The Magic of Highland Dragons (9 page)

“I only hope I will no’ be too busy with other things to enjoy the night. But I dinna think there will be any attacks on Beltane, Eian. Mored would think of that, but he’s nay fool, he’ll assume we’ll be expecting him then. He’ll wait until sometime after, I think. Maybe even before, while we’re preparing. Anything to catch us unaware. Anyway, I plan on actually
enjoying
Beltane Eve this year, so he’d better keep far away from Creagmor. I willna be happy if anything interrupts my plans for the evening.

Eian gave him a speculative look. “I’m glad ye will be taking the time to enjoy yerself this year, Bren. Ye need to do so more often. Maybe ye’ll be blessed with a child on whatever woman ye choose to go into the forest with. That would mean luck for the whole clan. We could use some extra luck.”

Bren gave his brother a look of patient exasperation. “I have nay intention of getting a woman with child, Eian, this year or any year. I will not be populating the village with my bastards to be raised without a proper father. A child of mine will be just that, a child of
mine
. To be brought up by
me
.” He looked out the window for a moment, into the distance, where the sun was beginning to set behind the rugged hills. “I have never given a woman my seed, and I never will, unless the day should come when I am properly wed and can be a true father to any child that is created from the union.”

Eian stared at him in astonishment, his mouth already hanging open. “Bloody hell, Bren. Ye’ve never… no’ once? Ever?”

“Never.”

“Jesu.”

***

Faith just needed a few moments to herself. She was definitely not used to the constant crush of people everywhere in the castle her tasks required her to be. And so after the dinner things were cleared away, her job officially done for the day, she slipped out the back door for a much needed moment of solitude. Her head was absolutely spinning. She had always worked hard in her life, but this was something different altogether. An efficiently-ordered chaos was the best she could describe it, and yet every job was done and done well by the end of the day. The last two days had been very full as she learned the ways of the castle and struggled to make her place in it. Especially since she would probably be here for awhile. At least until Dirc came back, or she happened to discover the way home on her own. She did, after all, still have possession of the ring that brought her here.

The other women had been kind to her, but she was still very much a stranger here; welcome enough, but not yet completely trusted.
You’ve only been here two days,
she reminded herself. It only seemed so much longer, with all that had happened. After her quiet and mostly solitary existence as a student and then an intern, she found herself quickly overwhelmed by the amount of people and activity in the castle. Even the room she slept in was shared by four other women, offering little refuge, even at night. As much as she enjoyed the company of other people, she also desperately needed time alone with her thoughts.

No, perhaps castle life was not for her, at least not as a member of the staff. She imagined it would be different all together if she were a member of the family instead. Bren and his brothers each had their own private chambers where they could retreat for some time alone. She knew this, because this morning she had been sent to collect the linens for washing, and had lingered a moment too long in each room just for the peace and quiet. The laird’s chamber had especially intrigued her. Though it wasn’t lavish by any means, it was elegant and comfortable. There was a sofa in front of the hearth, and thick sheep skin rugs on the floor. Bright tapestries hung on the walls to keep out drafts, and two large windows let in plenty of light. And the bed… god, the bed looked absolutely sinful, just like the man who slept in it. It was large and soft and draped in rich red velvet curtains. The dark wooden headboard was intricately carved with the same double dragon seal, their long tails curling up and around the posts. She had stood there and touched it, had run her fingers over the soft pillow where he would lay his head. Then she had laid her own head there, for just a moment, to see if it was as soft as it looked. No, if she was being honest she would admit that she wanted to lay her head where he did. It had nothing to do with the pillow. She caught his scent on the pillowcase, and her heart instantly started pounding in her chest. She drew back, startled at her intense reaction. She could so easily imagine Bren here, easing a lover back onto the bed, following her with his own body….

Faith shook herself… of all the directions for her thoughts to be taking! But, truthfully, she had thought about Bren many times in the past couple of days, far more than she should have. Every time she had seen him in the distance, she thought he had been looking at her. He was overwhelming from afar, even more so a few feet away, so what would it be like to be closer? Or to touch him? The thought made her heart beat faster, and frightened her more than a little bit. He was so much larger than her, so much stronger. He could do anything he wanted and she would never be able to stop him, he was laird after all. Then she remembered his vow to Dirc. She had almost forgotten, in the confusion of learning her place in the castle, with so much completely new information filling her mind. He had promised not to touch her against her will, lacing the choice ultimately in her own hands. He wanted to touch her, she had seen that much in his eyes, but was he a man who kept his vows? Dirc seemed to think so, but what did she really know about him, anyway? Nothing, or what amounted to it. In the two days she had spent in Dirc’s cottage, he had been away most of the time, and the rest of the time he had managed to ignore most of her questions and tell her almost nothing about himself, or anything else, for that matter.

Drawing in a deep breath of fresh air, she walked through a little iron gate to the garden at the back of the keep. It was a small garden, walled in on all sides, and therefore considered to be safe, even at dusk as it was now. As the light slowly faded, Faith felt her other senses come alive as they never had back home. She could smell the earth and the green grass crushed beneath her feet, feel the cool damp air against her face. The mist was already rising, making the garden look ethereal, perhaps even magical in a way. She brushed past a hedgerow, and the sharp scent of boxwood reached her, then the sweet aroma of honeysuckle, climbing the wooden arbor just ahead. She ducked under the vines, and stood watching the stars begin to appear one by one through the small new spring leaves above. There was so little sound. No cars. No thrum of humanity and electric lights. So very quiet. Even the keep was quiet, here on the other side of its thick stone walls. Absolute peace. The breeze changed and now she caught the tang of salt water, the fishy small of low tide and seaweed. She sighed and closed her eyes in bliss, her mind and body relaxing for the first time in days. And so she was startled when she heard her softly spoken name.

“Faith.”

Her eyes opened. She knew who it was. Only one man would dare follow her out into the garden in the near dark without fear of consequence. Only one man on whose lips her name sounded like sin. The man who made the rules. Her stomach flipped and her heart started to race, but she was determined not to let him know how nervous he made her.

She turned to glance behind. Casually, she hoped. “Good evening, Laird.”

He smiled. Even his smile looked dangerous. Despite her best efforts, her breath came a little faster. He was so handsome, but that was not a strong enough word.
Beautiful
, was the word that kept coming to mind. The very epitome of masculine perfection and beauty and grace.

“Might I join ye for a moment? It’s a lovely evening. I often walk in the gardens after dinner.”

“I suppose I can’t stop you”, she said in a rather shaky attempt at mild disregard.

“Nay”, he said, with a slight curve of his lips. “Ye canna”.

He stepped closer, watching her, and now Faith could no longer smell the honeysuckle, or the sea. No… the warm, masculine scent of the man next to her invaded her senses and drowned out all else. Her heart thudded almost painfully against her ribs, and sharp tingles of awareness shot through her limbs, all the way to her fingertips. Never had she been more conscious of every inch of her body. She had to struggle to keep her breath even. She had to struggle to keep from leaning closer to him, as if little whirlwinds of heat were pulling all the air out from between them.

“Walk with me”, he said softly. It was hardly fair; Faith thought dimly, that his voice alone had the effect of making her knees weak. How was she supposed to fight against that?

He took her arm and drew her gently out from the arbor. The touch was only casual, but it felt like flames against her skin, burning, branding. Making her want more. She pulled her arm away, and he reluctantly let it go. Together they continued on the path, now in only the starlight, as the last glow of the sun had faded to blackness over the water, and the moon had yet to rise over the hills.

“How are ye finding the castle?” he asked, his gaze straight ahead. “Do ye have everything ye need?”

“It’s a beautiful castle, but then you already know that.” She paused. “And I have everything I need, thank you.”

“I have decided I dinna want ye working in the kitchens anymore, Faith. I ken you’re no’ a scullery maid, or any sort of maid at all. We will find another place for ye.”

Faith frowned slightly. Was she really that bad at her job? She had only just started, for goodness sake! “But I like working in the kitchens. I’m learning a lot of new things. They tell me I’m getting better; I just need a little more practice.”

He looked down at her and smiled. In the dim light, she could see only his profile, dark against the soft glow of the sky, but she knew he was smiling. She could feel it. She could feel
him
. The heat of his body, the way the air seemed charged with electricity all around him, even the softness of his breath as it moved past her cheek.

“I dinna ken who ye truly are Faith”, he said softly. “But I ken that ye’re no’ a servant born. Ye are a lady, and old Dirc is up to mischief again. But right now, I dinna care about that. I dinna care who ye are. Ye are here with me, and that’s all that matters tonight.”

Suddenly he stopped and turned, reaching for her. She felt his arms come around her; warm, hard muscle, wonderful, terrible strength that could crush her at will. The heat of his body and the scent of his skin alone threatened to overwhelm her senses. Her heart pounded wildly, and her breath caught in her throat. She looked up at him and saw his intent, even in the almost-darkness. He was going to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her. God how she wanted to know what it would be like to be kissed by this man! She had a feeling one of his kisses would take her to places she’d never even dreamed of going. But, oh God, she couldn’t let him. She still had her pride, if nothing else, and she would never allow him to win so easily. Not when he assumed he could have her at will, that she would fall into his arms like all of the other woman surely did. He would use her and toss her aside. No way, not even to satisfy her own burning curiosity. But damn, right now she sure wished she had no pride.

“Ye are so verra beautiful,” he whispered, his warm breath touching her lips.

Despite her best intentions, she felt herself drawing closer, melting, drowning in the very air that touched him. He was intoxicating, dangerous. She had to break the spell, anything to save herself. Gathering what remained of her free will, she drew in a breath and pushed him away. She caught the flare of surprise and displeasure on his face, or maybe she had actually felt it. Maybe both, she wasn’t thinking straight anymore.

But she had won this round; he had thought he had her. Well, he could think again. Just how many other women had he whispered those same words to? Dozens, at least, most likely more. As much as she wanted to know what it would be like to kiss him, to touch him, she couldn’t do it. Not knowing that she was just one more of many. She just wasn’t the kind of girl who took what she wanted and didn’t care about things like whether she was being used in return. She wanted it all, everything, she suddenly realized. She wanted to be the only one he craved, so much so that no one else could even tempt him away from her. She wanted to
own
him, body and soul. Then, and only then would she give in, otherwise, he would only break her heart. She didn’t need her heart broken again when it had only just healed. And then there was the little matter of exactly how long she could expect to be here… She shook herself. Her thoughts were rambling unchecked through her mind. Own him? Where had that come from? She didn’t even know Bren Mac Coinnach, and he certainly wasn’t the type of man to be owned by anyone.

“What is it love? What’s wrong?” He tried to pull her back to him, but she resisted, her muscles going taught.

“You were going to kiss me.”

He gave her the confident, lazy smile of the born seducer of women he was. “Aye, that was my intention. Ye are too quick by half.” He leaned closer again.

His voice, so deep and dark, drew her, flowing through her like warm honey. His body, so much larger and stronger than her own, lured her closer with its heat and exotic scent. His dark hair brushed her cheek, silky soft and smelling of the night and of decadent possibilities. She could feel the power rolling off of him, pulling her under, smell the sharp scent of man and danger, seducing, coaxing. When her hips threatened to thrust towards his of their own accord, she finally managed another step back.