Dawn Of Desire (24 page)

Albyn’s description of the mare’s intended fate sickened Oriana clear through, and she let the comb slip from her fingers. Surely it had been a Druid who had devised such a disgusting ceremony rather than a king.

Albyn caught the comb in midair and slipped it into the mare’s mane, where it stuck like a woman’s comb. “I will walk you to your chamber,” he announced. Should she object, he intended to carry her.

Oriana took a step toward the keep, but she was too confused to walk quietly. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she complained in a frantic whisper. “If the mare is a symbol of the goddess, then sacrificing her and eating her flesh should outrage rather than please her.”

Albyn took a firm grip on her upper arm. “If you care nothing for your own life, then for Egan’s sake, do not question the Druid’s rituals. Most especially not to a Druid,” he emphasized.

“I believed the Druids could at least think, but clearly you have no logical response to even the most obvious question.”

“What makes you so knowledgeable to the gods’ desires? Have you ever met one?”

Oriana regarded him with an enigmatic smile. “Aye,
once. But you should be contemplating your own life, not those of the gods.”

“I do little else,” he confessed. “But you must tell me which god you saw and where.”

“This is not the time,” Oriana responded, and moving ahead of him, she led the way to Adelaine’s chamber.

Albyn hoped that Egan would be asleep, but he was still pacing with a determined stride. “I must beg for another moment,” Albyn said as he followed Oriana through the door.

Egan, however, wanted only to lose himself in his affectionate bride, and he pulled her close to his side. “You may always have a moment, but today, no more.”

The chamber held a faint odor of lavender Albyn hadn’t noticed on his previous visits, and when he glanced around, he was almost surprised not to find Adelaine present. It was an uncomfortable sensation he fought to shake.

He briefly recounted Oriana’s objection to sacrificing a pretty mare and raised his hand to forestall Egan’s defense. “It is an ancient ceremony, and while it may actually make as little sense as Oriana claims, it will continue.”

Egan’s first thought was of his father, who had possessed the insight to cut to the heart of any dispute. He tried to imagine what Cadell would say in this case and, nearly overcome with emotion, he had to clear his throat before he spoke.

“I’ll make Oriana a present of the mare she saw. You’ll find another and keep her hidden so that my dear bride does not take a fancy to her as well.”

Greatly disappointed, Albyn backed away. “Don’t do this, Egan. Once you cast aside tradition to please your wife, there will be no end to it, and you’ll put your own life at risk.”

Egan laughed before he remembered his side, and he winced in pain. “How could you have forgotten that my life is already at risk? If I wish to give my wife twenty
white mares, I’ll do so. Now go and find a second mare as I asked, and we’ll see you in the great hall tonight, and not before.”

Clearly offended, Albyn reached for the door. From the corner of his eye, he caught a shimmering light, but there was no reflection from the sun nor sea crossing this chamber. He paused to discover its source, but at its center stood Oriana, who glowed with more than radiant beauty. Humbled that he may have seen a goddess himself, he went in search of another white mare that he prayed Egan would live long enough to sacrifice.

Oriana waited for the door to swing closed behind Albyn. “Forgive me,” she begged. “I’ve been alone too long, and when I had no one with whom to share my thoughts, it mattered little what they were. From now on, I’ll be known as Oriana the Silent.”

Egan was elated that she had learned enough from him to regret being so outspoken, but there was no reason for him to keep his opinions to himself. “The next few days will be difficult. We have each other, but Albyn is alone. Please try not to cause him more anguish. He’s torn between the Druids’ beliefs and his own desires, but he can’t move toward either when I’m in such dire need of him.”

Egan coaxed Oriana down upon the bed and laced his fingers in hers. “I realize that I’m your only friend here, which is most unfortunate. I hope you’ll soon make others, but you must come to me with your questions and thoughts, not Albyn.”

Oriana nodded unhappily. “I might as well have been raised in the Otherworld, for I know less about your ways than the most ignorant milkmaid.”

“No,” Egan argued persuasively. “You know everything, and though I’d never stopped to consider it, you’re right about the mare. I will still have to sacrifice one, however, because it’s what’s expected of me.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “The king and his warriors defend our people, the Druids safeguard our religion, the bards compose poetry
and preserve our history. Craftsmen create a wealth of useful implements, while the common folk raise our livestock and food. We’ve prospered under that orderly system, and I’ll not disrupt it.”

Oriana studied their hands. His were strong and capable, deeply tanned, and hers were delicate and fair. She had never been idle, but neither had she labored in the fields. “Aye, everyone has a place, and a worthwhile job to do, except for a wanderer who tells fortunes to survive.”

Egan dropped her hand to embrace her. He opened his mouth to explain that she had the same task as every other noblewoman—to care for her husband and children—but he caught himself before inviting another ghostly curse as a fool. Oriana was more than a mere wife and prospective mother, and he should not have to remind himself of it.

He was again overtaken with the eerie sensation that something dreadful lurked just out of sight. “I need you desperately,” he breathed against her curls.

Oriana raised her hands to cover his. She was uncertain if he was speaking only of desire or of something deeper, but true to her vow, she spoke with nothing but an adoring kiss.

The sun hid behind smoke-edged clouds, and the scent of rain hung heavy in the air, but undeterred by the threatening weather, Oriana rode the white mare while Egan sat proudly astride Raven. Albyn trailed behind them leading the cadge boy with the falcons. Half a dozen fortress guards followed with the hounds, but no others had been invited along this morning.

As they approached the meadow where they had held their earlier hunt, the three gyrfalcons were hunched down into their feathers, but the peregrine leaned into the slight wind and appeared eager to fly. The hounds strained at their leashes, causing one guard to trip and nearly fall—much to his friends’ snorting delight.

Oriana feared Egan might injure his side while plucking her from the snowy mare’s back, so she promptly swung her leg over the saddle and slid to the ground on her own. The mare was not nearly as large as Brute, but she was nonetheless proud of herself for landing solidly on her feet rather than sprawled in the grass. Hoping the men would believe her simply eager to hunt, she handed her reins to one of the guards, lifted her hem, and hastened to Egan’s side.

“Do you need some assistance,” she whispered. She
ran her gloved hand down Raven’s neck, which he had curved to keep her new mare in view.

“I often hunt from Raven’s back,” he replied as he slipped on the leather gauntlet. “I’ll do so today.”

“As you wish,” Oriana responded, but she took care to move out of his way. She felt Albyn’s disquieting presence move up behind her. He did not speak, and when she glanced toward him, his frown failed to lift.

“Is it merely the poor weather, or is something else amiss?” she asked.

Albyn watched the cadge boy hand a gyrfalcon up to Egan. Before Egan caught her leather jesses, the bird shook herself in a hopping dance along his thickly padded glove. Egan spoke softly to settle her.

In a hushed whisper, Albyn replied, “I can’t help but fear that Egan might have survived Kieran’s attack, but now be in danger of succumbing to a chill.”

“The day is not a fair one, but none of us is likely to fall ill,” Oriana argued.

Albyn cocked his head to the side and observed her with the same keen interest he had just shown the hawk. “Have you ever been ill, my lady?”

“No, I’ve been blessed with excellent health. Now let’s cease to worry and watch the hunt.”

The hounds were already bounding through the meadow, and off to the side, a plump pheasant beat her wings in a frantic bid to escape them. A hound leaped after her but caught only a fleeting taste of her long tail feathers.

Egan waited to make certain the pheasant would actually make it into the air before he removed his falcon’s hood and cast her aloft. The bird easily climbed above the pheasant and continued to soar higher with each winding circle.

Oriana held her breath as she waited for the impressive wild falcon to appear, but that morning the gyrfalcon flew alone. High above them, she completed one last ring in the sky and then tucked her wings in close, dove for the pheasant, and made the kill.

Oriana had been so sure they would make a significant discovery, but while she marveled at the falcon’s prowess, she did not see how Egan could imitate it with even a finely crafted wing. She remained at his side while Albyn pulled on a gauntlet to reward and retrieve the magnificent bird.

“Did you see something? What I noticed was the strength in the gyrfalcon’s legs and feet as she overtook the pheasant, but how will that help you?” she asked, clearly perplexed.

Egan held Raven’s reins in a relaxed grasp and could not help but wish he still possessed the strength to reach down and pull Oriana up across his lap. Before answering her question, he promised himself he would do so again, and soon.

“We have the whole morning to hunt,” he responded. “Let’s enjoy ourselves, and we’ll see whatever we must.”

Oriana appreciated his confidence, but she was still worried they might miss a critical detail. Her slippers were soaked from the wet grass, and she thought Egan wise for remaining astride Raven. Hoping she would have a better view on her new mare, she retraced her steps, but it was Albyn rather than the guard holding the reins, and he laced his hands to provide a helpful step.

She thanked him, then urged the mare forward. Raven whinnied a greeting, but she kept her horse at a safe distance to avoid startling the falcons. Egan had the peregrine this time, and she concentrated upon viewing each of the bird’s actions to better understand the sequence of flight.

Glistening beads of moisture clung to her cloak. The droplets swelled, broke into rivulets, and coursed down her back to run off toward the ground. She ignored the dampness seeping into her shoulders and waited without complaint as Egan sent his falcons aloft.

Did a falcon ever falter? Or did their spirits lift them as forcefully as the wind? She hoped Egan was able to observe more than she, because he needed to master the secrets, which remained a complete mystery to her.

His expression was thoughtful and his mouth relaxed, as though he were about to kiss her. But his gaze was as sharply vigilant as his winged predators. He was also a creature of astonishing grace and speed, but how was he to learn their innate ability to soar through the sky with the ease he strode the land?

Albyn also kept a close eye on Egan. They had hunted with falcons from the time they had been old enough to bear the weight of a peregrine upon their wrists. There was nothing tentative about a hawk, and Albyn had always been entranced by the speed of their attack. They might trace courtly circles against the clouds as they searched for prey, but once it was sighted, they flew with the speed of a well-aimed arrow.

He thought them magnificent in their fierce simplicity, but he studied them now with new eyes. He drank them in and envied their clear sense of purpose. But even with Yowan’s magnificent wing, he had little faith in Egan to even come close to their effortless flight.

He rubbed his arms to ward off the deepening chill and noted how badly the guards were shivering. “We ought to be on our way,” he called to Egan. “As it is, we’ll not beat the rain back to the fortress.”

Egan angled Raven toward Oriana. “Are you cold?”

“Very, but it matters little if you’ve still more to learn.”

“I swear every day I discover I know less than I had believed, but we needn’t tarry any longer.”

Egan sent the guards back to the fortress with the cadge boy, along with clear instructions to share the fine pheasants they had taken with the rest of the guards. The men looked forward to a delicious meal and quickly left the meadow, while the dogs remained eager to hunt and complained in mournful yaps as they were tugged away.

Albyn came forward to lead their way to Yowan, but urged his mount across the path. “First, tell us what you’ve gained, if anything.”

Egan shrugged and rubbed his neck. “We may have
already known a great deal, but simply not recognized it. How do we always carry the falcons?”

Assuming the question was for Oriana’s benefit, Albyn supplied the correct answer. “The birds have to face into the wind. That’s the only way they’ll deign to sit calmly.”

“Aye, and while I’d not noted it before today, it’s the direction in which they fly. They aren’t blown into the sky by a restless wind. The air rushes against them and lifts them high. I began to wonder if the air might not have currents as strong as those in the sea. Even if we can’t see them, they might very well be there.”

Albyn caught Oriana’s eye before he spoke. “What will you do, leave Mount Royal with a leap into the wind?”

“It seems the wisest course, but I also noted how slowly the falcons change direction. They can’t make sharp turns, but they lean in the direction they wish to go and glide right into it. I may not be able to do it all that well, but if I can do it at all, the air will keep me aloft.

“You also noticed something important, Oriana.” Egan raised his hand slowly and bent his wrist. “When a hawk wishes to slow her speed, she pulls back and thrusts out her legs. That’s the way to land safely, not by diving toward the earth, but by pushing back against the rushing air. It was all there, just as you said it would be. Now, let’s visit Yowan and his sons before the rain comes and we are all washed away.”

While Egan certainly was not gloating, he did appear convinced that he had made some valuable discoveries. Oriana tried to smile, but her lips trembled slightly, and she hurriedly guided her mare into place behind Albyn’s dappled gray. She wrapped her cloak more tightly over her bosom and hoped they would not have a lengthy ride since she was already cold and tired.

Egan felt no better, but the ride was not long, and he greeted Yowan with an easy smile. A fallen limb would provide a handy step back into the saddle, and while he had to take care, he did risk dismounting here. He
walked around the wing and tried to imagine it carrying him through the air. His cousins were lashing the last bit of calfskin to the ends of the frame, while Yowan had been working on the harness.

“Is it heavy?” Egan asked.

“Nay.” Yowan reached down to lift the wing with one hand. “We’ll carry it up Mount Royal for you, but you’ll scarcely feel its weight when you’re in the air.”

“I’m grateful for your knowledge and your splendid work,” Egan responded. “I’ll reward you all after the flight.”

Oriana had remained on her mare, but she noted the knowing glance passing between Egan’s cousins and wondered if they had expected to be paid first. “If this wing doesn’t work as it should, Egan won’t be alive to reward you, nor should you expect it,” she emphasized.

Unaware of what had prompted Oriana’s outburst, Egan could only shake his head. “Aye, my lady, they already understand that.”

Aghast at her doubts, Yowan hastened to her side. “You need have no fears. Our wing will work as perfectly as a falcon’s do. You’ll see.” He looked toward his sons and Egan for support, and received encouraging nods.

Albyn tested the weight of the wing himself and was satisfied it was both light and strong. “We’re all cold and wet. Let’s return to the fortress.”

Yowan scanned the darkening sky. “The wing will be safe in the tree, and I’ll bring the harness back with me. You go first, and we’ll follow.”

Thinking that a fine idea, Egan led Raven alongside the fallen limb and eased himself back into the saddle. He winked at Oriana to convey a silent promise that he would warm her quite thoroughly once they reached home.

Kieran had overseen the construction of his wing, but now that the heavy linen had been securely stitched to the
frame, he was anxious to give it a try. They had been working near the stable where the wing had been stored at night, but before the wing could be carried through the fortress gate, huge raindrops began to splatter the ground.

Kieran rested his hands on his hips and swore a string of bitter oaths. “Birds are too smart to fly in the rain, so I’ll not risk it, but the weather has to clear before the eve of Samhain.”

His companions shrugged and echoed that hope, but only one dared voice his opinion. “You need make only one flight, my lord, and with the rain, Egan will have no practice either.”

“Aye, that’s true enough, but I’d still like to haul the wing around the back of Mount Royal where we’d not be observed and fly it.”

The man who had fashioned the harness trailed a long leather thong through his fingers. “It would be easier to build a new wing than repair this one if it’s damaged. I say we not take that risk.”

Kieran listened to the low murmur of approval for that opinion, but he still felt uneasy. “It’s my own safety that concerns me, not a heap of wood and linen. If the weather clears, I’ll try it.”

He walked away rather than argue, but his enthusiasm for flight was beginning to fade. Had he not had Fiona to ease his mind as well as his body, his mood would have been very dark indeed. As he went to find her now, he convinced himself that he was the stronger and better man. By Samhain, he would be king.

Egan shoved open the door to his chamber and ushered Oriana inside. A fire was already glowing brightly on the hearth, and he peeled away her damp cloak and urged her toward it. As soon as he had flung his own cloak aside, he stepped up behind her and wrapped her in an enthusiastic hug.

“Now that you’ve seen my wing, what do you think of your plan?” he asked.

Oriana crossed her arms over his. “We took advantage of Kieran’s reckless streak, but I would have gone to any extreme to save your life.”

“Was it extreme to believe that I could actually fly?” Egan dipped his head to nuzzle her damp curls, and then licked the dip behind her ear.

“Nay, for you appear to rejoice in extremes.” Oriana loved his playful attentions, but remained pensive. “Maybe it will rain for months, and you’ll not have to risk a flight until spring.”

“Samhain is usually dry.” Egan doubted that she would understand, but he was exhilarated by the chance to fly.

“Kieran will drop like a stone,” he predicted convincingly, “and with a remarkably smooth flight, I’ll win the challenge two contests to his one. Though no king’s reign is without conflict of one sort or another, we’ll face each one together and prosper as we were meant to.”

“I want to believe that,” Oriana replied wistfully.

Egan turned her in his arms and kissed her so deeply, she was left clinging to his tunic. “Do you believe this?” he murmured before kissing her again.

Despite her lingering apprehension, Oriana welcomed Egan’s affectionate kisses with a hunger that swiftly inspired him to take her to bed. She slipped out of her gown without coaxing and moved to kneel astride him and take him with slow, shallow dips.

He chuckled at her game and allowed her to play it until he needed more than sweet teasing. He strengthened his hold on her waist then, and pulled her down hard to bury himself deep. He loved the way desire clouded her gaze before she closed her eyes in surrender.

Giving himself up to their shared passion, he was again amazed that though his torn side had forced them to slow their lovemaking, the more leisurely pace had also greatly heightened their pleasure. He thought he would be more likely to die in Oriana’s arms than in a leap from Mount Royal, but when she satisfied him so
completely, such an untimely death struck him as positively noble.