Born of Fire

by Kella McKinnon

  Bridei was restless, his body aching with lust long after he had tied up his lovely captive. He swore his skin still burned where her body had touched his. And her scent…so strangely familiar and so intoxicating. Perhaps he had left his body wanting for too long, and he only needed to sate his hunger between a woman’s soft thighs. Any woman. Sometimes he longed for the carefree days of his youth, when taking a woman was as easy and natural as breathing.

  Then he became King, and those carefree days had to be left behind. He was always careful, now. As King, he had become the target of many a woman’s attempts to ensnare him over the years. Bedding the King, having the King’s bastard child, were the goals of many an ambitious woman. Things were no longer as simple as they once were, and he wouldn’t allow any such complications to enter his life. He would reunite the Pictish tribes. He would rout the Saxons from the lands that rightfully belonged to his people. He couldn’t do those things if his mind was constantly on his cock. Lust that distracted and hindered was the weakness of many a man, but it had never been one of his. He wasn’t about to let it become one now.

  Bridei clenched his fists and drew in a deep breath, shifting in his chair at the head of the great hall. He knew he couldn’t concentrate with his body so aroused. His physical needs would be met, and that was all. His eyes landed on a tall and willowy woman on the other side of the hall, one who was already watching him with a hungry gaze. He smiled slowly, deliberately. The woman was called Lair. She was a young widow, and known to be barren. A perfect companion for his needs. They had been together several times before, and he knew she would accommodate him, and eagerly too. She would take it as hard and rough as he could give it, and not complain. He crooked a finger, and she came towards him, hips swaying provocatively. Without a word, he rose from his chair and walked toward the door, knowing she would follow.

  He led her into the humble roundhouse that had been his home long before he’d become King and moved into the broch. He opened the thick wooden door, and followed Lair inside. He went to the fire that Namet had already lit for him and took out a burning twig with iron tongs, using it to light the oil lamp on the table. The dim light showed him his conquest, already naked on his bed.

  “Eager, are you?”

  “Aye, my King. I am always eager for you.”

  King. He liked the sound of that word on her lips. On anyone’s lips. And if that made him a proud man, then so be it. He had worked long and hard to earn and keep the title.

  He knelt on the bed beside her, and she raised her face hopefully, in search of a kiss. But kisses were meant to show love, and deep affection. She knew that. And she also knew that he did not love her. Would never love her. He had made it clear the very first time she had come to him that the only thing between them would be sex. He grabbed her hips and turned her roughly onto her hands and knees, leaning over to whisper in her ear.

  “Ah, do not hope, lass. I will never love a woman more than my Kingdom. And never more than my ambition.” There would be time for love and marriage later, if it was meant for him, but right now it held no interest. No woman could hold a candle to the thrill of battle and conquest. “I’m going to take you so hard that you’ll see stars, lass. If you don’t want that, leave now. If you stay, you’re mine to do with as I please.”

  She answered with a grind of her bottom against his hard and straining cock. He laughed low in his throat and pulled at the leather ties of his pants. “I have warned you. I have much pent-up energy this night. I intend to use you hard.”

  A visible shiver ran down her spine. “Aye Bridei, please!”

  “Impatient lass”, he scolded as he pushed his cock slowly into her, reveling in the feel of tight, warm heat and the musky scent of woman. Within moments his thrusts had sped up to a rapid pace, and he slammed into her still harder, as he always did…as if he could find some missing part of himself if he could only reach a certain threshold. But he was disappointed every time. It was never enough. His body never seemed to be truly sated, nor was his soul. When his people were safe and free, it would be different, he told himself each time.

  Lair rolled, trying to sit astride him, to ride him like some wild stallion. He bucked his hips, dislodging her and rolling her body back under his, pinning her with his weight. “I don’t think so. I’m in charge, lass. You’d best remember that.” But when he looked down at the woman, her eyes closed and lips curled with pleasure, his mind flashed to another face with green eyes that seemed to cut him open and make him feel every single hollow place inside. A woman who was even now tied to a post in his bedchamber. He used Lair’s body until his lust was quenched, and then he sent her on her way, much to her obvious disappointment.

  As he lay in the tangle of linens that smelled of sex, he felt the ache of that missing part of himself like never before. His soul cried out for something else, and he just didn’t know what that something was.

  Nessa slept fitfully in her awkward, semi-upright position. By morning her entire body was stiff and she had an awful ache in one side of her neck that no amount of stretching her head to side seemed to fix. The physical pain only added to her growing feelings of doom. The executions she had witnessed the night before had done nothing to alleviate her anxiety, and had in fact given her nightmares. While she couldn’t remember all the details of her dreams, there had definitely been a lot of blood spilled, and she had a vague recollection of someone being chopped to pieces with a knife. She had woken up several times throughout the night in a cold sweat, once with a horrible feeling that Angus would be the knife’s next victim. It was only a bad dream, she told herself again.

  She hadn’t seen Angus since they were separated. She was worried about him, and she was even more worried about her grandmother. She had to get home in time to say goodbye. She couldn’t let Gram think she’d abandoned her in her final days; her chest ached just thinking about it. The nurses would call to tell her it was time, and she wouldn’t even be there to answer the phone. Her heart started beating faster and she pulled at the ropes binding her wrists. The panic was rising again, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it tamped down.

  The door swung open and she stopped struggling with the ropes to look up. Namet. She couldn’t help it, a few tears leaked from her eyes as he raised an eyebrow at her obvious but futile attempt at escape.

  “Please, I need to go home. My grandmother is very ill, and I don’t want her to die alone.”

  If the warrior had any sympathy at all for her plight, he didn’t show it. “You will be freed when you tell the truth.”

  “I am telling the truth. I swear I am!”

  “We’ll see.” He bent to untie her wrists. “Come; you can see to your needs, then I’ll feed you.”

  It was a relief to stand up and stretch, if nothing else. “Can I see my uncle?” Seeing Angus would go a long way to calm her fears. She had to know where he was if she was going to escape with him when she got her chance.

  “No, it’s not permitted.”

  “Is he ok? At least tell me if he’s ok.”

  “He’s well enough.”

  Apparently Namet was a man of very few words.

  She was led down the stairs again, and outside into the bright sunlight. The sun shone down from a nearly cloudless sky; a rarity for Scotland. Nessa looked around at the people who had stopped to stare at her. Some carried baskets or buckets filled with water or vegetables, others were minding small children or leading horses with thick ropes. Most had black tattoos on their arms and legs, and some had them on their faces too. Many stared at her with open curiosity, and others with eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion.

  Namet guided her to a tiny round building made of sticks and branches lashed together, and opened the door. “Be quick”, he told her. She ducked inside and he shut the door behind her. There were no windows, but light streamed in from between the branches, and she could see a deep hole dug in the center of the small room. Next to it was a basket full of leaves. So this
was the toilet.

  She made use of it as fast as she could, worried that any second Namet would open the door looking for her and see her awkwardly squatting over the hole. When she was finished, he took her back to the small round house she had been in the day before, sat her at a table, and gave her a bowl of the same lamb stew from the night before. It was cold and congealed, but she ate it anyway. She would need her strength. When she finished, Namet took the bowl and left her there. She heard the scrape of a bolt sliding across the door. When she ran to check the windows, there was a man outside each one, standing guard.

  Bridei wrinkled his nose as he ducked through the low and sagging doorway. Inside, the room was far too dim and dusty, and smelled of acrid herbs and dark corners. He preferred being outdoors in the fresh air and sunlight to this shadowy closeness.

  “Meara? Ah…there you are.”

  “Bridei. Welcome.” Meara stepped out from behind a thick curtain, which divided the space into two smaller sections. She set a bowl down on the table and dusted something off the front of her tunic with her hands. “You are here about the lass.”

  He nodded. “Aye, the lass.”

  Meara gazed at him speculatively, but if one looked carefully, there was amusement in the slight crinkles at the corner of her eyes. “She weighs heavy on your mind, this one small woman.”

  “Kingdoms have been felled by less.”

  “This is true.” Meara picked up a spoon and began to stir the contents of the bowl. A slight smile curved her lips. “But only time will tell if she will topple your Kingdom.”

  Bridei scowled. “I don’t have time to wait for answers. I need them now. Her appearance is too sudden and strange to mean nothing. I must be rid of her and this mystery so that I can concentrate on what is important.”

  “Important. Oh, aye.” Meara looked up and raised an eyebrow. “And what do you want from me?”

  “I was hoping you’d have a potion.”

  The small smile played across her lips once more. “What sort of potion, my king?”

  “One that will make her tell the truth of things”, he said with frustration apparent in his voice.

  Meara regarded him coolly. “Are you certain you want to know the truth?”

  “Of course I do! What kind of a question is that? It is my duty to find the truth, and protect my people.”

  “Sometimes the truth is more than we set out to know, that’s all.”

  Bridei glared at her and paced a few steps, back and forth. “Why must you speak in riddles? The truth will be that either she’s a spy and therefore my enemy, or she isn’t and I can be rid of her. That is all I need to know. Do you have a potion or not?”

  Meara eyed the impatient King with a small sigh, but stood on her tip-toes and reached for a tiny jug on one of the many shelves that lined the room from floor to ceiling.

  “Put this in some wine tonight; it may not give you the truth you seek, heed my warning, but it will at least help to loosen her tongue. Learning something will perhaps be better than learning nothing at all.”

  He took the jug from her with a frown. “Don’t you have something that will just make her tell the truth?”

  “There is no potion that can do that.” She put a hand on his arm. “Everyone’s truth is different.”

  “Riddles again”, Bridei mumbled as he slipped the jug into a pocket. Arguing with Meara would get him nowhere, and his love and respect for the woman kept him from ever being truly angry with her. He again sighed with frustration. “How much should I use?”

  “Just a few drops, no more.”

  He nodded. “Thank you. And you will ask the gods for their help in this matter, of course?”

  “Aye, my King. I have been asking them for many years already.”

  Bridei couldn’t fathom what she meant by “years”. Perhaps Meara had at some point divined the future that was now coming to pass? He couldn’t think on it just then; he had a meeting with his war council within the hour. Later, he would personally bring his captive her dinner and wine. By the end of the night, perhaps he would know if she told the truth, or if he must do his duty to his people and put her to death.

  She had been pacing back and forth in front of a window when he arrived at the round-house. As soon as the door opened, she came to a sudden halt, and he watched as her expression shifted before his eyes from alarm to determination. It was growing dark, and someone—maybe the lass herself—had lit a small fire in the hearth. The soft glow of the flames played over her face, accentuating full lips and graceful cheekbones. His heart squeezed a little in his chest. She was so very beautiful; perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on, if he was being honest. What a shame it would be if he had to take her life and waste the divine efforts the gods had put into creating such a creature.

  Despite the brave set of her jaw, she still took an uneasy step back from him as he moved closer.

  “What do you want? Is there another ceremony tonight?”

  “No, not tonight. I’ve only brought you food and wine.” He set the covered basket he carried down on a table. “I am not so cruel as to starve my prisoners. Unless of course they deserve it.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders dropped just a little, almost imperceptively, in relief. “Thank you, but I’m not very hungry.”

  Bridei opened the basket and took out a loaf of bread and flagon of wine. “You will eat anyway. And then we will talk again. Perhaps now you are ready to tell the truth, or do you wish to spend more time tied to a post, to think on it?”

  Her delicate nostrils flared and she crossed her arms. “I am telling the truth.”

  “You’re not”, he said with certainty. He did not get to where he was without being perceptive. The way her eyes would not meet his and her body shifted away slightly told him more than words could.

  She stared at him for a long moment, and he could tell she was trying hard to read his intentions so that she could choose her words to her own advantage.

  “If I do tell you the truth, do you promise not to hurt me?”

  “No.” He stepped closer, purposely flaunting his superior size and strength. He felt his muscles flex and bunch, and he knew that he could overpower her in an instant, if it was his will to do so. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he would if it became necessary. How long would she lie to him? How loyal was she to her master, whomever he was?

  He was surprised when instead of shrinking from him, she tilted her head in defiance, stood her ground, and glared. She shifted her weight a little as if just stopping herself from stomping her foot. Suddenly his thoughts of overpowering this woman out of necessity shifted to the basest instincts of a man. Was it so arousing, then, to have a woman stand up to him? Most of the women in his life were respectful and predictable, but not this one. Nessa of Fife was different. He took a breath, willing his disobedient body to relax. After all he had work to do this evening.

  “Come. Sit and have some bread and wine.” He placed the food on the table and as she sat, he handed her a cup of wine. She took it and delicately sniffed the contents. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when she took a tentative sip. Bridei sat down across from her, watching as she battled with herself over whether to eat, but in the end hunger won out. She drank more of the wine to wash the dry bread down and he suppressed a smile. It wouldn’t be long now. Meara’s potions were nothing if not potent.

  “Why did you come here?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the table.

  Her eyes stayed on the table in front of her. “I told you.”

  “You told me you fell through a hill. That makes no sense.”

  “I know that. It makes no sense to me either.”

  “So you fell through a hill on your way to be married? Where was this hill?”

  She looked down into her cup and frowned. “I think this wine is stronger than what I’m used to.”

  “We do like strong wine here at Tallorc. We make the best for hundreds of miles. It’s the way the fruits grow, so close
to the sea that makes it so good.”

  She swayed a little in her chair, and Bridei rejoiced. Meara had come through for him yet again. It wouldn’t be long now until her knew this woman’s story, and he realized that he wanted to know it badly. The anticipation was actually making his stomach churn. He found himself hoping that she really was just a lass on her way to be married, despite what his instinct told him. She was far too beautiful to be wasted on an early death, and he imagined that his cock might still be hard for her even as he was forced to slit her throat; a thought he didn’t relish at all.

  She ran her hands through her hair then cupped her head. “I feel so…strange.”

  When she looked up at him again, her pupils were large and dark, her eyes glassy like the surface of a lake. If they had drawn him in before, now they nearly hypnotized him. But he was not here to admire her, he reminded himself.

  “Nessa…”

  “Aye?”

  “I want you to tell me the truth now.”

  “Aye.” She leaned forward across the narrow table, until they were only inches apart. He could feel her soft breath on his lips. His whole body tensed as a wave of desire rippled through him. It was powerful. Insistent. Like a river flooded by the spring rains. If he leaned just a little farther, his mouth would nearly be on hers. The thought had him hardening to an almost painful degree. He gritted his teeth. This was unacceptable. He had to focus on the task at hand.

  He leaned back, drawing a breath and letting it out. “What did you come here for?”

  Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, then opened again, wide and doe-like. “I want you to kiss me.”

  For a second he couldn’t breathe. He wanted that too…so much. He shook himself. “No, the truth lass. I asked you for the truth.”

  “But I do want you to kiss me. I want to be kissed. I need to be kissed.”

  She reached a hand toward him, but he caught it, placing it firmly onto the table in front of her. If she touched him right now, he wasn’t sure he would be able to maintain his focus any longer. His skin was hot and tingling, a shivering sensation raced through his body, and he was finding it more and more difficult to draw air.