between her legs. Her virgin blood. She hastened to clean herself and found a new chemise before she dressed. Only then did she build up the fire and put another kettle of water on to heat as she walked outside to feed the chickens and Lucian's horse.

  The small stable was in desperate need of repair, something she couldn't do herself, nor could she afford to hire someone to mend it for her. The meager living she made working at the tavern put food in her belly but left her with nothing in which to save. She knew it was only a matter of time before she had to leave the only home she knew and rent the small room in the attic of the tavern.

  At least that had been her only option. Not anymore. Not since Lucian came into her life.

  It wasn't that she didn't like Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald, but she was used to being on her own with no one to answer to. That would all change the moment she agreed to rent the room. But even she had to face reality for it was closing in on her like a battering ram to a castle gate.

  Last night she had agreed to go back with Lucian. It was a huge step for her to take, an adventure she wasn’t sure she could take.

  It’s either the bleak future you know you’ll have here or the adventure with Lucian. Look how he made you feel, think of the pleasure you found in his arms.

  She patted Lucian's giant black horse as she passed by him to get the oats. After filling the bucket, she placed it in his stall and checked his water. Despite his size, he was a friendly fellow, and she stayed a moment to pet him. That's when she spotted Lucian's saddle. It was unusual not only in the color, which was black, but in the design. The symbols were those of the ancient Celts who used to roam Scotland.

  Her hand hesitantly reached out and touched the knotwork exquisite detail, meticulous in the design. Heat met her fingertips, and she hastily jerked them away.

  Magic.

  Isabelle glanced around her. The word had been whispered in her ear as if someone had been standing right behind her. Yet it was only she and Elad in the stable. She swallowed and moved away from the saddle to find the horse staring intently at her, as if he were trying to tell her something.

  His unblinking gaze unsettled her, and she quickly ran from the shed. She leaned against the outside of the it and tried to slow her racing heart. Her gaze found her cottage as her thoughts turned to the mysterious man inside.

  “I don’t believe in magic,” she whispered. “I can’t go with him.”

  * * * *

  Lucian rolled over with a smile on his face. His hands searched the bed for Isabelle only to come up empty. He opened his eyes to find the fire lit and a kettle on to boil. He stretched his arms over his head before he swung his legs over the bed. He had intended to make love to her again this morning, but realized she might be a little sore after the previous night. As he reached for his clothes, he spotted the marks on his arms.

  His gaze was riveted on the black symbols that stretched from his elbow to his shoulder – the same symbol that was on his saddle and on his parents' arms.

  The symbols that meant he was now tied to Isabelle – and she to him.

  He had known it would happen, but seeing the mark meant he had nearly completed his quest. He hadn't failed his family or his people as he feared he might. The sooner he returned home the better, which meant they needed to leave that day.

  Finally he would return to his much-loved kingdom and his family. He washed himself off and thought of his mother's smile and his father's teasing that was sure to follow his return. As he pulled on his trousers he could well imagine all three of his brothers waiting to taunt him about being the last to arrive in Drahcir with his mate.

  Just as he finished fastening his jerkin, his smile slipped. Something was wrong. Isabelle was frightened and anxious, as if she were running from something. Lucian bolted for the door and jerked it open to see her dashing down the path to the village. He looked around for a threat, but found nothing. That’s when he realized his mate was running from him.

  For a moment, he couldn't fathom why she would suddenly bolt after the night they had shared, but he didn't allow himself more than that moment. He ran to his mount and took hold of his horse's mane. After he swung onto his back, he nudged Elad into a run. He didn't try to grab Isabelle, instead he ran Elad in front of her. Only then did he give a tug on Elad’s mane to bring him to a halt.

  “I must get to the tavern,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

  Lucian's heart felt as if it had been ripped from his chest. Where had he gone wrong? She had agreed to return with him last night. Her cries of pleasure had told him she willingly took his seed and gave him her virginity.

  So what had happened?

  “Why do you run from me? Do I frighten you?” he asked, praying that he was wrong.

  Slowly her gaze rose to his. “Aye, you do. It was as if last night there was some type of spell on me, and this morning I saw everything as it should be.”

  “Meaning that you willna return with me, that you doona believe my story that I told you.”

  She shook her head and backed up a step.

  Lucian slid from his mount. “You believed last night.”

  “I wasn't myself last night.”

  “So, you regret the passion between us.”

  She hesitated, and that hesitation gave him a sliver of hope. And hope was all it took to keep him going.

  “Nay. I never expected to experience anything like that in my life.”

  The mark on Lucian's arm began to throb, signaling that what Isabelle said was the truth. She might have enjoyed the passion, but she would not leave her home. “Is there nothing I can say that will convince you my words are the truth?”

  “Nay.”

  He felt as if someone had just hurled a dagger into his heart and twisted the blade. “Doona run from me. It’s your home. I’ll leave,” he said and started for the house.

  There was no need to see if Elad followed him, for he always did. It was difficult for Lucian not to look at Isabelle though, to see if she watched him as he left or if there was any indecision in her eyes. He prayed she returned to the cottage so he could have one last time to convince her.

  Lucian's mind raced with possible alternatives for them, but if she refused to return to Drahcir then all would be for naught. He entered the small stable that was all but falling down and grabbed his saddle. His hand smoothed over the intricate symbols that had been chiseled into the leather. He and his three brothers had each been given such a saddle upon their sixteenth summer. The saddle reminded them of the curse and all that was at stake.

  He brought the saddle to Elad and began to fasten it. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Isabelle leaning against the doorway watching him.

  “If my words and the passion between us didna convince you that what I speak is the truth, I ask your forgiveness.”

  “Why?”

  His hands stilled. He didn't want to tell her, but it was only fair after their night together and the symbols that now marked them. He turned to look at her and drew in a deep breath.

  “I didna tell you everything last eve because I hoped you meant your words. Now, I’ve no choice since we’ve shared our bodies. Not only will my kingdom cease to exist if you doona return with me, but you’ll never find happiness in another man's arms.”

  Her eyes widened at his words. “Are you so daft that you’ll resort to such hateful words just because I changed my mind?”

  “I wish it were as simple as that. Look at your left arm, Isabelle.”

  She heaved a great sigh and crossed her arms over her chest. “Nay.”

  Lucian nodded his head and removed his jerkin and tunic. “Look,” he said as he pointed to the symbol on his left arm. “You’ll have one as well.”

  “It must have been there last night,” she said as her arms dropped to her sides and confusion marred her stunning face.

  Lucian hated
the fear in her beautiful blue eyes. “You touched my body. You tell me. However, if you really want to know, check your arm.”

  For several heartbeats he and Isabelle stared at each other. Silently, he prayed that she would look, and then believe.

  Isabelle could stand it no longer. The symbol on Lucian's arm matched the one on his saddle, the swirls and knotwork an exact replica. She didn't want to look at her arm for fear of just what she would find. And what would she do if there was a symbol that matched his? Would she then agree to go with him?

  If his words were true and she would never find happiness in the arms of another man, which meant she would spend the rest of her life alone.

  All because of her fear.

  Before she changed her mind, she rushed into the cottage, yanking her over tunic off as she went. With a vicious jerk, she pulled her chemise down to check her arm. She gasped and fell onto the bed when she saw the black mark that ran from her elbow up to her shoulder.

  “Do you believe me now?” Lucian asked from the doorway.

  She slowly raised her gaze to him. “How?”

  Lucian shut the door and sat beside her on the bed. “It’s our mark, a mark that lets everyone know that our mates have truly been found. No matter how much you try to deny it, Isabelle, your soul knows the truth.”

  Never had so much doubt filled her, not even when her grandparents died and left her alone. There was no denying the mark on her arm. It was as if her soul had branded her. And in a way, that's exactly what it had done. She wasn't ready to believe Lucian, or believe in him, but apparently her soul did.

  Had this happened to anyone else, she would have dismissed the mark, giving any number of explanations as to how it could have appeared. But this was her body. She knew her body, and the mark, a series of intricate knots and spirals that raced up her arm to her shoulder had never been there before she had given herself to Lucian.

  Magic or not, she was most certainly branded. The question was, did she want to put to the test the possibility that she would spend the rest of her life alone? Though she might have told herself she had expected to be alone, after a night with Lucian, she knew she would never settle for a lonely life now.

  He sat patiently waiting on her response. She knew what he wanted, but her apprehension stopped her from readily agreeing to go with him.

  She opened her mouth to tell him just that when his head jerked up and his body stiffened.

  “What is it?” she asked, but he held up a hand to halt her words.

  Three heartbeats later, there was a light knock on her door. “Mr. MacDonald,” she exclaimed and hurriedly pulled up her chemise and threw on her gown. “I was supposed to be at the tavern already.”

  “Dress. I’ll get the door,” Lucian said and rose.

  As Isabelle hurried to make herself presentable, she heard Lucian's deep voice as he opened the door. “Can I help you?”

  “Ah…I'm looking for Isabelle,” Mr. MacDonald said, the uncertainty ringing loudly in his tone.

  “She’ll be with us in just a moment,” Lucian said as he shut the door behind him and joined Mr. MacDonald outside.

  Isabelle smiled as she ran her hands over her wild hair and hastened to put it into a braid to keep it out of her face. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she went to the window and peered at the men through the crack in the shutters.

  “Is she all right?” Mr. MacDonald asked.

  “She is.”

  Mr. MacDonald's eyes narrowed. “You have no’ harmed her, have ye? I might be getting on up in years, but I can still take a man down if need be.”

  To give Lucian credit, he didn't laugh. Instead he smiled. “I’ve in no way harmed Isabelle, and as soon as she comes outside, you’ll see that for yourself.”

  And then Lucian looked right at her.

  Isabelle jerked away from the window and blinked. How could he really have known what she was doing? It troubled her more than the lie she knew she would have to tell Mr. MacDonald.

  She walked to the door and found her hand shook as she reached for the handle. Mr. MacDonald's head swiveled to her as soon as she stepped outside. She gave him a smile and was relieved when he returned it.

  “Isabelle, lass, we were worried about you,” he said as he came towards her.

  “I'm sorry. I was just about to send word to you and Mrs. MacDonald.”

  What few gray hairs he had on his head danced in the breeze. Though his face was wrinkled, his eyes still held an intelligent spark in them that said he could see past her lies.

  “Just tell me that you're all right,” he said softly. “You're like a daughter to us, lass, and we worry over you.”

  Isabelle looked over Mr. MacDonald's shoulder to Lucian, who stood petting Elad. She knew he heard every word. She wasn't afraid of Lucian, and if she asked, she knew he would leave.

  She returned her gaze to Mr. MacDonald. “Forgive me. Will you and Mrs. MacDonald be able to handle the tavern today? I need some time to…think.”

  He waved away her words. “Of course. We’ve little Timmy. We'll put him to work.”

  Isabelle laughed as she thought of Timmy, the baker's son, who was always looking for something to do that would keep him away from the hot ovens. “Thank you.”

  For a long moment Mr. MacDonald stared at her. “Be happy,” he said softly and turned on his heel to walk away.

  Isabelle watched him go. His parting remark echoed loudly in her head. Happy. What would make her happy? Would staying here working and living in the tavern with the hope of finding a husband do it? She didn't mind the hard work, it was part of life, but the loneliness ate away at her, and Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald were advanced in years. It wouldn't be long before they too left her. Then where would she be?

  Happiness. It was something she had always had as long as her grandparents had been there. Up until that moment she hadn't even thought of what would make her happy, and it was a hard question to answer.

  Lucian would make you happy.

  Would he?

  She knew without a doubt that being in his arms and the passion that was so strong between them swayed her. Yet, was it enough for her to throw caution to the wind and leave with him? For all his words and their night together, he was still a stranger.

  Chapter Five

  Lucian watched Isabelle closely. There was no denying that Mr. MacDonald cared greatly for her and that she returned the emotion. It was a difficult decision she had to make, one that would have to be made very soon. He hated to press her, but he wanted to return to Drahcir as soon as possible.

  “Isabelle?”

  Her gaze snapped to him. “Everything is all right. I told him I needed some time to think.”

  She hadn’t wanted to lie to the old man, so she managed to work it where she hadn't needed to.

  “How much time do you need?”

  “How much time do I have?”

  Lucian stepped away from Elad and walked to Isabelle. He could remain with her for a few months before he had to head back to Drahcir, but he feared if he stayed she would never leave with him. It wasn’t just getting to Drahcir on time. There were other threats, threats he’d do whatever he could to avoid.

  “I’ll give you two days.”

  “Two days?” she repeated, her brow furrowed in exasperation. “How can you expect me to decide such a monumental decision in so short a time?”

  He shrugged as hopelessness began to settle around him like iron shackles. “You know the answer. You just refuse to say it. If you have no’ come to realize that now, you willna in two days, two weeks, two months, or two years.”

  “What you ask for is impossible,” she said and whirled around to stalk back into the cottage.

  Lucian gave it all of a heartbeat before he followed her. He had seen the fire in her eyes, the anger that sparked deep within her, but if she wanted rage, he could give her fury over the injustice of his kingdom and his family.

  He threw open the door and found her facing
the fireplace, her arms wrapped about her waist as she stared into the flames. With a jerk of his wrist, he slammed the door and stalked toward her. If her mind wouldn't listen, perhaps there was another way he could reach her.

  His hands itched to feel her satiny skin, and his body burned to be buried inside her once more. With his cock already hard and aching, he didn't push aside the desire that begged to be released. He accepted it, acknowledged it.

  And welcomed it.

  With a growl, he gripped Isabelle's shoulders and turned her to face him as he backed her up against a wall. Her wide midnight blue eyes stared at him, watching him to see what he was about.

  “If you willna to listen to your heart, then listen to your body,” he said just before he ravaged her mouth in a kiss meant to overwhelm, a kiss meant to shatter her.

  When she returned the intensity, it set him afire, burning him from the inside out as the passion swept him, engulfed him.

  Consumed him.

  His grip tightened, his heart pounded. The more he had of her, the more he needed. She was the air, the sun, the moon. She was…everything. He feared he’d never have enough of her, and with that fear grew another – what if he had to return to Drahcir alone?

  He pushed aside those morbid thoughts as he thrust his tongue deep into Isabelle's mouth. He expected her to resist, yet she pulled her arms out of his grasp and wound them about his neck as she sighed into his mouth.

  Lucian lost all thought as his hands moved quickly and efficiently to remove her clothes until she stood naked before him. Just as quickly, he shed his own and reclaimed her sweet mouth for another intoxicating kiss.

  He took her hands in his and stretched her arms to the side as he molded his body to hers. Her full breasts pressed into his chest as he continued to kiss her, taking her lips again and again in kisses that were quick and light, long and sensual, and deep and demanding.

  And she responded to each one in a way that had Lucian craving her, needing her so desperately that for a moment he couldn't breathe.

  His hunger for her quickly outweighed everything. So much so that if she refused to return with him, he knew he would find it next to impossible to leave her. He was hers just as much as she was his.