Dragon Knight's Axe (21 page)

Placing a kiss along his jaw, she replied, “Of course. I will just let Molly know what we are doing and show her the way.”

“
Molly
? ’Tis not the name of your horse.”

She waved him off, saying, “Oh I forgot to tell you. She didn’t like the name the druids gave her, so I gave her a new one.”

Alastair had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Then explain to
Molly
to be verra careful.” He then turned and started to lead
his
horse down toward the stream, still marveling at Fiona’s gift to speak to the animals.

Each day, during their journey, some critter would wander over to her. Inevitably, she would indulge them by giving them food and sitting in quiet solitude with them at her side.

His sister would have said she was touched by the Fae. And he would have agreed.

Nearing the stream, he released Gawain watching as the horse went to take a drink and then Alastair reached for Fiona. “Your bath awaits.”

“I cannot tell you how happy I am that you were not joking.” Placing a kiss on his lips, she turned around. “Will you help me undress?”

“Gladly,” he answered his voice undeniably hoarse.

Shrugging out of her gown, she draped it over a boulder. As she dipped a toe into the water, she grimaced. “Gosh, it’s freezing.” She peeked over her shoulder at him. “Are you not coming in?”

“The view from here is pleasing,” he responded, as his eyes roamed over her luscious curves with the light glistening off her skin and the ornament she wore on her wrist. She was his Goddess and no other.

“Get your
arse
in here, Alastair MacKay,” she teased, splashing water at him.

Wiping the water from his face, he stripped within seconds and stalked over to her. “I will show ye what happens when ye stir the beast, my vixen.”

Fiona let out a shriek when Alastair picked her up and walked into the middle of the stream. “Don’t you drop me, Alastair.”

Cupping her bottom firmly, he bent his head and savagely kissed her, silencing any further words. His tongue sought entrance into her warm mouth, and she surrendered freely to the passion of his kiss.

Still holding tightly to her, he submerged them both into the water. Returning to the surface, her eyes glazed over not from anger, but from lust.

“You tricked me.”

“Nae, distracted.”

“Do it again,” she said playfully.

“As ye wish.”

Taking her mouth once again, he descended into the water. When he brought them back up, she wiggled and wrapped her legs around his waist.

She pushed back the hair from his face. “So handsome,” she whispered.

Alastair’s heart stopped for a second. By no means did he consider himself handsome. Mayhap many moons ago when he did not carry the scar on his face. But now? Her words shattered the hard shell that he had built so carefully.

Walking out of the water, he looked about and found the perfect place. With each step he took, flowers bloomed. She rested her head against his shoulder as he knelt down under a large oak.

This time Alastair made slow, passionate love to Fiona. As he roused her passion, his own grew stronger. When he could no longer contain himself, he slid into her, swallowing her moans with his mouth. As her cry of release tore through, he emptied all that he had into her, releasing not only his raw passion but also the love he bore for her.

He held her quaking body for some time until she stirred in his arms. “Would ye care to have your hair washed?”

“Hmmm…hair,” she mumbled. “No soap.”

He chuckled softly. “Aye, we do.”

Lifting her head, her curls were a wild tangled mess. “The druids gave you some?”

He nodded, smiling.

She let out a long sigh. “I would love to wash my hair.”

Kissing her brow, Alastair stood and walked to Gawain. Retrieving the soap wrapped in cloth, he brought it to her where she sat on a boulder near the water’s edge.

He took his time in washing her hair, marveling at her short curls. “Do ye not like long hair?”

She had her eyes closed, but opened them at his question. “Yes, I do. But mine is so thick that one hot summer I decided to chop it off. Does it bother you? I mean…well…”

“Whist,
leannan
.” He cupped her face, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “It would not be right to hide such features. Ye are beautiful.”

They stared at each other for several moments, before Alastair gently laid her back on the boulder and rinsed the soap from her locks.

“Your turn,” she said quietly.

Placing the soap in her hand, he dunked his head in the water, and then sat on the boulder next to her. She unwove his braids and proceeded to massage his head. By the Gods, her hands felt good. Closing his eyes, he let his body relax.

“Interesting tattoo you have on your back. The dragon rises from the ground, not water?”

He could feel her fingers tracing over his dragon. “My power is from the land.”

“How old were you when you had this done?”

Sighing, he thought back to years past. A time when all was well in his world. “Sixteen winters.”

She went back to kneading her fingers against his scalp, and he closed the door on the memory.

“Rinse,” she murmured into his ear, nipping along his neck. “I’m hungry.”

“Aye, as am I,” he groaned.

“For food,” she said laughingly.

He grimaced in humor. “Your food first, then mine.”

Ambling away, she tossed out over her shoulder, “I think I’ll get dressed.”

“I like what ye are wearing.”

“I’m wearing
nothing
,” she protested.

“’Tis exactly my point.” His gaze never left her backside, and he watched as she slipped her gown back on, before turning around. When she arched a brow at him, he let out a sigh and got up from the boulder.

Slipping into his trews and tunic, he pulled the food satchel off of Gawain. Seeing Fiona under the oak sprawled out on his wrap, he instantly went hard again.

Will I ever get enough of ye, lass?

Sitting next to her, he let her spread out the food, content in watching her every movement. They ate in silence as the afternoon sun made its arc across the sky. After they were finished, she sat in his lap.

“Would you like me to put the braids back in?”

“If it pleases ye,” he replied hoarsely.

“It does.”

He watched her in quiet concentration as she wove her fingers through his hair. Alastair noted that when she was focused on something, she would chew on her bottom lip.

Instinctively, he brushed a hand over her breast causing her to shiver.

“You could at least let me finish.”

“Then hurry.” He bent to capture the pout on her lips.

His lips never made it to hers. A screech from above startled them both as a huge hawk darted from the tree. As he watched it circle around them, his warrior senses took over. Placing a finger over Fiona’s lips to silence her, he reached for the
sgian dubh
near an apple and placed it in her hand.

Thank the Gods that his sword was nearby. Removing Fiona from his lap, he drew it forth, standing. Keeping her at his back against the tree, he opened his Fae sight.

Slowly, the men emerged from the trees.

Their leader moved steadily toward them. “I would not have expected this. Look who we have here, men. Why ’tis Alastair MacKay, fallen Dragon Knight,” he spat out the last.

“Michael MacFhearguis,” growled Alastair in warning.

The man moved closer. “Is this your woman?”

Alastair shifted his stance. “None of your concern.”

“Come forward, lass.”

“Dinnae move, Fiona. Leave now, MacFhearguis, and no harm will come to ye and your men.”

“I am no fool, Alastair. I ken your power. If ye so much as stir a leaf, my man will put an arrow in your woman.”

Clenching his jaw, he dropped his sword. “What do ye want?”

Rubbing his face, he glared at Alastair. “I already have your axe. Foolish that ye would leave it exposed. And ye shall accompany us back to my castle.”

“Then ye have no need for Fiona. Let her go.”

His smile turned sinister. “I have not bedded a woman in a few days.”

Alastair’s blood burned as he heard Fiona gasp behind him. “Ye touch her and I will slice your balls off and stuff them in your mouth.”

“At least ye will leave me with my cock, aye?”

Alastair’s gaze turned deadly when he answered, “Nae, I will personally shove that up your
arse
.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“The darkness can be your enemy, for it is within the shadows that evil lurks.”

Despite the warmth of the day, she could not stop the tremors assailing her body. It prickled with unease each time she glanced at Alastair. They had beaten him repeatedly, and then dragged him to his horse, binding his hands to the pommel. She had only seen his face once, covered with blood and one eye swollen shut.

Her heart lurched as he veered to the right almost falling from his horse. Although he quickly righted himself, she noticed how he winced from the pain.

Michael MacFhearguis looked over his shoulder, and his gaze raked her body.

She met his stare boldly. No matter how frightened she was, she was not going to let him see her fear. Furthermore, why did his name sound familiar?

“Our laird will enjoy taking ye to his bed,” rasped the man holding her on the horse.

“I would rather die than have him touch me,” she said coldly, swallowing the bile in her throat.

Fiona felt the man shrug. “’Tis your choice.”

If only she had the
sgian dubh
handy. She could distract her captor, or better yet, injure him, allowing Alastair to use his power. It all sounded so simple. But she had quickly slipped the blade into her boot before they hauled her onto their horse. She was thankful they didn’t perceive her to be a threat, and so did not search her first.

Closing her eyes, she reached out with her inner sight and located Merlin. He kept a steady pace with them out of sight. She had no idea how much longer they would be traveling. However, the thought of the large deerhound keeping an eye out gave her a small amount of comfort.

“Your home awaits. Castle Leomhann.”

Fiona snapped out of her thoughts to peer at the looming castle perched high on the hill. A sense of foreboding flooded her, for she feared once inside they would be trapped without any possibility of escaping.

Who in the hell was this MacFhearguis? Clan feud?
Apparently, Michael knew of the Dragon Knights, their power and the relics, so what did he want with Alastair?

They bounded up the hill toward the entrance, and Michael waved a salute in greeting. She shivered anew as the portcullis was raised. As soon as they passed through, it was lowered with a loud clang, and Fiona’s sense of being trapped was fully realized.

Her captor dismounted, bringing her with him.

“Untie the MacKay and throw him in the dungeon. Send for Patrick and bring him to my chambers along with the lass,” snapped Michael.

“I want to go with Alastair,” demanded Fiona as fear seized her heart.

A harsh laugh escaped from Michael. Stepping over to her, he took a firm hold of her face. “Ye may join him
after
I am through with ye.”

She trembled from his touch, his breath foul and with the look of the devil in his eyes.

“Leave her, MacFhearguis,” muttered Alastair. “For if—”

Fiona cried out as one of the men silenced Alastair with the hilt of his sword to his head. “Stop! No more,” she pleaded.

“Take them both away,” shouted Michael.

She swallowed a sob as they hauled her into the castle and up the winding, narrow stairway. Musty smells assaulted her, and she slipped on some mess while being yanked up by arm. It took all her control not to scream or vomit.

When they reached the top landing, the man led her around another narrow passageway. Tucked in the back, she saw a large wooden door. Thrusting it open, he shoved her inside.

His gaze was no better than Michael’s, as he leered at her body. “Dinnae think to leave this room. I will be outside this door.”

Fiona didn’t say a word.

When he finally left, she let out a long sigh. Quickly scanning her surroundings, she could see that there would be no escaping. Walking over to the narrow window, she could see the activity down below. Fiona placed her head against the cool stone. “What am I going to do?” she whispered. The only weapon she had was in her boot. Peering over her shoulder, she could detect nothing that she could use. The small table had only a pitcher and a few mugs. Bile rose from her stomach when she gazed at the massive bed.
You will never take me.

Hearing the echoes of footsteps coming closer, she hastily grabbed the blade from her boot and kept it within the folds of her gown. Sweat beaded down her back in anticipation. She would die trying to escape, for she would never surrender to him.

He entered and stood in the doorway. “Now that we have the MacKay safely tucked in the dungeon, I can savor what I am sure he has been tasting, aye?”

I am not yours to take!

Closing the door, he moved to the table and placed the axe on top. Fiona watched as he poured what looked like wine into two mugs. Her hand clutched at the blade as her thoughts turned inward on where she could do the most damage. If she let him get close enough, she could slice the artery in his neck.

“This will help ye to relax,” he said walking over to her.

She shook her head. “I would prefer to have my wits.”

“So be it.” He drained his mug and set it back down. Wiping the back of his mouth with his hand, he removed his plaid.

Fiona’s heart raced. “Why do you despise Alastair?” She watched as his face clouded over as he processed her question.

“The MacKays have no right to possess all that power.” He passed his hand over the axe. “If I have to kill every one of them to procure it for my own, I will do so. Furthermore, they are cursed.”

“Not all,” argued Fiona.

He stalked over to her, his face inches from her. She saw the instant transformation of his eyes. Evil lurked behind them, and Fiona fought the urge to take a step backwards.