Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture (23 page)

He pulled her up and rolled on top of her. Her body instinctively arched against his. “You are mine.” His warm breath brushed against her face. Two heartbeats passed. “Do you hear me? You’re mine,” he said more urgently.

“Yes.” Her voice was an intimate whisper. His lips tugged into a sideways grin.

It was the smile that made her bones go limp. It was his magick.

“Forever,” was all he said as he settled between her legs. Every inch of him was hard and ready. She focused on his lips while her hands ran over his body. The insistent need to touch him consumed her.

“Love me, Arik. Now.” She wanted to taste him, smell him, feel him.

He bent down and let his lips brush gently across hers. Arik soothed and calmed her with his touches and kisses only to build her heat and her passion. Tiny licks of pleasure shot through her while his erection pressed against her.

He slipped inside her and she let out a sigh of relief. “I please you,” he said his voice rough with passion.

She answered him by wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him closer. Heat rippled through her body as combustible desire ran through her with every stroke. As the last wave peaked, they both found their release.

He held himself on his elbows, his forehead touching hers. “You are my heart. I make love to you and want more. It’s never enough.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “I feel the same.”

He rolled onto his back and took her with him. “I’ve never stopped wanting you.”

“I wanted you when I saw you in the minstrel gallery,” she said and he squeezed her close. “Could we go back now while I remember?” She pulled away from him. She could see in his face he wanted to go back as much as she did.

He let out a breath. “You know I want to go back, too. But the only way you can be safe, that the future can be safe, is to deal with Bran now.”

The buzz of his cell phone interrupted. They ignored it.

“The portal is closed and Bran can’t create a new one. He can’t cross time. He was an enchantment at Skara Brae,” she argued.

“Yes but almost as dangerous as if he was here.” He didn’t have to tell her. She knew he was right.

“If the portal is closed, how did you get here?”

He pulled her back against him. “It’s a long story. I was fortunate. While Logan and I searched, George and Cora did, too. I came through the tower mirror.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m concerned about you. Until we know who started the fire, and if they are working with Bran, we can’t let anyone know your memory is back.” She started to object but realized that Arik was right. What would Bran do if he knew she remembered after he took such pains to make her forget?

“Especially Louise.”

“Louise?” She had suspected he didn’t like her. Now that she considered it, Louise had been getting more aggressive when they practiced since Arik arrived.

“She’s not all she seems. Fawning over me to anger you, and her aggressive sparring—no, we mustn’t let her know until the time is right. I keep asking myself why anyone would want to set fire to the mill. I don’t think Bill was the target. He wandered into the situation.” The loss of the mill would put a strain on the staff and finances. None of this was compelling. It had to be something else.

”Maybe it’s just kids and an accident.”

“If gasoline wasn’t involved I might agree with you. No, someone started the fire on purpose.” Rebeka smothered a yawn. She was going to fall off her feet.

His cell phone rang again.

She took it from his pocket and gave it to him. He swiped the screen. “Yes?…We will be there shortly.” He ended the call. “Come, it’s time to go back.”

“Now? This minute?” She pouted as he buttoned her nightdress.

“Come. It’s been an exciting night for both of us.” He helped her up. They put themselves together.

“Arik, what if my memory…?” She trailed off as she put on the helmet. “I’ll be with you. I suspected you’re free of the enchantment.” His words were encouraging but she sensed his concern.

“I told you, in addition to waking you with kisses I plan to chant to you every morning and evening if I have to.” He brushed his lips against hers. They got on the motorbike and rode to the manor. “Rebeka, I think you should move back into the manor.”

Rebeka’s back stiffened. “I assure you I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, I know you can. But a good warrior knows there’s strength in numbers. Until we know who is behind this, no one is to go anywhere outside the manor alone. Move into the manor. There is always someone nearby. The cottage is close but isolated. Once we catch who’s responsible you can move back.” They got on the motorbike in silence.

“You think it’s that serious? It was the mill that was set on fire, not the manor,” Rebeka said before he started the engine.

Arik said nothing. But she recognized his best intimidating stare.

“I’ll have Charles move my things later today.” He started the engine and they started back.

Rebeka leaned on the doorjamb and peered past the red velvet ropes into the lady’s chamber. Arik suggested she move into this room, but the suite with its soft colors and romantic decor was one of the main attractions of the house tour. Now she recognized the accuracy of the reproduction. She pushed off the wall and headed to the small room across the hall.

The door stood wide open. The warmth of the fire in the grate and the scent of lavender and rose brought back a rush of memories. This had been her room when Doward and Arik had first brought her to the manor.

The sight of Jeannie caring for the gash on her leg flashed in her head.

She had skidded down a mountain and cut it badly when she’d popped out of the portal into his century. That had been when she met the tinker, Doward. She let the memories settle before she entered the room.

“I still think you should be in the lady’s chamber.” Arik stood behind her, his hands gently on her shoulders. He kissed her neck.

Caught by surprise, she gasped as she leaned into his solid frame. She closed her eyes and stretched, hoping he would take advantage of the better access she was giving him. The warm breath of his deep chuckle on her neck made her melt. She tried to turn to him but he would have none of it. He held her in place and circled her with his arms, his hands across the top of her chest, his fingertips trailing over her delicate skin.

She felt his arousal and had no desire to move. His hands were gentle as they caressed her breasts. His lips left a trail of kisses along her neck and pooled on her shoulders. He was driving her wonderfully wild. She broke free and faced him. He titled her face toward him with the crook of his index finger and lowered his mouth onto hers. Everything he did, every touch, made her body throb for him. He swept her into his arms and carried her up the tower steps. At the top, he kicked the door closed and set her in the middle of the room.

“The beautiful tapestries are gone.” She was beginning to see what he had gone through for the past six months.

“I removed them for a good reason.” She moved to the walls. The flickering light made the magick runes dance across the stones.

“You’ve tried to find me for—”

“Six months. You sound surprised.” She stepped closer to the wall and with a tentative hand touched it.

“No, not surprised, fortunate.” She faced him. “I’m surprised that you would use Dark Magick.” She didn’t hide her concern. “I’ve developed a new respect for it.”

“I’d do it again to find you.” He would. She was more than fortunate. It was an odd feeling to have two memories of the same place, one where you feel at home and the other where you’re a stranger.

“George feels responsible for letting you go to Skara Brae. I’m as guilty for not teaching you about Dark Magick. If I had, perhaps you wouldn’t have—” She kissed his lips to shift his mind to another course.

What’s done was done. There would be plenty of time to go over it. Right now she didn’t want to talk about Bran or Dark Magick. She held his face in her hands. “I love you. I can’t find the words to tell you how much or how deep. You’re a wizard.”

The corner of his lips tugged in a boyish grin that made her insides flutter. His eyes glistened with promised passion. She snuggled in his arms longing for his touch, licking her lips in anticipation.

“Then let me bewitch you, again.” His voice was soft and seductive. She closed her eyes and surrendered to his magick.

“Have you gone through the files of all the men?” George said as he sat across the table from Arik. They both worked on their tablets.

“Yes,” Arik said. He could use Marcus right now to manage the training and patrol schedule. “A hundred and fifty men, six squadrons at most, aren’t enough. I’d feel better with at least another hundred and fifty. We don’t need to patrol the outlying countryside—only protect the manor and mill.”

Arik leaned back and glanced at George. “In my time I could easily call on my neighbors for support. Here it’s not so easy.”

George had his eyes on his screen. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Training’s a challenge. We need more equipment.” Arik pushed his chair back and stared out the window. “The only way to stop Bran will be to fight, the old way—with swords.” His hope for a settlement, a truce even, had faded.

“Our immediate need is to protect the manor. The training and maneuvers had an added benefit—the authenticity would draw more visitors.” Arik and George had gone over every soldier’s file in order to discuss them with the major. It would be difficult to protect the manor with one hundred fifty men but not impossible.

“We should take an inventory of the weapons as well,” Arik said.

“We created a war room in the garden house museum. Let’s see what’s there.” George turned off his tablet.

The grounds were empty and quiet when they left for the garden house. Exceptionally quiet. In the distance the sound of tramping feet reached Arik’s ears. They both stopped and glanced over their shoulders. They focused on the sound’s direction. It came from the road that led to the lake.

Two lines of men jogged toward them. The major gave the cadence and the men halted. Another beat and one hundred and fifty soldiers pivoted like a well-oiled machine. They faced Arik and George. Each man stood at attention while Arik reviewed the troop. Were these the same men he’d seen a day ago?

“Sir.” The major gave Arik a crisp salute.

“Major.”

“When we returned from the fire we realized the manor was, well, sir, under attack. It wasn’t difficult to see it was sabotage. I took the liberty of establishing a perimeter around the mill. A chain-link fence is being installed and our men will patrol until further orders.” He may not have Marcus but he had the major. He knew he had the men he needed.

“Very good, Major.” He wouldn’t have to encourage the men to train. They were already motivated.

“We also decided we’ve been sitting around too long. We were lucky last night but unprepared. We’ve upped our daily training. We’re on our way to the practice fields.”

“Thank you.” He passed among them. “I know Dr. Tyler appreciates your dedication and so do I.” He continued to address each man separately, thanking them for their help, asking them about their bruises and burns. When he was done he stood next to George and the major. “What’s your plan?”

“Exercise in the morning. The men will rotate standing guard, working at the mill and restoring the village as planned. Yesterday we evaluated the wall around the manor. The person who built it did a good job of preparing it for defense. We’ve developed a watch schedule, should we need it. And, sir, we know of others who would be interested in signing on.” Arik welcomed that news. Now he understood why they called this man Major. He was competent, forward-looking, intelligent and courageous, the qualities he demanded in a leader.

“Very good. We’ll talk about the details of your plan later. Don’t let me stop you.” He started to leave but hesitated. “I might join you at the practice field when I’m done.” He had always trained with Marcus and the men. It would feel good to get back into that routine.

The major’s face lit with a wide smile.

It was good to know the men had taken the threat seriously. Very good. The major gave the order and the soldiers wheeled into position and started off at a jog. He watched the tight line disappear down the road.

“If the men are going to train, we better find them weapons,” Arik said. He and George continued on.

“They’ll need to be repaired. We had them all rebated,” George said.
Faith
. He hadn’t anticipated the points and edges would be filed flat. “They were all high-quality pieces. Once you review them we can decide what to do. I know a few artisans who can do the work.” Arik nodded. Another obstacle.

They entered the museum and headed for the weapons room. Swords and claymores hung from the museum walls in a deadly mosaic pattern. There were battle-axes, throwing axes, long bows and halberds. Taking care, Arik hefted the claymore to judge its weight. He didn’t have to touch the edges. He could see George was right, all the points and edges had been filed flat.

“As weapons, these are useless.”

George made notes on his tablet. “I’ll make a few calls when we’re done.”

“It will take a smithy months to restore all these.” He gestured to the wall.

George flashed him a smile. “The first building we’ll restore will be the smithy, then the bakery. We’ll get a team together. There are techniques and machines that we can use behind the scenes to move this along. For the other weapons, we can put on demonstrations for our visitors.”

He glanced at George. For a moment he saw Logan. He would have enjoyed this adventure. But as much as he enjoyed George, Cora, the major and the men he didn’t waver in his desire to return home. But not until he and Rebeka were finished here.

“Done here,” George said as he turned off his tablet.

“There is one other place where we’ll find weapons.” They left the garden house and headed toward the garrison. He hoped the weapons there hadn’t been tampered with.

Arik opened the sanctuary. Once inside the cavern, with a nod, he indicated the correct tunnel and headed to the armory.

The gate stood solid and secure. He touched the lock, released the spring and entered. His eyes followed the light as it revealed the accumulation of weapons and chests. He cleared his mind and centered himself. Beneath his shirt his runes warmed and glowed. An envelope, with his name scrawled in his brother’s hand, rested atop a velvet cloth that sat on the large table in the center of the room.

Brother,

As I promised, Rapture will always belong to its rightful knight and leader, as will your ring. Doward and I sit a nightly vigil in your tower awaiting your return.

Logan

He removed the cloth. The sheen of oil on the blade made it gleam in the flickering light. He touched Rapture’s hilt and sensed his brother’s presence. He wiped the blade with his hand and knew Logan hadn’t used it. He removed his hand and the visions faded. Now he understood Louise’s words. The sword hadn’t been lost. Logan had locked it away.

Its magick was intact.

He held his signet ring and he felt the connection to his past. He saw each Grand Master’s face and heard each voice. “To hearth and home,” he murmured to the shadows and detected their reply.

He handed the blade to George and watched his eyes widen with respect as he turned it over.

“Amazing.” He turned to Arik. “I can feel the touch of each Grand Master.” He examined the blade. “It’s an honor.”

Arik took the sword from him, returned Rapture to the table then covered it with the cloth. He and George turned to the racks of weapons that lined the walls. “These are battle ready. They’ve been oiled and preserved with care.” George checked the edges of a nearby axe. Arik surveyed the bows as well as fletching and arrowheads on the cache of arrows. He thumbed the edges of the halberds, swords and claymores.

“You’re right. They’ve been well preserved.” He let out a sigh of relief. There were enough weapons for half a legion, twenty-four hundred men.

“Our men don’t know how to fight with these weapons.” George shook the halberd in his hand. “This is a large undertaking.” He returned the long two-handed spear to its place.

“I know it takes men years to learn the blade but half the work is done. Each of these men are battle tested. What they don’t have in years they’ll make up in heart.”

“You make it sound so simple.” They left the armory. Arik locked the gate behind him.

“It’s a simple solution but one that entails a lot of hard work,” he said over his shoulder. “I didn’t say it would be easy. Come, I want to see the men training.” George followed him out of the sanctuary.

The grunts of the men on the practice field were a familiar sound. He joined the major and watched the men for several minutes as they practiced hand-to-hand combat. Any doubts he’d had vanished when he watched the exercise.

There wasn’t one among them that wasn’t working with a full heart.

“Do any of the men know how to use a sword?” Arik asked. He was already evaluating the men for which weapon would be best for them.

“Some have fencing experience.” The major turned to him. “Will they be fighting with broadswords?”

“The men will be training during the day, with visitors watching. Dr. Tyler tells me that’s what they want to see.”

The major let out a snort and turned back to his men. “It’ll be a good disguise.” He added
straightforward
to the major’s list of leadership qualities. He was more like Marcus than Arik first believed.

“I’d like to see who has the most promise. Put the men into groups of fifteen. Each will have a sword master to lead them.” He was already planning the training sessions. They’d have to start with the basics but hoped they would excel quickly.

“Sword master? How will we find sword masters?” He wasn’t surprised by the doubt in the major’s voice. George told him it was a dying art.

“The same way Mr. Hughes and Dr. Tyler found the others for the reenactment—they’ll audition.” Arik smiled. “We’ll show them a sword fight then see who has an interest.”

It was a crisp and clear afternoon. Invigorating. The turf covered practice area was a flat open meadow next to the planted field. It was a patchwork of beaten down areas, some scrubbed down to the bare earth from the men’s war games.

The ring of steel hitting steel echoed across the field. Arik rallied to George’s aggressive attack as their blades flashed in the sun. He was impressed with George’s ability and technique. In a well-planned maneuver, George had bested him sending him to the ground much to his surprise. For a few moments, Arik was himself, a seventeenth century knight and lord, filled with relief and satisfaction. He had his Rebeka and soon they would return home.

“It looks like we’ve got quite a crowd,” Arik said to George as they continued to parry.

One barrage from Arik caught Hughes off guard and sent him on his ass. Arik immediately brought up his blade. “That makes us even.” Arik extended his hand to George. “You fight well. I would have you on my side of an argument. Perhaps you should’ve been a knight instead of a barrister.”

“That’s high praise coming from you.” George pounded Arik on the back. “Again? Tomorrow?”

“I look forward to it.” George was better than he had anticipated. He’d enjoyed sparring with him.

George stood close to Arik. “Do you think this worked?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Arik scanned the onlookers. “It seems to have piqued their interest.”

“This was a good idea. Let the men want to learn how to use the sword. I’ll teach them what I know. I’ll meet you in the garrison. I think you’ve made a good decision. The major has handpicked each man. They are a loyal lot and trustworthy.” George gave Arik his sword and left.

“Lord Arik?”

“Yes?” He turned to see Joan standing in front of him with a towel and bottle of water.

“I thought…” her voice was a whisper. “I thought you would need these.” She laid her hand lightly on his knotted forearm then quickly pulled it away.

“Thank you, m’lady.” He tilted his head in acknowledgment. He looped the towel around his neck and drank the water.

Several of the men gathered around him. Arik watched them and followed their eyes. They were glued to the two swords.

He reviewed the men and picked Steven, one of the men with the best potential. His movements during training reminded him of Logan.

Stamina was another issue.

He handed the man the sword.

“It’s heavy. You and Mr. Hughes made them look light.” The man hefted it—judging its weight, evaluating it. A man had to know his weapon in order to command it. This man showed a lot of promise.

“How does it feel?” his friend Jaxon asked.

“It’s odd but it feels right.”

“That’s because of the balance. Most men have swords made for them. The weight and balance make all the difference.” Arik gave the towel and bottle back to his admirer. “Take your position,” he said to the soldier.

A broad smile spread over Steven’s face. The others moved back to their circle. The crowd hushed and waited.

Arik took the defensive position. He let Steven lead the attack while he evaluated each step and move. Steven’s movements were labored. He forced the sword through the air, putting unnecessary stress on his body. His movements weren’t smooth and he hadn’t found his rhythm, but that would come with practice. However, if he didn’t change his tactic he would tire quickly.