Primal Moon (4 page)

But he was just a wish. The
thought of Jamie MacDunna filled her head and every aching empty
place: her heart and body. Aziza tried hard to feel ashamed but she
just didn’t have the strength to resist. The notion of her
princely laird and the sudden immersion beneath the waterfall
deliciously conspired to baptize her with the swiftest most acute,
most sustaining ecstasy yet.

Aziza was encased in a shower of
heavy falling water, clutching herself as if grasping for a specter
lover. Her mouth hungered to taste and to be filled by Jamie's as
when he took hers in the woods. Despite the fall of the water
against her face, she threw her head back, poised for a kiss while
tremors washed through and through her. Sweet as her climax was, it
fell short without him. She craved for him to be there. No history
or anger or haraam insinuations. Just them. And this way, with
their sweet sensual connection, she loved him with a depth she could
almost not grasp, it was so vast.

Aziza dove down into the pool
carved out by an eternity of cascading water, to swim back to shore.
In her little sojourn to the fall, she released her clothing. She
peered around for sign of them adrift in the water. Nothing. In her
rage against Andrew Gregor, Aziza had somehow managed to drift down
river to the valley, naked and would now have to make it back the
same way. Though she was better, any healing found by coming to the
river was lost.

She treaded over to a bank to
rest and think, shrinking in the water for as long as possible to
protect her modesty, though she was pretty sure she was alone. The
river’s edge was encased at the backside with wild
rhododendron. She hit the bank running to take cover in the bushes,
catching some formidable scratches on her already bruised backside.
Her focus narrowed on something. There hanging off a branch were her
clothes, dry as a bone.

Aziza stood to her feet
instantly, frightened by the fortune. It could not be a good one.
It also meant she was as enchanted as ever. She plucked her clothes
from the bush, put them on and fled. She ran through the forest in
what had become nightfall. Another day lost in a place she should
not have been, to escape a place she hate being.

A place she may have put herself
because she couldn’t follow one simple little order.

* * * *

The night was again upon her.
Aziza was blindly locked in an anonymous grid of forest shrubbery
through which she had to find her way. It would take her forever to
get home. At least with the hour came some mercy that the Gregors
would most assuredly be smashed on mead and unconscious.

Welted by fairy bites, Aziza was
famished. She had not eaten since the morning of the day before and
the little magical excursions left her spent. It was difficult to
plod forward to realize that even once she made found her way home,
there wasn't going to be anything to eat. She did all the cooking
for her household and she hadn't been there really in days. Starved
and weary, and just about to hole up til the sun, she heard laughter
tinkling through the air. Music and laughter.

It was Saturday night.

A relic of Druid tradition, the
clan gathered to celebrate the end of the week. Fairies buzzed the
campfire mischievously. The only maidens allowed to attend the
festivities were of marrying age. Younger girls were allowed to
participate in the set up but come the witching hour, it was
definitely an affair for the married, the marriage prospects and the
strictly invited.

Aziza was never invited to the
end-of-the-week. Belonging to the laird afforded her no privileges,
no respect. She was regarded as a servant. She could set up like an
unspoken-for maiden and that was it. She did so begrudgingly while
suffering the whispered remarks and jokes about her strange Egyptian
features. In her country, the whispers had been of astonishment for
how beautiful she was. Here, the cackles and the giggles, were never
words said bravely to her face, but snidely. And though Aziza
recognized the distinct presence of envy and therefore knew they did
not think she was so ugly, the ridicule pained her deeply. Had she
been an English or an Irish girl, she believed over time that the
exclusion would have lessened. Perhaps had she arrived to the clan
with the laird, she might have been treated differently altogether.
Certainly she would not have been beaten or accused of mating with
her host. The laird said she was beautiful recalled Aziza wistfully.
She had not heard that in such a long time. She had no idea how much
she missed hearing it.

Without regard to her appearance
or her eligibility to attend, Aziza tracked the sounds of the
celebration for there would certainly be food and a way home. She
crashed the scene, almost collapsed on the table, her only focus on
food. In Egypt, Aziza ate grains and beans, occasionally beef. Here
she was forced to eat so much meat which included every grotesque
part of the animal that she would never become accustom to. Only
after shoveling a few bites of their putrid forever foreign-tasting
food, did she see Laird MacDunna bearing down on her, apparently
stunned by what he saw. She reflexively turned her head, to hide the
blush burning her alive. Acute recollection of the feel of his body
beneath hers in the water visited her. She had to get away from him
because his desire for her was just the fruit of a magic spell.
Though he deserved being tricked after what she endured, she didn’t
want his attention if she was going to be his feast on a ceremonial
table. As handsome as he was, she wasn’t sure if she wanted
him under any circumstances. She had to do something. He was
reacting more and more to her. He smiled as he leaned into whispered.
"You're telling on me, lass."

Last week, a good humored
connection with the beautiful Jamie MacDunna on a Saturday night
instead of an order to leave would have been tantamount to a crown on
her head. Now her laird and any other man for that matter, churned
her stomach as badly as its emptiness did. She turned her back on
him again.

"Do I bother you, Aziza?"

"Begging your pardon, Laird
MacDunna. I just need something to eat."

"I can see that. Shame on
those wonderful Gregors for letting it come to this. You may join
us,” he said with a wink.

Aziza leaned past him and
received the cold stare of Brigid the girl the clan held as the
laird’s intended. Jamie MacDunna was wanton inviting his harem
girl to stay in front of his date. Aziza was both shamed and
jealous. She sighed with dejection. “I don’t think I
should intrude.”

“Declining your laird’s
invitation? I don’t think it’s ever been done. Should I
praise you for your manners or take offense by them?" She took
no amusement in his mild jest. His face grew stern, his tone
suspicious. He clutched her face, firmly but gently. Still she
flinched. It really hurt. Instantly, tears drew lines down her
face. She could tell by his expression that he was on to her.

“More clumsiness, lass?”
he asked, almost scolding her.

“The Gregors,” a
tear escaped down her cheek. “They let me frolic too much.”

“Frolic yourself into a
tree, did you? It appears they are permissive with you to the point
of exhaustion,” he stared at her unwaveringly. “When was
the last time you slept?" he asked.

She could have closed her eyes
and given in to sleep in the warmth and security of his large
powerful hands. "I can't remember."

He moved next to her at the
table and fed her himself. He loaded up a plate of vegetarian fare,
the likes of which she had not seen since her own country. She
stared at the food, herself a mix of perplexity at its sudden
appearance and stirred at his thoughtfulness to know what she would
tolerate. Just as she opened her mouth to question him about it, he
filled it with a loaded fork. “Don’t ask,” he
said lowly. She burst into tears. He pulled her into his shoulder.
“What?”

“I’m just tired,”
she offered.

“Bullshit. The truth, lass
or I will tan it out of you myself.”

“If you are knowing enough
to conjure the kind of food I eat, why don’t know you know
what’s going on?”

Jamie was dark. “I eat
that kind of food. What’s going on?”

“
For a demon you aren’t-“
Aware of all the eyes upon them, Aziza pulled away and fanned her
face. “I’m just hungry and exhausted, laird.” She
took a loaded fork and fed herself.

“
You must be, lass. I
could have sworn you just call me a name.” Aziza froze. “There
there,” he soothed her, taking the fork back. Maybe she was so
worn out, maybe she was about to submit, but she could not help but
be touched by his tenderness.

“
I can do that,” she
said softly.

“So can I,” he
looked at her directly.

“You really shouldn’t.”

“Open for me,” he
directed and she took another mouthful. Aziza caught the glares of a
pack of maidens headed by Brigid herself.

“I can’t do it,”
Aziza looked him in the eye. She was talking about so many things
but she felt the fight leaving her.

He returned her gaze. “Yes
you can,” he said frankly.

“I can’t, please,”
she whispered, teetering on the verge of submission.

“I’m right here,”
he soothed. He gently plied her chin with this thumb. He filled her
mouth.

“
You have to stop being
tender with me. Please,” she whispered. “I’m
already hated. This is not helping.”

Jamie addressed the audience
curtly. “Is there something you’re needing here?”

“We wanted to know if we
could help, laird,” Brigid responded properly.

“Does it look like I’m
not managing?” he snapped. “Enjoy yourselves. I insist.”
The girls disbursed but not before Brigid as much as promised her
death with a single glance.

Aziza dreaded the moment she ran
into any of those girls again. “You shouldn’t have-“
She started to say but he shut her up with a forkful.

“Where have you been
tonight exactly? And don’t tell me frolicking.” He
reached out and felt the coiling damp tendrils of her ebony hair.
“Have you been doing things you're not supposed to?"

Aziza swallowed. "No
laird, I have not.” His accusation bit her stomach and robbed
her of her precious appetite. A bounty of food like the one before
her she would not likely see for a while and she couldn’t even
make use of it. “You can believe me when I tell you that I
have neither the time nor the inclination to do what I am not
supposed to. So if you’re asking me in a roundabout way have I
been traipsing in your wretched forbidden woods, I have not.”

Jamie’s eyes danced
playfully. “You just said you were frolicking. So are you
sure about that?”

Aziza’s nerves were
completely raw so she let him have it. “Why don’t just
come out and ask me who I’ve been fucking?"

The entire party stopped dead.
Jamie yanked her up from the table, sauntering in the woods with her
in tow. She felt like a kite behind him. She took air trying to
keep up with him. She was going to catch it, she knew it.

"What did I do?”

Jamie did an about face and
pulled her into him. “Have you been fucking someone, Aziza? Do
you forget who you belong to?”

“It seems you’re the
one who had a hard time remembering since I have never even met you
until yesterday-“ Aziza stumbled over her own misstep. She had
meant to say this morning. She just as much as admitted she had been
at the ceremony from the night before.

“Yesterday?” he
dared her.

Aziza could hardly speak. “I
meant this morning.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“As sure as I am your
woman was standing right behind you when you led me into the woods.”

“I don’t take
reminders,” he began, closing in on her, their chemistry
smoldering.

“No?” Aziza heard
herself bellow. “Not from slaves? Not from black slaves?”

“You are awfully bold,
mistress even when you try to change the subject.”

“I am not your mistress.”

“Not yet,” he raised
his eyebrow.

“You will have to catch me
first.”

He gripped her hand tightly.
“That was easy enough. Now let remind you that when you are in
mixed company you do not talk about your work.”

“
My
work?”
Aziza was genuinely lost. “I run a Scottish household. But I
am clear. Bread baking and pig shit, out.”

“You’re getting
smarter and smarter. I’m about to blister your sweet ass. I
was talking about ‘fucking,’” he said bluntly.
“Your life before you came here. Don’t use those words
in public.”

“No one told me.
Apparently no one told Andrew Gregor-“

He shook her mercilessly. “Have
you been fucking Andrew Gregor? Tell me now. How far has it gone?”

“What does it matter, I am
a harem girl.”

“I just need to know how
slowly he dies.”

“No,” she denied
through heavy sobs. “As much as I hate that man, I never did
anything with anyone. Anyone ever. He just says that word outside.
He and his stupid wife. Always...asking me if I ...” Aziza got
hold of herself and pushed him away. “As for before I came
here, I lounged on silk for all of a week before I was handed off.
And before that I lived in my father and mother’s house and
they thought it was a great honor to be chosen. Though I never got a
chance.”