Would her plan really work?
Callum paced his chamber. Though it was a spacious room, he felt the walls shifting in, making the room feel smaller and smaller the more his anger grew. A crack of thunder outside boomed through the castle and he wondered if it was due to his ill temper or simply the weather growing worse.
Could his emotions affect the weather as his sister’s did? He placed his hands against the windowsill and peered at the heavy gray clouds above. The wind increased in strength, whipping dead leaves through the air, yet no rain fell.
The image of Alayne in Tremayne’s arms haunted his thoughts and he pushed away from the window. Was anything that came from her supple lips the truth? Who was this woman who looked at him with heart-rending tenderness, then filled his head with lies. And what was her purpose?
He shook his head. It mattered not. Alayne was just like the sorceress: Beautiful on the outside, deceitful within. A woman who used her body to get what she wanted.
Argh!
He would never trust her again.
“Never!”
Grabbing his sword, he tied it to his waist and stormed out of the chamber. He needed fresh air.
He shoved open the door to the battlements. The wind swept wildly through his hair, pushing him backwards. He leaned into the force with stubborn authority. The soldiers on guard bowed and looked at him with caution, shifting sideways to keep out of his path.
“Find shelter from the storm,” he called to them as he strode passed.
The musty smell of rain mingled with wind. It would not be long now before their wells topped with water. Although being in the highlands, water was not something his clan lacked, the rain was still essential to life.
Callum halted at the bartizan, a turret in the battlement that oversaw the surrounding Roberts lands. From this viewpoint, his walls were impenetrable. An enemy could not take this side of the keep without exposing themselves to arrows shot from the many loops in the wall.
He could do with a siege. It would take his mind off the image of Alayne moaning beneath the sorcerer’s body.
By the Gods!
He took his sword out of the scabbard and sliced it through the air.
Rain pelted down all at once and he reveled in the crisp drops soaking his tunic. Again and again, he lunged and parried with his sword. His muscles strained while water dripped into his eyes.
Turning in an arc, he stopped.
Alayne stood on the battlements.
Her hands were clutched together at her chest while her pale linen kirtle and red hair were soaked through. She looked miserable and he felt a sense of satisfaction along with dread.
“Go inside!” he shouted over the pouring rain.
She shook her head.
“Milady, go inside!”
“I will not!”
Fury flowed through his veins, a knot lodged in his chest. Clenching the hilt of his sword in his hand, he ran along the battlement toward her. The rain blurred his vision, but he could still see her standing with stubborn resolution, angering him further.
He pulled up short, only a hand’s width from her face. Breathing heavily, he stared at her with resentment and violence. He dropped his sword and it clattered at their feet. With both hands, he captured her annoyingly beautiful face and kissed her hard, branding her lips as his own. He wanted to punish her and love her at the same time.
She moaned beneath his onslaught and the sensual sound, smothered against his mouth, increasing the erection pressed against his breeches.
Stepping away, she lifted her wet kirtle over her head and stood before him completely naked. Without a corset, her breasts jutted outward, her nipples hardened. Her creamy skin contrasted against the gloomy battlements while the red thatch between her thighs aroused him like never before. She stood before him, vulnerable, yet with full command in her lust-filled eyes. She was glorious.
If this was another trick, another deception—he was beyond caring.
He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
Pushing his tongue into her mouth, he walked her to the wall, her warm moisture torturing and tempting his manhood.
The rain pelted harder on his back.
Her naked buttocks were slippery, but he held her fast. She was not going anywhere. He needed to be inside her, to join with her again.
With her back against the wall, he rubbed himself against her while she undid the laces to his breeches. Awkwardly, he pushed them down his waist and his cock sprung to life, feeling the sticky heat of her womanhood while pressing between her lips.
He lifted her higher and then gradually settled her down on his erection. The instant heat of her smooth insides cradled him and they both sighed with sensual relief. No matter what their words said, their bodies could not lie. This was where he connected with her, his heart and soul binding with hers.
Tilting his head, he suckled her nipple. He lifted her up and down on his shaft and his sacs tightened, his body preparing to explode. Instead he waited, resisted its overwhelming pull until Alayne found her pleasure. He wanted this to last, but knew it would not. He was too aroused by the sensation of the rain on his skin and her eager responses.
She grinded onto his cock and pulled his head up to kiss him as hard as he kissed her. The taste of her mouth, along with her sweet breath, enflamed his senses.
God’s wounds, he never felt so alive.
She wrapped both arms around his neck, her moans becoming louder and louder until she broke away from his mouth. Her insides squeezed around him and she pounded herself harder against him, sending him over the edge.
The wind and rain took away his roar as their bodies moved in a frenzy of passion. They clawed at each other, taking and giving with all their strength.
Resting his head on her shoulder, he labored to regain his breath. The rain eased to a sprinkle and the ardor in his veins cooled. He raised his head to find tears mingled on her already moist face.
“I am sorry,” she whispered.
He shook his head and lowered her to her feet. “I do not want to discuss it.”
Pulling up his breeches, he turned and found her honey-colored kirtle on the ground. Ringing the excess water out of the material, he placed it over her head and clumsily helped her with the wet garment.
“I know that you have no reason to trust…”
He placed a finger on her lips. “Let us not talk about it. For now, I want to carry you upstairs to my chamber and dry you off in front of the hearth. Then I want to make love to you for the rest of the eve.”
A raw, primitive instinct told him this was all he had. Come sunrise, things would change forever between them.
She nodded, then glanced up at him with unspoken pain. “Take me to your chamber.”
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Chapter Ten
Alayne carefully untangled her legs from Callum’s while he slept soundly next to her. Unwrapping the fur pelt from around her waist, she held her breath and rose from the bed. The log in the hearth fell, creating a loud crack, and sent sparks floating upward. She cringed and peeked over her shoulder.
Callum’s angelic features remained undisturbed. She released her breath and allowed her lungs freedom to breathe. She padded across the floor, donned and laced up a clean corset, then stepped into her damp yellow gown near the fire. The chill of the garment sent shivers along her skin, but she ignored the sensation. She would need all her courage for what she was about to do.
Fidgeting with her fingers, she lightly walked over to the bed and dared to place a kiss on Callum’s lips. He smiled in his sleep and rolled over.
Alayne’s heart broke. It would be the last time she kissed his tender mouth. When he woke, he would know the true extent of her deceit and would never forgive her.
Wretched anguish tore at her heart.
She must not lose control of her emotions. Not here, not now.
She had to save her sister, no matter what.
; But there was one thing she had to do before she left.
Reaching into the wooden chest in the corner, she found a parchment, quill and ink. She heard a noise and quickly looked at the bed, but found no movement from beneath the covers.
Dipping the quill, she scribed.
I am sorry.
Lady Alayne Duncan
She held the quill over the letter, wanting to say more, but did not know how. How could she explain her actions of betrayal? What words would describe her utter despair at the pain she was about to cause the only man she had ever loved. Taking a deep breath, she folded the parchment and placed it on the pillow beside him.
With one last look, she turned and left silently.
A chilly draft whistled through the deserted narrow stairway as Alayne climbed higher and higher to the next level. The only noise was the soft patter of her steps as she made her way to Gavenia and Tremayne’s chamber.
Listening against the only door on the third floor, she heard nothing within. Carefully, she opened the door and slithered past the entrance. The chamber was huge with woolen rugs hanging on the walls. A large bed sat to the north side of the room while a small cradle was on the other. She went to the master bed and found Gavenia and Tremayne sleeping soundlessly, wrapped naked in each other’s arms.
Gavenia’s dark cloak and flaxen slippers sat by the window chest. Alayne swung the cloak around her shoulders and slipped on the shoes. When she returned home, she would send coins.
Turning, she hurried to the pallet. Rhiannon was asleep in her creamy coverlets. The babe’s angel face was soft and pink, peacefully unaware of her presence. Alayne picked her up and she woke.
“Shh, wee Rhiannon.” She rocked her in her arms. “Go back to sleep. We do not want to wake your parents.”
With the bundle in her arms, Alayne walked out of the castle undetected. An eerie fog surrounded her, moistening her skin. The storm clouds darkened the cobblestone road in the bailey, but Alayne found her way to the stables around the corner of the castle. She heard a noise from one of the darkened windows above. Lifting her gaze, she saw that the windows were empty.
Had she been discovered?
Hastening her steps, she ran into the stables to find the old man waiting for her on a bale of hay, a single candle lighting his craggy face. He rose and tried to take the babe from her. She pulled away.
“You will wake her,” she whispered.
The man stepped back and scowled. “Aye, best you carry the child out, lest she screams.”
“Let us go before we are seen by someone in the castle.” Alayne held the bundle closer to her chest, patting it gently.
“Follow me,” he said and disappeared into the darkness of the village.
The fog thickened until she could see only the back of his cloak and hat. If he had not waited, she doubted if she could have found her way out of the village. Alayne wanted to ask the man’s name, but did not want to utter a sound in the quiet village. Perhaps he was the steward Callum was trying to find. She never did get a good look at him. He was the one man who knew the whereabouts of the sorceress.
Well, very soon, she too would know—right outside the enchanted lilies.
Courage, she must show courage. Everything in her told her to run in the opposite direction, back to Callum. But she could not. She had to face the sorceress and save her sister.
They swiftly walked toward the closed gate, the muscles in her legs strained. She resisted the urge to turn around. If she did, she might not be able to go through with this.
“Who goes there!” a voice called down from the garrison.
“Open the gate, my wife and I need to leave,” the man with her shouted.
“Why so late?” the gatekeeper probed.
The man beside her went for his crossbow beneath his cloak, but she stayed his hand.
“My mother is ill and I fear she will not last the night, please open and let us pass,” Alayne called out.
“Very well,” the gatekeeper replied. “Stick to the path, the woods are not safe at night.”
Alayne nodded, but did not know why. The gatekeeper could not possibly see her in the thick fog. The gate creaked open and Alayne felt with every sound it made, it woke the entire village and castle.
Glancing around she could not help but sense something was amiss. Her palms prickled with sweat and she rubbed a hand on her kirtle. Why was the gate taking so long?
Unwilling to wait for it to fully open, she bent her head and slipped under it. The servant beside her did the same and they rushed over the bridge.
“Hurry!” he ordered. “The sorceress does not like to be kept waiting.”
With the bundle in her arms, Alayne pushed her legs to move faster up the hill. She sensed someone was following them, but did not look back. Even if someone had witnessed her departure, they would not be able to find her in this fog.
“The gate…” she said.
“What about the gate?” he asked.
“I did not hear it go down.”
The man stopped and looked behind them. Peering into the fog, they could not see anything beyond their own hands. The sound of boots running toward them made Alayne’s blood run cold.
They had been discovered!
“Run to the lilies!” he shouted at her.
Alayne did not know what to do. She stared at him, unable to move.
“Run!” he ordered and shoved her arm. “Or your sister will die!”
She blinked and turned. Urging her legs to work, she ran in the direction he pointed. On top of the hill, the fog thinned and a red light glowed.
A clashing of swords echoed from behind. Alayne stumbled, then righted herself. Her lungs burned while her limbs felt weak. She had to keep going.
For her sister.
“Alayne,” a feminine voice called to her from within the fog. “Come to me, Alayne.”
The battle behind her stopped.
Someone was dead.
Footsteps rapidly approached. She turned and hurried toward the light.
“Almost there, Alayne. Come to me.” The sorceress’ voice was smooth and calm, luring her. The unearthly glow was four steps away, shining against the fog.
Suddenly, she trampled over the white lilies. She stood on the enchanted border to keep the good in and the evil out.
“Stop!” Callum’s voice called out to her from behind.
Anguish lodged in her throat. Alayne turned around.
His outline appeared from the fog. “What are you doing?” he accused, hurt and anger lacing his words.
“I am sorry.” She pleaded with him to understand, but knew he would not.
“You mustn’t give Rhiannon to the sorceress!”
Taking one step toward the sorceress, she watched his heart break.
“Please forgive me.”
He lunged for her, but the sorceress touched Alayne’s shoulder and the hill fell away, replaced by the confining walls of a dark stone chamber.
The painful look on his face would haunt her for the rest of her life.
He would never forgive her. He would see her as poison in his veins for all time.
“Give me the babe,” the sorceress ordered. Her stunning features were shadowed, but her eyes glowed through the darkness.
Alayne stepped away. “I will give you Rhiannon once you save my sister from Sir Rutger.”
The sorceress smirked. “I thought you might say that.”
Turning her back on Alayne, she walked out of the chamber, her long black skirts trailing behind. The candle sconces in the hallway filtered light into the doorway. Adjusting her eyes to the brightness, Alayne followed the sorceress down the familiar hall.
Mawrth castle!
She was home.
A cry of relief broke from her lips. She wanted to push past the sorceress and run to Wynda’s chambers, but Lady Torella blocked her path, walking slowly as if she had all the time in the world.
They neared her sister’s chamber and Alayne hear
d a whimper from within.
“Hurry, I pray you, hurry,” Alayne said to the sorceress. What was Rutger doing to her sister?
The sorceress opened the door with ease and strolled into Wynda’s chamber.
Alayne ran around her to find Rutger on top of her sister. Her sister’s cries tore at her heart.
“Get off her!” Alayne screamed.
Shocked, Rutger looked over at her as if she were a ghost. “What the hell are you doing here?” he yelled.
“Get off my sister now!”
Rutger swung his leg over Wynda and sprung from the bed. “If you want to ride my cock, Alayne, you will have to wait until I am finished with my wife,” he sneered.
Alayne went to the other side of the bed and gently placed her bundle on an empty pallet near the wall. She wagged her finger at the knight. “You will never hurt my sister again.”
Rutger looked between the sorceress and Alayne. Puzzlement etched on his face. “If you and the whore over there want to join us in bed, then I suggest…”
Fury glowed in the sorceress’ eyes and a hot wind blustered into the chamber, blowing out the candles, leaving only the roaring hearth for light.
Rutger stepped backed, his face turning pale.
“Ah … ah … I did not mean to offend,” he stumbled and went for his sword on the side table.
Before he could grasp the hilt, the sword danced in the air, just out of his reach.
Wynda sobbed next to Alayne and she sat on the bed beside her. Her hand snaked around her sister’s trembling shoulders. “It will be all right, Wynda.”
“Whore you say?” the sorceress asked, her tone deadly calm.
The sword slashed through the air and sliced off Rutger’s head—it rolled over the bed and landed at Wynda’s feet.
Her sister screamed and they scrambled off the bed. The sorceress stood on the other side, smiling at Rutger’s shocked expression.
She looked at Alayne. “I have upheld my part of our agreement. Now give me the babe.”
Alayne nodded. She pulled the bed curtains down and wrapped her sister in them. Then whispered in Wynda’s ears, “Run.”
Wynda turned and ran to the door, but it closed before her.
Heart of a Warlock [Celtic Series Book 3] Page 8
