by Hazel Hunter
“You needn’t have gone to the trouble. We’re managing on the bread, cheese and water.”
He added two oatcakes and some dried fruit to the tray. “A last meal should be special.”
Lily wondered if he’d poisoned the stew. “Why the veiled threat? I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.”
“Do you ken where I’ll find the Skaraven stronghold?” He straightened and set aside the pot and ladle, and watched her shake her head. “I suspected as much. You’ve been too busy facking the brute to question him. Or does he no’ trust you?”
“We’re getting on.” She forced a sensual smile. “He does enjoy a good romp, I admit, but these things take time. I should have the location for you in another day or so.”
“You’ll have it by morning or I’ll give the Skaraven to my caraidean.” Hendry picked up the tray. “Aon has a rather grand notion for the interrogation. ’Tis called quartering. He’ll bind the Skaraven’s chains to four of the horses and direct them to slowly pull his arms and legs out of joint.”
“That sounds unpleasant,” she said, feeling as if she might be sick now.
“If he doesnae answer our questions, they’ll be driven until they tear his limbs from his body.” He smiled gently. “How shall you like facking an over-large stump?”
“I doubt he’ll live long enough for me to try,” she told him, trying to sound bored. “But all right, I’ll convince him to tell me tonight.”
“I hope you do, Sister. If we must kill the Skaraven before he tells us where to find their stronghold,” he handed her the tray, “you’ll share his fate.”
Hendry followed her back down the passage to the storage room, where he opened the door for her. When he locked her in, he didn’t leave, but hovered outside.
“We’ve real food tonight,” Lily said briskly to Cadeyrn while shaking her head and shifting her gaze to the door. “I’ll feed you first. You look hungry.”
She sat down beside him, pointed to her ear and then at the shadows of Hendry’s boots outside the door.
Cadeyrn nodded, his muscles coiling.
“You’re not wanting the stew?” Lily said as she set the tray on the floor. “What am I going to do with you, you naughty lad? You need to eat if you’re to keep up all these lovely muscles.”
“Food isnae all I need,” he told her as she straddled him.
Lily made sure to make as much noise on the bed as possible, but Hendry remained outside. “I can’t believe you’d want me more than this delicious meal. Then again, you’ve been driving me mad ever since they brought you to me.” She roughly tore at the collar of her tunic, and then pressed herself against his chest. “I know you want to touch me, lover, but you can’t, not yet. You know what you have to do to be released.”
“Take off your garments,” Cadeyrn murmured. “I want to look upon you naked.”
“Wicked lad,” Lily said as she sat up to pull her tunic over her head and fling it to the floor. “What do you think of these?”
Cadeyrn uttered a low groan, all the while watching the door.
Lily continued the pantomime by shifting her weight to make the bed frame creak. “Oh, yes, kiss me again.” She made a muffled sound as if his mouth covered hers, and saw his eyes shift to her face. Pretending they were making love had made her whole body heat up, and when she shifted back to rub her hands over his chest she felt the thick, hard length of his arousal pressing against her. “Are you ready for me, Cade? Do you want to be inside me?”
A glance at the door showed her that Hendry still listened, which made her swallow a shriek of frustration. Much more of this and she wouldn’t have to act as if she were shagging the man.
Cadeyrn caught her gaze and nodded as if he knew what she was thinking.
“I can’t help it,” she said. “I’m already wet and ready for you.” The truth spilled out of her as she bent her head to his, and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. “I need you.”
“You have me, my lady,” he murmured against her ear. “Take me as you will.”
Lily had to climb off him to strip, which she did with shaking hands. By the time she got his trousers open his hands gripped the chains, and his chest heaved, but his eyes never left hers. When she hesitated, he nodded again.
Tears spilled from her eyes, but Lily dashed them away and smiled down at him. She imagined they were both somewhere far from here, alone in a lovely spot. A forest where everything was warm and green and quiet. Straddling Cadeyrn, she moved so that his swollen shaft pressed between her thighs.
He dragged in a breath as she reached down and curled her fingers around his cock. “My lovely, bold lass.”
“I’ll be whatever you like, Cade. You’ve only to say.”
Wedging him against the hot, slick notch of her opening, she waited, her heart pounding. She couldn’t bring herself to force him, not even with Hendry listening. He seemed to understand and arched his hips to work his straining cockhead into her softness.
“Take all of me, Lily,” he said and truly sounded as if he were begging for it.
Was he?
Lily forgot about Hendry, his terrifying threats, and everything outside their room. Instead there was only Cadeyrn under her. Not even her limited experience mattered. She gave in to her senses as she slowly engulfed him, sinking down to impale her aching sex on his rigid length.
Nothing had ever felt as good as being stretched by his girth, which stiffened even harder once she had him in the silky clasp of her body. She tightened around him as her folds brushed his body hair, and then took him the rest of the way with one sweet, delicious push.
“Lily,” he said, turning her name into a deep groan of pleasure. “Have me, aye. ’Tis good, so good.”
She shook so hard that she had to brace her hands on his shoulders. That was when she saw the ink on his arm light up with a dark blue glow. It crept up the wall behind the bed as she moved on him, lifting and lowering herself, caressing him with every inch of her soaked, hot pussy. She couldn’t take her eyes from it when she realized that it pulsed in time with his penetrations. The two seemed to be urging her on.
His head dropped back, and he went still as he saw the light. “My lady, wait.”
All she could see was his golden eyes as the light shimmered over them both. “I can’t,” she gasped.
Something cool and soft glided over her shoulders and down her arms, as if he were stroking her with a huge fan made of feathers. But that couldn’t be when his hands were still chained to the bed. The light rolled over them and sank into her, driving her to ride him as it took over her body.
“Dinnae fight it,” he told her hoarsely, now yanking on the chains as he tried to free his wrists.
Lily breathed in the scent of him, dark and hot as a desert wind, and stopped resisting. She’d wanted this man since the moment she’d seen him riding after her, his burning eyes locked on hers. He’d had every reason to hurt her—she’d done nothing but lie to him from the start—and yet still he protected her.
What shall you give for my warrior? A thrumming voice demanded inside her mind.
My heart, Lily thought, stunned by how easily she answered. My life.
Remember that, Daughter, for I will.
The feathers on her arms turned to water, and slid down her skin in long, cool streams. Whatever was happening to them, it intensified every sensation for her. She bucked atop him, taking him into her very core. Over and over they came together, and faster and faster, until without warning she burst with cataclysmic ecstasy. Her body danced over his as he thrust deeper and harder.
Cadeyrn’s muscles bulged as he arched under her, driving himself into her with one last, soul-shaking stroke before he groaned and began to jet.
She felt him flooding her and laughed with delight, for nothing felt as good as mingling her pleasure with his. Collapsing on him, her body still shivering with the delight he’d given her, she tucked her hot face against his neck. Her headache had vanished, leaving
her feeling only the sexy ache of satisfaction.
“Lily.” He rubbed his chin over the top of her head, still panting as fast and hard as she was. “My battle spirit–”
“Shhh.” She glanced at the light under the door, but the shadows of Hendry’s boots had disappeared. That didn’t mean they were safe from being overheard. Though the last thing she wanted to do was ever leave Cadeyrn again, she forced herself to get up. She went to the door and listened for a few moments before she came back to him. “I think he’s gone, but keep your voice down.” She saw how he was staring at her. “What’s wrong?”
He peered at her. “Your arms.”
“I’m all right.” She rubbed them and felt a ghost of the tingling, caressing sensation. “They’re a bit wet, is all. I’ve never sweated like that in my life.” She smiled shyly at him. “But I liked it.”
If anything, that made him tense even more. As he unhooked his wrist shackles from the chains, he said, “Come closer, please.”
“Your ink made quite the light show. I had such a strange thing in my head while we were together, too,” she said as she sat down beside him. “Like something was talking to me.”
“Did it speak of me?” When she gave him a shocked look he closed his eyes. “Come lie with me.” As soon as she stretched out beside him he murmured, “My battle spirit is the owl. ’Tis solitary, as I am. Yet it has marked you as mine.” He traced his fingers over her shoulders and down along her outer arms.
The shapes he traced made her frown. “Marked my arms? No, those are only some gashes from the last time Coig beat me, and my jacket getting shredded by the portal.”
“The wounds have gone, but there are scars now. Long and narrow, from here to here.” He moved his hand from her elbow to her shoulder and back again. “Did you feel feathers on your skin?”
“Yes. I wondered how you did that.” Her smile faltered. “But you didn’t. You couldn’t touch me.”
“The owl did,” he told her. “It saw and marked you. It healed you, but it put its wings on your arms.”
Lily tried to peer at her skin. “It’s odd, but I don’t mind being marked.” Though she craned her neck, she couldn’t get a good look. But the one thing she could see was that he was still upset. A thought occurred to her that made her go still. “Cade, whatever came of it, I’m not sorry. Are you? I thought you wanted it as much as I did.”
“Aye,” he declared in a husky voice. “And more.”
His amber eyes gazed into hers with the same intensity she’d felt when she’d first seen him. A tiny shiver reminded her that she was still naked. As she gathered her clothes and dressed, he fastened his trousers.
“What did Hendry say to you?” he asked.
“He plans to give you to the guards in the morning to be tortured. Don’t ask for the details, because they’re ghastly.” She sat down on the bed and gave a little push with her mind to release his ankle shackles. For the first time she didn’t feel any pain from using her telekinesis. “We’re out of time. We’ll have to make a run for it tonight.”
He nodded. “You should get the other lasses and take them through the portal.” He sat up and gently took hold of her hand, enveloping it completely with both of his. “I’ll stay behind to hold off the famhairean.”
“Are you mad?” Why was he talking like this? “You’re going with us. We’re taking you to your clan, and then…we’ll go back to our time.” Except now she hadn’t the slightest desire to do so. In fact, just thinking about leaving Cadeyrn made everything inside her knot. “Let’s talk about the diversion.”
Chapter Nine
ONCE TWILIGHT FELL over the highlands, Bhaltair walked with Oriana from the village until they reached a quiet oak grove. The ring of carved stones protecting the portal glowed a cool white-silver as it sensed their druid blood.
“If you’re weary, we may return and spend another night at the inn,” he offered when her steps faltered. “’Tis no shame in tarrying if you arenae yet ready for the journey.”
“I’m well, Master,” Oriana said quickly. “The fever brew you made restored me entire.”
His potion had paled before the resilience of her youth, Bhaltair thought, as he still silently wrestled with the soul-wrenching visions she had endured at the Wood Dream settlement. Once he’d nursed Oriana through the effects of her disastrous speak-seeing, however, she had regained her color and vivacity. He’d kept a close eye on her as she rode back with him to return the ponies they’d hired, but she showed no more signs of fever or fatigue. And yet the young acolyte still hesitated before entering the grove, and he saw doubt in her eyes.
“What gives you pause, Oriana?”
She turned to him, and her words came out in a rush. “Master, could you command the Watcher, the clan’s shaman, to take us to the Skaraven? I could show their chieftain the torment of the Wood Dream.”
“Why should you do that?” Bhaltair asked. “’Twas the cause of your seeing fever.”
“I wasnae prepared the first time,” she said and cast down her gaze, as was her custom when she felt fearful. “I ken myself strong enough now to do another speak-seeing. Surely such ’twould persuade Chieftain Brennus to our cause.”
“Brennus would be as likely to pledge himself my slave.” He watched her scowl and felt suddenly very old. “I ken you’re eager to prove yourself, lass, but our past dealings with the clan havenae been kind nor wise. The chieftain wouldnae welcome us or our efforts.”
“Then Brennus should be punished for his wickedness.” Her innocent mouth took on a hard flatness as she regarded the portal. “I cannae help how I feel, Master. Had they fought the famhairean when you awakened them to immortality, we might have saved so many lives, my grandfather’s included.”
Her growing obsession with blaming the Skaraven for Gwyn’s torture and death troubled Bhaltair, but the young druidess had lost to the giants her only blood-kin. It would require time and much caring for her, but in due course her anger would fade. He would see to it himself. He owed that much to his old friend.
“I willnae risk your health again so soon after a sickness, my dear one,” Bhaltair advised as he took her hand, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Now come. I must attend to other matters, and assure that my tribe is safe among Ruadri’s kin.”
With a sigh Oriana nodded, and stepped with him into the portal. A few moments later they gently landed on their feet in the north country, close to a roaring, white-watered river that surrounded a dark forest of towering, ancient trees.
“Stay close to me,” Bhaltair advised her as they walked down the bank and stepped into what appeared to be roaring currents. “The channel of illusion narrows near the falls.”
The river rushed around them as they walked across the concealed dry ground to the enormous shower of water spilling from a high cliff overhead. Bhaltair politely waited until the druid sentry guarding the falls opened a gap in the torrents.
Bhaltair leaned down to Oriana’s ear. “If we encounter the Moss Dapple’s headman while we’re among them, dinnae mention the Watcher.”
Oriana nodded, but clutched his arm as they walked into the pounding, splashing illusion and emerged on the other side surrounded by druids armed with axes.
Bhaltair had yet to grow accustomed to the isolated tribe’s fierce defenders or their strange armor, which they wove from tight layers of tough, spiky vines. He still felt startled by their size as well. Most stood as tall and broad as mortal clan warriors. There had always been unsavory whispers about the tribe and why they never left their territory. In the past Bhaltair had paid them no heed, but now he wondered if some of what had been suspected was true.
Domnall, who oversaw the defense of the tribe’s territory, came to greet him. As huge as the Skaraven’s shaman, he carried an enormous axe that he held resting against his roof beam shoulder. His thorny chest plate creaked as he bowed without dropping his dark gaze.
“Come you now to seek sanctuary with your kin, Master Flen?”
“My acolyte and I wish but to visit the Dawn Fire, Domnall, that I may speak with some of our elders.” He saw another defender move to join the overseer and pass a message scroll to him.
The big man glanced at the message before offering it to Bhaltair. “This came from the Skaraven.”
Bhaltair bit back a mutter of impatience and took the scroll. Ruadri wrote in the old code they had used during his mortal life, which took Bhaltair a longer moment to decipher. As soon as he did he glanced at Oriana.
“My dear one, it seems I must speak to the headman directly.” He regarded the overseer. “Would you be so kind as to escort my acolyte to my tribe, that she may take her rest with them?”
Domnall nodded curtly, but directed two of his men to usher Bhaltair to the Moss Dapple settlement.
Located deep within their enchanted forest, the tribe had built their homes and ritual buildings between and inside trees bespelled to grow wider than taller. Since the structures remained alive even after having been hollowed out, the tribe’s homes sprouted vines, moss-draped branches, and twinned outgrowths of new trunks.
The Moss Dapple’s headman occupied a taller, narrower home made of several birches that had been spell-melded together. He emerged as Bhaltair approached, tall and proud with his mane of white braids, his dark eyes sullen with the resentment of his interrupted hermitage. He looked past Bhaltair and made a waving gesture with one hand, and his escorts bowed and retreated.
“Come inside,” Galan said in his sonorous voice, and once Bhaltair stepped into his abode shut the door and secured it. “You vowed you would no’ seek me out.”
“I’d hoped to leave you in peace, but events have persuaded me to intrude. I shall need every messenger bird you possess to send word to the other tribes. Since your overseer checks all messages, I must tell you first.” He cleared his throat. “I shall ask them to watch for any sign of Cadeyrn, the Skaraven war master, or the quislings and their giants.”
