“He had two blades,” Keenan said (13 page)

“Over here, Keenan.” Her soft voice beckoned him. His name on her tongue brought back flashes of a dream.

Lightning lit the cave suddenly, and he glimpsed her sitting, the blankets pooled around her waist.

Crouching down, he moved carefully in her direction. He felt almost predatory as he bent and listened for her movement. Every few seconds the cave lit up followed by a deafening blast of thunder. He lowered himself against the wall.

“It’s best we stay in here,” Keenan said.

“I don’t think we have a choice.” Her voice seemed small against the gale outside. The next illumination showed the blackened tree branches fully blocking the small entrance.

“Can ye bring on storms, lass?”

Her hair slid against his arm as she shook her head. “No.”

“It seems almost unnatural. The suddenness and strength.”

“It’s not me, Keenan. I don’t have that ability, plus I was asleep when it began.”

She hadn’t lied about her abilities, as far as he knew. The storm scattered light around them for several seconds. She had wanted him to sleep in the cave.

“Where are my men?” Keenan crawled over to look around the branches out into the darkness. No souls moved about, only violent tree branches slashing against the hail and rain.

“I will try to find them.” The next flash showed her face, eyes closed. As the white light blinked out again, Keenan waited impatiently for another view of her. She was using the power. What was it like to travel into peoples’ minds? To have to protect yourself against their darkness? He needed to see her. Keenan felt the limbs of the old birch and broke off the tiny twigs. He still had some peat and flint in his sporran. They would have a small fire near the back where remnants of past fires scorched the rock wall. The warmth from the rock would radiate heat throughout the cave. The wind would carry the smoke off into all directions.

“They’ve found shelter,” Serena said as Keenan scratched against the flint. “Gavin and Thomas are together in one cave and Ewan and Brodick are in another.” A spark caught against the dry peat under the small dead branches. Keenan blew on the flicker that battled against the dampness until it grew. He sat back on his heels.

“They’re safe, tired and wet, but safe,” she said reassuringly. “It seems they will just stay there the night.” The fire glowed against her as it had the first night he’d seen her dancing, a twin to the flame. But instead of half closed eyes, hers were wide open. She seemed especially small and vulnerable with the blankets wrapped around her hips, trapped in the small space with him.

Keenan nodded.

Serena tried to brush her hair aside and caught her hand in the ribbon that held it against her shoulder. “Oh.” Serena jerked her hand from the ribbon.

“It’s but a ribbon.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it. I forgot I tied it in.”

Keenan added more branches to the small fire until a steady flame filled the cave with orange light. He sat down closer to the fire against another wall.

Serena’s eyes still reflected worry. Perhaps if he got her talking.

“Does yer tribe move all the time or do ye stay in certain places for awhile?”

Serena wrapped a strand of hair around one of her fingers, absently twisting it into a tight coil. “We winter north of London usually. But when it’s warm, we move from town to town, running faires and selling tin wares and worked leather.”

“And ye dance?”

Serena nodded. “And I tell fortunes of course.”

“Of course. Ye must be very good at it.”

“When I happened to be too good, well, then we moved on sooner.”

“Moved sooner?”

“I used to try to warn people about their upcoming misfortune. Despite what King Will told me.”

“He dinna want ye to tell people everything ye saw?”

“No. When my predictions came true, it raised questions. Inevitably someone would blame us for the misfortune. Some accused us of causing what I saw. Some just accused me of being in league with Satan.”

“Ye are a witch,” he tried to tease, but Serena didn’t smile. Maybe he should stop talking.

She glanced at him, a small grin on her lips. “I suppose I am, but I’ll only admit that to a Maclean of Kylkern because there’s nothing in your prophecy about needing to burn your witch.” Serena turned back to the fire. “Either way, I am trouble for the tribe.” Her voice softened, as if sadness muffled her spirit. “With me gone now, I wonder if,” she started and then looked down at the blanket. She ran bare fingers over the crisscross pattern. “Well they may have less problems, anyway.”

He couldn’t tell if the tears he thought he heard in her voice were also in her eyes. To hell with staying away. Keenan knelt to shuffle the fire and add more twigs. He then settled down next to her, his long leg pressed up against hers through the blanket. Without a word, he stole her hand from its course along the plaid lines and held it in his large one.

“Yer mother misses ye, Serena. I know that without yer powers.”

He held her small hand against his palm. At first it felt like a lifeless little bird, unmoving, fragile. Keenan began to rub his thumb along the delicate bones of each digit.

She cleared her throat. “So what of your life, Keenan?”

“My life?”

“It must be difficult thinking you will die to save your clan, your brother.”

“Actually,” Keenan released her hand and stood, his head bent against the low ceiling. “My life was probably easier than most.”

“Easier?”

“I’ve always known exactly what to do in life. Unlike the men who flounder around wondering what mark they will make on the world, what purpose their existence is meant to fulfill. I’ve always known my purpose.” He watched her face. “It has been taught to me through word and expression since the day I was born.”

Pity? Did pity just cross her face? His jaw tightened. “I’m na some sacrificial lamb to be pitied for its meaningless slaughter, Serena, so doona look at me as such.”

“I don’t pity you, Keenan. I was just thinking how alike we are.”

He threw another branch on top of the crackling fire. “As night and day.”

Serena shook her head, causing the green ribbon to fall among the blankets. Her hair broke free over her shoulders to veil her in fiery silk. Unbound curls that were made to wrap around a man’s hand, coiled gently but purposely to trap her. She could be trapped easily.

“Trapped,” Serena said.

“What?” Had he said the word aloud? Could she suddenly read his thoughts?

“We’re both trapped. Me in my constant battle to control my power, and you behind the bars of your prophecy.”

He must concentrate on something other than trapping her against him. He looked out at the wet, miserable night. The lightning had finally moved off, leaving a relentless dousing of cold rain. He huffed quietly. Trapped indeed. In this small cave with a beautiful siren.

“Has your family ever considered that, Keenan? That the prophecy is wrong?”

He sat back against the front wall putting space between them. “The seer saw many things, alliances, failed crops and plentiful seasons. She saw remarkable births and bizarre sickness.” Keenan spoke slowly to emphasize his point. “Every single predication that the crone foretold has come true. All of them. And this is the last. Her words are true, my fate is to die.”

“Perhaps you are the brother to live.”

“I believe we’ve been over that.”

“Elenor read me the prophecy. It doesn’t specify which brother.”

“Lachlan has never defended a soul, Serena. He made it a point not to learn how to defend. He knows that the brother who defends will die.” He shook his head. “Nay, I am the defender. I’ve been raised as such, and I will fulfill my destiny.”

Her gaze retreated to the fire. Did she begin to understand or did she tire of arguing the point? She wore the blue gown he had left in her room back at Kylkern. The neckline swooped low, low enough to see the swell of her breasts pushed up by her stays. Her softly translucent skin lay across the contours of her collarbone. He imagined his fingers skimming along that lovely flesh to dip low under the boundaries of her bodice.

Keenan groaned inwardly. He was a man after all, and therefore, not immune to the charms of a lovely lass. She had responded out on the moors on their journey north. Perhaps she would respond if he kissed her again.

The gown curved inward at her waist, a perfect resting place for his hands. She pulled her hair back to one side and re-tied it with the ribbon. She bent her head low to unlace the garters under her knees. The nape of her neck caught Keenan’s gaze, that very spot he had glimpsed when she fled William’s room, the very spot he longed to touch. Och, this was insanity. Keenan glanced at the blocked entrance. It would take his men to free them unless he started hacking away with his sword.

“Enough of this dark talk,” Serena said with a forced smile. “Let’s talk of happier times. Have you kissed many girls?”

Kissed many girls? Knowing that he would die he’d wasted no time with the pretty lasses. “Aye,” he said, amazed at her switch in topics.

Her lips tensed into a false smile that looked more like a grimace on a carnival mask. “How many?”

“Dozens,” he said nonchalantly. Her teeth still showing, the corners of her smile faltered, and a hint of anger sparked in her eyes. He could melt that tension in her face, and if encouraged, ignite that spark into a firestorm.

“And ye?”

“Me?”

“Aye, how many men have ye kissed, Serena?” Keenan threw some more twigs on the fire even though it didn’t need it. Had she noticed his movements around the small space, like that of a caged animal?

“For women it is different. If I were to kiss dozens,” she emphasized his word, “I would be considered unclean, a whore perhaps.”

“Have ye been kissed by other than me?” he asked softly as if he caressed her rosy skin with his words. He watched her slender neck as she swallowed.

She nodded. She nodded to say yes, she had been kissed. By who, when? Keenan’s hand clenched along his side.

“I was to be married when I was thirteen, and Mari wanted me to know him better before the vows. He kissed me and,” she stopped. “And I knew I couldn’t marry him.”

Keenan crouched before her and tossed more twigs on the flames. “Why?” He leaned across to adjust the blanket around her. They were so close, nearly nose-to-nose.

“I could read his thoughts.” She paused and looked back into the fire.

“And his lustful thoughts scared ye,” Keenan said. Thank the heavens she couldn’t read his or she’d be the one hacking through the branches to get out of the cave.

“Yes, his thoughts worried me, but Mari had warned me what boys and men thought about with a woman. But that’s not what stopped me from wedding him.”

Keenan placed his finger under her chin.

“Why did ye na wed, Serena?”

Tears shone, brightening the violet hue. “He only wanted me because of my powers. Otherwise, I was an embarrassment to him.”

“The bastard told ye this?”

“He didn’t have to, I felt it in his touch.” The tear slipped out. His finger caught it near her temple. His hand cupped the side of her face and his thumb traced her cheek.

“He was a foolish boy,” he said. Keenan ached to wipe away that pain on her face, the loneliness. “Ye need a man, Serena. A man who reveres ye for who ye are, na for yer powers.”

She leaned into his hand. “Keenan, will you kiss me?”

His body and blood surged forward. His hand burrowed into the hair cradling her head. His lips met hers as his other arm wrapped around and cocooned her. She hesitated, timid in her virginity, but as he slanted against her lips, subtly caressing, she relaxed. A small moan escaped on her breath. Both of Keenan’s hands combed through her hair, brushing the ribbon to the ground.

A loud pop in the fire startled her and she tensed.

“It’s just the fire, relax, lass.” Keenan traced her face again with his hand.

She closed her eyes, her lips parted. They were just too perfectly pink to abandon. Keenan leaned in again. This time she returned the pressure from the start. Slowly, Keenan unwound the blankets from her body and lowered her backwards to the ground. He leaned over her on his forearms. Drawing back, his gaze raked over her angelic features and passion filled eyes. Serena’s quick breaths swelled her breasts upward to strain at the blue fabric.

“Keenan.” The passion in her voice pushed his conscience aside.

Keenan spread long hair out around her face. She looked like a sun angel fallen to earth. Bloody hell, he should stop.

Her eyes were half closed, sultry, bewitching. She was to marry Lachlan, but she refused. She wanted him, Keenan, not his cowardly brother.

“Kiss me, Keenan,” she said. Her hand wound around the back of his neck, her fingers spreading through his hair.

He descended, his intent filled with raw passion fueled by rage against the future. The smell of earth and fire penetrated Keenan’s senses. He pulled back, his sight taking in the mud and ash around them. He couldn’t take Serena here in the dirt. He shouldn’t be taking Serena at all.