The Dragon Bard (Dragon of the Island) (37 page)

Dessia repressed a sigh, hoping his words were true. It seemed wrong to leave the hillfort behind. And yet, she couldn’t help recalling the night O’Bannon had burned the old rath. She hadn’t wanted to leave her family, yet she’d known they were beyond hope. The only choice she could make was to save her own life. As she’d trusted the spirit cat to lead her to safety, now she must trust Bridei.

It began to rain. Bridei pulled up the hood of his cloak, and Dessia did the same. Her body felt stiff and wooden. Part of it was her fatigue. But there was also a terrible emptiness inside her, a sense of defeat. As much as she loved Bridei, even his tender concern couldn’t banish the ache inside her. Until she reclaimed Cahermara and her kingdom, she feared she’d never feel whole again.

At last the winter bare branches of the Forest of Mist appeared out of the gloom. Bridei headed for the pathway they’d always taken before. Finding it, he dismounted. Dessia did likewise. She waited until she saw him lead the stallion into the woods. The magical realm had accepted him. It seemed a sign she must trust him.

As they walked along, rain continued to fall. Dessia’s cloak grew sodden and heavy with moisture. Bare gray branches surrounded them, their starkness broken only by gleaming dark patches of rowan and thorn bushes. Dessia had the sense that forest was in mourning for her lost kingdom along with her. As it was winter in her heart, so it was cold and desolate in this place.

They reached the place where the mist usually came, but nothing happened. Further on, Dessia caught sight of the lake through the trees. Bridei led the stallion down to the water’s edge to let the animal drink. Dessia followed with the mare.

“Should we look in the water today?” he asked.

Dessia shook her head. “I’m afraid of what I might see.”

Bridei came to her and put his arms around her. “Come,
cariad
. Let’s find a dry place to sleep.”

Dessia nodded. She was so tired, her head felt as if it was stuffed with unspun wool.

* * *

Bridei gazed up at the overcast sky and wondered why he remained awake. With his cloak spread over the pile of leaves and grass, the make-shift bed wasn’t that uncomfortable. Dessia had fallen asleep almost instantly, but slumber eluded him. He felt as if he’d forgotten something, something important.

Disengaging himself from Dessia, he got to his feet. He glanced down at her and felt a lingering anxiety. She looked so pale. He wanted desperately to keep her safe, but how was he to do so? At least here in the forest, she would be protected for a time. But after that . . .

His thoughts made him restless, and he decided to walk down to the lake. Maybe if he looked in the water he’d see something that would reassure him. On the other hand, as Dessia had said, he might see something he didn’t want to see.

His heartbeat quickened as approached the water and gazed into the glassy still depths. Although the woods around him remained winter bare, in the lake he saw a forest bedecked in the bright green of summer. It made him think of the tales he’d heard of the magical kingdom beneath the water where the Fair Folk lived. The Irish called the place Tir ‘d Og, the land of youth, while in his homeland it was known as Awan. It was said to always be summer there.

As he continued to stare into the water, he heard laughter. A moment later, he saw someone running through the trees in the lake. He could catch quick glimpses of them: Two children—or at least they were the size of children. They both had red hair, and the ruddy hue contrasted strikingly with the green of their surroundings as they raced to and fro among the trees. Who were they? Children of the Fair Folk?

The image faded. Bridei waited for a time, but nothing else appeared. Finally, he made his way back to where Dessia lay and settled himself beside her.

* * *

When next he woke, Dessia was gone. He sat up and called out for her. When she didn’t answer, the familiar dread afflicted him. He got to his feet, feeling disoriented. It was still overcast but the light seemed different. His instincts told him it was morning, which meant they’d slept through the whole day and night. Then he heard a strange sound, like someone gagging. He followed the sound and discovered Dessia, bent over, retching. He started toward her, but she waved him away. After a moment, she straightened and wiped her mouth.

“What is it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It started a couple of days ago. I thought my stomach ailed because I was so distraught about being imprisoned. But now that I’m free, I don’t understand why it’s still happening.”

“You haven’t eaten anything in a long while. Perhaps that’s why you’re ill.”

“That’s the problem. I’ve already eaten, but I couldn’t keep it down.”

Bridei looked at Dessia closely. Had she contracted some illness during her imprisonment? “Have you any other signs of sickness?”

“Nay. Really, Bridei, you must stop worrying for me. And you should eat. Just because my stomach ails doesn’t mean you should go hungry.”

Still watching her with concern, Bridei went to fetch the food Doona had given them. He unwrapped the bundle and ate one of the bannocks and a little of the cheese. Rewrapping the remainder of the food, he returned it to their pack. While he was doing so, he found the wineskin the cook had also sent with them. He unstoppered the skin and took a few swallows, then carried it over to Dessia, who was washing in the lake. “Feeling better?” he asked her.

She stood and nodded, then took the wineskin from him and drank. Bridei watched her, marveling at every detail of her exquisite face. Her eyes, like shimmering foliage in the bottom of a cool, still pool. The elegant cast of her auburn brows and the curve of her cheek. The rich splendor of her full lips. The faint amber freckles on her nose and cheeks, barely visible now that it was winter. She was wearing a plain green wool gown. It was soiled and rumpled, but still set off the moon cool pallor of her skin and russet hue of her hair. Yet, it concealed her other dazzling charms beneath it.

All at once, he was aroused. It seemed too much to hope for that she would be interested in lovemaking, especially after being sick. But he couldn’t help but say, “For the first time in weeks, we’re alone, Dessia. Perhaps we should make the most of it.”

She looked at him in surprise, but then, to his amazement, her expression turned seductive. “Aye. Perhaps we should,” she said. “Although I want to finish washing first.”

Feeling almost dazed, Bridei returned to their makeshift bed and began to remove his clothing. He could scarcely believe his good fortune; he was finally alone with Dessia and she wanted him. A short while later, he saw her walking towards him, completely naked. His breath caught. She was so womanly. A goddess. “You’re magnificent,” he breathed.

Her lips curved enticingly. “I feel the same for you. You’re so beautiful.”

He laughed. “That’s not what you’re supposed to say to a man.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

He reached out and traced the line of her cheek with his fingers. “I’m not nearly as beautiful as you are.”

She mimicked his motion. “Ah, but you are . . . at least to me. I’ve never met a man so handsome.”

“You’ve never left this small corner of Ireland, so you’re hardly in a position to judge. I, however, have been to many, many places. So, when I say you are the most comely woman I’ve ever seen, it truly means something.”

“You don’t think I’m too tall? Too muscular and long-limbed for a woman? What about my awful freckles? And my red hair? Emer said it meant I was cursed.”

He put his hands on her glorious full breasts and began to make slow circles around her nipples. “Perhaps some men might find you intimidating. But, to me, you look exactly as a queen should look. You’ve had to fight in battles and endure hardship to become who you are. You couldn’t have done that if you were some frail, dainty maid.” She gave a soft of moan of pleasure as he continued, “I find your freckles enchanting. As for your red hair . . . I think that’s what makes you so fiery and passionate in bed. I’m hardly going to complain about such an attribute.”

Dessia closed her eyes and gave into the delicious sensations Bridei’s touch aroused. It was remarkable how much her mood had changed since the day before. When she’d come to this place, she’d felt despairing and empty. Sleeping for so long had restored her. Or perhaps the enchantment of the woods had banished her misery. Her resentment of Bridei had also faded, and as soon as her stomach had settled, she’d found herself suddenly eager for lovemaking.

Mmmmm. His fingers were magic. No wonder he could play the harp so skillfully. She half-smiled to herself as he continued to stroke her breasts. They felt heavy and throbbing. Incredibly sensitive. Her nipples were taut, aching peaks. She needed . . . wanted . . . He seemed to have guessed her thoughts, for the next moment he replaced his beguiling fingers with his mouth. He suckled her, his lips and tongue inflaming, teasing. She could hardly remain still. Arching her back, she offered herself to him. Wanting more . . . more . . . .

He switched to her other breast, his hand gently cupping her flesh, while his mouth sucked greedily. She felt as if he dragged her toward some precipice, and she half feared going over it and being utterly lost. But she also wanted, yearned for the release. The tension built inside her, squeezing deep in the core of her body. At last she surrendered, crying out. She seemed to dissolve. Her being shook with ecstasy. She was blind with sensation. Drowning in dazzling, shimmering, molten . . . fire.

Her whole body felt limp and boneless. Her knees, weak. Vaguely, she was aware of Bridei picking her up and carrying her. By the time she thought to protest that she was too heavy, he’d reached the bed he’d made and gently lay her down. She gazed up at him in wonder. “That was  . . .” she shook her head, overwhelmed.

He smiled down at her, his violet blue eyes glistening. “Aye. It was.”

All he'd done was touch and mouth her breasts and yet somehow he’d made her reach her peak. As she recalled how she’d lost control, she felt vaguely embarrassed. She’d let him do everything for her and hadn’t even thought about him. She sat up. “That was selfish of me. To let you pleasure me like that and give no thought to your own satisfaction.”

“You think
that
didn’t satisfy me?” He gazed at her, eyebrows raised. “I enjoyed every moment of it. I’ve never had a woman so responsive. So passionate. You were breathtaking.”

“But what of your own . . .” She knew it was important for a man to spill his seed. Indeed, she had overheard men complain how uncomfortable it was if they didn’t get release.

He laughed. “I’m in no hurry. That’s the disadvantage of being male. A man can only peak once, at least within a certain time.” He grinned at her. “It’s quite unfair. As a woman, you can make love all night and peak over and over again. I must rest each time.”

She gazed at him skeptically. “I couldn’t do that all night long. ‘Twas too intense. Too overwhelming.”

“Does that mean you wish to sleep for awhile?”

“That would hardly be fair of me. To allow you to pleasure me, and leave you dissatisfied.”

“I’m not dissatisfied. I told you how much I enjoyed it.”

“Aye. But I can see you’re still aroused.”

Feeling her gaze on his groin, Bridei stood up. He’d intended to be the most considerate of lovers and let her rest. But if she were going to stare at his cock like that . . . “If you’re going to rest, you must do so now.” He grimaced as his voice came out harsher than he intended. Then he saw the bold, teasing look on her face and knew she did indeed understand what he was going through.

“I could rest,” she said. “Or I could do things to you.”

“What sort of things?” His voice was choked; his breathing harsh.

“I could touch you. May I?”

He nodded, wondering if he’d be able to bear it. Only a green boy spilled his seed at the mere touch of woman. But right now, he had about that much control.

She stood up facing him and began caressing his face, delicately tracing the shape of his mouth and then his jaw line. His heart thudding heavily as he watched her. Her expression was so intent. Her eyes, a smoky, mysterious green.

“Your mother must be beautiful,” she said.

He gave a strangled laugh. “Why are you discussing my mother? Do you seek to take the edge off my lust?”

“Nay. I was thinking that your beauty must come from your mother.”

“I suppose. Although she’s hardly my concern at this moment.”

“What is your concern?”

My hard, throbbing cock. That’s all of can think of. I want you to touch it. But I can wait. I will wait.

When he didn’t answer her, she began to fondle and stroke his neck, and then ran her hands down his chest. He took deep, even breaths, trying to ease the nearly unbearable tension building in his groin.

“Are you enjoying this?” he murmured.

“Oh, aye,” she answered as she glided her fingers along his ribs and then down his back. “From the first time I saw you, I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Truly?”

She nodded. “You’re the first man I’ve ever wanted to touch. The first man to make me understand why a man might want to . . . do things to a woman.”

“Ah . . .” He let out a groan, then regained control. “What sort of things do you want to do to me?”