Read His Enchantment Online

Authors: Diana Cosby

Tags: #Historical Romance, #Paranormal Romance, #Historical Paranormal Romance, #Highlands, #Highlanders, #Highland Warriors, #Scotland Highland, #Scotland, #Love Story, #Fae, #Fairy, #Fairies, #Romance

His Enchantment (7 page)

BOOK: His Enchantment
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Shaken by the depth Lord Grey made her feel, she shifted back to the safer, however unnerving, topic. “I still canna believe the bridge collapsed.”
“The falling trees must have weakened it,” he replied, his voice grim. “Against the weight of the avalanche, the aged bridge had nay chance.”
And she had almost died. She shivered. After such a terrifying event, how could she nae relive the near fatal moment? She would have nightmares, of that she had no doubt.
A blast of snow swept past the entry, erasing the forest or any other discernible feature. The howl of wind quieted, and the forest below came into view.
“Trálin?”
“Aye, lass?”
She replied, trying to keep her focus off their being alone, or how she wanted him with each breath. After saving her life this day, however much they’d tried to fight it, they’d formed a bond, which served to further complicate everything.
“You said there is a secret tunnel through which we can gain entry and reach the king?”
“Aye, once inside Stirling Castle, normally ’twould be easy to find where the king and queen are held,” he replied. “But as the king’s personal guard, if anyone is about there is the risk that I will be recognized.”
“How can we disguise you?”
He gave her a dry smile. “We?”
Realization hit her of his intent “You will nae leave me outside while you risk your life.”
“Catarine,” he said, his voice soft, “’tis too dangerous for you to come along. There is a place inside the tunnel where you will stay until my return.”
She crossed her arms. “We made a deal.”
“One that still stands.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You think I would expect you to assist me in finding the English knights if I do nae help you?”
“Aye. You need me to see if I can find any tracks.”
She shot him a withering look. “Like it or nae, I am going inside with you.”
Anger sparked in his eyes hot and quick. “You will remain hidden near the entry. ’Tis too dangerous, and I will nae risk your being hurt or worse.”
“And your life means naught?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “’Tis my king.”
“And my oath I have given you, one I canna break.” She unfolded her arms. “With my father a king, do you nae think I know the dangers, the risks involved?”
“Nay,” she said when he made to speak. “I am a warrior, trained to fight.”
“Bedamned, in Scotland women are nae warriors.”
“Exactly,” she replied, “so we have the advantage. The men who abducted your king will expect me to be little threat.”
“I—”
“What?” she demanded.
He arched a weary brow. “I do nae like it.”
A smile touched her lips. “Nor, as a stubborn Scot, would I expect you to.”
He grunted. “I may be stubborn, but I scrape the surface when compared to you.”
“You agree I will go inside with you then?”
After a long moment, he nodded.
Satisfied on this point she’d won, Catarine leaned back. “I assure you, you will nae regre—”
“As my wife.”
She stilled, the thoughts ignited by his words dangerous. Forbidden. “What?”
Laughter twinkled in his eyes. “Nae as my real wife, only a claim for the sake of cover.”
Unease flickered inside. “I do nae like it.”
He frowned. “Why?”
Did he nae understand? “While we are inside Stirling Castle, I can never agree that I am your wife. If so, we would be handfasted. The consequences of such to the peace in my realm would be devastating.”
Trálin stroked his beard. “You are a fairy, and nae bound by Scottish law.”
“But I am,” she replied. “Handfasting originated in the fairy world.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “You jest?”
Wind howled, and an errant burst of snow whirled inside as she stared at him. How she wished she did. “Nay, ’tis the truth.”
His smile fled. “How can that be? Handfasting has been a law of the Celts since before annals recorded the event.”
“Aye. ’Twas during the time when laws were passed by word of mouth that a fairy placed the notion in the mind of a sleeping laird.”
Trálin raised a doubtful brow.
“’Tis true. Though,” she said, recalling the tale told around a fire late in the night, “I would nae have wanted to be the culprit once the queen found out of their deed.”
“Why?”
“The law is sacred,” she explained. “One reserved for the fey. ’Twas never supposed to be shared with humans.”
He again drew his fingers through his beard. “Did they ever find who told of the tradition?”
A shiver swept through her. “Aye. He was banished from the Otherworld to Scotland,” she explained, her voice grave. “Never again did he see his family, those he loved.”
“He was banished to outside the Otherworld?”
The surprise in his voice was overshadowed by hope. Hope she didna wish to hear, or cling to. She nodded.
“Would a life in Scotland be so horrible?”
Nay, with you
’
twould be a gift
. Words she could never say. “’Tis a different life.”
“Mayhap.” He lifted her hand in his, pressed a soft kiss upon her hand. “If you were nae promised to another, and I asked you to remain with me in Scotland, would you?”
Chapter Six
If you were nae promised to another, and I asked you to remain with me in Scotland, would you?
At Trálin’s question, Catarine stilled, shaken by the pang of longing that filled her.
“But I am promised.” Nerves rattled her voice. As if she could remain unmoved at such a question? From the first they’d made a connection, one that with each day together grew stronger.
Their kiss held but temptations of what might be, and a hint of the possibilities. Possibilities, aye, and so much more she ached to know.
His gaze holding hers, he lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss upon her knuckles. “Why are you avoiding answering my question?”
Shaken by what he made her feel, she withdrew her hand. “’Tis unfair to ask me.” More so with them alone inside this cavern as the snowstorm raged outside and trapped her with him to face the dangerous truth.
Silence stretched between them, broken by the howl of wind and rattle of distant branches. “Because you are betrothed to Prince Zacheus?”
“Aye, but more, because ’tis forbidden for one of the fey to be with a human, or help them.”
He hesitated. “But you agreed to help me free my king and queen.”
“We are desperate to find who is behind the murder of my uncle, and I believe due to circumstance, my decision will be supported by my father.”
“And what of my question?”
She shook her head. “Regardless of my wishes, with the upheaval between the realms, ’tis a marriage I canna change.”
Tender green eyes watched her as he stroked the soft curve of her cheek. “But what if you could?”
Images of them living in Scotland flickered through her mind, of their laughter, the joy of waking up each morn by his side, and their nights of making love. She exhaled a shaky breath. What was she thinking?
“We met but yesterday,” she replied, frustrated she’d allowed herself to consider his words, more to be enticed by them. “I know little about you. By your actions I believe you are a man I can trust. But”—she shot him a warning look—“do nae think my attraction to you keeps me from noting your other less desirable characteristics.”
“My other less desirable characteristics?” he asked, the hint of a smile driving her frustration deeper.
“Aye, one being your arrogance.”
His smile faded. “Arrogance?”
Fine, let him be upset, ’twas safer. “Arrogant if you would think I would sacrifice my realm’s peace for you.”
A slash of red colored his cheeks. “My question nae has any consequence unless ’tis your desire as well in wanting what I ask.”
“I . . .” Her anger fell away. She was ashamed she’d become unsettled on but supposed circumstance.
He muttered a curse. “My apologies, ’twas nae my intent to upset you.”
Lord Grey was right. If her desire wasna the same, his question wouldna have mattered. “I was being foolish.”
He watched her for a long moment as if deliberating the safest way to reply. With a sigh, Lord Grey laid his head back and closed his eyes.
Frustrated at his silence when her mind lay in turmoil, she tugged the cape tighter. “Are you going to sleep?”
He peered out of half-open lids, then closed them. “Nay, I was thinking.”
“About?”
“How to conceal my identity.”
“Oh.”
“Methinks,” he said in a teasing tone, “’tis a prudent topic.”
And one
she
should have raised. ’Twas dangerous to linger on topics of
them
.
“I will shave my beard,” he said, “which should change my image enough for the brief time we will be in Stirling Castle.” He opened his eyes and drew his hands through the well-groomed curve of rust-colored hair. “Though, I will miss its warmth.”
His last comment pulled a smile to her lips.
“You find my freezing funny, lass?”
At the false despair in his voice, her smile grew. “’Twill grow back quick enough.”
He shifted to his side. “Easy enough for you to say, you have never had the luxury of a beard, nor the irritation of having to regrow one.”
A laugh slipped out. “Nor would I. ’Twould stir more than one tongue.”
A smile, full and wide, curved his handsome mouth. “It would.”
Her thoughts shifted to Stirling Castle. “If the castle is a massive labyrinth, how will you find out where King Alexander and his queen are being held?”
“I believe they will be held in the royal residence.”
“And if nae?”
He shrugged. “Then we will have to search, which is why I mentioned before that ’tis best to slip inside Stirling Castle late at night. There will be minimal guards about and most residents will be abed. The last thing they will expect is but a man and a woman to try and free King Alexander and Queen Margaret.”
True. Catarine took in the fading light outside the snow-smeared opening, the rough chill that, despite her every attempt to block it, slipped through her cape. She shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“A bit. More concerned for the safety of your king and queen.”
His mouth tightened into a grimace. “As am I. King Alexander will never comply with the abductors’ demands.”
And he and his wife would be murdered. Coldness swept Catarine, understanding too well the dangers a sovereign faced, her uncle’s murder and the current threat to her family proof.
“Are you hungry, lass?”
At the reminder of food, her stomach growled. Heat slid up her cheeks. “Forgive me.”
“’Tis naught to be embarrassed about.” He reached beneath his cape and withdrew a small wrapped leather bundle, then unrolled it.
In the dim light, she tried to discern the contents. “Bread?”
“Oatcakes,” he replied.
“I have never heard of them before.”
“A staple of Scotland. They will sate the worst of your hunger.” He glanced outside, where the wind howled. “As much as I would prefer a heartier fare, with the storm blowing and the snow cutting off any ability to see more than a pace ahead, ’tis foolish to try to weather the storm to snare a rabbit.”
She took the offered round, took a bite, and chewed. “They are made with honey?”
“Aye, to help bind the oats when they are baked.”
“My thanks.” She took another bite.
In silence they ate. Every so often, a blast of wind hurled errant flakes into the cave’s entry.
Another gust of wind swept past, and a large flake whooshed inside, spiraled deeper, and one landed on the tip of her nose.
Amused, Trálin reached over and wiped the flake away. “You look like a pixie,” he teased.
“Mayhap because that is what I am.”
The humor of the moment faded. “That you are.” In silence, Trálin ate his last bite. As if knowing she belonged to another made him want Catarine less? He cast a covert glance toward her.
Alone.
With naught between them but long dark hours ahead. And to stay warm, they needed to lay with their bodies close. Before, they’d had the warriors’ presence to smother any desire. Now, they had no one.
Catarine cleared her throat and edged closer. “’Tis best if we conserve our body heat.”
His body stirred, and he struggled to tamp down the desire. Failed. Bloody hell, they’d lain here but moments and he was in pain. By morn he would be in agony.
Tense silence fell between them.
She shifted. “The snow is coming down fast.”
Working to ignore the softness of her body against his, he studied the steep slope, the buildup against the large angled rocks. “’Twill be difficult travel for us and your warriors.”
“I pray they have found shelter as we.”
“If nae,” Trálin said, “no doubt they have built one similar to that we made last night.”
“Though I know my men will be fine, I canna help but worry.”
He sat up, secured the cape around her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Too much wind is coming in from the side,” Trálin said as he walked to the exit. “I need to stack a few rocks and sticks to make a windbreak.” And however practical, also to take a reprieve from lying next to her.
Boots upon rock scraped as she tossed aside the cape and started toward him. “I will help.”
An argument came to mind, but he dismissed it. She’d long since assured him of her independence and would nae appreciate his gallantry.
In short, they worked together to haul loose rocks and sticks to the western edge of the overhang, the icy wind quickening their pace.
As they settled back on their pallets, he reached inside his cape. “Did you want another oatcake before you go to sleep?”
“I am fine.” Catarine loosened her braid. Her blond hair spilled out in luxurious disarray.
Images of her naked and in his bed slammed into his mind. His body hardened. Bloody hell.
Her hands slowed. “What is wrong?”
Her innocent question served to fuel his lust-filled fire. “Wrong?” Trálin asked, fighting to sound normal.
“You look as if you are in pain.”
Pain? Nay, ’twas a poor choice of words for the way his body was burning for her. “’Tis only that I am exhausted,” he replied. “Naught that a good night’s sleep willna fix.”
“You are sure?” she asked, her voice sincere.
Blast it. If he caught more than a whit of sleep with her body flush against his, ’twould be a miracle. “Aye.”
She slipped beneath their makeshift pallet, tugged the cape up to her chin.
He gritted his teeth, lifted the cape, and climbed beneath. As if bloody decorum served him well when ’twas freezing? He lay with his body flush against hers. Heat, warm and luxurious, enveloped him—along with her scent of woman and innocence. He gritted his teeth. He could do this. Aye, he was a man who’d fought many a war, faced the toughest warriors.
Catarine snuggled closer.
Desire surged through him. “Lass,” he all but roared.
She sat up, the cape spilling to her lap. “You are hurting?”
“Nay,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than he’d meant. “Why are you shifting about?”
She hesitated.
“Tell me,” he said, frustrated with himself. ’Twas nae her doing that’d landed them here alone.
“I am cold.”
He almost laughed. Warmth, she sought but warmth, nae his touch or to have him slip deep inside her wetness, a sure way to forget the cold. He almost groaned at the thought.
“Come back under the cape, lass.”
“After you.”
“I am nae the one sitting up.”
“Oh.” With an exhale of exasperation, she lay beside him.
He tugged the cover back up over them both. “Good night, lass.”
Catarine turned her back to him. “Good night.” After a long moment, her soft sigh wrapped around him like a caress. What would it be like to go to bed each eve with her by his side? To have her turn to his touch?
A fine dream, lad. She’s a fairy and you’re a human
.
“Trálin?”
Her sleep-thickened voice was a luxury unto itself. One that he could listen to forever. “I thought you were going to sleep?”
“I will,” she replied. “But I just realized I have nae asked about your family. Do you have brothers?”
“Why do you ask?”
The cape rustled as in the dim light, she turned to face him. She shrugged. “Curious.”
“One. Faolan.”
“Gaelic for wolf,” she said.
“It is,” Trálin replied. “On the night he was born, a wolf was howling outside the castle. Our father thought it an omen. Hence his name.”
“Are you close to your brother?”
Memories of him and Faolan growing up flickered through his mind. “Very much so. Though I am firstborn and inherited the title of earl along with Lochshire Castle, ’tis nae a point of contention between us. He lives there now, caring for our home while I am away.”
“I am pleased to hear such,” she said. “Many a time the lust for power ruins a family’s close bond.”
Wind roared outside as Trálin folded his hands behind his head, laced them. That his brother chose to remain at Lochshire Castle and ensure it was well guarded pleased him, but how long would that be? Though their bond was strong, his brother had made known his wish for his own title and lands. Nor could he blame him.
“Trálin?”
The soft wisp of her voice wrapping around his name made him shudder with need. “Another question?”
“But one. Is there a . . .”
“On with it, lass.”
“Are you engaged as well?”
Stunned by her question, he stared at her murky form in the fading light. “You are a fairy and engaged, you know that I am attracted to you, and you want to know if I am betrothed?”
Catarine cleared her throat. “I never should have asked.”
Understatement. As if he needed a reminder that they were damnably attracted to each other.
Catarine rolled over, again putting her back toward him.
Thankful, he started to tug the cape up, when she inched back, her beautiful bottom a hair’s breadth away. As if a man sentenced, he exhaled. “Are you settled?”
“Aye.”
“Get some rest, lass. With the upcoming trek in the morn, we both will need all we can get.”
Silence, fractured by the howl of the wind, echoed through the chamber.
“Catarine?”
Her soft breaths fell out.
Hair slightly mussed, in the fading light, she looked every inch the fairy. Except, he’d witnessed her wield a blade. A fairy mayhap, but far from the delicate image from the tales bards told around the campfire. And for the next few days they’d be together. After, she would return to her world. Sadly, however much he wished otherwise, he’d have to let her go.
Catarine opened her eyes.
Blackness.
Curious what had awoken her, she pushed on the cold stiff cloth and sat up, bumped something firm. Memories rolled back in.
BOOK: His Enchantment
5.79Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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