Dawn Of Desire (17 page)

Her mother had described the marriage act but not the depth of passion, nor the resulting pleasure, and Oriana wondered at that omission. Had Rain feared she would
be so eager for a glimpse of the promised magic that at her first opportunity she would wed some handsome farmer?

Egan had worked a kind of magic on her, she was positive of that, but she was not too dazed to realize they were not actually wed. She folded her hands across his chest, raised up slightly, then shoved her hair out of her eyes.

“You should have come with me,” she scolded.

Egan had every intention of doing just that, but he feigned confusion with a dipped brow. “And just where is that, my lady?”

Oriana could feel the hard, blunt tip of his manhood against her thigh, and wished her mother had taken the time to instruct her in how to pleasure him. She licked her lips and then kissed him soundly. When the resulting taste was hers rather than his, she was embarrassed and yet deeply pleased.

“It was nowhere I recognized,” she replied enticingly. “Perhaps it was the Otherworld.”

Egan raised up to roll her off him into the furs, and then propped himself on his arms above her. “If it was the Otherworld, then now you know the way and can take me there.”

Oriana reached up to ruffle his hair. “I would take you anywhere.”

She drew a deep breath as he again parted her legs with his knee. Her mother had warned her that virgins could expect pain when they took a husband, but had claimed with Lugh, there had been only a joyous heat. Oriana did not fear the pain of joining with a mortal, but remained apprehensive a jealous god might again yank her from Egan’s arms.

Dreading that possibility, she braced herself as Egan began to tease her not with his tongue, but with the soft, smooth tip of his shaft. Riding her own slippery wetness, he slid along her cleft, and on each downward stroke dipped low to brush against her maidenhead. His slow,
taunting rhythm soon coaxed a fresh burst of desire from deep within her, and this time, she knew exactly where it would lead.

Fascinated by her thoughtful lover, she coiled her arms around his and felt his muscles bulge as their shared rapture rose within him. His breath came in heated gasps. The sweat dripped from his brow to splatter on her breasts, and the need to feel him deep inside her grew to a now-familiar ache.

She dropped her hands to grip his waist, and on his next shallow thrust, she shoved down to take him deep. He was hard and thick, and her maidenhead tore as he filled her, but there was not even a nip of pain. Instead, she was filled with a delicious heat that made her squirm to settle him deeper still.

Taken by surprise, Egan went still, but when Oriana bucked beneath him, he lost all hope of restraint and began thrusting with a steadily increasing beat. He had wanted her so badly, but had never dreamed they would be so finely matched. Still, he held back his own release until he felt her welcoming contractions tighten around him.

As he plunged into that bliss, his chamber exploded with a blinding flash even brighter than lightning. When a long while later, Oriana lay cradled in his arms, he was still too stunned by the magnificence of her loving to speak. Then she began to sing Lugh’s song as he had asked, and the poignant melody brought a rush of tears he hid in her tangled curls.

As was Kieran’s unfortunate custom, he had drunk too much wine that night. But the thought-blurring spirits had failed to dampen his rage. He had made a brave show at the feast, but he was still so furiously angry with Egan for winning the first contest that he felt as though his heart were leaking blood.

Rather than show him the respect any worthy opponent deserved, throughout the evening Egan had not once glanced his way. Perhaps Egan was merely too besotted with his flame-haired whore to appreciate the risk his younger brother posed, but to dismiss him as inconsequential was unforgivable.

Humiliated at being ignored, Kieran was eager to end the wretched evening, and soon after Egan and Oriana had left the great hall, he also fled the crowd. He careened up the winding staircase, scraping his elbow on the way, and burst out onto the fog-shrouded battlements. The chill air slapped him back toward the doorway, but he sucked it in with deep, wrenching sobs. When he at last caught his breath, he stepped out on the wall walk and hurled his pain into the mist with a furious howl.

He had been Cadell’s favorite. He had been the son with whom Cadell had hunted and raced. They had
brandished spears and swords in contests so ferocious yet playful, their true purpose had been disguised. More important, he had been the faithful son who had remained at his father’s side. He had heard Cadell embellish the tales of his battles so frequently, it seemed as though he had fought by his side.

Now he was left on his own to fight for the crown that was rightfully his. What did it matter that Egan was the firstborn when he had abandoned them all to spend the better part of each year chasing adventure?

He yelled a challenge that soared over the roar of the churning sea and vowed that no matter what dare Egan devised for the morrow, he would turn it against him in a win so decisive it would end with the crowd chanting his name.

“King!” he shouted into the night. “I will be king!”

Long after midnight, Albyn was still too restless to sleep, and he sat slumped in his boyhood chamber with his head cradled in his hands. He felt he was a fool for wasting so many precious years among the Druids, and although he had voiced his discontent only to Egan, he feared his every move revealed the depth of his torment.

An insistent tap at his door interrupted his musings, but he refused to respond when it was certain to be a Druidess seeking comfort from a virile young man. There had been a time when he would have welcomed such a diversion, but not now when losing himself in a woman’s heat would scarcely ease his pain.

Yet the memory of physical pleasure brought a forbidden longing for Oriana’s graceful touch. He had caught a glimpse of forever in her golden eyes, and had she belonged to any other man, he would have courted her with such imaginative devotion she would surely have come to him most willingly.

His chest tightened with sorrow, for he had made the journey home burdened by one anguish only to meet another he dared not share. Defeated in his search for
peace, he stretched out across his bed and willed himself not to weep over what he feared might become an endless string of unfulfilled desires.

Egan dreamed that he and Oriana were floating in a magical sea, the waters of which were as warm and fragrant as a scented bath. The ebb drew her from his arms to create a nearly unbearable longing before the swell of the next wave carried her back to him. He quickly tired of that torture, and with her clasped to his side, rode a cresting wave to the shore.

They arrived in too lazy a mood to stand and lay nestled in the damp sand while the waves’ lacy foam teased and caressed their bare bodies with gently lapping tongues.

Egan wanted to make love to Oriana again, to dip into her luscious heat a thousand times. As before, she welcomed him, and on each thrust took him higher, until he could neither see nor hear the thunder of the ocean. He could only feel Oriana’s heart beating within his own chest, her blood coursing through his veins, and her dazzling thoughts whirling through his mind.

It was more than a passionate coupling. It was the glorious essence of life itself played out in an ageless dance. It stole his breath and left him gasping in a splendor brighter than any flame. When he could at last open his eyes, he was amazed to find himself still in his chamber, where the tapestry had been rolled back to admit the first blush of dawn.

Swathed in furs, he yawned, stretched, and made no move to contain the width of his smile when he found Oriana was already awake. She was cuddled close but lay studying him with a speculative frown he found most disconcerting. “Please don’t say that you were disappointed,” he urged. Almost afraid to touch her, he sat up and brought her hand to his lips.

In return, Oriana brushed his knuckles with a kiss and laced her fingers in his. “I’ll never be disappointed with you,” she swore convincingly.

Still, her smile remained wistful rather than joyous, and Egan could not abide that. “Then making love was not what you’d hoped. It will be better for you the next time though, or the next,” he promised. “You must give me another chance.”

Oriana sat up to face him, her curls wildly bewitching, but she kept a thick fox fur pressed to her bosom. “You’ve misunderstood my mood completely,” she scolded softly. “I’ve lived such a solitary life, and then there you were insisting upon becoming my husband.”

She dipped her head a moment to gather her thoughts. “But I didn’t even imagine what a true marriage entailed. Oh, I understood how the bodies of men and women fit together, but not how it felt. Now I just want to weep for all the years I didn’t know you, but at the same time, glory in the wonder we’ve finally found.”

That was much more complimentary than Egan had anticipated, and he drew her into an exuberant hug. “There is a magic in you, Oriana.” He caught himself before he blurted out what brief pleasures he had shared with other women. He had known only the rising physical tension and bliss of release, but nothing he had experienced had prepared him for loving her. It had been fleeting shadows, while she was a blinding light.

“I do love you, my lady. My wife,” he quickly amended. He leaned back to seek the truth in her eyes. “Will you finally admit that we’re wed?”

Oriana felt as through their shared passion had fused their very souls, and she did indeed feel wedded to him. “Aye,” she admitted shyly, “but I’ve still no magnificent dowry to offer a king.”

“True, but I’ve not had to pay your father an exorbitant bride price either. So in my mind, we’re even, just as though you had brought a fine dowry, and I’d had to pay dearly to call you my own. We’ll have the feast to celebrate later, but we are now wed.”

His eyes were more gray than blue in the dim light.
Oriana was confident he possessed keen eyesight. There were just some things he adamantly refused to see.

“I’ll not argue while Kieran poses such a vexing threat,” she said, “but mark my words, beloved, those who’ll oppose me as your queen will not be easily defeated.”

Egan tilted her chin with his fingertips. “Is it simply impossible for you to trust in my love?”

Eager to avoid such close scrutiny of her thoughts, Oriana lay her cheek upon his shoulder, and he immediately enveloped her in a possessive embrace. “I trust you with my heart and life, but I’ll always be an outsider here and it creates a danger for us both.”

“Not once Kieran is defeated, it won’t.” Egan rested his chin atop her curls. He wanted to make love to her all day, and it pained him to have to leave her now. “Albyn is as great a worrier as you. He’ll come to fetch me soon.”

As Egan reluctantly relaxed his embrace, Oriana pushed away. She had not watched him shave, nor seen him dress, and suddenly understood why. “You’ve been using your father’s chamber, haven’t you?”

“Aye,” Egan admitted slyly, as though she had caught him in a trick. “I meant to avoid you at first, and then to give you the privacy a lady deserves.”

Oriana nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve been wearing his clothes?”

Uncertain where their conversation was leading, Egan turned away to swing his legs off the bed. “We were the same size.”

As is Kieran, Oriana did not offer aloud. “It should bring you continued good luck. Do so again today.”

Egan grabbed his pants from the floor before entering the privy. He always awoke hard, but that morning he had to fight the urgent need to make love again. He wanted Oriana so badly, if he started he would not be able to stop should a hundred men come knocking at his door, so he dared not even begin. But denying his need was a worse torment than any Kieran posed.

He was surprised he was so steady on his feet when he felt giddy clear to his soul, but he did not think it a good day for climbing mountains. Recalling his dream, he decided a swim would be a better choice, but first he would have to find the strength to leave the chamber he shared with his bride.

Oriana returned Egan’s adoring kiss, but made no move to stop him as he strode toward the door. When she’d had such a vague notion of the rapture of making love, she now wondered how she could have offered such confident prophecies. She felt foolish for having been so incredibly naive.

“I knew nothing before meeting you,” she said to him sincerely.

Egan paused with his hand on the open door. “You mustn’t dismiss your talents so lightly, my lady. You read the future with magical stones, and it was your gift that drew me to you. Now rest here if you like, or come join the others and watch, but I’ll wager today’s challenge will be over quickly.”

He was gone before Oriana could admit her Stones of Tomorrow were nothing more than pretty rocks. In the chamber’s sudden silence, the fanciful deception swiftly became a hideously convoluted lie, and she vowed to tell Egan the truth at her first opportunity. That newfound guilt compounded by anxiety over the challenge prompted her to leave the bed in a hurried leap.

Her hands shook as, unable to make a quick choice, she sorted through Adelaine’s pretty garments. There were the new brown gowns she had set aside for travel, but she hated the sight of them now. She would have tossed them in the fire had the fabrics not been so fine; they ought to be passed along to some farmer’s wife or shepherdess in need of new clothing.

Finally dressed in a soft green-gray gown, Oriana was about to comb her hair when Myrna appeared with fruit, freshly baked bread, and cheese. “Egan insisted I remain
to watch you eat, my lady, but I’d rather make myself useful. Hand me your comb, and I’ll tame your curls. Adelaine’s were every bit as wild, and I learned to begin at the tips to gently coax them into obedience.”

Grateful for her help, Oriana handed over the comb, broke off a bit of bread, and moved toward the chair. “I doubt I shall be able to eat much or sit for long. I don’t want to miss the day’s challenge and am eager to hear what it will be.”

As soon as Oriana was seated, Myrna stepped behind her and began to expertly untangle her curls. “I’ve missed having a pretty mistress to tend. Ula has her own maids and never has any need for me.”

“Is she troubled over the challenge?” Oriana inquired.

Myrna pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Not that I’ve seen. But then, she expects Kieran to win.”

Oriana waited for Myrna to separate another handful of hair before she murmured, “A mother should be loyal.”

Myrna clamped her jaws shut, but quickly lost her battle to keep still. “Ula is loyal only to herself, and Kieran is quick to do her bidding.”

“Egan would not treat her badly,” Oriana argued. “He’s too fine a man to banish his stepmother from her home.”

“He is a fine man,” Myrna agreed, “but like his sire, blind to the dangers in his own household.”

Intrigued, Oriana sat up a little straighter. “Have you recalled something more about Adelaine’s death?”

Myrna appeared to concentrate on a difficult snarl, but her expression betrayed her sorrow. “I’m an old woman, and my memories are as tangled as your pretty curls. Adelaine’s death has always been a great puzzle I can’t solve.”

With a soft sigh, Oriana abandoned the hope that Myrna knew more than she was telling, but at the same time, she remained firmly convinced there was still far more to discover. Fidgeting nervously, she feared the
only person who could reveal the truth had either shoved, or thrown, Adelaine to her death.

“This fortress is haunted,” Oriana whispered more to herself than Myrna.

“Aye, that it is, and when so many poor souls died while laying the massive stones, it’s likely it always has been. But no ghost killed my dear Adelaine.”

“No, for if there were a murdering ghost, he or she would have tossed others to the cliffs, and that hasn’t happened, has it?”

“No, my lady. Men have died here in battles and brawls, and some like Cadell in their beds. Countless women have also died here, but none as tragically as Adelaine, or without a single witness.”

Oriana could accept a natural death, but the day’s likely prospect of a murderous brawl forced her from her chair. She smoothed out her curls, and taking the comb, pressed Myrna’s hands between her own. “I must go now, but thank you. I may call on you again. I should not want anyone to blame me for careless grooming and laugh at Egan.”

Pleased to be needed, Myrna glowed with pride. “He calls you his wife.”

“Yes, I know. Now let’s hurry to see what the day will bring.”

Easily distracted, Myrna had forgotten her promise to make Oriana eat. She shrugged as she led the way out into the corridor. “It can’t bring much until Kieran is pried from his bed.”

Oriana cared little whether it was drink or pleasure that kept him there, but with Egan clear-headed, he was bound to have the advantage. “Husband,” she murmured under her breath, and though the word sounded strange on her tongue, she loved to hear it.

Egan had discussed the advantages of a swim over a mountain climb or archery competition with Albyn, but as the crowd began to gather in the courtyard, he cared
little what form the contest took. His only interest was in bringing their challenge to a swift end so that he might spend all his time making love to Oriana.