His Scottish Pet: Dom of the Ages (12 page)

He opened his eyes and sighed. “I don’t want to leave you.”

She fought back a sob and put his hand against her cheek. “I love you, Master.”

“Ryce.”

A single tear ran down her cheek. “I love you, Ryce.”

“I love you, Chrisselle. I always will.”

“No… please.”

“Be brave, my pet.”

More tears ran silently down her cheeks, but she nodded.

“You are a strong woman. Strong enough to survive alone and raise our daughter.”

She shook her head. “It’s a boy.”

“Possibly,” he conceded, “but promise me that
if
it is a girl you will name her Mae after my mother.”

She gently lowered his hand and squeezed it lightly. “Yes, Ryce. I will name her Mae.”

“You can depend on Avril but should you struggle, seek out Kegan. She is a good mother and I believe she will help you.”

Chrisselle whispered with pain in her voice, “I will.”

“My wife, I do not give my love lightly. Lean on it whenever you have need, it can never die.”

“Aye, Ryce…” she choked.

“Hold strong to your hope. It will see you through the trying times ahead.” He motioned her closer. “I am praying fate will see fit to bring a worthy mate into your life. I desire you to marry again.”

“I’ll have no other,” she declared angrily.

“Pet,” he corrected, “although you are capable of surviving on your own, life will be more agreeable if you are partnered. You may have to instruct him in your preferences, but it can be done humbly.”

Her eyes betrayed her true response.

“Chrisselle, you were not meant to be alone. Do not pine for what was, you must live for the future… for you and our child.” He gasped as a shooting pain coursed through his body. After a deep breath he added, “Let me go.”

Her voice was filled with anguish. “Master, please don’t leave me.” Tears fell unhindered and she started sobbing quietly.

She had had a difficult pregnancy as it was and he feared for her health. “You must put our baby before your own needs. Rest now, Chrisselle. Do this for me.”

“Please, Master.”

He lifted his bloody hand slowly and caressed her cheek, leaving a red streak. “Do as I command.”

She shook her head, but stood up and walked over to Avril’s bed, curling up on it while staring at him sadly.

“My good wife. My loyal pet.”

She gave him a gentle smile.

Ryce closed his eyes and waited. He waited until her soft rhythmic breath reached his ears. Even though the pain was excruciating, he slid off the table and made his way out with the two women sleeping deeply from exhaustion. He dragged himself to the barn.

Eventide nickered when he heard his master. “Yes, it is me, old friend.” Ryce leaned against the gate and ignored the pain as he stroked the long neck of his steed. “You must stay.” The horse stamped his hoof in protest.

“Stay, Eventide, because I cannot. Chrisselle will need you.”

A racking cough threatened to give away his exodus. As much as he didn’t want this, he patted his steed one last time. “You have been a good friend. I shall not forget your faithful service.”

Ryce looked towards the cottage and sighed heavily before disappearing into the night. He headed straight for MacPherson’s farm, picking the best horse for himself and releasing the others. By the time they rounded up the animals he would be far from the area.

He returned to his burned-out residence to retrieve the chest. It took time and concentration to overcome the agonizing pain as he lifted and strapped it to the saddle. He was overwhelmed by dizziness and almost blacked out.

Ryce was forced to lie on the ground to recover. Looking up at the stars, he coughed violently and wiped the blood from his lips. He stared at the red smear on his hand dazedly.
Jovita…

He concentrated on the stars again, not allowing himself to go there. Jovita had loved the stars, believing they were the spirits of the past looking down on mankind with benevolence.
Are you up there, love?

Ryce allowed himself to think back on those last days. Her swelling stomach, the radiance of her face as they both marveled at the miracle inside her. Her sweet, trilling laughter. He closed his eyes. Ryce felt the warmth of her hand as she placed his hand over her stomach and he felt the movement of it inside her.

Without warning, the streak of crimson flooded his brain again, her body opened from chest to groin, and
it
lying beside her. The tiny hands and feet perfect, eyes closed as if in sleep… their child, their baby boy.

Ryce held back the tears. Even after all that time the pain of her loss, of their hopes held in those tiny hands, cut like a fiery dagger in his heart.

Good Morrow

With the determination of the damned, Ryce turned away from the life he had built. He headed, instead, to the small cave where he had spent his first night with Chrisselle. As he lay on the cold ground in the gloomy hollow, he was accosted with memories of her. The girl had seemed so frail back then, too close to death to even survive a night. He chuckled softly, causing a spasm of hacking.

He shook his head when it passed. Chrisselle had proven him wrong. Her spirit was mightier than her body. He remembered threatening her when she wouldn’t eat, and then having to feed her. It was the beginning of them. He’d fought hard to keep his distance, but Chrisselle’s curiosity and vulnerability had eventually won him over.

Eventide had known it from the beginning. The horse was an old soul encased in an equine shell. It was regrettable that he had to leave his friend behind, but it gave Ryce solace to know Chrisselle would be looked after by the beast. He suspected she would find comfort in caring for the steed as well.

Ryce spent weeks healing from the massive wounds. After completing this final task, he would leave Scotland forever. He rode only at night to avoid others on the road. It made the trip longer, but he was in no hurry. The only thing that mattered was succeeding in his last endeavor.

The sweet, sickening stench of death surrounded the Baron’s manor. The revolting aroma assaulted his nostrils before he came upon the bodies hanging from the trees lining the manor. The men were bloated, their faces frozen in various expressions of agony. A warning to others who would attempt to dethrone Sir Ryan of Rannoch. It was a grisly threat, but Ryce took consolation in the fact that the men who tried to end his own life were now swinging from trees. Noticeably missing was the burly Scot leader. It gratified Ryce to know the man had never made it to the Baron.

He dismounted and continued on foot. Where fifty men had failed, Ryce would succeed because he was not rash or emotional. He was a patient man. The night Sir Ryan had taken Chrisselle, Ryce had promised himself the man would pay with his life for the deed. But it had been necessary to wait until there was no chance of harm coming to her.

There was nothing holding him back now. Ryce relished the thought that the Baron was feeling secure having just annihilated the rebellion. It was his overconfidence that made this easy. Ryce was able to enter the manor through the servants’ entrance after skirting the guards. He stealthily navigated the dark manor up to the Baron’s quarters.

To his disgust, when he opened the inner chamber door he saw the Baron humping a young maiden. He snuck behind the large bed and put his fingers to his lips when the girl glanced in his direction. Her eyes grew wide, but she said nothing.

Ryce pulled the rope from his pocket, then with swift grace he placed it over Sir Ryan’s head and pulled it tight around his neck. The man fell backwards and off of the girl, who scrambled to the corner. She stifled her scream as she watched in rapt fascination.

Ryce kept it taut as he tied one end of the rope to the post of the bed and then did the same with the other. The rope was tight enough to constrict, but not enough to kill. He pulled out more rope and tied down the Baron’s legs.

Then he stood above him and pulled out his claymore from the sheath. The Baron struggled underneath knowing there was no escape. Ryce understood his fear, having purposely orchestrated it to be reminiscent of his own attack. However, he would be swift.

“For my wife and all those you have harmed.” Ryce thrust the sword into his heart. Sir Ryan shuddered once and then became still as the light slowly ebbed from his eyes.

Death never thrilled Ryce, but there were times when it was absolutely necessary. He nodded to the girl, who looked as if she was staring at the devil himself. Ryce appreciated that he must look like a ghoul with the gashes on his face and limbs.

At least she’d remained silent.

He exited the way he came and made it to his horse without any warnings being sounded. As he headed away from the manor, thoughts of Chrisselle assailed him. Her smile, her soft trilling laugh, the collar around her neck as she knelt before him.

He pushed the thoughts back and kicked the horse to move faster, but he could not run away from the visions invading his mind. Her soulful green eyes, those rose-colored lips, the feminine perfection of her mound. He closed his eyes and imagined himself deep inside her, with Chrisselle making those soft mewing sounds in the heat of passion…

I cannot lose her.

Ryce realized he loved her as deeply as his first love, Jovita. This was his chance to taste a normal life. He had been given an opportunity to witness his child being born, to be a part of raising a family.
Why am I running?
He would steal Chrisselle away and they would escape back to his motherland to build a new life.

His heart pumped in his chest as Ryce slapped the reins of the horse and galloped at a breakneck speed back to her. A feeling of elation he had never known filled his being.

Chrisselle was the answer to his curse. He had simply been blind.

Ryce had an overabundance of funds back in England. He could make it work. They would have to wait a few months once the child was born before they could travel. His mind raced as he planned out every detail of the trip.

Ryce made it to Avril’s just before daybreak. He jumped off the winded beast and headed straight for the cottage. Just before he made it to the door, Ryce heard a baby’s cry. It made him stop in his tracks.

Chrisselle’s sing-song voice soon followed. “There, there, Mae…” She began softly crooning a Scottish lullaby. “Baloo, baloo, my wee wee thing. For thou art doubly dear to me. Thy daddie now is far awa’…”

Ryce took two steps back. Reality crashed over him like an icy wave. How could he condemn his family to his nomadic existence and rip them from the community that had embraced them?

Never safe, always moving. To doom Chrisselle and their tiny infant to that desperate lifestyle was selfish and cruel. If they survived the constant uprooting, he would still be forced to watch them grow old and die—tragic for him and horribly unfair to them.

This was his curse alone to suffer.

Ryce took two more steps back, fighting the overpowering urge to burst through the door and gather Chrisselle into his arms, to peek into the eyes of his newborn.

Do not condemn them to your fate.

With a will of iron, he turned around and returned to the horse. He took the reins, unbuckled the bridle and let it slip to the ground. Ryce unloaded the chest and then slapped the animal on the haunches. “Go home,” he commanded. The beast snorted once before heading in the direction of MacPherson’s farm.

He heard Eventide nicker for him from the barn at the sound of his voice, but Ryce ignored the steed’s call. His duty was to remain dead and allow his family to live on in peace. He had been wrong to come back.

Ryce picked a dew-covered sprig of heather just opening to the rays of the brilliant sunrise bursting forth in the east. He laid it down at the threshold and touched the wooden door that separated him from his family. He could hear the soft cooing sounds of his daughter on the other side. He whispered, “Good morrow, Chrisselle and my wee Mae.”

He lifted the chest up off the ground and hoisted it onto his back.

A good time to die
.

Ryce could not return to England—not after this. He needed to travel far from this continent. Someplace foreign and untried would help ease the loss. This time, unlike the past, he had the peace of knowing Chrisselle and their tiny daughter were alive and well.

It was… enough.

###

Coming Fall of 2013

Dom of the Ages is the continuing series following the many lives and loves of

Ryce Leon - a man of all ages.

Red Phoenix is author of:

Brie Learns the Art of Submission

(Available in eBook and paperback)

 
(Submissive Exploration—A young woman enters a world of new experiences when she enrolls in the Submissive Training Center)

Blissfully Undone

(Available in eBook and paperback)

(Snowy Fun - Two people find themselves snowbound in a cabin where hidden love can flourish, taking one couple on a sensual journey into ménage a Trois)

Sensual Erotica: The Erotic Love Story of Amy and Troy

(Available in eBook and soon in paperback)

(Sexual Adventures - True love reigns, but fate continually throws Troy & Amy into the arms of others)

(Short novelettes available as eBooks)

Keeper of the Wolf Clan

 
(Sexual Secrets - A virginal werewolf must act as the clan’s mysterious Keeper)

In 9 Days

(Sweet Romance - A young girl falls in love with the new student nicknamed The Freak)

9 Days and Counting

(Sacrificial Love – The sequel to In 9 Days delves into the emotional reunion of two longtime lovers.)

And Then He Saved Me

(Saving Tenderness – When a young girl tries to kill herself, a man of great character intervenes with a love that heals)

Play With Me at Noon

(Seeking Fulfillment - A desperate wife lives out her fantasies by taking five different men in five days)

Varick: The Reckoning

(Savory Vampire - A dark, sexy vampire story. The hero navigates the dangerous world he has been thrust into with lusty passion and a pure heart)

You can find Red on:

Twitter:
@redphoenix69

Website:
RedPhoenix69.com

Facebook:
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