Mistress of the Storm (7 page)
Or what she is
.
.
“She is an outsider. ’Tis too dangerous to have her here now,” Harald warned, stepping closer so no one else could hear his words. “I cannot allow her to witness the ritual.”
Davin had selected Harald for his trustworthiness and dependability. And his complete and utter devotion to Duncan for saving his sister’s life.
“We will observe her and decide if she is a threat,” Duncan offered.
“She
is
a threat,” Harald replied, stepping out of Duncan’s path. “I just do not understand why you want her here. Other than the obvious charms she offers.”
is
a threat,” Harald replied, stepping out of Duncan’s path. “I just do not understand why you want her here. Other than the obvious charms she offers.”
“I have decided to bring one woman with me to see to my needs during this time. Who better than a woman who makes her living on her back?”
Harald remained silent, not arguing or offering his opinion and Duncan worried over the trouble that could signal. They reached the door, but Harald remained there, not entering. “What about Gunna?”
“Gunna will be who she is, Harald. She will try to adopt another lost soul and care for her.”
“Is that what the woman is then? A lost and wounded soul who needs you to heal her, and Gunna to nurse her back to life?”
Duncan reeled back from that revelation. Was that it? Did the healer within him recognize the need in her to be healed? He’d noticed it happening more and more as the months passed—his healing abilities leaking into the days between the ritual, which always occurred when the moon reached its fullness. Did his power simply want to heal whatever was broken within her?
Relieved somehow at that explanation, he lifted the latch of the door and stepped inside. It was the main building on the farm and where his private chamber was located. The others slept elsewhere but the cooking and eating were done there. The house was not like others on most farms, for Duncan had designed it according to his needs and not the usual ones of a farmstead. He ducked his head as he entered and found Isabel sitting at the table while Gunna put food before her. A place had been prepared for him as well.
No matter the time of day, Gunna had something cooking in the pot over the fire. Porridge in the morning and a stew throughout the day. Anyone stopping there would be given a hearty meal before they continued on their journey. Her task in life was to collect and care for those in need and she relished it. Truth be told, he’d encouraged her for she made him feel as though he had a home.
Isabel did not raise her eyes from the table, nor did she begin to eat. Though he knew she must be famished from the day’s travel and meager rations, she waited without a word. He touched her hand and she startled, then recovered, allowing his hand to cover hers without moving it away.
“Eat,” he whispered as Gunna prattled on without pausing for anyone to answer the questions she posed. She didn’t notice the silence, but he did. Isabel spoke not a word except to murmur her thanks when Gunna placed another cup or bowl within her reach or refilled the one before her.
He ate, listening to Gunna’s lively chatter, picking out bits of news about the surrounding neighbors, about the villagers in Uig, and Gunna’s concerns. But he never took his eyes off of Isabel. He sensed she had closed herself off from him. Duncan asked a few questions of Gunna and watched as Isabel finished eating.
“Has Gunna showed you my chamber here?”
“Aye, my—” Isabel paused for a moment, not knowing whether or not to address him as lord among his people, who seemed more like his family than servants. All of them, from the field hands to the woman who kept house for him, treated him like kin, or the way Isabel thought kin would treat each other.
The woman Gunnhilde stopped and stared at her then, and Isabel knew she’d misstepped in some way. She knew the young woman was special to Duncan, and he would not have told her of his arrangements or of Isabel’s true place there. Whores were a fact of life but were not tolerated in a man’s home or around his kin.
Duncan squeezed her hand. As she dared a glance up at him he spoke softly, guiding her way. “Duncan.”
“Aye, Duncan. Mistress Gunna showed me your chamber.” Isabel also realized Gunna wanted to please Duncan more than anything in the world, so she continued. “And it is most pleasing.”
The woman smiled and nodded at Duncan.
“I thank you for worrying over my comfort, Gunna,” Isabel said softly. The warm surroundings gave a sense of intimacy to their conversation that almost put her at ease, but she knew better.
Every possible warning sounded to keep her from feeling too at ease there, among those people, with him. She needed some time and some space to gather her thoughts and her resolve. Looking around and then at him, she wondered if he would give her leave to go outside without him. Taking a chance, she rose from the stool and stepped away from the table.
“May I walk for a bit?” she asked.
Silence filled the house, only the crackling flames in the hearth making any noise. Isabel worried her lower lip, waiting for his permission, not daring to meet his gaze or to look at Gunna.
“You are my guest, Isabel. You may come and go as you please,” he said quietly.
She nodded and smiled at Gunna. “My thanks for the meal.”
Then she fled, one slow step at a time.
Chapter Seven
I
sabel left the house and followed the path away—the one they arrived on though she had no memory of the last half of the journey. Her body ached from the hours spent on the horse and each step she took began to ease the pains in her back and legs. She passed the men who’d been working in the fields and the one named Harald who’d spoken to Duncan in a frank manner.
sabel left the house and followed the path away—the one they arrived on though she had no memory of the last half of the journey. Her body ached from the hours spent on the horse and each step she took began to ease the pains in her back and legs. She passed the men who’d been working in the fields and the one named Harald who’d spoken to Duncan in a frank manner.
He knew who she was.
He knew what she was.
Isabel felt his gaze remain on her long after she walked by him, but she kept on walking. His attitude she understood, more than she comprehended Duncan’s. He confused her more with each encounter. A man buying a whore’s time for weeks? A man taking a whore to his home and among his people? None of that should have happened. She offered him nothing more than any other woman could—a night of pleasure, a bout of bedplay that would last for a few hours.
She turned her face up to the sky and watched the clouds gather and swirl. The storm had followed them from the coast inland and would strike soon. She tried to determine how many hours of daylight were left, but the darkness of the growing disturbance above prevented that. The winds grew stronger, blowing down the valley and over the farm. As her hair whipped around her she closed her eyes and let the power of the storm surround her.
The rains would be coming soon. They would be strong and would last for several days. She did not question how she knew—it had been part of her since . . . she could not remember when. Long-ago bits of memories came to her of her days as a child when she would warn her mother and their neighbors of the approaching rains. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Thinking back too far only made it harder to face the present.
Opening her eyes she found Duncan standing just yards away from her.
The winds caught his shoulder-length fair hair and blew it wildly. His amber eyes blazed like hot metal and she could feel wave after wave of desire pouring off him. Whatever feelings of lust he’d banked last evening, they were back in full measure. Clearly he was ready to claim that for which he had paid dearly. Looking around the area where they stood, she realized it was a secluded glen and not visible until one took the turn in the road to the east.
His people would have seen him go after her and would know not to follow them. Harald and the men knew her purpose there, for certain, and Gunna at the least suspected it. Isabel had caught her surreptitious glances, but did not want to speak of such things to such a young and innocent woman.
He took a step toward her and then another, and she found it difficult to breathe and impossible to move. How would she survive such an onslaught of sensations and pleasure if that happened every time they joined? Over the next weeks, every shred of control that she’d built up would be stripped away. She would be left with no way to protect herself, her heart and soul, from the damages of the life she led.
She’d sworn never to lie to herself and she just had. The control she’d fought so hard to develop as a defense was stripped away whenever she was in his presence. For whatever reason, she could no more play the whore with him than she could refuse him. What would become of her once they finished? What would happen to her with the next man and the next and the ones after those?
He stood but a few paces from her. He lifted his hand up and loosened his cloak, tossing it to the ground at his feet. Isabel’s body heated at the knowledge he would take her on it. The blood raced through her veins and her skin began to ache for his touch. Her breasts swelled and the sensitive folds in that place between her legs grew moist and throbbed at the thought that he would put his mouth there to lick and suck until she screamed out her release.
He tugged his tunic over his head and reached for the ties on his breeches. Her feet moved toward him before she could think. Her usual way of planning and carrying out a seduction was useless, for she followed her body’s commands and did what it wanted, pushing his hands away.
Giving in to the inevitable and accepting that she could not defend herself against the draw of the man, Isabel reached out and took hold of the laces of his breeches and untied them. His indrawn breath excited her and she fell to her knees to do exactly what her body was urging her to do—pull his trousers down and kiss a path down his thighs as the fabric gave way. Consequences be damned, for she would have to deal with them later, at a time when she had no choice but to face them.
Duncan had waited behind to speak with Gunna, to try to ease any fears she had about the woman he’d brought with him. He was not certain how to explain Isabel’s presence, for he doubted Gunna had been exposed to women like her before. She’d grown up in the small village of Uig, in a large protective family. She’d spent little time anywhere but within walking distance of the cottage where she’d been born.
But, as she had so many times in the past, Gunna told him that Isabel was a lost soul. She would not explain more than that. She’d reminded him Isabel could become disoriented in the thick woods at the turn of the stream and he’d accepted her dismissal.
However, he’d followed Isabel for his own reasons, too. He could tell she was still out of sorts from the journey, from waking up among strangers, and from being placed in the middle of a situation unlike any she’d experienced before. He’d made the final turn on the path and seen her ahead. She stood with her face lifted up to the sky and her eyes closed. A habit it would seem, for she stood just so on the beach when he watched her there.
As she knelt before him, he noticed the dark smudges of exhaustion under her eyes and the paleness of her skin. The position accentuated the graceful lines of her neck, her shoulders, and the womanly curves of her breasts. His hands ached to touch them. His gaze went back to the evidence of her lack of sleep and he swore to himself if she gave any sign of reluctance, he would stop.
But when she opened those earthy green eyes and met his gaze, he read her hunger and her need. Not to be the whore to him but to be the woman. His body was long since ready for her, ready to join with her and to claim her. Nothing, not even the strong winds swirling above and around them, not the threatening storm, would stop him.
Duncan felt the touch of her tongue on his hot flesh. He shuddered, then leaned his head back and let the sound of the pleasure she caused echo through the glen.
Thunder rumbled in reply and lightning flashed across the sky as she used her mouth up and down his prick. His hips arched, thrusting his flesh deeper into her mouth. He slid his fingers into her hair, freeing it to the wildness of the winds. She pushed him to the edge of release, then eased back, peering up at him from where she knelt on the ground before him.
He did not want her like that, in a position of serving him; he wanted to be deep within her, making her scream as he pushed them both to satisfaction. Duncan knelt down with her, removing her cloak and adding it to his. Then he guided her onto the ground and knelt between her legs. She opened to him, her legs cradling his hips. Sliding her gown out of the way, he eased into her, watching every move of her mouth and her eyes to gain some understanding of the woman he wanted with a growing desperation.
Her lips opened slightly and a breathy sigh escaped, making his blood heat. He surged forward, filling her until he could go no further, and his flesh swelled against the constriction of the throbbing muscles within her. He felt the sensations pulsing through him with each passing second.
Her gaze met his and neither moved nor breathed as their bodies remained joined. Lighting flared again in the distance and the rolling rumbles of thunder grew closer and louder.
Duncan smiled at her. “Not a good time?”
“There is time,” she whispered as she returned his smile with one that made him want to possess her mouth. “The rains will not reach us for nearly an hour.”
She’d spoken the words with such a tone of authority, it sounded to him as though she was ordering the storm to remain at bay. He leaned down and kissed her mouth. When she entangled her hands in his hair and held him to her, he tasted her deeply, enjoying the warm, wet heat of her mouth with his tongue the way his cock had.
He angled his hips and thrust again into her welcoming flesh. Ignoring the winds and thunder, he slid in slowly and withdrew at the same pace, trying to bring her to the edge of release. He paused and rolled, guiding her up over him. As she straddled him, he reached down and teased the sensitive bud that lay hidden inside the folds of flesh.
She arched at every caress, every touch of his fingers, and her deeper muscles clenched his cock. Isabel’s legs tightened around his hips as she lifted her body up, then plunged down to slide on his length. Clouds swirled above them, the patterns of dark and light mixing, making it appear as though she moved slowly over him. Her black hair outlined her body and her green eyes caught every burst of lightning, reflecting it back at him, giving her an otherworldly appearance.
He ignored the thunder. He ignored the winds. He ignored everything that was not Isabel, forcing them past caution and into the oblivion pleasure offered. She tossed back her head, crying out as her body shook and spasmed around his, causing his own release in that moment. The storm answered back. Lightning rippled through the thundering mass overhead and Duncan wondered once more about her affinity to water and her knowledge of storms.
She collapsed on him and he wrapped his arms around her, caressing her back as she, as they, regained control and their breathing returned to a slower pace. He remained within her, despising the feel of his cock gradually withdrawing from her heat. They lay in silence for a few minutes, but the storm grew louder and wilder around them.
“We have to go,” Isabel said as she straightened up. Still straddling him, she gathered the length of her gown and tunic and pushed herself to stand. “I was wrong—the rains are coming now.”
Duncan shielded his eyes and looked in the same direction she did, but could see nothing to indicate the rain would commence.
Isabel did not hesitate—grabbing his tunic and tossing it to him. “We must hurry.”
He climbed to his feet and tugged the shirt back into place. As he tied his laces, she shook out their cloaks and held his out to him. Instead of putting hers on, she began to walk away from him, back toward the farm. Duncan felt the first drops as he caught up with her.
As he watched she leaned her head back and let raindrops land on her face. Then she laughed and ran off ahead of him on the path. Her speed was no match for his, so he took her by the hand and led her, half running, half walking, along the narrow dirt path. Before they reached the outbuildings that might shelter them from the worst of it, the skies opened and torrents of rain poured down.
For a moment, he felt as though he was a child again, racing against the rains, trying to get home before a storm. Memories swirled in his mind much like the clouds—gray and white, dark and light, clear and muddied—as he tried to remember exactly what had happened. He had been thinking back on those tender years for some time, for it was difficult to face the end of one’s life without contemplating the earliest and happiest days of it.
With each step he took, holding her hand like the anchor it seemed to be, joyful memories flooded through him. His friendship with Davin, finding and saving Gunna, discovering his ability to heal others. The good things in his life. It was as if the rain washed away the fear and the doubt and the pain of all he’d lost and all he would lose if things proceeded as he thought they must.
For a moment none of that mattered, for her strength flowed into him and refreshed his spirit and his soul. If he was the one known for his healing powers, what was she?
They raced along, finally reaching the fence that marked the first of his fields. Soaked through to the skin, they ran to the door of the house and twisted out of their cloaks, letting the water drip on the ground. Duncan opened the door to check if anyone was within. When he found no one, he peeled off his clothes, then hers, and carried her inside.
He would have laid her on his bed, but she fussed about ruining the linens, so he set her on her feet and found a drying cloth. Wrapping her hair in it first, he drew out all the excess water, then rubbed the rest of her dry. He would have done it for himself, but she pulled the linen from his hands and dried him. Though it was not meant to, the feel of the fabric over his skin pushed him to arousal once more.
He would have taken her in that moment, but he remembered her exhaustion from the journey. To pursue her again would be cruel. Duncan told himself he had a month of her time and her attentions and he did not have to rush with her, but his body wanted more—and worse, his soul did, too.
She watched him in silence as he took the cloth and tossed it in the corner of the chamber. He walked around her, moved the blankets and furs from the bed and offered her his hand. As always, she did not hesitate to accept it. Duncan settled her in the bed, tucking the covers around her. She undid it all by lifting them for him.
“Nay. I want you to rest,” he explained. His cock disagreed, surging as he gazed down on her body in his bed.
A frown marred her face, her brows raised and her lips downturned. If he did not know the amount she’d cost him, he would have thought her a lover instead of a paid companion in his bed. He was about to tell her of the dark smudges beneath her eyes that gave away her exhaustion when he realized they were gone. Her skin was unmarred.
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