Slowly, ever so slowly, Deirdre sank down on his shaft. Her back arched, and she cried out in pleasure. He answered her cry and thrust up, holding her by the hips. Thrusting repeatedly, he couldn’t wait, couldn’t go slowly. He had no control over his body at all. With animal drive, he clutched her hips and took her until his own need exploded.
He cried out, “Katie!” as his seed left him a shuddering, quivering mess, and they both moaned with shared pleasure.
Thunder woke him much later, with Deirdre curled next to him like a cat. He turned his head and cried.
* * *
The journey to Inverness numbed him. The week-long trip across the country had left them as tired as when they had arrived in Borreraig. The night’s rest had benefited them greatly—especially Deirdre—but the flush of renewed vigor quickly faded as they trudged across the Highlands.
There were few towns or villages along the road, and those few were wary of strangers. English soldiers were active in this area, taking vague suspicions out on innocent crofters and villagers. Rare was the Highlander who hadn’t had sheep stolen, a house burned, or a wife accosted in the last years. The Black Watch was worse, from what Éamonn heard. They were righteous bandits, demanding protection money and taking what they wanted.
Crofters stared silently through windows as they passed by. Sooty faces with wary eyes which didn’t relax. Daughters and wives were hidden away as soon as hoof beats were heard. No laughter or joy visited in the alehouses of an evening. Éamonn occasionally found a group of threadbare, skinny men throwing dice, but he had no heart to cheat them from their meager coin.
Without the income from his gambling tricks, they lived rough most of the time, eschewing what alehouses there were. They supplemented their waning travel food with hunting, though even that remained sparse enough. As they got closer to Inverness, they’d had no food for the last day and no money to buy more. Deirdre even had run out of her seemingly endless supply of tea the day after they’d left Borreraig.
She had not been best pleased when Éamonn had insisted they push on to find Katie.
“Even after all this, you still want her? Do I mean nothing to you, after everything? What spell did she place on you, Éamonn Doherty? You never even kissed her!”
“But I love her, Deirdre. And I promised to protect her.”
“She’s not your responsibility, Éamonn. She has a husband. It’s his job to protect her.”
“I must make sure he’s taking care of her, then. I promised, and I refuse to break that vow. It’s my duty.”
She glared at him and put her hands on her hips, thrusting her breasts forward. “And what of your duties to me, Éamonn? Do I not warrant your protection?”
He rolled his eyes. “You are well able to take care of yourself, Deirdre. You’ve proven that many times. You don’t need me.”
“But I love you!”
Éamonn laughed. “You love nothing, Deirdre. Except the hunt, perhaps. You do love that. Well, you felled your quarry, and it turns out he still doesn’t want you.”
Her chin quivered, and she burst into tears, a dirty trick. He wanted to gather her into his arms to comfort her, but that’s precisely why she did it. He must resist. Her own magic to manipulate sometimes worked as strong as his own.
When the tears didn’t work, she screamed and kicked, scratched at him, beat him with her fists. She did little real damage, but such a hellcat! Ciaran took her away to comfort her. At least, it’s what Éamonn hoped he did.
It had made him reconsider the worth of this quest. Certainly, Deirdre wanted him. That was obvious enough, even for his thick skull. Why couldn’t he settle for the woman he had, rather than go on a mad, dangerous quest for a woman already well married to another man?
Why, indeed. Thinking of spending the rest of his life with Deirdre made him recoil. Certainly, she remained beautiful and sensual. He had no complaints with her, physically. But when she didn’t outright seduce him, she pestered him. She alternated between pitiful sobbing, wheedling, and moping. Her mood would swing from intense fury to pathetic whining, like traveling with a sexy, sulky child.
And Katie… with Katie, she was part of him. Temper and all, she’d be a proper match to his own mind. In the past, Éamonn had played at life. He would start projects and seldom see them through. This time it was important to his very being, to the center of his soul, to complete his quest, find Katie again so they could be one.
Or at least be assured that she had found happiness.
He had kept each of the blue ribbons he had found, tied to his belt. He stroked them like a magical talisman each time he thought of her.
He refused to lie with Deirdre again. His body didn’t understand his refusal, but it came easier with each passing day. The girl didn’t meekly accept this dismissal, of course. Every evening, she solicitously served him his supper. She sat next to him, making sure her thigh touched his by the campfire. She caressed him whenever she could muster an excuse to do so, and let her hand linger on his arm, his collarbone, his back. Every night, she urged him to join her in her tent. And every night, he had to steel himself from giving in to his animal lust.
Occasionally he found her crying in Ciaran’s arms the next morning, and he knew himself for a callous blackguard.
Inverness was a large city. It might be the largest Éamonn had seen outside Dublin. They approached the outskirts at dusk on the fifth day out of Borreraig. He saw a stone castle built on a promontory near the mouth of the River Ness. A bridge crossed the river, and grand houses surrounded both sides, with simpler huts with thatched roofs spread out around this city center. The port swarmed with activity, and the quay had seamen running around like ants to clear cargo from late arrivals. He saw several king’s soldiers walking through the streets, especially into the inns and taverns. This must be the right place.
But how would he find Katie in all these people? He poked into each alehouse and inn they passed, but her red hair didn’t pop out to flag him. She might not even be in an inn. There could be barracks or separate quarters for married soldiers. Would a soldier even be allowed to be married? They must if they joined after having already been married. It would make Katie a camp follower. The sordid implications of that made Éamonn’s skin crawl. He hoped Lochlann remained honorable enough, strong enough to keep her from the attentions of other soldiers.
Frustrated by too many options, Éamonn finally settled on camping outside the city. They had no coin for even the lowliest of alehouses, and he didn’t want to run the risk of harassment by the English. He pulled a reluctant Ciaran and Deirdre back out of town and into a clearing beside the river. They set up their camp.
“I’ll see if I can scrounge food, Éamonn. I’ll watch out for your girl.” Ciaran left without waiting for Éamonn’s answer, but he didn’t blame him. They were all hungry.
“Not going with him, Deirdre? You’re more likely to elicit offers of charity than his dour face.”
“No, I would rather wait here with you.” She sidled up to him.
Éamonn sighed.
“Deirdre, no. You go with Ciaran. I’ll be grand here on my own, to be sure.”
“I don’t want to go tramping about the dark countryside with him. I’d rather be here.” She put a warm hand on his thigh. His skin prickled and tensed.
Standing up, he walked to his horse and got the waterskin out. Any excuse to get away from her. He filled it down by the river, balancing on a rock to get the skin into the water.
“Why are you afraid of me, Éamonn?” Her voice at his shoulder almost made him leap into the river.
“In the name of all that’s holy, girl! Stop sneaking up on me!”
“There’s no reason to fear me. No reason at all.” Her voice sounded silky smooth as she caressed his back with both hands. He had to escape this.
Pushing back, he leaped off the rock and onto the shore, putting her off balance. With a cry of indignation, she fell on her rump in the dew-damp grass.
&
nbsp; “Éamonn! That wasn’t nice at all. Here, now, help me up again.” She put her hand out and awaited his assistance. A sensuous half-smile played across her lips.
“You are perfectly capable of getting up yourself, Deirdre.” He stalked back to the camp.
Sounds of exasperation faded as he walked away. Taking the harness and saddle off his horse and currying the poor beast down helped him to steady his mind and his desires. It was easier to say no to her now. He pulled strength from that idea. Maybe because he was so close to Katie? Or did his body simply tire of such spoiled delights? Or just getting into the habit of saying no helped. He regretted that night horribly. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed it, but he betrayed his love of Katie. He was unworthy of her.
Ciaran returned with day-old bread and a hunk of cheese large enough to fill all their shrunken stomachs. They chewed it slowly and in silence.
“Did you get a chance to search around any of the soldier camps?”
Ciaran swallowed the lump of bread he’d been chewing. “There’s a large army camp next to the official barracks in the town, which is where the overflow is put. They’ve twice as many soldiers as they have berths in the barracks, from the gossip of the camp woman that gave me this.” He held his bread. “She said they’d been there a month so far, and glad of the mild weather. The inactivity has turned into several fights. I did ask about recent arrivals, and she said they might be on the other side of the camp. That’s where the bursar’s tent is, and they’ll need to check in there.”
Éamonn nodded at this intelligence. Ciaran actually did pretty well at sussing out information. His natural charm worked wonders on the unsuspecting kitchen maid or crofter’s wife. Evidently, it worked on camp followers.
“We’ll head around there in the morning, then. Rest well tonight.”
As the night fell warm and dry, they didn’t even bother setting up tents. They laid blankets and slept under the stars. One rebuff of Deirdre’s questing hand and a couple snorts from the horses and Éamonn slumbered off into the world of dreams.
Standing in a lonely moor, Katie stood in the distance. She waved to him and then ran in the opposite direction, the curly mop of her red hair bouncing farther and farther away until it disappeared in the heather. He ran after her, but his movements were slowed. He stood in a bog, with strange, frog-like creatures attached to each leg. The frogs were wearing long cassocks. He pulled and jerked, but he couldn’t remove more than one at a time. When each one was detached, two more latched on, until he became mostly covered with long, thin slimy tentacles. One popped up with round, wire-rimmed glasses and told him he should catch up with the young lass if he were to hop like a frog. Shrugging, Éamonn tried to jump, but all he just got the mud all over him. He fell deeper and deeper. The tentacles had started around his ankles but moved to his knees. Now they were creeping higher until it reached his—
Sitting up with a cry, the fog of sleep still around him, he shook his head until he fully woke. The tentacles still had a grip on his privates. Only there were no tentacles, but Deirdre’s hands. She peered at him with a crafty smile, and he surveyed the damage she had wrought. His member stood stiff and ready for action, no doubt about that. With an iron will, he detached her hand as he had the tentacles in the bog. It was more difficult as she resisted his efforts. Her other hand moved to his balls, but he removed that as well with a sigh. The coming dawn began to lighten the blue velvet of the star-filled sky.
“Enough, Deirdre.” He whispered low, so as not to wake Ciaran.
“It’s never enough, Éamonn. Can’t you see I’m so much better… closer… than Katie? I want you with all my being.” She had scooted until she pressed against him, her breasts straining against her shift. One lock of ink-dark hair had fallen across her cleavage, pale in the bare dawn. He tore his eyes from the sight.
“No. That’s a real no, Deirdre, and final. Even if I don’t find Katie, or if she can’t come to me, it’s no. Can you not understand?”
“You’ve liked me well enough in the past, Éamonn. Don’t you remember?”
She pressed her breasts against his shoulder, moving a hand up his chest and then into the top of his breeks. Aching to take her in his arms, he pushed her off and stood up.
“I remember well enough, Deirdre. But we’re done, truly. Get it through your head, will you?” He didn’t whisper any longer, and Ciaran stirred.
Deirdre’s answer halted with the sound of marching feet. A troop of soldiers marched past them. Ciaran woke, and all three of them rose to wait for the column pass south along the road. The jingle of tack and the clatter of wagons joined the sounds. There must be hundreds of soldiers passing. Where were they going?
After the troops came the wagons of supplies and the camp followers. He strained to make out details in the still dark morning. He spied a red-haired lass in one group of women, but she stood much too tall to be Katie. Another was short enough but had her hair covered with a kerchief.
Then he saw her. There she stood, bright as a new doit, her curls as vibrant and springy as he remembered. She talked with another woman as they walked.
“Katie! Katie!”
Her head whipped around as he cried out. She halted, and her mouth formed an ‘O’ as she recognized who cried out to her from the trees.
“Éamonn?”
She sounded incredulous as if encountering a ghost. By all that was holy, she was so beautiful, a shining star in a sea of darkness. She was shoved and jostled by others who were still moving with the column while she stood, unable to move.
Katie stepped out of the stream of people. She glanced back a couple times, but if her husband marched with the column, he should be at the head with the soldiers.
She walked toward them slowly, as if not believing her eyes. He couldn’t believe his own eyes, seeing her here in front of him after all these weeks. He took her hands. They were ice cold.
“Éamonn! Éamonn, what are you doing here now?” She shook her head and furrowed her brow.
A hundred times he had imagined their reunion on the road. None of them started like this. Usually, he imagined a fantasy of them running towards each other in slow motion, and spinning around like tops when they embraced.
This was nothing like that. More like a slap in the face.
Well, at least he could answer her honestly.
“Katie, I came for you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”
She glared at him with wonder. Her voice remained flat. “You came for me.”
She pulled her hands out of his. “You idiot, you’re too late! It’s done. I’m wedded and bedded now, and nothing can stop that. Damn you, Éamonn Doherty! Why didn’t you come sooner?” A sob caught in her voice.
“I tried! We were not even a day behind you at Borreraig. I swear! The hearth was still warm when we got there.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, and it still would have been too late. You were too late a day before that.” She shuddered. What had Lochlann done to her when he had consummated the marriage? A massive surge of jealousy rocked him.
“Where is he? Where is Lochlann? I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Kill him and take me away like a Viking? I’m not a prize to be carried off! He may not be the husband I chose, but he treats me well enough. You have nerve, Éamonn Doherty!” Her eyes flashed in the rising dawn. Dear God, but she looked magnificent in her fury.
Éamonn’s resolve slipped away.
“Are you safe, then? Does he protect you?”
Her eyes widened, telling him all he needed to know.
“Katie?” Deirdre’s voice came from behind him. He had completely forgotten his companions.
“Deirdre.” Katie glanced coldly at her sister. Deirdre came up behind Éamonn and put a possessive arm around his waist. He removed it and glared at her, but Katie noticed it.
“Oh, so that’s how it is, is it? Better the one you’ve got than the one you don’t? Well, it all works out then, doesn’t it? You can ha
ve him, Deirdre, and joy to you both.” Spitting the words with venom, she spun around and stomped back towards the now retreating crowd of camp followers.
“Katie, wait! No, it’s not like that! It’s you I love!” Éamonn ran after her. She ignored him and kept tromping down the road with purpose.
“Katie.” He grabbed her arm and spun her about. He took a step back at the naked fury on her face.
“You faithless load of gobshite! I wouldn’t take you now if you were the last man on earth. How dare you profess your love to me and then sleep with my own sister! Can you deny it?”
He was struck dumb with her vitriol. She must have taken his silence as consent—as indeed, it was. His guilt must have shown, for she spat in his face and ran after the group. A few people glanced back at the fracas.
He stood, numb. Damn Deirdre and her manipulations. She came to him now and tried to hold his hand. He shook it off and, for the first time, had the incredible urge to hit her. Anything to get her clinging, betraying hands off him. No, he was the one who had betrayed. He checked his impulse and shook his head, going for the horses.
Éamonn had no idea what he should do next, but he knew one thing. He didn’t want to give up yet. Damn it, this wasn’t how he meant it to go! He was helpless, but he couldn’t leave now. Ciaran grabbed his arm when he got the saddles on the horses and placed the bridle.
“That’s it, Éamonn. What else can you do? You have it from her own mouth. You’re too late, and she doesn’t want you. Face the truth, for once in your blasted life, will you?”
He pulled his arm out of his cousin’s grip. “That’s not it, not nearly. She’s terrified of something, and I’ll lay long odds it’s Donald. I’m not done yet. Go if you want, and take Deirdre with you.”
Ciaran stared at him in disbelief.
“Are you completely deranged, Éamonn? How could she be any plainer? She’s done with you.”
Éamonn didn’t answer. He glanced in the direction in which Katie had stomped off.
Legacy of Luck (Druid's Brooch Series 3) Page 22
