Christina Phillips - [Forbidden 01] (14 page)

His brow crinkled as if their conversation bemused him. Or perhaps he simply wasn’t used to making compromises. Especially not with a woman.

That thought fluttered through her mind, disturbing her on a fundamental level. Did he truly see her as unworthy of such respect?

“Your sense of honor irks me greatly.” He was still frowning and there was iron in his voice. Carys dared to stroke his hair with the palm of her hand and shivered with delight as the now-familiar sensation tickled across her flesh.

He pulled from her reach with evident impatience. “Don’t start something that you have no intention of finishing.” He snatched up another lantern and pinched the guttering flame between thumb and forefinger before thrusting it into her open bag.

“I’ll finish you in three nights.”

“Assuming I’m prepared to wait that long.”

Her heart thundered in her chest, outraged by the suggestion. She clutched the bluestone, unheeding how the jagged edges drew blood, scarcely able to believe he had uttered such a thing.

“You would take another woman in the meantime?” How dare he even consider fucking another woman after the magical night they had just shared?

And despite her limited personal experience she knew how well she had satisfied him.

His lips curled as if he thought her amusing, but since that was impossible Carys could only assume the uneven illumination was playing tricks with her eyes.

By the goddess, she would poke
out
the eyes of any woman who dared touch her Roman. She raised her fist, still clutching the sacred shard of bluestone.

“Answer me!”

There was no mistaking the self-satisfied smirk on his face now. Irrational anger pumped through her blood at the realization he was laughing at her. She knew she was being irrational, because why did it matter so much?

He was only a man, and her enemy at that, whom she was using to satisfy her carnal longings. What he did when they weren’t together was of no consequence whatsoever.

But still the anger bubbled in her veins. And if he dared vocalize his mirth, she would—she would
hit
him.

“Does my little wood nymph have a temper?” His voice mocked her. “Does the thought of me pleasuring other women make you jealous?”

She slammed her fist against his chest. It was as if she’d slammed her hand against pure granite.

“Does the thought of me pleasuring other men make you jealous?”

His grin vanished and he curled his fingers around her arms in an iron grip. “Don’t even jest about such things.” There was a deadly note to his voice. “I wouldn’t hesitate to disembowel any man who takes what is mine.”

Her breath came in uneven gasps as she stared at his grim expression. Her white-hot fury curled up on itself and, within a blink, evaporated into the insane desire to giggle.

“Nor I any woman.”

Perhaps he heard the suppressed laughter in her voice, as his frown darkened further. But his grip on her arms lessened. He appeared thoroughly confused by her reactions, and she didn’t blame him since she was confused herself.

All she knew was that the realization that he hated the thought of her being with another man made her hot and wet inside.

“I can wait three nights.” His voice was gruff and he finally released her. “The image of you disemboweling another of your sex is more than enough to keep my cock to myself.”

Early the following morning Carys stirred as dappled sunlight danced across her closed eyes. She pulled the blanket over her head, and couldn’t prevent the groan from escaping.

She felt as if she had been trampled by a wild horse. Every muscle ached, every tendon pulled, her right hand felt as if it had been crushed by an avalanche and her pussy throbbed, raw and swollen.

With a small grunt she gently fingered her tender flesh. Imagined Maximus fingering her, and, despite her discomfort, a smile of feminine satisfaction curved her lips.

She had never felt so wondrously sexual before. Every particle of her body was branded by Maximus. She could feel him in her bones, smell him on her skin. Hear his masculine roar as his orgasm rocked them both to the stars.

Now, at last, Carys understood that dreamy look in her mother’s eyes whenever she spoke of her father’s scorching touch.

For a few indulgent moments she continued to tease her sensitive clit, luxuriating in the warm scent of sex and lust that bathed her body, clung to her clothes and permeated the blankets. And then reality intruded.

“So here you are.” Morwyn’s voice. Carys inched the blanket to her nose and squinted at the other woman, who was looking down at her with a barely suppressed smirk on her face.

“I’m not yet ready to rise.” Carys began to cover her eyes again. She should have picked a shadier spot to sleep in last night. There were too many gaps in the tree canopy here. And did the warblers have to be so vociferous?

Morwyn snorted with evident glee. “I can see that, Carys.” And then she settled herself at Carys’s head. “So tell me. Was he good?”

Carys sighed in defeat. There was no point lying. She reeked of sex. “Very good.”

Morwyn smiled with satisfaction. “It’s about time you found yourself a lover. The Morrigan will be appeased. There’s nothing as fulfilling as having a man’s cock buried inside you, now, is there?”

Memories of Maximus filling her warmed her blood, cause her pulse to quicken and lips to curve. “No.” And then she felt the need to qualify. “Depending on who the man is.”

“Yes.” Morwyn leaned in closer. “And who is he, Carys? One of ours?” Her dark eyes gleamed with curiosity.

Carys pushed herself upright, with some difficulty since her muscles screamed in protest at the slightest movement. “No.”

“I didn’t think so.” Morwyn twirled a long raven lock around her finger. “Although even if he was, the need for secrecy would still be prudent.”

Carys couldn’t argue with that. Even before they had been forced to flee into the forest, Aeron’s possessiveness toward her was more than enough to quell any other man’s interest.

Notwithstanding that he’d fucked around whenever the fancy took him, and she had severed their ties two years and five moons prior to their flight. He still appeared to imagine he retained rights over her, when the truth was he never had.

“It’s easier if no one knows.” Carys leaned back against a tree and yawned. Sweet Cerridwen, but she was exhausted. “Then there’s less likelihood of him hearing a whisper.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Morwyn kissed the tips of her fingers to seal the promise. “Now, tell me how you met. Is it someone I know?”

Carys dearly wanted to confide, but knew she never could. “He is newly arrived at the settlement around the Roman fortification.” Almost true. Not quite a lie.

She could live with it.

When Morwyn finally left, after having extracted enough erotic details to satisfy her probing questions and a promise to meet for morning tea when the shadows shortened, Carys examined her aching hand. Now she remembered why it hurt so much.

She’d punched Maximus.

Across the palm, dried blood streaked, and shock arrowed through her heart. The bluestone. Had she damaged it?

Heart thundering in her ears, she dragged her bag over and carefully pulled out the soft leather pouch. After glancing around to ensure she was still alone in this part of the forest, she quickly examined the sacred stones.

They appeared to be unharmed. With a relieved sigh she quickly slid them back into the pouch.

Of course, if anyone did see the stones in her possession, they would assume they were merely ordinary bluestones. As such they commanded due respect for their spiritual significance, but these stones were far from ordinary.

She had stolen them after the terrifying ceremony at the Feast of the Dead when Aeron had fused the powers bestowed by their immortals to invoke the sacred spiral.

Carys stroked the leather pouch with humble reverence for its contents. Even now, seven moons later, she could scarcely understand why she had done such a thing. Yet she had felt compelled. As if the broken shards, scattered across the ground of the cromlech, had called to her.

And perhaps they had. Without their protective magic, shielding her and Maximus from unexpected discovery, last night could not have occurred.

Fingers clasped around the pouch, Carys hesitated. Did that mean the gods had foreseen and approved of her liaison?

She wanted to believe it. And yet she wasn’t convinced. The Romans had invaded their country. Enslaved their people. How could their gods approve of anything but the utter destruction of the enemy?

But she didn’t want to think about that. She thrust the pouch deep into her bag, and her fingers brushed against another leather pouch.

Blood flooded her cheeks and her heart kicked against her ribs in shocked disbelief. How could she have forgotten something so fundamentally important?

She dragged it from her bag, pulled it open and stared at the contents of her emergency pack of cleansing creams and special herbs. She had assumed that, after leaving Maximus, she’d come back here, bathe away the evidence of their liaison and prepare the preventative tea.

Instead she’d been so exhausted all she’d managed was blessed oblivion.

She couldn’t return to the cromlech and risk encountering Aeron in her current state. Dawn drifted over the valley and she didn’t have much time before the risk of others finding her escalated.

Ignoring the way her body protested, she sprinted to the nearby river.

Carys found Morwyn at her favorite meditative spot some distance from Druantia’s oak grove.

“Are you still going to the Cauldron?” Morwyn said as she placed two highly decorated cups on the ground.

“Yes.” Carys shot her a glance as she sat beside her and began to prepare her herbs and bark for infusion. It was obvious Morwyn knew that Aeron had forbidden her. As if he had any right to forbid her to do anything when it concerned her personal goddess.

“I’ve always thought it odd,” Morwyn said as she picked up the pot suspended over her small fire, “how the Cauldron was excluded from the protection of the sacred spiral.”

Carys dropped her prepared herbs into her cup and picked up the dried bark. On that fateful night, as the shattering violet waves had radiated outward from the double circle of bluestones, it had never occurred to her that her beloved Cauldron wouldn’t be included.

“I sometimes think Aeron deliberately eliminated the Cauldron from his protective spells.” She didn’t have any evidence, and her feelings were illogical. But she had never been able to shake them.

Morwyn frowned as she poured the hot water into her own cup. “Not every Druid’s sacred place was enclosed, Carys.” She replaced the pot on its stand and dropped the protective handling cloth on the ground between them. Then she gave Carys a calculating look. “Although most were, certainly.”