Dragon Knight's Axe (17 page)

Alastair stalked toward the last one.

“Dinnae come any closer!” Fiona’s attacker yelled. Fear shown clearly in the man’s eyes.

“Release her now!” roared Alastair.

“I will kill her if ye take one more step. And that goes for the others, including the beast.”

Watching as the man placed the edge of the blade against the side of her throat, Alastair stilled his steps. If only the man would move a few more steps back, then he could use his magic.

He was risking a life he vowed to keep safe.

Slowly, Alastair placed his sword on the ground, his eyes never leaving the man. When he stood, he held his hands up in surrender. He heard a hiss come forth from Desmond, but he gave no care. “A trade, then? I will give ye my life for that of the lass.”

“No,” Fiona mumbled in a hushed tone.

The man fidgeted with the blade, pressing deeper into her skin. “Do ye think I am a fool? She is worth more than ye,” he hissed.

Alastair’s jaw clenched, and he did the unthinkable by taking another step forward.

“Stop!” Blood now seeped forth from Fiona’s skin.

“I will not repeat my offer. Unless ye make the trade, I will be forced to kill ye.”

Muttering a curse under his breath, the man took a few more steps back, dragging Fiona with him.

Exactly where Alastair wanted the man.

Speaking the ancient words of a language none would understand, he threw his hands outward. The ground rumbled and with a great roar, roots from two trees broke free from the soil and grabbed the man.

He shrieked in terror, releasing his grip on Fiona as he tried slashing his way out.

Fiona slumped down. Instantly, Alastair’s arms swept her off her feet. He drew her close to him and strode over to Desmond and Kevan.

“Who are ye?” screamed the man.

Alastair stopped and turned partially around. “One ye should have bargained with.”

A strangled cry was the last response from the man before they heard his neck snap.

Turning Fiona around so she could not witness the man’s death, he heard her gasp. He stopped and looked down at her. “Your eyes…they are so
pale
,” she whispered.

“Aye, from the magic,” he said softly, seeing no fear in her. He wanted to crush her to him, relief coursing through him that she was safe. Then his gaze caught sight of her neck. Blood trickled down her skin—skin that should not have been touched by any.

“Beautiful,” she uttered softly.

“Fiona, are ye all right?” asked Desmond as he approached them.

“Yes, yes, I am.”

Reluctantly, Alastair lowered her gently to the ground and stood back. “What happened?”

“They came barging through the trees. When they noticed Fiona, they grabbed her and forced her into the arms of their leader.” Desmond rubbed a hand over his face. “It all happened so fast. I tried to kill them all, but then the leader took a blade to Fiona.”

“Men without purpose,” grumbled Alastair. “Intent on raping women and the land.”

“Aye,” spat out Desmond and then winced.

Alastair glanced over his shoulder at the destruction. Six men dead. But it wasn’t their deaths that bothered him. When he had called upon the magic of the land, the two trees he used would soon die. It was a costly price to pay.

“Your arm needs tending immediately. You have a large gash, and it’s bleeding.” Fiona gave Desmond a brief hug before turning her attention to his arm.

“I agree,” interjected Kevan. “We must seek a healer in the next village.”

Fiona’s head snapped up. “What? Don’t you know what to do?”

“Let me guess, ye are only a bard,” drawled Alastair.

“Ye are correct,” stated Kevan. “My training never consisted of learning skills of a healer.”

Alastair just shook his head in disgust. “Yet, ye are lethal with a blade.” He would never underestimate the druid again.

“Well, we should splint the arm until we do find one,” said Fiona. “I think you need to have it treated or at least keep it still. And Merlin needs care. Is it far to the next village, Alastair?”

“In these parts? Aye. Tend to your brother’s arm. We need to make haste out of here. No telling if others are about.”

“And their horses?” asked Fiona.

“I will set them free.”

“Yes, that would be wise,” she muttered. Slowly, she walked away with Desmond. Kevan found two sturdy branches with which to bind his arm and followed behind them.

When they were out of sight, Alastair knelt and gave a silent prayer of thanks and forgiveness to the land for saving Fiona. Standing, he heard someone approach.

“Alastair?” His name a mere whisper on the wind.

“Aye, Fiona?”

What she did next stunned him. Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him. Her head barely came to the middle of his chest, yet, he was the one that felt…
small
.

“Thank you,
again
. This is the second time you have saved my life, and I will be forever grateful.” When she released him, he gazed into eyes that bore adoration for him. She gave him a slight smile before she turned and walked away.

He did not deserve her praise. It was his duty to see no harm came to her. As it was her brothers’.

Nevertheless, for one brief moment, Alastair let her words touch a part of him he thought long dead.

And it frightened him.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“When two souls collide, they will either become one, or shatter and die.”

They had traveled long into the night, although Fiona had demanded several times they be allowed to stop. She was worried about her brother, but even he had agreed with Alastair, ignoring the pain and continuing onward. When Desmond made a joke about something, she actually heard Alastair bark out laughter.

It was as if they had become best friends overnight.

Finally, they were allowed to seek shelter for the night, but Desmond already had a fever. She requested water and shredded parts of her gown to use as a compress. He drifted in and out of consciousness during the dark hours, and when the first light of dawn streaked across the sky, he was delirious.

“Where is Kevan?” she asked, moving away from her brother. “He should have returned ages ago with more water.”

Alastair rubbed the back of his neck, and she understood he was just as frustrated. “I agree.”

Hearing footsteps approaching, Alastair immediately drew forth his sword, pushing Fiona behind him.

Seeing Kevan, they both gave a sigh of relief. But Kevan had brought two other men with him.

“Do not be frightened. They are druids and are here to help us,” said Kevan. “They have a place not far from here where they can tend to Desmond. I found them down by the stream. This is Alan and Caddell. They have a healer among them.”

Fiona stepped forward. “Good, because I think the cut is causing the fever. How far is it to your place?”

“Not more than a few hours. But we are without horses,” answered Alan.

“One can ride with Desmond to hold him and the other can take Fiona’s horse,” replied Alastair.

The men all nodded, and Kevan led them to where Desmond rested.

“Umm…excuse me, but what am I supposed to ride?” Fiona hated to ask, since she feared the answer.

Alastair wouldn’t meet her eyes when he responded, “With me.”

Oh my, sitting with you on your horse. In your arms?
The heat crept into her face, and she wanted to smack it right off. What was she thinking? Her brother was gravely ill and here she was thinking—no
anticipating
being in this man’s arms.

She turned away. “We’d better get started.” Before she stumbled a few steps away, he grabbed her wrist. The heat from his fingers seared along her skin. He released her as if he had been burned, too.

“My horse is in this direction.”

“Sure…fine. Let’s get going.” She moved past him, not even making eye contact.

Stepping over to Alastair’s horse, she waited for him to help her up. Keeping her back to him, she fought the urge to jump when his hands wrapped around her waist. A second later, she was astride the horse. Instantly, he was behind her and reaching for the reins. With one strong hand, he pulled her back against a wall of rock solid muscle. His arm brushed against her breasts, and her nipples tightened from the contact. Sensations she was unfamiliar with prickled along her skin.

He leaned near her ear, his breath a warm caress. “Relax, Fiona.”

She could almost hear the smile in his voice, but feared to turn around. How could she relax being so close to him? He did things to her no one else had ever done.

“Do ye fear me?”

“Fear you?” Fiona wiped a curl from her face, feeling foolish. “Goodness, no.”

“Humph.”

As they ambled along, she looked down at his hand watching as he maneuvered the horse. Thoughts of what he could do to her with his large and powerful hand invaded her mind. Goosebumps pebbled her body, and she gave an involuntary shudder.

“Are ye cold, lass?”

“No,” she stammered.
I’m
hotter than hell sitting next to you.

“Humph.”

In order to steer the conversation away from her, she asked, “What do you call your horse?”

Feeling his laughter rumbling against her back, she sighed. “Well, I thought…since you call your dog Merlin. I thought the horse was yours, but then again, I would not know these things…umm…You have an unusual name for your dog—
not
that it’s strange or weird. Oh well…”

“Do ye always speak your words in shambles?”

“Excuse me?” Her tone came out curt.

Again, Alastair leaned close to ear. “When ye are flustered, ye ramble.”

She straightened her back. “I do not! And you don’t have to get so close to my face. I can hear you just fine.”

“Aye, ye do. And I like making ye flustered.”

“Do not! Now you’re
teasing
me.”

“And ye are not teasing me?”

“Teasing you?” she squeaked.

“Ye keep wiggling your bum, and I find it…
distracting
.”

Fiona was about to make another snide retort when it occurred to her Alastair meant her fidgeting against certain parts of
his
body. A certain part, which was extremely hard. She cringed in complete embarrassment.

How could she say she was sorry without looking like an idiot? There were no words. He must believe her to be some kind of hussy.

“His name is Gawain.” His voice remained low. “Given your gift, I thought ye would have already asked him.”

“With every thing that has happened, I never had the chance,” she responded softly.

Taking a deep breath in and out, Fiona focused her sight on the scenery. The path they were on was dense with trees weaving a trail along a stream. Sunlight danced off the water and helped to soothe her nerves.

She smiled thinking of his horse’s name. “You must like the tale of King Arthur.”

“Ye have heard of the stories?” Surprise filled his voice.

“Yes. In fact, I owned in my time an extremely rare copy of
King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table
. It was a gift from my grandmother when I turned thirteen.”

“Copy?”

“Oh, sorry. Copy as in book. My grandmother used to read to me of the knights and their heroic deeds. It’s one of my fondest memories of her.”

“They have it written down? Now that is a wonder I would verra much like to see.”

“How did you hear about the story?” she asked, feeling more relaxed.

“From the Druid, Cathal.” Alastair chuckled softly. “When he would visit, my brothers and I would beg him to tell that special tale first. Afterwards, we would take up our wooden swords and become one of the knights.”

Fiona let out a small laugh. “And were you King Arthur?”

He snorted. “Nae. That role was always taken by my older brother, Angus.”

“Sir Lancelot, perhaps?”

“My other brother, Duncan.”

“Sir Galahad?”

“Ah, that would be Stephen.”

Fiona frowned in concentration, trying to remember what Rory had told her about his family. She couldn’t remember how many brothers he had, but she did recall the sister. “No other brothers?”

“Nae,” he utter softly, letting out a huge sigh.

“Ahh…I believe I can name the knight you chose. Could it be Gawain?”

“The
damsel
is correct.”

“Does it not seem fascinating that you and I are separated by centuries, yet, this one story has been woven down through the ages?”

“It is good to ken the noble tales are treasured, aye?”

“All tales, be it good or bad, should always be told. How are we to learn if we shove the bad away?” She closed her eyes and lifted her face to a slight breeze.

“There are those that should be forgotten,” he snapped.

Fiona opened her eyes and glanced over her shoulder, and noticed his scowl. “Are you referring to
your
tale?”

He made no response.

“Do you miss your brothers?”

His silence supplied her answer.

She desperately wanted to ask him a thousand questions about his life before his sister’s death. If she kept prodding him, would he eventually answer? Would he consider it rude?
Of course, he would, Fiona, and he would most likely toss you off his horse.

“I cannot imagine the loss of one’s family, since I have only found mine. However, if anything should happen to them…” Her voice trailed off, not wanting to imagine the worst, especially Desmond.

“Aye, I miss my brothers. And Desmond will mend. He is strong.”

Fiona smiled and nodded. “Yes, he is strong, but I am worried about the fever.”

****

The rest of their journey was spent in silence, but Alastair knew the moment Fiona drifted off, gently bringing her head to rest against his chest. His little bird was enchanting, smelling of the land and wildflowers, and testing his strength.

Yes, his beast craved the woman, but so did the man.

Fiona O’Quinlan was a riddle—defying him one moment and then the next, muttering words under her breath. This one did not fear him, for he could see it in her stance and on her face. At times, he walked away confused.