Dawn Of Desire (9 page)

“What if I were to refuse and instead insisted that he remain here with me?” he asked.

It was his very nature to press for every advantage, and because she had given in to him once, he would be merciless in seeking more. Oriana was sorry she had deigned to confide in him.

She had the true advantage, of course, because she could read Albyn’s future, if not Egan’s, and knew Albyn would be gone before spring. That allowed her to be creative and indulge in a bit of dark fantasy.

“Should you dare to oppose his departure,” she reported with mock dread, “you will create a more powerful enemy than even your bloodthirsty imagination can devise. You must not even consider defying his need to seek his own fate separate from yours. Now you must excuse me, my lord. It has been a very long day, and I can no longer remain awake.”

Egan dismissed her with a slight wave, but he continued to absorb the warmth of the fire and mull over her prophecies. Albyn was desperate to glimpse the future, while Oriana was loath to admit she possessed such a wondrous gift.

The possibility they might make a perfect pair haunted him, but rather than forcing Albyn to stay with him as Oriana had feared, he thought his old friend would be better off gone. They would not be the first friends to part over a beautiful woman, but the possibility weighed heavily on his heart.

Finally he rose, stretched lazily, and removed his tunic. Oriana was asleep on the far edge of the bed, but as he slipped under the furs, he kept well away from her. He propped his head on his hands, stared up at the darkened ceiling, and wished he were again sleeping beneath a canopy of stars.

His muscles ached with fatigue, but he could not rest with Oriana so temptingly close, and he swiftly began to hate the night and its endless silences. The deathly quiet brought thoughts of his father, and he wanted to scream with rage, but he had been raised to conceal his pain no matter how terrible the hurt.

Torn by an agonizing mixture of grief and desire, he got up to tend the fire, and when he returned to bed, he found Oriana watching him. He had never had a more lovely woman in his bed, nor shared it with one who had regarded him with such an insulting detachment.

“You can’t sleep either?” he asked.

“No, I have just been worrying. I should have been mindful of your grief and not spoken so crossly to you,” she murmured.

Her hair pooled over the furs and the lush pelts’ deep colors warmed her fair skin. He could not help but find her alluring, but there was no hint of welcoming desire in her glance. His only comfort was that she had shown a similar lack of interest in Albyn.

“When we agree on nothing, disputes are bound to occur,” he conceded generously.

“There is one thing,” Oriana reminded him. “You would not have sought me out had you not already believed you were in some terrible danger. I once inquired as to your own instincts. I now believe they’re very good.”

“If this is another argument in favor of your immediate departure, I would rather sleep than hear it.” Egan promptly turned his back to her and snuggled down under the furs, but he could still smell her delicious lavender scent and feel her slight weight on the bed. That he had so recently sworn never to want her struck him as demented now. Want her he did, and very badly.

Unaware of Egan’s torment, Oriana rested her hand lightly upon his bare shoulder. “I wish you would listen rather than discount my opinions before I voice them.”

What Egan wished was to ravish her until dawn, and
he raised up as he rolled over to face her. “If you wish to become the cherished bride of some magnificent god, you’ll hush and not touch me again.”

Oriana’s eyes widened in surprise. Egan was blocking the firelight, and it gave his silhouette a golden glow. “What has the one thing to do with the other?”

Believing no woman could possibly be that innocent, Egan replied with a primitive growl, and with astonishing ease moved to pin her beneath him. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, nuzzled the smooth softness of her throat, then framed her face with his hands and kissed her tenderly.

“You warned the day would come when I would want you,” he murmured against her ear.

Dazed, it took Oriana a moment to catch her breath. “Oh, aye, now I understand,” she was barely able to whisper.

She knew him to be an agile warrior but had not known he could move as quickly as he had just now. Only a thin linen shift separated his bare chest from her curiously aching breasts, and she had only to turn her head slightly to kiss his shoulder.

She closed her eyes for a moment, but that only intensified the exquisite sensations created by the weight of Egan’s body. Surprisingly, she welcomed the burden until he rolled his hips to stroke the fierceness of his desire against her cleft.

Once Oriana was of a marriageable age, her mother had described the joys of making love. Now Egan seemed intent upon providing an affectionate demonstration, and rather than refusing, she longed to slide her tongue along his bare shoulder. She would not stop there either.

In the next instant, she felt herself falling as if from a great height and reacted with a startled jerk. “I’ll not touch you again,” she vowed through teeth clamped in anger. “Now get off me and go to sleep.”

Egan raised up only slightly. Her voice had changed so abruptly from sweet to furious that he could only wonder what she would demand next. “Are you certain that’s what you truly want?” He grazed his thumb along her jaw as he awaited her reply.

Oriana nearly choked on tears. “Truly.”

The catch in her voice shamed him as nothing else would. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he swore, and sorry he had made such a clumsy mess of things, he instantly moved aside, then slid his arm under her shoulders to pull her close and cradle her head against his chest.

“Just go to sleep, and we’ll sort out everything in the morning,” he urged.

After a brief hesitation, Oriana relaxed against him. As she saw it, there was nothing to be sorted; she was born to be a bride in the Otherworld, not his mistress in this one. Surely it was Lugh himself who had grabbed hold and yanked her to her senses just now, but it would take a long while to recover from the frightening sensation.

She listened as Egan’s breathing slowed into slumber’s easy rhythm, but she did not sleep until exhaustion overcame her defenses. When she awakened the next morning, Egan was gone. Her head and soul ached, and the day promised to bring nothing but sorrow.

Egan rode Raven for the hunt, and Albyn chose a gray gelding he had admired in the stable. The pair took three plump pheasants in what had swiftly become a contest as to who was the better archer. Egan had killed two of the delicious fowl, but Albyn’s aim had proven truer on the third.

Several of the young men who served as guards at the fortress gate had accompanied them, but they dismounted and kept to themselves when Egan and Albyn stopped to rest beneath an ancient oak.

Egan covered a wide yawn and stretched out on his back in the shade. “Give me but a moment to rest, and I’ll find us a stag.”

“Oriana gives you no opportunity to sleep?” Albyn teased. “It appears you’ve finally met your match. Who are her people?”

“No one you know,” Egan exclaimed through another noisy yawn.

“How can that be? She is clearly a lady. Does her father approve of your taking her for mistress rather than wife? Or do you intend to marry her soon?”

“Regretfully no, and no. Now let me rest.”

“I offered my sword should you desire vengeance,” Albyn countered. “I’d not realized you’d been so busy making enemies of your own. Now tell me Oriana’s clan so I’ll at least know how many men we’ll have to fight.”

“It’s always wise to keep a sharpened sword, but now you could spare the time for a nap,” Egan suggested.

Albyn thought Egan daft but rather than argue, scanned the lush countryside. It sloped down to the cliffs bordering the sea. When they were children, they’d rolled through the heather and laughed themselves silly not far from that very spot. That day was such a distant memory, it seemed part of another lifetime now.

“I’d rather not be caught sleeping should Oriana’s kin appear brandishing spears.”

Unconcerned by that unlikely threat, Egan threw his arm over his eyes. “She has no one. Now hush so that I might rest, or my next arrow might go wide and strike you.”

“There is always that danger when we hunt,” Albyn muttered under his breath.

More amused than insulted, Egan sat up ready to pummel him, but Albyn was gazing off toward the sea. Egan turned to see what he was watching, but there was no sign of a boat on the horizon. “Are you thinking of going to sea?” he asked.

Albyn wore a preoccupied frown. “I’ve heard of fabulous islands,” he confided almost reverently.

“All populated by such beautiful virgins no man ever sails away,” Egan chided. “We’ve all heard those tales, and they hold no more weight than sunshine.”

“Perhaps not, but just seeking such a glorious isle would be a fine adventure. Or I could remain here and die fighting Oriana’s kin.”

“You must rein in your imagination, for I speak the truth when I swear she has no kin walking the earth. That is why I’ve offered her my protection. Now I have given up all hope of becoming refreshed, so let’s be on our way.”

Albyn also struggled to his feet and brushed the leaves from his trousers. “Didn’t you just admit her father did not approve of you?”

“That is another story,” Egan admitted, “and far too long and complicated to begin today.”

“It isn’t like you to keep secrets,” Albyn complained.

Egan grabbed Raven’s trailing reins, but paused to study his old friend’s puzzled expression. They had each grown a foot since they had parted, but the physical difference was but a slight change compared with all the others.

“You’ve been away long enough for me to have a great many things to hide,” Egan scolded. “Now cease your complaining and let’s hunt as we intended.”

“Aye, my lord,” Albyn agreed grudgingly, but despite the warning, his curiosity about the lovely Oriana continued to build. “Perhaps it was merely my imagination, or a trick of the firelight, but your lady seemed to glow with an inner light. It made her all the more enchanting.”

“Another word about her, and I’ll pin a target to your chest and send my arrows your way on purpose,” Egan threatened, but as they continued their ride, he wondered if Albyn did not possess more insight than he had realized.

“If you must keep that restless mind of yours occupied,” Egan suggested, “concentrate on who would have wished my father dead.”

Albyn nodded, but he sensed they were in for a brutal fight.

Oriana returned to the bluff overlooking the sea. Dressed again in the blue-violet gown, she sat cross-legged in the thick grass with Egan’s wondrous amethyst lightly cradled in her folded palms. The salty breeze caressed her cheeks, gently tossed her long curls, and kept her mind clear as she attempted to focus on Egan’s fate.

She had hoped that close to his fortress home, the
knowing
would speak of him, but the clouds of danger refused to lift and no more was revealed than in her earlier attempts. Determined to discover something of significance, she cast around him to concentrate on those he knew best. She swiftly settled upon Kieran.

His face readily formed in her mind, then dissolved, leaving her to fear that his fate and Egan’s were too closely entwined to be viewed separately. Discouraged, she breathed deeply to calm her own troubled spirit and simply waited for whatever thought might appear. It was Egan’s proud grin that came to her next, attended by a deep blush at the memory of last night’s wanton kiss.

There was a magic to his affection that she had longed to savor, but Lugh, or perhaps even her future husband himself, had promptly put an end to that folly. What tonight might bring she dared not even contemplate.
Distressed her thoughts had strayed so far from her original purpose, she tightened her grasp on the glowing purple crystal and wished with all her heart to see her own future in its faceted depths.

As they neared the fortress, Albyn was the first to catch sight of Oriana. “Look there! It’s not merely her hair that shimmers in the sunlight; her whole body has a near blinding radiance. Do you not see it?”

Egan pulled Raven to a halt, but eager for the comforts of the stable, the horse danced with impatience. Egan slapped his mount’s neck in a gentle reproof, then turned him in a tight circle.

“ ’Tis the light reflected off the water, nothing more,” he insisted, but he was also struck by the sheer beauty of the moment.

Oriana had described Lugh as a being of light, but he now wondered if she had not seen a mortal man with the sun at his back and mistaken the glow for the god’s own brilliance. Then he recalled Lugh’s poignant song and ceased to wonder if he were only seeing a trick of sunlight and sea.

He nudged Raven with his heels, and leaving the guards to carry the stag and pheasants they had slain to the fortress, he turned off the trail and rode toward Oriana. She was so still that for an instant he actually feared he might find a magnificent sculpture of wood or stone rather than a flesh and blood woman. He called her name as he dismounted and sighed with relief when she turned to face him.

He offered his hand to help her rise and took note of the amethyst before she had time to hide it behind her back. “I’m pleased you think enough of my gift to carry it with you. The sun lends all jewels a rare beauty, and lovely ladies as well. We’ve been hunting, but I promise to provide you with fine company for the remainder of the day.”

Albyn had also left the trail and was approaching on foot. Oriana forced a hesitant smile in greeting, then
looked up at Egan. Laughter hovered on his lips and shone in his eyes, but she found nothing humorous.

“Wasn’t Kieran with you?” she asked.

“No, of course not. After we’d decided falcons would be a distraction, we’d scarcely have invited Kieran to come along.”

“There will be venison for dinner,” Albyn announced as he joined them. “You mustn’t believe Egan if he claims it was his arrow that took the prize.”

“You may have all the credit,” Egan assured him, but his glance never left Oriana’s wistful smile. “I’d not lie to her.”

Albyn tugged on his sleeves to adjust the fit of his cloak. “I’m pleased to hear it, but I wish she’d use her influence to inspire you to be equally truthful with me.”

Egan had moved to Oriana’s side in what she believed to be an attempt to convincingly portray her lover. He smoothed his hand along her back in small proprietary circles, creating disconcerting tingles. She stepped away to converse with Albyn, but unwilling to arouse more than a passing interest, kept her glance shyly averted.

“Rather than lies, I find Egan speaks the truth with a near brutal flourish. I do wish you’d encourage him to treat Kieran more kindly. It is unfortunate when brothers are estranged.”

“I’ve not seen Kieran since my arrival, my lady, but I’ll do whatever I can to cultivate harmony between Egan and his kin. I’m most curious about your family. Please describe them to me.”

Egan took a deliberate step forward. “I warned you not to pry. Consider me Oriana’s family, and you know all there is to know about me.”

Ignoring that rebuke, Albyn moved close to brush a stray curl from Oriana’s cheek, and his voice became a husky whisper. “Your mother must have been a rare beauty. What was her name?”

“Albyn!” Egan was ready to silence his friend with his fists, but Oriana blocked his way.

As she deftly slid between the two men, she graced each with a smile. It was imperative that Albyn consider her charmingly naive rather than mysterious, and so she answered his question as though she had nothing to hide.

“Not long before I was born, my mother began calling herself Rain. I’ve no idea what she’d been named at birth. Now, aren’t you men hungry?”

She took Egan’s hand to lead him toward Raven. “I could do with a piece of fruit or small wedge of cheese. I shan’t want too much though, when you’ve promised such a fine meal tonight.”

Egan raked Albyn with a caustic glance as he passed by, but he could see that rather than having silenced him, Oriana’s peculiar comment had merely whet his appetite for more. “Rain is a beautiful name,” he responded suddenly. “It has such a gentle sound.”

“Yes, my mother was a lovely, sweet-tempered soul, and it suited her well.”

Albyn studied the ease with which Egan grasped Oriana’s waist to set her astride Raven. Clearly it was not the first time they’d ridden together, but Oriana did not glance coyly over her shoulder to flirt as most young women would. She simply took told of Raven’s silken mane and held on tight.

“Egan won’t let you fall,” Albyn assured her.

She turned, and in a silent plea mouthed a single word: Kieran.

Thinking her preoccupation with Egan’s younger brother odd, Albyn tarried a moment before strolling back to his horse. Their exchange had lasted a mere instant, but he wondered if there hadn’t been an unusual light in her eyes. Last night he had thought they were as green as his own, but that day, he would have sworn they were a honeyed gold. A golden-eyed woman with the beauty of a goddess would inspire poetic tributes from any bard, and he briefly considered composing one himself.

Then, certain it would only anger Egan anew, he turned
his thoughts to Kieran as she had asked. He remembered a handsome boy and was uncertain how old the lad would be now. Albyn got on his horse, then hurried his mount and caught up with his companions just as they reached the fortress gate.

The man standing guard threw out his chest proudly and shouted, “Bevan has arrived, my lord.”

As they entered the bailey, a dozen fine horses could be seen outside the stable, and Egan would have recognized their owner by their colorful red and green saddlecloths even without the guard’s announcement. He slid down from Raven’s back and handed his reins to a groom before swinging Oriana to the ground.

“Bevan is a cousin,” he explained. “He was close to my father in age, but never his confidant.”

Before Oriana could reply, Bevan exited the inner fortress and came striding toward them. He was as tall a man as Egan and half again as wide. His brown hair was streaked with gray, but he moved with youthful vigor. His deep-set brown eyes gave him a hawkish appearance, and his mouth formed a bitter downward curve.

“Welcome, cousin,” Egan called. “Have all in your party been made comfortable?”

Egan could feel Oriana pulling away, and took a firm grip on her hand to hold her close. Albyn had continued on into the stable with his borrowed mount, and Egan could not blame him for avoiding Bevan, who tended to be difficult even on his better days.

“Aye, as always,” Bevan replied. He halted a few steps away and rested his fists on his hips. “I heard a wild tale about you and Duncan O Floinn and thought you should spend a day or two as king before such foolish brawling takes you. I sent word to the others, and they’ll arrive by the morrow. Is this the fair lass who caused all the trouble?”

“Oh, no,” Oriana gasped, for if Duncan had described her with any accuracy, Bevan would surely know who, and what, she was. The truth might have already reached
Garrick’s ears, and then both she and Egan would be in terrible danger.

Egan felt her tremble and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. “It was Duncan himself who caused his own misery. If he’s spoken a single word against Oriana, he’ll not live a day longer than it takes me to find him.”

Bevan nodded thoughtfully. “You needn’t search, for I heard only that he’d lost both his horse and sword when the two of you fought over a woman.”

Bevan cocked his head slightly to observe Oriana with undisguised admiration. “I’ll grant that you’re worth a good fight. What’s your clan, lass? I might know your father.”

Egan felt Oriana sway against him and hurriedly cleared his throat. “Oriana lost her parents years ago. She’s part of the Dál Cais now.”

Leaving the stable, Albyn stepped just close enough to notice how pale Oriana had become. Clearly she was not flattered by Egan’s eagerness to include her, and he had a sick feeling something was terribly amiss. He had never cared much for Bevan, but when the man’s gaze swung his way, he greeted him warmly.

“I’ve been away many years, and you may not remember me. I’m Innis’s son, Albyn.”

Bevan appeared to call upon memory for a brief moment, then nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, I remember you well enough. Whatever trouble Egan found as a lad, you were in twice as deep. I trust the Druids have tamed you.”

“They have certainly tried,” Albyn replied, unable to suppress a sly grin.

“You must remain for the ceremony, although it’s doubtful Garrick will assign you any duties.”

“I shall remain as long as Egan has need of me.” With that promise, he turned to Egan. “I should seek Garrick before he is forced to summon me. It would be a mistake to anger him with disrespect.”

“I wish you harbored such qualms about angering
me.” Egan shook his head in dismay. “Go and find Garrick. We’ll speak again tonight.”

“I must also beg to be excused,” Oriana interjected quickly, and before Egan could forbid it, she hurried toward the inner fortress with Albyn.

“You know Garrick?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

Albyn held the door for her, but took care to reply before either had entered. “Aye, but that I went elsewhere to study makes my opinion of him plain.”

She had not thought she would ever dare touch a Druid, but his deep regard for Egan made her bold, and she rested her hand lightly upon his sleeve. “I doubt Garrick has improved in any regard while you’ve been away. Take care not to make an enemy of him.”

Albyn’s hand closed over her slender fingers. “You have the most beautiful eyes, and when I look into them, it’s difficult to recall what you’ve said.”

Frightened she had revealed too much, Oriana instantly averted her gaze and raised her gown to start up the winding stair. “I’ll not trouble you then.”

Certain Egan would not approve of a more lengthy conversation, Albyn let her go. She was an extraordinary young woman, and he could not help but wish he had met her first.

Egan found Oriana seated atop his bed combing windblown tangles from her long hair. He hesitated at his door and gestured impatiently. “Come with me. There’s something we must do.”

He had not spent nearly as long with Bevan as Oriana had anticipated, and after laying her comb aside, she rose quite reluctantly. “You have guests. I don’t wish to intrude.”

Egan held his tongue and waited but had nearly lost his tenuous hold on his temper before she crossed the few steps to reach him. He longed to have her do his bidding without constantly questioning his motives, but feared she had lived too long in her own world to follow any man.

“I want to show you my mother’s chamber. It’s not been used since she died, but my father had it kept ready, as though she were expected to return.”

Intrigued, Oriana willingly followed him along the corridor. “How touching, but what must Ula have thought of his lingering devotion to another woman?”

Egan paused in the beam of light cast by a long narrow window. “She couldn’t have been pleased, but I don’t believe my father ever stopped grieving for the wife he’d lost. Ula amused him, certainly satisfied his physical desires, but my mother must have meant so much more to him.”

He looked so sad, Oriana could not help but wonder if he did not recall more of his mother than he would admit. Perhaps that was why he had never accepted Ula, nor the son she’d borne his father.

“Is that why you think so little of Kieran?”

Egan responded with a rueful laugh. “I don’t think of him at all, and you shouldn’t either.”

Egan slid his arm around her shoulders to pull her close as they continued on their way. “My chamber, as well as Kieran’s, Albyn’s, and quarters for guests are on this corridor. We must go past the stairwell to the opposite corridor to visit my mother’s room.”

As they approached the arched doorway, Oriana was buffeted by a wave of icy air. Startled, she raised her hand. “Wait, did you feel a sudden chill just now?”

Egan rested his hand lightly on the door’s iron handle. “The fortress is always cold. I should have had you don a cloak. Come inside and wrap yourself in furs.”

It had been a chill of the spirit rather than of the flesh, and Oriana first peered inside the chamber to assure herself no danger lurked within. What she found was a tidy room with a fur-heaped bed, magnificent floral tapestries lining the walls, and intricately carved chests stacked neatly in the corners. A subtle lavender fragrance hung in the air, as though Adelaine had dressed there that very morning.