Heart of a Warlock [Celtic Series Book 3]

by Lyn Armstrong

  “Stupid girl!” Torella shouted, watching the scene unfold within her scrying bowl. The image of Alayne was clear in the red wine. She could see the large hand print on the lass’ cheek. “Why can’t that girl do anything right?”

  Alayne should be on her way to Gleich castle, but instead she was riding in the opposite direction. Torella threw the goblet against the wall. “Where the hell is that warlock?”

  Swinging her black cloak around her shoulders, Torella flicked her hand and prepared to be transported. She stepped into a clear vortex that opened with her thoughts. Bringing the lady’s image to her mind, she reappeared close to the camp where Alayne was being held.

  The horses sidestepped nervously, sensing her presence. She did not care if Alayne’s captors saw her. With a flick of her wrists they would all be dead. She went to step out of the brush when she heard a twig snap. Twirling around, she saw a familiar shape.

  Torella smiled, shifted her shape into a raven and flew upwards. Perching on the tree branch, she settled her tail wings and looked forward to the entertainment to come.

  Callum crouched down on his legs, watching as the men-at-arms drank and made their beds for the night. Sir Rutger was nowhere to be found. If he had one chance it would be now, when the men were as exhausted as he was from riding through the eve. It was only a matter of moments before sunrise, so he must not tarry. A shadow at the corner of his eye made him jerk his head around.

  “Damn bird,” he whispered. Shifting his position for a better view, he found Alayne sitting next to the tree, her hand gently rubbing her face. Was she with them willingly or not? He had to find out. He had to make sure she was not devious like the sorceress.

  Skirting around the forest edge he came up behind the tree where Alayne rested. He threw a rock near her feet and heard a sharp intake of breath.

  “Shh, it is me.” He crouched down.

  “Callum?”

  “Aye.”

  “I thought you would never come. Get me out of here,” she said, her voice low and urgent.

  “Are you sure you want to leave Sir Rutger?” he asked, hating himself for having to ask.

  “Of course I do … what kind of question is that?”

  Callum felt himself breathe a sigh of relief, the knot in his chest unwound.

  He scanned the area and still did not see the knight. He could take on three men-at-arms. Rising to his feet he pulled his sword, then a blade dug slightly into his back.

  “Drop the sword, my laird.”

  Swearing beneath his breath, he obeyed and walked into the clearing.

  Alayne pushed herself up against the tree and watched in horror as Rutger nudged Callum toward his men.

  Soon the sun would rise and she would not be able to see what was going to happen to him.

  “Sir Rutger, let him go,” she pleaded.

  “What a shame you canna see, my love,” Rutger taunted and turned to his men. “Beat him to death!”

  “Nae,” Alayne screamed and ran toward Callum.

  Rutger’s cruel arms held her back.

  Callum tried to struggle, but they overpowered him, punching and jabbing him until he could no longer stand. On the ground, the men kicked him, again and again.

  “Stop it, please!” Tears marked her face. She could not stand to see all the blood. She felt each blow as though it landed on her body rather than Callum’s. “I will do anything. Please stop.”

  “Anything?” Rutger roughly grabbed her face and pulled it close to his. She kept her gaze unfocused, staring through him instead of at him.

  “Aye, anything,” Alayne begged. “Please.”

  After what seemed like an eternity, he finally ordered his men to stop. Alayne tried to run to Callum, but Rutger pulled her back. “Keep your word and he will live.”

  Alayne looked toward his bruised and battered body on the ground and nodded.

  “Sit him over by the tree, make sure he has a good view of his whore,” Rutger commanded his men.

  Callum was picked up under both arms, his feet dragging in the dirt, only to be dumped against the tree. He groaned and coughed, blood oozing from his split lip.

  Alayne wanted to see to his injuries, but could not release Rutger’s grip on her arm.

  With one hand Rutger lifted his kilt, exposing his cock. “I want you to suck me until my seed has emptied into your sweet mouth.”

  Bile rose in her throat and she shook her head.

  “Nae, Alayne, do not do it!” Callum shouted.

  “Kill him,” Rutger ordered.

  Alayne cried, “Nae … I will do it!”

  “When you have satisfied me, I want you to do the same for all the fine soldiers here.”

  A roar came from his men; their eyes glistened with anticipation.

  “Are you so sure I won’t bite?” Alayne taunted.

  “If I feel even the slightest graze of teeth, I will have the laird’s member cut off.”

  Rutger pushed her shoulders down and she kneeled before him. His erection jutted toward her.

  “Open wide,” he said with a silky voice.

  Sourness churned in her stomach, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

  Her hands shook with anger and revulsion.

  This was for Callum, for his life.

  With all her will, she forced her lips to part.

  Ruffling her black feathers, Torella enjoyed the scene taking place below. The sexual tension radiating from the one called Rutger was delicious. She devoured the invisible force from his aura, filling her body and soul with power. Even the other men released a reddish glow—their eagerness was thick with energy. Ordinarily, she would not want to stop such an erotic byplay, but she needed to secure her grandchild—and this was wasting more time. If she showed herself now, Callum would suspect Alayne. Nae, she had to allow him to rescue her and take her back to his castle for safekeeping.

  Torella observed Callum. His life force was weak, but his golden magical aura was strong. It would not be long before his powers came to him. She simply needed to speed things along.

  Callum used all his remaining strength to resist the two men holding him down. It was no use. It felt like his ribs were cracked along with other bones. The metallic taste of blood pooled in his mouth and he spat it out. No amount of pain could compare to seeing Alayne about to pleasure Rutger.

  “Bite it off!” he growled, enraged. One of the men holding him punched his bloody lip. A sharp pain shot through his battered body. They were going to kill him. He knew they could not let him live. At this point, he did not care anymore. He only wanted to stop Alayne’s torment.

  A bird squawked in the branch above his head and swooped down with a parchment in its claws. The raven dropped the yellow paper and it landed on his lap. The odd bird flew away, shrieking a ghostly cry.

  Looking down at the black ink, he read aloud.

  Be this of my ancestry,

  release my powers unto me.

  Take my pledge to witches loch,

  I am a Celtic warlock.

  The morning sun streaked across the land and shone into his face. A yellow light surrounded his body, filling him with warmth, his pain disappearing, his bones and muscles healing themselves. Even the blood on his tunic vanished.

  The soldiers stumbled backward. He rose up; a strange sensation filled his veins and the palms of his hands were hot. Ancient voices whispered in his ear, filling his mind with spells and enchantments.

  Fear was etched on the men’s faces and they pulled their swords.

  Callum whispered, “Take these men from my sight.”

  Three men where launched into the air. Callum cared not where they landed. Their distant screams brought him great satisfaction. He turned to Alayne and Rutger, but all he saw was Alayne on the ground, crying.

  The vile knight had escaped.

  He ran to Alayne and gathered her into his arms.

  “What has happened?” she asked, her eyes unfocused.

  “They are gone,” he
replied and kissed her forehead. “They are all gone.”

  “But how?”

  “I have finally been granted the power of a Celtic warlock.” He scanned the area for the raven, but could not see it in the morning light.

  “You are a warlock?” her voice rose in surprise.

  “Aye, the powers are passed down through my mother’s ancestors.” He picked her up into his arms and cradled her trembling body against his chest, carrying her closer to the fire for warmth.

  “I … I did not know.”

  “Do not be afraid of me. I am not evil,” he said, and sat down with her in his lap.

  “I am not afraid.” Alayne reached out to touch his face and he pressed his cheek into her palm.

  “Are you hurt,” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

  “Nae, for some reason, my powers healed me.”

  “I am so glad.”

  Amazed that she was safe in his arms once more, he lowered his head to kiss her pink lips.

  Pulling over one of the rough blankets, he wrapped it around them both and lay down on the ground, keeping her close to his side. Soon he heard her rhythmic breathing and looked down to find she was fast asleep. She was so beautiful with her wild red hair, button nose and long eyelashes. Even the faint mole above her lip was adorable.

  It felt right to have her in his arms. He would do whatever it took to keep her there. Before he fell under the pull of slumber, he heard the raven cry in the distance.

  Silently, he thanked his mother for sending the bird with the ancient spell to release his Celtic powers. It had to have been her. Who else would have sensed his need?

  Chilly Highland winds blew across the glen, ruffling Alayne’s hair. It fell across her face, tickling her nose. Sleepily, she swiped the offending hair and snuggled further under a thick cloak that covered her from neck to foot. The hard ground beneath her was uncomfortable. She could no longer sleep, now that her muscles were awake and stiff.

  Opening her eyes, she blinked. Vague shadows entered her vision. By the warmth touching her skin, she assumed the sun had reached its zenith.

  “My laird,” she called and sat up.

  The buzzing of bees and whisper of the breeze was all she could hear.

  “Callum,” she raised her voice.

  A shiver of panic swept through her. She was alone. Where did he go? Did he leave to search for his prisoner? Did the thought of her lying to him about her name show him that she was no good? Or perhaps seeing her with Rutger repelled him.

  Her heart twisted with regret and pain. She released her held breath in a whoosh. Who could blame him? She had been naught but trouble since he rescued her and he had little idea what she planned to do. Guilt racked her conscience, weighing on her chest.

  Achingly, she rose from the ground and cinched the heavy cloak around her shoulders.

  The garment had to be Callum’s. It held the same musky scent she had grown accustomed too. She breathed deeply, allowing his aroma to calm her fears of being alone.

  Her stomach rumbled and her mouth tasted stale.

  Floating on the breeze, the insistent beat of horse hooves pounded across the glen. Was it Callum or had Rutger come back for her? Her heart raced at both prospects.

  Alayne did not know whether to run or stay and wait for the rider to approach. Even if she ran, without her walking stick she would not get far.

  The rider dismounted and walked closer to her. Anxiously, she bit her lip and shifted her weight from foot to foot.

  A hand grabbed her wrist and placed her palm on a stubble cheek.

  “‘Tis I,” a rich, husky voice said. Callum’s familiar scent invaded her senses, and her shoulders slumped with relief.

  “Where did you go?”

  “I went to get you fresh bread from a cottage I found down the way. I knew you would be hungry when you woke.”

  The sound of rummaging was followed by the smell of bread as he placed it in her hands. She melted at his thoughtfulness.

  “How did you pay for it? Your coins were taken by the prisoner,” Alayne asked and plopped a piece of bread into her mouth.

  “Aye, that be the truth. But the old lady was in need of someone to repair her roof, so we reached an accord.”

  Alayne moaned when the bread dissolved in her mouth. It was the best food she had ever tasted.

  “You fixed someone’s roof this morn? Do you never sleep?”

  Callum’s deep laugh vibrated through her and tingles settled in her stomach along with the bread.

  A warm hand touched her cheek and she turned, kissing his palm.

  “You are so beautiful,” Callum said in a low voice, his body pressing close to hers.

  “Nae, I am not.”

  “Aye, you are,” he replied and kissed the hollow of her neck.

  “I am blind and a burden. I might as well be a leper,” she added, her heart breaking from her insecurities while her body reacted to his caress.

  “You may not be able to see, but you are bonny to those of us who can.”

  His lips touched hers and she collapsed against his strength.

  “Callum, I need to tell you something,” she said, lacing her fingers through his.

  “You can tell me anything…”

  His body stiffened.

  “What is it?” she asked, startled.

  “I just thought of something.”

  “What?”

  “I do not want to raise your hopes, but I would like to try my new Celtic powers on healing your eyes.”

  “Callum, you do not…”

  “Please, Alayne. Let me try.”

  “But I need to tell you something,” she repeated.

  “First let me see if I can cure your blindness.” A boyish enthusiasm filled his voice.

  “Aye, you are welcome to try,” Alayne answered, and gave a lopsided smile.

  She heard him take a deep breath and release it.

  “I call upon my Celtic ancestors to help me heal,

  allow this lady my hand now feels,

  be one with the Goddess, her sight returned,

  I finally seek my powers. I have learned.”

  A cool energy flowed over her eyelids like snow gently falling upon her lashes. She blinked a few times and then the brightness of the sun stunned her eyes. She held her hands up to block the glare and found Callum smiling down at her.

  He whooped for joy and picked her up, spinning her in circles.

  She laughed with him, excited to see the land in full daylight for the first time in many seasons. She knew not how long she would have her eyesight before the sorceress stole it again, but for now, she was going to enjoy every moment of it.

  He put her down and she stared into his enticing blue eyes. He was a masterpiece of manhood. A true gift from God, and he stood within inches of her, looking at her with adoration in his gaze.

  Guilt stabbed at her heart. He did not deserve her betrayal and she did not deserve his respect. Her face fell and she turned away.

  “What is amiss?” he asked.

  She opened her mouth to tell him—tell him everything, but the words would not come out.

  “If you are thinking of Rutger, do not worry. He is long gone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I followed his tracks and they headed east. I would say he is well into the hills.”

  Alayne’s breath was cut off. Rutger was returning to Wynda. Her sister would no doubt receive the brunt of his displeasure. She could only imagine the pain he would inflict upon her.

  Alayne’s stomach rolled with apprehension.

  “You wanted to tell me something?” Callum asked.

  “I—I am worried—about where I am going to go now,” she stuttered and stumbled away from him, trying to distance herself from his warm embrace.

  “You will come back to Gleich castle with me. At least there, I know you will be safe from Rutger and the sorceress in case either one returns for you.” Callum stepped closer and rubbed her
shoulders. “Is that all right?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

  After a long pause, Alayne lowered her eyes and nodded. She must go through with the sorceress’ plan.

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  Chapter Eight

  They had been traveling on his horse for two days and Alayne hardly said a word to him. He did not understand her disposition. Was she not happy to have her sight restored? Or perhaps she was nervous about going home with him and meeting his magical family. She said she was not afraid of him being a warlock, but that did not mean she understood witches. Most people feared them because of ridiculous tales such as witches feasting with demons on the flesh of humans, along with other absurd fables.

  Callum smelled the faint scent of roses still in her hair and tightened his arm around her waist, while his other hand held the reins.

  He needed to reassure her that his mother and sister were good and loving witches. He could not wait to tell them that his powers had come through. He was finally a true Celtic warlock.

  “Milady.”

  She lifted her head, offering him a view of her poised profile. The elegant shape of her high cheekbones, along with her smooth skin and soft red hair, indicated her aristocracy. How had he ever mistaken her for a peasant?

  She was breathtaking.

  He cleared his throat and continued, “There is no need to fear my family. Their hearts are true and pure. Even though they have powers, they use them only to help their clan in times of sickness and struggle. Wait until you see my wee bonny niece, Rhiannon. She has the sweetest…”

  Alayne’s head fell forward. Was she crying?

  “I know they will love you,” he softly added.

  Her body slumped further against him. Instead of making her feel better, it seemed he had somehow made her feel worse.

  Soon they would travel upon his lands and he would introduce Alayne to his family. In time, she would see they meant her no harm. When he was assured that she was safe and comfortable, he would bring his army back to where he lost Master Evan’s tracks. Perhaps they would get lucky and find the old steward. This time he was not going to give the man a second chance to lead him to the sorceress.

  “Will you be going after your prisoner again?” she asked.