The Magic of Highland Dragons (17 page)

She could feel his heart pounding hard in his chest. For all his façade of control, she was affecting him as much as he was her. She wanted to cry. She wanted to beg. She wanted to go home. But yet she didn’t want to leave. Her thoughts were jumbled, confused, on the brink of some understanding that she couldn’t quite grasp. Not yet. She raised her head and sunk her teeth into his shoulder.

He growled and shoved her back down onto the table, this time following her, crushing his lips to hers in a kiss that was more of a retribution, for this little demonstration of her temper, and more: for all the confusing emotions she was making him feel, and the unsated lust that stayed with him day and night. The wanting of her that went beyond all logic and reason. He tasted blood, hers or his own, he didn’t know, didn’t care. She would pay for what she was doing to him. She was trying to scream, but his mouth was on hers. She tried to kick at him, but her legs were trapped by his. She was completely helpless; but somehow, he knew that was not how he wanted her. He preferred her fighting him to her being helpless, and he would prefer even more that she give him her passion willingly.

Across the room, Berta looked up at Colm, who had come into the room to speak with her and was now standing silently, his mouth hanging open in utter shock. For a moment he looked unsure whether he should intervene on behalf of the lass. The steward took a half-step forward, but immediately thought better of it, stepping back again and turning to Berta for guidance. Because he expected her to look as horrified as he was, he was more than a little taken aback when she beamed up at him with a girlish grin.

“Nay, leave them be”, she said in a low voice. “It looks like the laird has finally found his lady, if I dinna miss my guess.” A dreamy look came over her face. “Ah, young love! We’ll be having a wedding before too long, mark my words.”

Colm found himself gawking at Berta as if he’d never seen her before. “What did ye say?”

But she had already turned and gone back to her work, smiling and humming softly to herself.

Bren lifted his head a little to glare down at Faith. His breath was fast and shallow, and his body was raging, the slightest touch like a dagger to his skin. He was at his limit, and he knew it. He gritted his teeth, forcing his words out through them. “Ye want to work in the kitchens? Then work in the kitchens. I dinna care anymore. Just stay the hell away from me. Do ye hear me? I’m done acting the fool for ye. Ye willna tempt me any longer! I dinna even want to have to look upon ye!”

Her chin came up and her eyes were filled with angry defiance. “Actually, I think I’d much rather work in the garden.”

“Bloody woman!” He pushed away and left her there, still sprawled on the table. He slammed the door to the kitchen so hard that several of the pots clattered to the floor with a deafening noise.

Faith jumped at the sound and quickly pushed herself up from the table, looking to Berta with a pain and confusion in her eyes as Bren’s last words to her sank in. “I guess he wants me to stay away.”

Berta hurried to her side and put one chubby arm around her, pulling her head down to her bosom as a mother would comfort a child. The caring gesture only made Faith lose what little control over her emotions she had left, and she began to sob.

“There, there, dear. It’s all right. He didna mean those words, he meant quite the opposite, truth be told.

“I’m not so sure, Berta. I think I really made him angry this time. I don’t know why I said those things, and I don’t even know why I’m so upset about it! God, I’m so confused.”

“I ken ye are. But dinna fret, it will all work out for the best. And if it’s the laird’s intentions ye are worried about, I can tell ye this: he will not be staying away from ye for long. Mark my words. A day or two at most and he will seek ye out himself. His anger is at his own self, not at ye. Now, let me get ye a nice cup of tea, and ye’ll feel better.”

***

Bren lay alone in his bed that night, and he couldn’t find sleep. In truth, he’d thought the day would never end. After his confrontation with Faith in the kitchens that morning, he had been so riled that he went straight out to the practice field, swinging a heavy claymore as if it weighed no more than a feather, working his body until he was covered in sweat and his muscles were quivering, past the point of exhaustion. Even the rain did not slow him down. He had not seen Faith for the rest of the day, and wondered if she had finally chosen to obey him, just when he really didn’t want her to. He had lied again; not a good thing for a man who valued the truth so highly. He didn’t want her out of his way. The truth was, he was in his own way at the moment, and he only wanted her to come and rescue him from himself.

He absentmindedly gathered the shadows together to form patterns on the ceiling above, a trick he had learned when he was just a small child, to entertain himself when he couldn’t sleep at night, or when he had been sent to bed without his supper for some mischief or other. Which was often. But it wasn’t working, not tonight. There was a woman in this very keep that he wanted above all others, and she wouldn’t have him. So he had lost his temper and told her to stay away.
Stay away?
He pushed his hands through his hair. God! What was he thinking? Even now, he ached for her, as if there was an empty space within that could not be filled any other way. She was everything he’d always dreamed of. She was brave and kind, smart and passionate… and so much more, so many things yet to be discovered. And her undeniable beauty… that was a boon on top of everything else. She was everything he could ever want in a woman…or in a wife. If only that could be so. He sucked in a breath.
A wife
… He could see it in his mind, so clearly now. Faith at his side, in his bed, Faith with his own child at her breast. His heart swelled with emotion, and his lips pressed into a firm line of determination. She would be his. She had to be his. Any less would be unacceptable. Tomorrow then. Tomorrow she would belong to him, one way or another.

The next day dawned clear and sunny, only a few high clouds marring an otherwise blue sky over Creagmor. A rare enough thing in the highlands. Faith hurried to dress and eat so she could spend some time outdoors. And she needed to think. What had happened with Bren yesterday… she had tossed and turned half the night and still couldn’t get it out of her mind. She was going to have to make a decision. Being in Bren’s arms, having him kiss her, it was all-consuming, frighteningly intense. But now that she had felt that, she wasn’t sure she could go back to the way things were before, either. She barely knew the man, and yet sometimes it was as if she’d known him forever. It just couldn’t be right, the way she was feeling. It was too sudden, too soon, too… complete. She hurried out into the garden, hoping things would seem clearer with a little fresh air and solitude.

It wasn’t long though, before Fiona and Mathilde found her, urging her to go with them on their errand to collect spring medicinal plants to be dried for the still room. She held her breath for a moment when she saw them approaching, but it seemed Berta had kept what happened in the kitchens the day before to herself. Neither of them said anything to her, or acted any differently. They didn’t know, and she silently thanked Berta for her discretion.

Faith walked slowly through the meadow with the other women, helping to gather certain leaves or flowers that they showed her how to identify, which would be used throughout the rest of the year. Fascinated, Faith asked lots of questions about what the plants were used for, but Fiona and Mathilde told her she would have to ask Berta or Dirc. They themselves only knew how to gather them, and a few basic uses.

Even though the bright morning sun eventually faded and the sky became cloudy and grey, at least it wasn’t raining, and Faith was enjoying herself, was content even, having forgotten her problems for a moment. She listened intently to the gossip the other girls dished up, learning far more about life in the castle than she would have otherwise. It seemed Eian, a bit of a womanizer, was seen with two women behind the woodshed, all three of them caught completely naked by Berta, who was chasing a dog away from the kitchen door with her broom. While Drust, they claimed, couldn’t seem to be tempted by any woman, at least none who had tried so far. That, of course, made the lasses all the more eager to try, at least those not put off by his cold distance and constant fierce expression. Faith was practically holding her breath, waiting to hear what they would say about the laird himself, when they suddenly all fell silent. Faith turned and immediately saw the cause. Bren was coming towards them, his eyes on Faith, a rather fierce and determined look on his face.

Fiona grabbed her arm almost protectively. “What did ye do, Faith?” she whispered.

But she didn’t have time to answer. Bren nodded tersely to the group of women in acknowledgement, then looked straight at her, his eyes locked on hers with unmistakable intent. “Leave us, I need to speak with Faith, alone.”

To her dismay, the other women all turned on their heels and hurried back towards the castle, abandoning her without a second thought, and leaving her alone with the laird there where the meadow met the wood. So this was to be it then. And so very soon. Berta had been right, he had not stayed away.

He stepped close and held her by the arms, his grip firm, demanding she hear him. “Faith, it willna stop, this hunger I have for ye. I canna stop it, not even for a moment. Day and night, every damn hour, I want ye. I canna wait any longer. Ye have to give in to me now. Ye have to give in to what is between us.” He held her eyes, and she saw that he was determined this time to take what he wanted, consequences be damned. Honor be damned, too. He lowered his mouth to hers, and she held her breath as she felt the firm softness of his lips. Heat. And pounding hearts. The hot sharp scent of desire. He lifted his head a little to look at her, and her hands rose against her will to rest against his chest. A warm, solid wall of muscle under her fingertips. As she touched him, his expression changed so that it held an air of victory; triumph, as if he knew that now he held complete power over her. She would lose herself for certain this time, and then where would she be?
What
would she be? He lowered his mouth to hers again.
No!
“No!”

She pushed away from him, her panic rising, unreasoning and fluttering like a wild bird trapped in her chest. Instinctively she turned and ran, but she didn’t get far before she crashed hard into something.
A tree?
She opened her eyes… and screamed. Bren was right in front of her, his arms coming up to catch her and hold her close to him. But she had just run away from him, from where he had been standing… she glanced back… over there. He couldn’t be here in front of her, it was physically impossible! His arms tightened around her like steel bands when she tried to pull away from him, effectively stopping her struggle.

“Dinna run from me! Dinna ever run from me.” His voice was dark, insistent, dangerous.

“Let me go! Let go of me!” She was nearly screaming, angry, and frightened.

He didn’t seem to hear her. Instead, his eyes moved to her throat, to her rapidly beating pulse, and then to the thin leather cord still tied around her neck. As if transfixed, he reached with one hand and slid a finger beneath it, trailing slowly down her skin, holding his breath, lifting it slowly, slowly… until the dragon ring emerged from where it lay hidden beneath her clothing.

Now it rested against his open palm, and Faith saw his lips part a little in surprise, heard his breath hitch as he stared in astonishment at the twin dragons etched in gold. His eyes flew to her face, softened in tenderness and desire even as his face hardened in greater determination. And something else: a kind of possessive heat that threatened to consume her.

Bren stood motionless for several long seconds, hardly able to breathe. His mate. He had found her. The ring had found her. His days and nights of yearning for his other half were done, his loneliness was at an end. She was finally here. He should have known it from the moment he first saw her, and in truth his body had known all along, even if his heart was too jaded to see what was right before him. Powerful emotions welled up inside of him, finally unleashed. Finally, finally set free. A fierce wave of possession washed through him, quickly followed by a rush of desire so strong that he trembled with the force of it. His body hardened with a need that was painful in its intensity, and he knew that he had to have her, take her, claim her, or go mad.

Faith watched, mesmerized, as Bren saw the ring, and she saw the recognition flash in his eyes, just before they grew impossibly dark, holding her gaze with a predatory intent. She could smell the soft musky scent of his skin, feel the heat coming off him in waves, the subtle quaking of something powerful wakening inside of him. Wanting, needing, like a great beast woken from a long slumber. He had seen her for what she was to him, and she had seen him too.

She knew now she’d never had a chance, not from the moment she opened that box in the basement of the Smithsonian. No, before that. Maybe not even since the day she was born. She was always inexorably headed for this moment, she had always been powerless to stop it, and in truth it must have driven her all her life. Even in the very moment she had decided to steal the ring. It all became clear to her in that instant, like a door opening and showing her everything that had been hidden. She was not going back to the time she had been born into. She had never even had that choice. This was always her true home. And Bren… she couldn’t fight him any longer either. For whatever reason, for whatever purpose, he was her destiny. She could almost feel the scattered pieces of her life fall into place with a soft
click,
promising
to make her whole at last.