Song of the Highlands: The Cambels (The Medieval Highlanders) (19 page)

* * *

‘Twas many long, terror-filled moments later
before Robert jogged back to Morgana. Placing his hands on her
shoulders, he studied her visage and murmured, “There was naught
there, no one there.”

She stared up at him.
There was! There
was!
If only she could shout the words.

Her frame aquiver with uncontrollable
quakes, she collapsed into his arms, gripping tight to his back,
fisting her hands in his linen shirt.

“Fear not, you are safe. I’ll ne’er let
anyone harm you, Morgana. I swear this on my very soul. Do you
believe me?”

She didn’t answer, too shaken was she, and
needing first only the comfort and security of his strong embrace.
Somehow, he sensed her need, and stood there with her, holding her
tight for a sustained moment while her trembling waned.

After another short time, he touched his
fingertips to her cheek, touched his lips to hers, before slowly
drawing away. “What was it brought you out here in the middle of
the night?”

Her heart tripped. She opened her mouth to
explain, but then clamped it shut. Nay, she’d not betray Modron in
that way, nor her own shamefully inquisitive doings either. After
all, hadn’t Robert once told her he found such actions loathsome in
her cousin, Vika? Nay, she’d reveal naught of her reasons for being
here. So, she gave him a limp shrug.

“You told me you saw
Ankou
earlier.”

A shiver ran through her. She nodded.

His brows slammed together. “
Ankou
.
Aye,
Ankou,
” he said, and she heard a small thread of
disbelief in his tone. “ ‘Twas but another of your dreams,
Morgana.”

A dream!
She’d not dreamed
him...surely? She glanced back into the black void again. Or...had
she? She’d been frighted, she’d tingled with dread, had even
recalled her reactions as a bairn to the dark. And then he’d
appeared. Seemingly, out of nowhere. Added to that, were the events
of the past days; the visions with regard to the necklace she’d
found at the burn. She could no longer be sure. Mayhap, yet another
of her illusions had forced itself into her waking life. And this
time, she’d dreamt the creature had tried to carry her off, just as
he did the dead woman in her recurring vision.
This is some kind
of madness. It must be….

Her husband pressed his lips to her
forehead. “ ‘Tis all right, Morgana. You are safe.” He turned them
both in the direction of the front entry of the keep. After they’d
taken several paces, arm in arm, he leaned down and whispered in
her ear, “I have just the remedy for such night terrors. By the
time I’m done with you, you shall be too weary to wander about in
your sleep, or to dream either, for that matter.

In spite of her remaining nervousness, in
spite of her worry regarding her soundness of mind, in spite her
growing fear that Robert’s patience with her would soon begin to
thin, her pulse increased and anticipation took the place of all
her dread thoughts and feelings. She smiled up at him and gave him
an eager nod.

* * *

When all was quiet as a tomb for an extended
time, the apprentice risked rising and going to crack the door open
and peek out. The area was completely deserted. Awash with relief,
he let himself heave an audible sigh, then slipped from the chapel,
down the cobblestones, and, keeping to the shadows next to the
wall, headed for the courtyard and postern gate.

His partner would not be pleased at his
lateness. No doubt, he’d been waiting on the mound for more than an
hour by now. The apprentice had been hiding in the darkness, away
from the night guards’ eyes, when first the old maid of the mute’s,
and then the mute herself, had walked past him where he stood
leaning against the stone wall of the keep. The maid’s wanderings
he found curious, and may have followed her, had the mute not been
the better prize. In truth, he’d not had a plan. He’d acted in the
moment, wanting to frighten her, see if, with the addition of
force, her memory, her voice would return. But, clearly, it had
not.

Would he have killed her? Aye. No doubt. And
‘twas possible Donnach Cambel would not have been pleased. He
rubbed the puncture wound she’d left in his skin and recalled that
she’d dropped the brooch where they’d struggled. It took him only a
moment or two to retrieve it, wipe it clean of his blood, and drop
it nearer the end of the cobblestones just where the courtyard
began.

She’d gotten away from him, and he’d only
followed a step or two, before deciding his best course would be to
flee instead. But, he’d not, not right away. He’d lurked in the
blackness, watching her exchange with her husband first. Tho’ ‘twas
dangerous for him to do so, he wanted to know. Know for sure that
she did not, would not, could not identify him as anything other
than an unknown attacker. And his gamble had paid. For, she’d not
recognized him from his work here on the fortress. She’d again
thought he was phantasm—a harbinger of death. And mayhap he
was.

The wind was high this night, the moon full,
as he trudged across the glen toward the mound. To keep the hood
o’er his head, he held it on with his hand, and the hood flapped
against his cheek.

But there was still the question of the
mute’s mother. Where had she gone after her escape from Alaric? If
only she would show herself here! They could kill them both, and
then this plan they’d hatched would be finished. And he’d be a
wealthy man at last.

That missive they’d received from Donnach
several days past warned them of his worry that he is now under the
King’s suspicion once again. A merchant that Donnach had dealings
with told him that a proxy of the King’s had visited him, and had
queried him about his connection to the earl. Donnach wrote again
that he dared not be seen near this place, for fear, if death be
the mute’s fate, that ‘twould cast an even greater shadow of doubt
upon him with his liege once done. Tho’ truth told, the apprentice
thought ‘twas more the earl’s religious fervor, and his belief that
as long as blood was not directly upon his hands, that his sin was
venial, not mortal, and he’d not be eternally damned.

As he arrived at the base of the mound, a
figure separated itself from the dark night and moved toward
him.

“You are late,” his partner said.

“Aye.”

“Why?”

“I dozed, did not awaken until not long ago.
My pardon,” he lied. The deed was done, and all was well. Why give
his partner reason for fury toward him?

* * *

Robert shut the door behind him with a
click
and followed his wife, both with his eyes and with his
feet, as she moved with grace further into the chamber. His heart
was still beating faster than its normal meter, his worry for her
not near to lessened. Even tho’ he’d found no evidence of there
having been someone in the lee between the buildings, and even tho’
he was almost sure that what e’er had happened in the lee had been
part of the night wandering dream she’d been having, still he’d
have that area watched from this point forth. For this night, he’d
sent one of the guards below stairs to stand watch there the rest
of the night. He’d meant every word of what he’d vowed to her
earlier. He’d not allow anyone to ever harm her. Not
ever
.

His wife began to loose the ties on her
gown, and the sight of Morgana’s bare flesh jerked him from his
dour thoughts. He hurried to aid her, brushing her hands away. In
the blink of an eye, he had her exactly as he liked her best: Bare
from head to foot.

Resting his hands lightly on her hips, he
leaned down and opened his mouth o’er her nipple, suckling softly.
Immediately, she began to tremble, grew e’er more pliant in his
embrace. He used the tip of his tongue to torture the peak until it
puckered to the exact degree he wanted, then he began to do the
same to the other.

The flesh above her breasts was a fiery
flame. Her breath caught, then turned to pants as she dug her nails
in his shoulders. When her fingers began ripping at his own
clothes, he lifted his head and said, “Nay, not yet. Let me enjoy
you first with my mouth. Then, aye…. Aye, then.”

Her agreement was given with a jerky nod of
her head and he swept her up into his arms and placed her on the
stool she used when mending his clothes. His tarse grew another
painful inch remembering how oft he’d watched her doing so, and how
oft it led to him spending his passion ‘tween her thighs. But this
night, he wanted to make her burn for him as well, as she balanced
upon that stool, and again, and again, each time she sat upon it
thereafter.

On his way, he lifted a pale silver veil
from off the top of her clothing chest and tossed it o’er his
shoulder, then settled her upon the stool. She gave him a look of
such confusion, he had to bite back a grin. Coming down onto his
knees, he spread her thighs wide and gazed at the glistening dark
curls, at the lush red inner lips only slightly hidden now by the
hair. Sweeping a hand around her head, he held it in his palm,
leaned forward and kissed her hard on her mouth. She responded in
like fervor, gripping the back of his head in both her hands as
well. When he sent his tongue between her teeth, he sent two
fingers inside her as well and she broke the kiss, arched back,
opened wider for him, and began to undulate against him.

“Hold on to me, Morgana,” he said, and slid
his fingers from her. He made quick work of securing the long veil
around his back and under his arms, then released first one and
then the other of her hands from him and tied an end onto each
wrist, showing her how he wanted her to also hold tight to the
silk. The center of her eyes, black with desire, gazed at him with
confusion, but trust shown there as well, and as he knew she would,
she nodded her agreement.

He brought her into his embrace for a quick
hug, kissed her cheek, then pressed on her shoulders, making her
tip back, as he said, “Now, you’ll ride my tongue until you
shatter. Lean back further. Yes that’s right.” He began first with
her breasts again, because their taut peaks beckoned him, taunted
him. And as he did so, she dropped her head back and arched in to
him.

As he began to trail his lips and his tongue
down her torso, spending an added moment kissing her belly, as it
held his son as well, she gratified him by slowly leaning e’er
further backwards. By the time his mouth and tongue found her scut,
she was near to horizontal, and he used that advantage to press her
thighs open wider still. Her arms trembled with the strain, but she
took all that he offered, when first, he spread her lips and sent
his tongue deep inside for a long drink of her, before sliding it
out and using it to softly tickle the red scalloped folds.

Her breathing grew ragged, her skin, the
color of red berries, and it sparkled like the first dew of the
morn upon them. Her visage was contorted with the pleasure he gave
her—and the pleasure he withheld. She began to tug violently on the
ends of the veil, and he knew if she had a voice, she’d be
screaming for him to make her come.

Finally, he gave her what she begged for.
But not quickly. Not at first. Slowly, leisurely, until her head
began to toss back and forth, until she began to yank e’er harder
on the silk, until he at last gave her
exactly
what she
craved.

While his tongue danced and fluttered, he
sent two fingers deep inside her, pumping them in and out, reveling
in the cushiony, wet feel of her, the strong grip of her. The stool
had grown slippery with the mist on her skin, with the flood of
juices from her womb. He wrapped an arm around her back, just above
her bottom, to keep her atop her seat.

When she began to work and gyrate her hips,
when the muscles in her thighs, in her belly, in her shoulders
began to quake, he caressed just the right place inside her,
allowing her to go o’er the edge at last.

After the storm was over, he loosed her
silken bonds, drew her to him, wrapped her limp, lung-heaving form
in his embrace, then settled a soft kiss on the nape of her neck,
tasting the clean flavor of salt and Morgana. In the same movement,
he lifted her into his arms and rose to his feet, allowing the
silver veil to drop to the floor, then strode to the bed, made
quick work of undressing, then settled upon her, between her
thighs, and deep inside her.

A shudder of delight ran the length of him,
and he let out a loud groan.

He started to move, sliding, sliding,
sliding in and out of her slick heat. Beginning to tremble himself,
so ripe was he to spend, he pressed his fingers to her cheek,
turned her head so that she faced him now, and said, “Open your
eyes, Morgana. Take me to heaven.”

Languid with spent passion, her lids
fluttered open and she smiled. Tho’ her skin was flushed from their
ardent exertion, still he knew that she blushed as well, and it
made his heart expand in his chest. “Beautiful,” he said, and then
she began to strain beneath him, to caress his back from hip to
shoulder, to arch and open her thighs wider for him, and he knew
she was as close as he to gaining rapture.

Her canal convulsed around him and her head
went back. “Robert!” she cried out, and he bucked and strained,
ground out her name, then came along with her on a long shout.

* * *

Later, after they’d both cleansed themselves
and stood next to the bed, Morgana yawned so long and so hard, that
her whole frame quivered.

“You’ll sleep well now, I’ll wager,” Robert
said, and there was no mistaking the self-satisfied pride in his
tone.

Tho’ she felt her face grow warm, Morgana
could do naught but nod sleepily and tumble onto the bed. This
time, she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

* * *

Morgana washed and dressed quickly the next
morn, with the pressing intent of going back to the lee between the
keep and the chapel. She wanted to see for herself, in the light of
day, where her real life and her dream life converged. She’d
clearly used the brooch on something, whether imagined or real, she
knew not, for ‘twas no longer attached to her cloak. And there was
still some glimmer, some meager fraction of a glimmer of hope that
she’d find definitive proof that she was not going mad, was not
conjuring in her mind the events in the lee this night past.