Rise (33 page)

Eira felt dizzy. She moved away from Bosque again, but her path led her to the side of her bed. She turned around and found herself facing him.

“Will you deny me?”

The doubts churning beneath Eira’s ribs finally surfaced. “I confess, Lord Mar, I find your words of passion difficult to believe. No man has ever spoken to me thus.”

“What man would have courage enough to believe he could win you?” Bosque laughed. “You exude power. Men are small creatures, easily cowed by those who challenge their sense of self-importance.”

He leaned closer, his breath touching her cheek. “Men fear you, but I promise they have also wanted you.”

She turned her face, and his lips met hers. Bosque pulled back, and Eira gasped when he took off his shirt.

“I haven’t assented to share my bed with you.” She put steel into her voice, but her gaze traveled over his broad shoulders, the strength of his chest and abdomen.

“And I haven’t forgotten that.” Bosque smiled at her. “But if you would consent to touch me, I would like to know the feeling of your hands on my skin.”

Eira’s fingers twitched, aching to trace the lines of muscle that covered his bare torso. She dared to rest her palm just below his collarbone. His skin was so warm under her fingers. Heat seemed to flow from the point of contact up her arm, spreading over her limbs.

“Lie with me, Eira,” Bosque murmured, holding her in his gaze. “Perfect our union. Make it complete.”

Slowly, waiting for her to object, Bosque reached for the front of her tabard. When she didn’t try to stop him, he pulled the long garment over her head. He leaned down, kissing the spot where her pulse beat rapidly at her throat.

Eira’s hand stole around Bosque’s neck, her fingertips brushing his soft hair.

“I spoke to Alistair of the loyalty inherent within families, sealed by shared blood,” Bosque whispered against her skin. “As long as a child born from the line of our union walks the earth, a gateway between this world and mine can be opened.”

“How can you be sure I’ll conceive?” Eira placed her palm on her stomach. She’d abandoned any thoughts of bearing a child years ago; the idea still struck her as absurd.

“There will be more at work here than passion,” Bosque said, lifting his head to look at her. “There is also the power that I bring. Consent to this union of body and blood, and you
will
bear my child.”

“No one has limitless power,” Eira told him. When his eyes narrowed, she worried she’d gone too far. “I meant no insult.”

“You are the only creature in this world or mine I would let speak to me thus,” Bosque told her with a thin smile. “Your words are true enough. My powers do have limits, but in the matter at hand, those limits are naught.” Regret, or perhaps sadness, crept into his eyes. “What I cannot do is grant you eternal life.”

Taken aback, Eira said, “I never wanted immortality.”

“Then you are unlike most men and women,” Bosque told her. “When wizards and conjurers call upon the least of my creatures, immortality is often the first thing they demand.”

He folded her hand in his strong grasp. “I can give you threefold years beyond other men, and in these years, you will not age. You will remain as you are now. Strong.”

Moving his grip to her wrists, he pulled her closer. “Beautiful.” His lips nearly touched hers.

Eira asked with hesitation, “If I will not age, why must I bear this child now?”

“I would give you leave to wait as long as you like,” Bosque told her. “Were it not for the risk of losing you.”

“You think I will try to sever our bond?” Eira couldn’t imagine wanting to rid herself of Bosque. She craved his presence, felt lost when he was absent. She wouldn’t name their bond one of love, but it was nonetheless powerful, irresistible even.

Bosque released one of her wrists and traced the line of her collarbone. “You are loyal, Eira. And we desire the same things. I do not fear your leaving. I know you would not abandon me, just as I would never forsake you.”

“Then what do you fear?” Eira asked, trying not to be distracted by the light touch of his fingers on her skin.

“You are and always will be a warrior,” Bosque answered. “And there are many battles to come. Though I can offer you powerful allies, helping to secure your victories, when my queen goes to war, she may lose her life.”

Eira nodded. Bosque’s words won him yet more of her admiration. Despite his hopes for her, he didn’t suggest she stay hidden away in a keep, safely distant from any bloodshed. He wouldn’t deny her true nature, her hunger for the fight.

As she fell silent, Bosque bent closer. His lips followed the path of his fingertips. The touch of his mouth on her skin stirred a new hunger in Eira, one she’d never expected to feel. Bosque trailed his lips over her throat and up her neck. His tongue flicked her cheek, and his teeth closed lightly on her earlobe.

“Tell me, Eira.” Bosque repositioned himself, placing an arm on either side of her, trapping her against him. “What is it you want from me?”

Adrift in a sea of sensation—the sound of her quick breaths, the rising heat of her skin—Eira knew too well what her body craved, but her mind balked. She turned her face from him, trying to steady herself.

“Your touch is that of a man.” Eira forced the words out. “But—”

Bosque finished for her. “You fear what I truly am.”

Eira met his gaze. “I do… Should I?”

“I don’t know,” Bosque said, his expression thoughtful. “I can’t predict what your reaction would be to the form I take in my own world.”

He glanced down at his bare chest. “But it would not likely appeal to you as this body does.”

Eira felt blood rush to her cheeks as she faced the truth of his words. Was her desire so plain, the ache within her so easy for him to detect?

“Fortunately”—Bosque smiled—“this is the body that would enact our union. You need never look upon the other.”

Drawing a quick breath, Eira said, “But when I first opened the way for you to be in this world, you made me turn away, for fear of what I would see.”

“My other form was required for the crossing between worlds,” Bosque told her. “That body took your blood as a pact so that this body could be sustained here. But with the crossing complete, I may remain a man for so long as I choose.”

He leaned forward, moving her onto the bed. “To provide whatever you need.” His lips touched the hollow between her ear and her jaw. “Or desire.”

Eira felt her will to resist giving way, but there remained one thing she needed to know. “Wait.”

Bosque stayed close, but he became still, no longer enticing her with his kisses.

“This union is a deepening of our bond,” Eira said.

“Yes.”

She put her hand to his chest, holding him back, though he hadn’t tried to close the little distance that remained between them. “Our bond has always carried a price.”

“An offering of blood,” Bosque replied calmly.

“And now?” Eira asked, unsettled by his casual tone.

“The same will be required. And as before, I cannot heal your wound,” he answered, his smile almost teasing. “But you need do nothing to make your offering. That task falls to me.”

Eira stiffened. “What will you do to me?”

“Only what you want me to.” Reaching down, Bosque gathered the hem of her kirtle. “Unless—”

Bosque began to lift her kirtle. Eira closed her eyes, barely breathing. “Unless?”

“Has another man taken your maidenhead?”

“No!” Her eyelids snapped up, and she glared at him. “Did you think otherwise?”

“I did not,” he answered, still smiling. “But you were the one who pressed me about the nature of the sacrifice.”

“The—” Grasping his meaning, Eira choked on the remaining words.

This time Bosque did bear her down onto the bed, his full weight pushing against her. Eira began to speak, but he stopped her words with a kiss that began gently and grew in urgency. Her lingering questions were soon forgotten.

EMBER HAD WORRIED
that Agnes would take the news of her wedding badly, but the opposite proved to be true, which made Ember sick with guilt.

Secrets weighed heavy on the tip of her tongue, ready to be confessed. But she feared that revealing the coming battle would endanger Agnes more than leaving her in ignorance. Agnes wasn’t the issue. Bosque Mar was.

The tall, silver-eyed man visited Agnes almost daily, despite the fact that the two sisters were busy with preparations for the wedding. Bosque would appear without notice, sometimes sitting with them, other times inviting Agnes to join him for a walk through the courtyard. Ember hated it. But she could make no excuse that would keep Agnes from accepting Bosque’s offers of companionship without telling her about his origins, and that very subject was what made Ember so reluctant to share her fears with her sister. Bosque’s gaze was uncanny. Ember sensed that each moment he spent in their company was one in which he delved for information, like a predator sniffing out its next meal.

If Ember alerted Agnes to the danger, Bosque would notice her changed behavior, throwing suspicion on both sisters. Try as she might, Ember found no good choices in this matter.

This particular afternoon, Bosque and Agnes were deeply involved in a discussion of the merits of a variety of spring flowers. Why a lord of the nether realm would have any opinions on blossoms, Ember couldn’t fathom, and she was relieved when a servant appeared with a message from Father Michael reminding her that she should make confession before the wedding mass.

Hurriedly excusing herself, Ember fled the chamber and made her way to the chapel. She was certain that Father Michael hadn’t truly summoned her to make confession or discuss the wedding. The only benefit of so much flurry around the event was that the premise of preparation enabled Ember to avoid her betrothed. Each interaction with Alistair had become more difficult. He was constantly touching her, holding her hands, leaning in for a chaste kiss. On the one occasion when Alistair had pursued a more aggressive approach to the physical side of their betrothal, Ember insisted that she wouldn’t compromise her virtue and would only surrender to her passion on their wedding night. Had that been more than four days hence, Alistair might have persisted in his efforts to seduce her. To Ember’s relief, he relented.

Alistair’s touch didn’t revolt her, nor was his company unpleasant. But those two truths made everything worse. To see him and know what was coming twisted a knife in Ember’s belly. Each interaction burdened her more than the last, so that Ember feared she might become physically sick from the tension mercilessly wringing her body.

When Ember entered the chapel, she found Father Michael at prayer. She walked along the pews quietly, waiting until he rose to speak.

The priest must have heard her approach. The moment he stood, he turned to greet her.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Ember.” Gesturing for her to follow, Father Michael crossed in front of the stained-glass window from which the archangel that shared the priest’s name watched over them.

Settling into one of the front pews, Father Michael patted the wooden bench. “Please sit.”

Ember took her place beside the priest. “Is there news?”

“That’s why I’ve summoned you,” Father Michael answered. “With your wedding day so close, you must be prepared for what will happen. I would not have you enter the battle like a blind lamb.”

Ember clasped her hands tight in her lap.

“The ceremony will take place at the courtyard,” Father Michael told her. “At the signal, your father and Mackenzie will begin their attack. Cian will assist them in leading the clan warriors.”

“What is the signal?” Ember asked.

“When Alistair places the ring on your finger.”

With a shudder, Ember dropped her head back against the pew. While the clansmen raised their swords, she’d be adorned in her wedding gown and flowers. Feeling a light touch on her arm, Ember turned to meet Father Michael’s gaze.

“Do not belittle your role in this plan, Ember,” he said gently.

Forcing a weak smile, Ember asked, “What else will happen?”

“While chaos reigns out of doors, Rebekah will open a door in the great hall,” Father Michael told her. “Our hope is that the battle will hold Eira’s attention long enough for Rebekah to complete her spell, closing the rift.”