Ria Cantrell - Celtic Storm 03 (34 page)

Erik was charmed. Not only was his wife smart and gifted, she was quite the vixen when she was determined about what she wanted in their bed. He had no complaints about that. As he lay there, seemingly defenseless before her, she put the salve aside and she began to torture him with love bites and kisses. She nipped his neck and she growled close to his ear, “Silly fool, fighting on your wedding day.”

Erik laughed, but she was right. He was a fool. Risking being with her this night was not worth any male hissing that he and Randall had done at each other. He tried to pull her down to kiss him, but she would have none of it.

“No, knave, this is mine,” she said, not so convincingly. It almost, in fact, sounded like an endearment. Her teeth trailed lower, lightly catching his flat nipple and she felt him tense beneath her fingers and mouth. Resting her head below his breast she looked past his waist and saw he was hard and ready. She hissed, “Mmmm, good, it seems your folly has not caused damage to this.”

Her hand closed around him and he let out his breath. He had not realized he had been holding it, but as he felt her take him into her warm hand, his breath escaped his lungs. He rasped, “Rhianna…please.”

“Please what, Rogue?”

Erik could not answer because he felt her mouth kiss over the marred flesh where the purpled mark gave his morning sport away. The muscles in his stomach and groin tensed as her hand glided over him, softly pumping up and down the rigid length of him.

“Love, please,” he pleaded.

Again she asked, “Please what? Please touch me?”

“Mmm.”

“Please kiss me?”

She asked as she then placed her lips to his manhood. It was too much for him. He was afraid he would dishonor himself right then and there. Sitting up quickly, Erik took her shoulders in his strong hands and he kissed her mouth deeply, sealing his lips to hers. He felt her tongue duel with his and anger be damned! He knew she wanted him badly.

As he moved her back beneath him, he raised the transparent night rail above her thighs. He felt her legs part in welcome as he sank between them and it was all he could do to not plunge into her. First he wanted to be certain she was ready, for he never wanted it to hurt her, so he opened her up to him, with carefully probing fingers. He moaned as he found her deliciously wet.

“God’s teeth,” he muttered as her dew dripped onto his fingers. Drawing her legs around his hips, there was no more thought given to any of his bruising. There was only one thought on both their minds and that was for him to be inside of her. As he sank fully into her, he heard her gasp and he searched her face to assure himself that he had not entered too quickly. Her lips were slightly open and her eyes were half closed. Nay, she did not seem to be in any discomfort whatsoever. Nor, for that matter, was he. He felt her nails digging into his buttocks, pulling him to her and he obliged her by moving completely against her. What began as slow thrusts soon turned to quicker rocking. Erik felt the amazing way Rhianna squeezed him from within herself and it was almost more than he could stand. His voice caught as he heard Rhianna sighing in soft moans of pleasure. He was a lucky man. This woman was his equal in his bed and he could not have been happier. He loved that Rhianna was sensual and that she enjoyed making love with him. He felt her body rise up to meet his thrusts and he found a perfect rhythm with her. This time, it did not seem to take either of them long to get to the place where there was no holding back.
Ah, well, it would just mean they could go slower the next time.

Rhianna arched up and cried out as Erik’s seed filled her. In the sweet release and the dreamy moments after, Rhianna heard Andarra’s words resound in her head, “You will conceive on your wedding night.”

She was not certain that it was so at
that
very moment, as they lay spent and gasping in the afterglow, but Rhianna knew that before dawn, Erik’s babe would be growing inside of her. She was sure of it.

~Chapter Forty-One~

Devina did not want to go back to her cottage. She had failed the dark lord of Morcar Keep badly. He would be waiting for her, no doubt and would seek retribution against her. She could only imagine what he had planned for her. As she drove her mule cart into the cooper’s shed, with trembling fingers she unpacked the wares. She needed to think. She would have to get away. Even though she knew he would be able to find her, she had to try. Perhaps if she could sneak out in the night, she would have better luck evading him.

As the last items were unpacked into the shed, Devina made her way quietly to her cottage, lest Aaron lie in wait for her. He had a sinister way of hiding among the shadows and she did not know when and if he would make his presence known.

She turned the latch of the door to her cottage. Something was amiss. It seemed like it was almost too quiet. Devina did not even hear the sounds of the breeze on the trees. Her hand paused as she warred with herself to open the door. This was wrong. She could almost taste it. She had the momentary thought to flee. With her heart thudding, she shook herself from her feelings of superstitious foreboding. Could she just be scaring herself silly for no reason?

As she pushed the door open, she had not been prepared for what lay in wait for her. As a gasp died on her lips, a hand raised to her mouth as her eyes took in the horrible sight before her that she nearly could not comprehend. There on the floor, crumpled like a rag doll was her daughter. The livid purpling of hand marks around her throat was evident. Her head hung at an unnatural angle and it registered in the fog of Devina’s mind that no person could yet live with a neck bent that way.
No! She was dead…her little daffodil was dead.
She had been strangled, and her neck had been snapped. Devina did not need to wonder who had done such a thing. She knew. By all that was unholy, she knew.

The evil specter and perpetrator of the heinous deed seemed to slither out of the shadows. He stood over the broken body of Lenore with a hideous leer on his lips. When he spoke, it sounded as if hell had opened and the graveled voice taunted, “I see your daughter was not able to return to du Montefort Keep. Such a shame,” he said whisking his lips to form a tsk tsk sound.

“It seems she was affronted by my visit. Not a very gracious hostess at all. You have taught her well to bare her talons for she nearly clawed my good eye from its socket. I could not allow that, I’m afraid.”

Devina had thought to do the same, but she knew her strength was no match against this big bulk of a monster. She could not look at Lenore. It seemed that there was some things in the world that could make her cry after all. As tears threatened to surface, she mumbled, “You did not have to kill her. It was not her fault that she could not gain entry.”

“Ah, but you see, I did have to kill her, for how else would you know that I am not a man to be thwarted of my plans? I think perhaps you thought I jested when I said how important the information of the wedding plans and the goings on inside du Montefort was to me. Now you know that I will have what I need.”

“I knew, but.…”

“Perhaps, it will be better for you, for surely you were able to deliver my special gift to the wedding party.”

Devina stammered, “Y-yes, of course.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I gave it to the lady’s personal guard. H-he assured me he would see she received it.”

Devina was amazed how easily that lie came to her lips. In fact, she had dropped the cask on the way back from the keep at the side of the road. She was certain that the tincture Aaron had made her swab inside of it was some sort of poison. She wanted no part of it once she had been denied access to the wedding celebration.

Aaron pulled his hand from behind his back holding the cask out before her. How could it be? How could he have it? He was bluffing…it had to be a different vessel.

“Interesting. I found this on the road on my way here.”

Impossible…he had arrived long before her, how could he have found it? It could not be the same one.

“That is not--not the same one. I--I delivered it. I did.”

“Did you?”

Devina nodded, starting to feel panic rise inside of her. With two large strides he stood before her and he grabbed her by what was left of her hair.

“Then you shall have no problem drinking it, should you?”

Devina had no choice but to now admit that she had tossed the cask off on the side of the road. She began to plead for mercy as she mumbled an excuse of why she had cast off the cask, but Aaron Jasper, the lord of Morcar gripped her scalp as if he had claws and he pulled her neck back. Seeing what he had done to Lenore, Devina had no doubt he could snap her neck with one hand. As she tried to beg him for her life, he poured the contents of the cask over her lips. It tasted bitter. Devina sputtered as he continued to pour the soured wine over her mouth, dribbling it down the front of her bodice. He growled, “You stupid fool. This is not the poison you thought it to be. I may have some powers, but conjuring items from one place to another is not one of them. I knew you would not have finished your task. You gave yourself up without much help from me.”

Twisting her arm painfully behind her back with one gloved hand, he dragged Devina out before him. “Wh-what are you going to do with me?”

“What indeed? You are of no more use to me now, but I cannot leave you to wag your nasty tongue, can I? One thing you are good at is gossip mongering.”

Taking an oil lamp that had been lit in the corner of the hovel; he tossed it onto the roof of the cottage, setting the thatch ablaze with just a few sparks. Devina stared in horror as the whole thing became engulfed in flames and she watched what was left of her life go up in smoke. He thought he heard her murmur, “daffodil” and he shoved her onto his horse. His bloodlust had not been abated as he thought it would be when he wrung the neck of that ugly little whore. Usually, when he committed violence, the need to commit it again would take a little time. Not so today. He supposed it was because the more he wanted the black haired witch for himself; the more his lust for violence would not be quelled.

He actually heard the trollop before him whimpering and it was enough to grate on his nerves. He leaned closer to her, his fetid breath rancid against her cheek and he said, “Cease or I will be happy to slit your throat from ear to ear and leave your carcass on the side of the road as carrion for the crows.”

He was not certain why he actually took her with him and had not dispensed with her, but he thought that perhaps he could still use her. He certainly was not done punishing her. Aaron took great pride in his ability to cause suffering and pain to another person. He had given his heart over to the devil long ago. There was nothing that brought him more joy than to inflict agony on another human being. Why just the thought of doing it brought hardness to his loins. Yes, the overused harlot would be useful for something, but he had not decided what exactly.

~~~~~

As night fell, Aaron Jasper and his unwilling guest approached Morcar Keep. The sinister looking place was even more daunting in the hours when daylight faded from view. Devina twisted in the saddle knowing that this time she would not be leaving the place. Not alive, anyway. She knew that for certain. It was too late to try to get away. The wine that was poured on her lips may not have been poison, actually, but there was something strange in it. It took the fight out of her and made her cease any struggles. No doubt it was laced with something. Mayhap it was the shock of seeing Lenore strangled; Devina knew not. She thought perhaps to try to do anything to survive, but at the moment, she could not think of a viable plan. It was too late. Nothing she could do would save her now. She thought to take Aaron Jasper’s dagger and plunge it into her own heart to spare herself from whatever he had planned for her, but her arms felt heavy and she could not seem to move them through the sluggish haze.

The massive horse clattered over the drawbridge and Aaron Jasper tossed his reins to his groom. Yanking the stinking whore from his mount, he dragged her into the entry of his keep. God’s bones, she was a pathetic mess. Her odor was more foul than his own. He decided he would test some of his potions on her. Yes, that could prove to be amusing, and when he was finished, he would toss her into the oubliette and forget about her. Then he could set his sights on the final trap to snare the du Montefort witch, but first he would have to see a way to level his playing field. In the meantime, he would satisfy his sadistic needs by watching the hag before him squirm and cry in pain.

He had her stripped and tied to a column in the center of the main hall where he had her flogged and beaten. He burned her clothes in the great hearth because he was certain they carried every sort of vermin known to man. He salivated as he heard her scream with each lash mark. He would test his potions on her open welts once he untied her. Hearing her blood-curdling screams made it worth all the trouble she had caused. He had thought that once he had Rhianna du Montefort in his clutches, he would enjoy flogging her as well. He was, however, rife to mar Rhianna’s beautiful flesh because he wanted it perfect and white when he took her, so for now the beating he was granting to Devina would suffice. If he would have to inflict pain to subdue the sorceress, he would do it to her where it could not be seen on that flawless skin. For now, as his bloodlust coursed through him, Jasper would try his varied tortures out on the disgusting bit of trash he had taken from the town. She would pay for lying to him and for the failure to do his will; most of all for the failure to help him gain his most cherished prize. Yes, this one before him would now suffer and Aaron Jasper was going to enjoy every minute of it.