Dawn Of Desire (11 page)

Oriana tipped her head and saw his sly smile. “Are you likening me to one of your falcons?”

That was precisely what Egan had been doing, but caution forced a denial. “Nay, I doubt any man could tame you.”

It pained her that he appeared unwilling to even make an attempt. She lowered her head and rubbed her cheek against his soft woolen tunic. They were so close his heated desire warmed her clear through, but she still felt terribly alone. Perhaps like the birds of prey, she should have been taken when very young. Now the gods had waited too long to claim her, and mortal men dared not even try.

Then who had yanked her from Egan’s passionate embrace last night? Torn by the ever present danger to him and by her own confused folly, she placed both hands on the solid wall of his chest to push him away. “Tonight I would like to sleep in your mother’s chamber if I may.”

Her tone was softly apologetic, but all Egan heard was a plaintive plea to sleep anywhere but with him. Badly disappointed the tenderness of his touch meant so little to her, he dropped his hands to his sides, but his thoughts were not so easily controlled.

“You may sleep wherever you choose, my lady, but I’ll rest there as well,” he promised, and his steady gaze brooked no argument.

Oriana accepted the inevitable defeat with a slight shrug. “There is no point in going elsewhere then,” she replied, but she had heard Albyn caution him to hunt alone tomorrow.

She smiled slightly as she returned to the chair for another restless night, but the moment Egan was out of
sight on the morrow, she would ride Brute into the forest and not once look back.

Egan knew better than to believe Oriana had suddenly become agreeable, but bit back a vile curse before it sprang from his lips. “I’m going to step outside and count to twenty. When I return, I expect you to be in my bed and dressed in no more than your shift.”

Oriana was already absorbed in the leaping flames. “Expect whatever you please,” she responded absently. “I’ll wait here.”

Egan was tempted to kick the chair right out from under her, but he doubted it would do any good. “I’ve never struck a woman, but I swear you are well on your way to becoming the first.”

Unconcerned by his threat, Oriana propped a foot on the seat of the chair and looped her arms around her bent knee before glancing toward him. “I’ll grant that you could kill me with a single mighty blow.”

“Nay,” Egan responded with a derisive snort. “I’d rather strangle you.” He had meant to sound fierce, but caught by the absurdity of his ever truly wishing to harm her, a tug of barely suppressed laughter ruined his frown.

Oriana watched as his lips widened into a charming grin and doubted he had ever met anyone else who would not gladly bow to his wishes. She still fought to warn him. “What’s needed here is cunning rather than your bold strength or boundless charm.”

“Cunning,” Egan repeated. He rolled the word around in his mind and swiftly rejected any need for subterfuge. “I am the rightful king, Oriana. Conjecture about your possible origins is merely tantalizing gossip. We’ll pay it no heed.”

Oriana had spent too many years hiding her identity to casually dismiss questions about her background. By coming there she felt as though she had stumbled into a deadly maze fraught with challenges, while, as usual, Egan insisted upon standing atop a wall of confidence to
survey a sun-drenched kingdom. Unfortunately such an arrogant attitude would offer scant protection if her arrival continued to create chaos.

Guilt-ridden, she offered a truce. “The night has already been too long. Can’t we continue this argument on the morrow when you return from your hunt?”

She sounded as though her suggestion were a perfectly sensible one, but Egan refused to be so easily distracted. “No, not when the issue is where you’ll sleep tonight.”

Oriana continued to regard him with a level gaze. “Well, when you put it that way, I suppose not.”

It seemed they were at an impasse. With barely concealed longing, her glance wandered down Egan’s impressively muscled frame. Last night Lugh had yanked her from his arms before he could become her lover. Would Lugh grab her so quickly tonight? Did she dare test the god’s resolve, or her own?

Ashamed of where such thoughts had led, she softened both her pose and expression. “Last night you complained I was too flirtatious, and tonight too distant and mysterious. It appears I am a failure in my pose as your mistress.”

Surprised she wished to discuss the usually volatile subject, Egan relaxed as well. “No, on both evenings you were much admired.”

“Perhaps,” Oriana mused thoughtfully, “but you had hoped my presence would distract everyone, not send them into a frenzy of absurd speculation that could endanger both our lives.”

While that was certainly true, for the moment Egan cared nothing for the world outside his chamber. He went to Oriana and again coaxed her from the chair she sought all too often. He hugged her close to savor her faint lavender scent and ran his hands over her long, pretty curls. Were she truly his mistress, he hoped he would do a far better job of pleasing her.

“You ate sparingly this afternoon and nothing this
evening. While you prepare for bed, I’ll fetch us some warm bread and cold venison.” He would also bring wine to sooth her troubled mood.

They had apparently reached an uneasy accord, and Oriana was amazed her clumsy apology had prompted such unexpected consideration from him. “I’m too frightened to be hungry,” she confided shyly.

Egan wondered how she had found the courage to boldly follow him into the fortress, but hoped she had been prompted by concern for his welfare. Seeking to deepen the regard she refused to voice, he placed a hasty farewell kiss on her cheek.

“You mustn’t argue with me,” he scolded softly. “You must simply eat. I’ll return before you’ve noticed that I’ve gone.”

Oriana was impressed by his sweetness, but badly disappointed by how little her dire warnings had meant to him. Perhaps after she left the fortress, the threat of danger would vanish with her. If no horrible consequence occurred to him later, then he would undoubtedly laugh at her memory, but that was preferable to her weeping at his grave.

She could remove the heavy golden torque by herself now, but as her fingertips played over his mother’s smooth wooden beads, she knew she would miss them almost as much as the charming man who had given her the beloved token.

When Egan found guests still lingering in the great hall, he slipped through the narrow back passageway usually reserved for servants. Upon reaching the kitchen, he told the startled cooks that he was too hungry to summon a servant to bring food and stood by while they filled a platter with the bread and venison he had promised Oriana. He balanced it upon his fingertips and picked up a full flagon of wine on his way out.

He was convinced Oriana was simply tired and hungry, and he hoped she would turn affectionate once she
felt refreshed. He began to whistle, then caught himself before he drew any unwelcome company. He nearly shouted for joy when he found her in his bed, but then realized she had fallen asleep.

He was tempted to wake her and make her eat a late supper, but then decided he could use a short nap himself. After setting the food and wine aside, he discarded his tunic and shoes. Then with the stealth he usually reserved for the hunt, he slid into bed and waited for the woman of his dreams to awaken in his arms.

Kieran’s hand rested lightly upon Madi’s waist as he escorted her to the chamber prepared for her visit. Once they reached the recessed doorway, however, he stepped behind her and slid his arms around her in a possessive hug. He gave a low, suggestive growl and lowered his head to nibble her ear.

“Don’t make me wait any longer. I want to stay with you tonight.”

Although nearly crushed against his lean, muscular body, Madi shamelessly twisted her hips across his rigid arousal. It was sublime to possess such exhilarating power over a man, and yet she kept her spoken response deliberately innocent.

“ ’Tis bliss simply to rest in your arms like this.”

Kieran relaxed his hold to slide his thumb up the fullness of her breast, and his voice grew husky with desire. “Not for me it isn’t. I want to glory in all of you, and now, tonight.”

Madi replied in an enticing purr, “I’ll grant a kiss or caress, beloved, but nothing more until after we’re wed.”

Kieran raised a hand to smooth a dark curl from her cheek and brushed his lips against her ear. “We’re mere days from Samhain, which would be a splendid time.”

“Yes, indeed, but the appropriate agreements have not
been struck,” she reminded him regretfully. “If only your father had spoken to mine. Perhaps you could ask Egan to—”

Instantly repulsed, Kieran released her with a rude shove. “I’ll not ask Egan for anything, ever!”

Madi turned toward him, and even in the flickering torchlight, her displeasure was clearly etched upon her finely shaped brow. She closed the distance between them with a graceful sway and spread her small hands over Kieran’s broad chest. Madi looked up at him through her long sable lashes and relied upon well-practiced charms. “Am I not worth such a small sacrifice?”

Kieran grabbed her wrists to force her away. “Not without a more enticing incentive than you’ve offered tonight, my lady.”

Yanking free of his grasp, Madi stared at him coldly. Her mother had not felt up to making the trip, but she had been raised to place such a high value on her virtue that to bed Kieran without the security of marriage was unthinkable. That he had not responded positively to her softly voiced encouragement to bring their union into reality cut her temper as short as his.

“Earlier this evening you referred to me as your treasure. Now it appears your hatred for Egan is far stronger than your love for me. How fortunate that I discovered the truth before you hurt me any more deeply. I’ll not bid you a good night when I hope you’ll choke to death in your sleep.”

She had slipped into her chamber and thrown the bolt before Kieran could think of a suitably insulting reply. No woman, no matter how lovely, was worth what it would cost him in pride to approach Egan for a favor. He despised his brother and wished with all his heart that Egan had been the one to fall ill and die.

After Albyn’s utter failure with Egan, he left the fortress to walk the bailey in distracted circles. He had rushed home to offer sympathy, which Egan had certainly
appreciated, but that the future king placed a higher value upon his elegant companion’s advice than his boyhood friend’s was appalling.

When lightning tore the chilly mist, Albyn adjusted his hood with a disgusted tug. The gift of prophecy might elude him, but he still trusted his instincts, and no matter how stubbornly Egan refused to see the tumult swirling around him, it would remain.

“And so will I,” Albyn vowed, for he would not abandon Egan when the situation could only grow worse. The first drops of rain forced him back to the fortress, but he was as uneasy as when he had stepped outside and doubted he would find any restful sleep that night.

After they had all enjoyed a hearty meal, Garrick had included the visiting Druids in the final plans for the coming ceremony. The meeting had closed with a familiar chant, but even as he had swayed with the ancient rhythm, he had noted Albyn’s conspicuous absence.

Cadell had been an astute ruler, and though he and Garrick had never been close, each had respected the other. The Druid and Egan shared no such mutual regard, however, and now the dutiful Albyn had returned home to provide a most unwelcome complication. Garrick had spent too many years amassing power to relinquish a modicum even momentarily, but as he made his way to Ula’s chamber, he shoved such distressing thoughts aside and turned his mind toward pleasure.

Her door was unlatched, allowing the fragrance of her haunting perfume to seep into the corridor. It was an enchanting invitation, and after making certain the guards who toured the fortress during the night were not lurking about to observe, he entered. On the hearth, a bright fire blazed to clearly illumine Ula curled atop her bed. Clad only in a lace-trimmed shift, her fair skin still glowed with a youthful beauty, and she was as lovely as the first time they had made love years ago.

“Why have you kept me waiting so long?” she asked accusingly. “Don’t bother to blame the length of the Druid’s incantations. Had you wished, you could have brought them to a prompt close.”

As usual, Garrick chose not to take affront at her tedious complaints. He drew his robe and tunic off over his head and cast them aside before replying. “Aye, I could have done that easily, but these are sensitive times, and it would not serve our purpose to arouse anyone’s suspicions.”

Bored and eager to capture his full attention, Ula arched her back toward him and pinched her nipples to create enticing buds that pushed against her soft linen shift. “I heard rumors all evening about Egan’s whore. She has proven to be even more useful than you’d promised, for she distracts not merely Egan, but all who see her.”

A sly smile lit Garrick’s face as he removed his shoes. He then slid across the end of the fur-strewn bed to reach for Ula’s tiny feet. “Aye, she makes Egan almost too easy to destroy, and I know how much you’ll delight in his undoing.”

“It will scarcely compare to the boundless joy of having Kieran named the rightful heir and king of the Dál Cais.”

“You must be patient for a few more days, my beauty, and for tonight, enjoy only me.” He slid his hands up her thighs to open her to him and laughed as she drew in a startled breath. He explored her moist depths with his fingertips, slowly tantalizing her until she squirmed beneath his touch and begged for more.

“Not yet,” he cajoled, and he paused to remove his trousers so that she might first pleasure him with her mouth. It was an erotic entertainment he had taught her on the journey to wed Cadell, and he was still amused that he had successfully delivered a virgin bride without denying himself a single opportunity to sample her favors. There was no longer any need to hide their lengthy
affair, but the inherent danger had always enhanced Ula’s appeal, and he had no intention of ever revealing their liaison.

He considered Ula as great a whore as Egan’s mistress, but that was merely one of the many dark secrets locked away in his heart.

The wind-driven rain ruffled the tapestry covering the narrow windows in Egan’s chamber, and thickened the air with the dank odor of the ocean’s depths. A sizzling bolt of lightning filled the room with a blinding flash, and the whole fortress vibrated under a deafening clap of thunder.

Jolted awake, Oriana sat up and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. She’d had a greater fright than any caused by the inclement weather. Fighting panic, she longed to run, but in the dead of night there was no escaping Egan or the fortress.

Egan had slept so fitfully, he had already been awake and eased himself up to a sitting position. “It’s just rain clouds hovering over Mount Royal,” he assured his uneasy companion. “Tonight’s storm is more violent than most, but it will pass with the dawn. It always does.”

“I’m not afraid of the storm.” Oriana dipped her head momentarily, and then swept her hair from her eyes. “I’ve just had the most vivid dream.

“An enormous hawk soared above me. His wings were outstretched, beating the air, while his long, sharp claws reached out toward me like daggers. I truly thought he was going to pluck me from the ground, and my only defense was to roll into a small, tight ball. Then I heard my mother’s laughter and peeked through my fingers to see the hawk land upon her gloved wrist.”

Rocking slightly, Oriana paused to glance toward Egan. His hair was as sleep-rumpled as hers, and dark stubble shadowed his cheeks, but she had grown so accustomed to his presence she did not find his unkempt appearance alarming.

“You once asked me if the gods brought food to my doorstep. I thought it a rude question.”

Anticipating an exciting story, Egan chose not to argue. “Which it was. Please forgive me. Go on.”

Oriana dismissed his apology with an impatient wave. “I’d completely forgotten that my mother once owned a hawk who’d hunt for us. I must have been very young, and I don’t recall the bird’s name, but I’m positive it was a memory just now, not a dream.”

Easing closer, Egan dropped his arm around her shoulders to encourage her to lean into him. When she did, he offered a comforting squeeze. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. I saw her clearly as the hawk swooped down through the trees to settle upon her padded glove. She was dressed in a beautiful emerald green gown. It was as lovely as those your mother wore. By the time I was old enough to take any notice of our clothing, she must have replaced all her fine garments with the simply tailored clothes we traded for at village fairs.”

Envying Egan’s confident calm, Oriana snuggled against his side. “I never asked Mother a single question about her heritage, and she stressed only that I was Lugh’s daughter and a precious gift to the world.”

“Which you are,” Egan murmured, this time sincere.

Oriana shrugged. “Perhaps, and it was always enough for me, but now that everyone here is so curious about my family, I feel a great fool for not pursuing the issue with my mother while I could. The delicacy of her speech and grace of her manner revealed her to be a lady unlike any we met on our travels, and even if I never sought them out, I do wish I knew who her parents were. I don’t even know if she had brothers or sisters.”

Egan had both arms wrapped around her now, and he rested his cheek against her curls. He had always known exactly who he was and what he was to become, but he could imagine how confused she must be to confront her identity at such a late date.

She was more vulnerable than she had ever been, but
the response she aroused within him was anything but protective. He forced himself to breathe in and out in a steady rhythm, but the remainder of his body was not so easily controlled. She was trusting him with her thoughts, as he had feared she never would, but he wanted more from her. He waited for some small sign, a plaintive sigh would do, that she would now welcome his affection.

Unfortunately for him, with a sudden hoarse cry Oriana broke free of his grasp. She remained on the bed and knelt to face him. “Who is your worst enemy?” she asked breathlessly.

Furious with himself for not grabbing the opportunity to seduce her before it had been lost, he responded with the first name which came to mind. “Duncan O Floinn.”

“No, you’d never heard of the man before you met me. Who has your family battled for generations? Who were you raised to despise?”

There was a wild light in her amber eyes, and Egan dared not gaze too deeply before he leaned close and murmured, “We’ve fought the O Loegaire, but not since I was a lad. My father was not only adept in battle, but also at avoiding a foolish fight neither side could win.”

“Did he make the O Loegaire welcome here?”

Egan scoffed at that notion. “No, of course not. They are enemies still and always will be, but with equal strength there’s no gain for either side if we must fight to the last man.”

Oriana paused for a moment to listen to the steady beat of rain against the fortress’s thick stone walls. There was a distant rumble of thunder as the storm retreated. She could not bear to look at Egan and focused instead on her hands.

“If as I believe, my presence here has created the very danger you wished to avoid, then it is certain my mother’s people were the O Loegaire.”

Egan stared at her, as though a search of her sweet features would provide damning evidence, but all he saw
was the fascinating young woman he wanted for his own. “In all my travels, I’ve met only a few O Loegaire. They were handsome brutes, with hair as red as yours, but that proves nothing. If you wish, I’ll send Albyn to find a bard or Druid who knows their history. If one of their women vanished without a trace, it will be remembered.”

“No!” Oriana cried. “You must not make any inquires on my behalf. My mother never regretted forsaking her family for Lugh, and I’ll not dishonor her memory by going back.”

Egan rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Now you’re making no sense at all, Oriana.” He rolled off the bed to add a log to the fire, but quickly returned to the warm tangle of furs. “Even if it were discovered you’re the granddaughter of the king of the O Loegaire, no harm would come to me. In fact, you’d be a valuable hostage should one be needed, and enhance rather than damage my reign.”

“You understand nothing,” Oriana scolded.

“Aye, that’s certainly true where you’re concerned, but you need have no fear that you’ll destroy me. Now get back under the furs so that we might sleep a while before the morning’s hunt.”

Oriana held her breath for a long moment but finally found the courage to inquire, “Don’t you understand how easily a woman can destroy a man?”

She was a creature of many moods, none amorous, he feared, but her question was impossible to turn aside. He coaxed her with a careless gesture. “Come back to me, and I’ll welcome the risk. I don’t care what Lugh might have planned for you. You shall be mine.”

Oriana had lived on her own too long to doubt her own courage, and there was no mistaking his; but to blatantly scorn the gods was to invite such horrible disasters that she dared not even imagine them for fear of hastening their arrival. And yet, how she longed to throw herself into Egan’s waiting arms!