The Wolf and the Highlander (Highland Wishes) (32 page)

“Hinatha, hinatha. Chroina,”
he kept saying.
Soon, soon. When we reach Chroina,
she thought, but she couldn’t be sure.

Did he mean he’d love her with his mouth, with his hands? With his cock, but not to completion?
Och,
to have another man place restrictions on that which should be theirs alone to enjoy however and whenever they wished rankled to no end. If Magnus had been anything but a king, she would have rebelled.

She dared not rebel, for she sensed Magnus’s mood teetered on a precipice. If she pushed him, he’d make things even more difficult for them. Bloody jealous cur.

She’d thought fate had smiled kindly on her. Turned out, ’twas more of a cruel jape fate had played, letting her believe she’d found pure happiness only to yank too much of that happiness away.

As t
he party approached the moat, a great log and plank drawbridge lowered to welcome them. The horses’ hooves thundered over the planks as they entered the city. The gate opened into a grassy bailey full of manicured trees, topiaries in the shapes of wolves and elk and other forest beasts, and curving paths lined with benches. Though lovely, the bailey was completely enclosed by tall stone walls. The only breaks in the wall were the drawbridge they’d just come through, a smaller gate directly across from it, and a passageway on each side just large enough for a pair of horses and a carriage. She understood why most of Riggs’s people chose to live in Chroina. If the double walls went all the way to the sea, like the moat, enemies would have multiple barriers to overcome before breaching the city. She’d never seen a place so secure.

The second gate cranked open as the party approached. Beyond, the streets looked much like those in Inverness. Cobbled stone underfoot, markets and pubs stacked side by side with painted shingles she couldn’t read. Men conversed in doorways, and did business at street carts. Everyone stopped and gaped at the royal party. Some bent their knee. Others lifted their chins in greeting. Some watched with nary an emotion on their faces, their eyes empty.

She watched all this from under the hood of Riggs’s cloak, since riding while keeping herself covered had become habit. She didn’t have to hide here in Chroina, where women weren’t uncommon. Nevertheless, the thought of letting down the hood and inviting curious stares curdled her stomach. What would the people make of her? Would they be as disappointed in her as Magnus was?
Och,
it didn’t matter. She wasn’t who they all thought her to be.

As if sensing her unease, Riggs pressed his horse closer. They rode with their calves brushing. His nearness comforted her.

After a half hour’s ride, the street opened to a large square lined with fine stone buildings. One had stained glass windows and a spire with an orb at the top. The full moon. She’d begun to associate the symbol with the goddess Danu. At the far end of the square, the buildings sat wide apart, and between them was a grassy vista that stretched toward a multistoried castle large enough to have housed Ackergill Keep five times over. Midway down the vista, a fountain as big around as a horse corral shot water into the air. The plume was perfectly centered between the two tallest towers of the castle. Atop the towers, banners of crimson and gold snapped in the breeze. Behind the castle to the north were snow-capped mountains. Behind and to the right was nothing but cheerful blue sky. The ocean lay that way, though it couldn’t be seen from here. The visual effect should have been stunning, but she took it all in with dispassion.

“Glendall,” Riggs said, eyes on the keep.

“Welcome home,” she muttered.

Riggs pressed his horse even closer and took her hand. He twined their fingers and curled their joined hands to his chest.
“Hinatha.”
Soon.

A shiver of anticipation went through her.

* * * *

The king’s party divided as they took a cobbled road around the keep to the stables in the back. Most of the soldiers turned off the main path and rode under an archway through which Anya glimpsed a green field scattered with hay-stuffed dummies and archery targets. That must be where the soldiers practiced. Mayhap they had their own stables. Four guards remained with her, Riggs, Magnus, and Neil. These four, all older men with shuttered gazes, were always with the king. His personal guard, mayhap.

As they approached the fine stone stables, the sun was sinking in the sky, making the shadows long and the hay in the outdoor troughs appear dull brown. There was more than a nip in the air. ’Twas quite cold, in fact. Without Riggs’s cloak, she would have been shivering.

A dozen or so aged men in wo
ad-dyed livery met them as they drew to a stop. Stable hands or servants or some combination thereof. One man appeared more distinguished than the others, his livery a crisper blue than the rest. The knotted linen at his throat was brilliant white. He wore a pin of fanned crimson tartan on his breast. All the servants had clean-shaven faces—they were the first clean-shaven wolf-men she’d seen—but the distinguished servant wore a neatly trimmed beard and moustache that framed only his mouth, leaving his cheeks bare. The king dismounted and began speaking with him, confirming her suspicion he must be the head of household. The servant’s eyes wandered her way as he listened, but with her hood shadowing her face, he wouldn’t be able to see her well.

Fine with her. She had no wish to be gaped at by Magnus’s servants. Bad enough she’d had to endure the frequent sidelong glances and outright stares of the soldiers in their riding party for two days. Worse, though, were the looks the men had cast Riggs’s way. They hated him. Most, she suspected, believed he’d made her his lifemate kenning she was supposed to be the miracle their king had been waiting for.

He’d brought her through his country determined to give her to another man despite wanting to keep her for himself, and he’d done it out of loyalty for his king. He’d only pledged himself to her once he realized she could not be Magnus’s miracle. And
this
was his reward? Becoming the bane of Chroina? The unfairness of it choked her.

But when Riggs gazed upon her, there was no regret in him. She saw only love reflected in his
gold-flecked eyes.

He dismounted and reached for her. She gladly trusted herself to his strong hands
, and he lowered her to the ground slowly enough for her legs to adjust to bearing her own weight. She buried her face in his chest and inhaled his soothing scent. Since their pledging, his scent had a nearly intoxicating effect on her. She craved it, couldn’t get enough of it. He seemed to feel the same about her. As he wrapped her in his tight embrace, he nuzzled her head and breathed deep, murmuring things she couldn’t understand.

The keep represented uncertainty and fear. Foreboding stole over her as cold gray stone loomed many stories into the sky at her back. She did not wish to go inside. But Riggs’s presence soothed her. As long as they were together, all would be well.

The clearing of a throat pulled her from the spell of security she’d found in her pledgemate’s arms.

Magnus.

Riggs stiffened, but he didn’t release her.

“Neil requests your company, trapper,” Magnus said in his imperial voice. “When he’s
finished with you, my men will escort you to your new quarters. You’ve had two days to enjoy our pactmate. Now it is my turn. I require her presence for the evening.”

After two days of gestures and learning new words with Riggs, two days in which the king never once spoke to her, suddenly being able to understand someone made her head spin. Then the king’s words penetrated. He was dismissing Riggs, and it sounded as though she wouldn’t be permitted to see him again tonight.

She clung to her pledgemate and narrowed her eyes at Magnus. “Two days we’ve had together, aye, but you’ve seen to it we’d no’ be able to speak to each other. I’ll go with you now, but I’ll expect to be shown to my lifemate’s quarters for sleeping.”

Magnus’s mouth made a hard line. “Of course, Lady Anya. In the meantime, I’ve instructed my head of household to prepare a bath and a meal for you. If a handful of hours puts undue strain on your bond, it is my hope that the gifts I plan to
shower upon you will soothe the pain.” His mouth tipped up in a strained smile. “Come. I’ll show you your new home while the water heats.” He extended a hand to her.

She had difficulty letting go of Riggs. They hadn’t been apart since his brief hunting trip on the hilly plain the morning after their pledging. She commanded her hands to uncurl from his shirt and they refused to obey.

Riggs ran a hand over her hair and whispered
“Hinatha”
in her ear. He uncurled one of her fists and placed her hand in Magnus’s. He was telling her to go, and if she translated the twinkle in his eye correctly, he was telling her not to goad the king while they were apart.

Och,
she was acting like a lass with her first fancy. If Riggs could bear their separation, surely she could as well. How many times had he called her his brave lady?

Lifting her chin, she sent her own twinkle his way.
“Hinatha,”
she said, and she let Magnus lead her into the keep. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Neil rest a hand on Riggs’s shoulder. Both men watched her go with somber expressions.

* * * *

Anya disappeared into the castle with King Magnus and four of his Knights of the Crescent Moon. Riggs’s chest snapped tight with longing. Being away from her caused him pain. Actual pain, like a constriction he could hardly breathe past that could only be eased by wrapping her in his arms again.

“Come on, son,” Neil said with a pat on his shoulder. “She’ll be indisposed for a while. Might as well come with me to the dungeon to interview Bilkes. Man lied about you. You have the right to be present when I read him his charges.”

So the messenger would be formally arrested. Good. It was his fault Anya had been taken by the trackers, also his fault Magnus had intercepted them on the plain, wrecking Riggs’s plan to explain himself to his uncle before bringing Anya to meet the king. He hoped they’d tossed the little shite into a dark cell deep in the castle’s underbelly.

Neil led the way through the armory. It hadn’t changed much since Riggs’s days as an axeman for the king’s army during the war. He followed Neil down the stairs into the tunnels that led to the dungeon. Neil was strangely quiet as they walked the underground corridors.

Shrugging, he let his mind wander to what he would do to his lifemate once they reunited. Though it left a bad taste in his mouth to know Magnus would provide for her from now on, he took comfort in the fact it would be
him
to bring her pleasure for an entire moon cycle before the king had her in his bed. In that time, he’d brand the feel of his hands and mouth on her. He’d give her his prick, too, but he’d be careful not to release in her per the terms of their pact.

A growl rumbled in his chest at the injustice of another man dictating how he loved his mate. He’d thought Magnus fair and wise, but
the man had refused to listen to sense. Riggs had done nothing wrong, and yet the king punished him—and Anya—for becoming lifemates. He’d tried to shame Riggs with the implication that he lacked faith in Danu by believing Anya barren when, in fact, it was spending time with Anya that had restored his faith in the goddess. It was the king who lacked faith by assuming one chestnut haired miracle was all Danu was capable of.

He expected Neil to comment on his mood, but either his uncle didn’t hear his growl, or his mind was elsewhere. Yeah, that made sense. As Magnus’s war chieftain, Neil would have his hands full with the news Riggs had shared with him on the journey.

Riggs had taken his uncle away from the camp and shared how the Larnians Anya first ran into had assumed she had escaped from Bantus’s harem. Then he’d told him everything he and Anya had overheard from the trackers. His uncle had frowned. “
I wish you hadn’t discovered such things,”
he’d said. Riggs wished he hadn’t discovered them, either. He wished there had been nothing to be discovered.

“What did the king say when you passed along my news?” Riggs asked as Neil nodded a greeting to two soldiers standing guard over a heavy iron door.

One soldier pulled a key from his shirt and unlocked the door. It squeaked on its hinges as Neil pushed it open and motioned Riggs through ahead of him. He had to duck and remain ducking since the ceilings were low beyond the door. He and Neil both had to bend their necks to keep from hitting their heads on the stones above. Behind them, the door shut with an echoing clang.

“Hm?”
Neil grunted, as if he weren’t really listening.

Riggs followed him
down a narrow passage and around a corner. “When you told the king, what did he say? Will he send spies to Saroc to confirm there are women there? Will he invade? What will he do with the women?” He couldn’t imagine how the Larnians had managed to obtain human women. He ached for the human fathers missing their daughters.

“Oh. I haven’t told him yet,” Neil said as they approached another guarded door.

“What? Why not?” Wouldn’t he and king Magnus want to start strategizing immediately?

The guards opened the door, and when Neil and Riggs went through, the other two men followed. It took Riggs a moment to make sense of what he saw. He’d never been in the dungeon before and had expected cramped stone chambers with damp floors and dark interiors. But when they’d stepped through that second iron door, the room he found himself in couldn’t have been more different.