Soul Magic (12 page)

“I--”

He leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers. She stood her ground.

“Fae cannot lie,” he reminded her.  “I want to kiss you.  Tell me your lips do not tremble for the touch of my mouth.”

Truth
.

She gasped.  She couldn’t run, had nowhere to go.  Truly, her back was up against the wall.  Her rapid heartbeat returned full force, and she had difficulty breathing.  To be perfectly honest with herself, she had to acknowledge all of what she felt wasn’t only fear.

Desire
. 

She felt desire.  Long forgotten, long buried deep inside her.  She desired Darrick, wanted him in the way a woman wants a man.  This shocked her.  Horrified her.  Terrified her even more than the irrational panic the touch of any man – human or Fae – wrought.

Desperate, yet still unable to lie, she slipped under his arm and moved away.

“Don’t touch me.” She couldn’t look at him.  “All things change.  Do not speak to me of this ever again.”

“I would never hurt you.”  Frustration deepened his voice. 

“No one will hurt me, ever again.”  While her tone was fierce, she kept her face averted.  This
was
Darrick, after all.  She feared he’d be able to read her momentary weakness in her face.

“Alanna, you must know I would never do aught to harm you.”

“I know.”  Miserable now, she went to the tent flap and peered outside.  She prayed he would not notice she had not said she did not want him to kiss her.

“They are taking down the tents.”

He cleared his throat.  “Aye.  As I said earlier, `tis time we moved on.”  He sounded dispassionate now, with iron control firmly back in place. 

“I am ready.”

“Are you?”

“Of course.  My son and your mother await.”  Head held high, she stepped away from the tent flap. 

“We must pack this tent.”

“I’ll be out in a moment.”  Two strangers they might have been, so carefully precise did they speak.  “If you can find her, send Sarina to me.”

He nodded.  Then, without another word, he strode outside. 

Once he was gone Alanna breathed a sigh of relief. 

She’d take care they were not alone again.  After all, this was the exact reason Geoffrey had insisted on a chaperone.  Perhaps it was time she make Sarina act the part.

             
                            *    *    *    *

Geoffrey awoke to find his arms full of woman.  Soft, fragrant woman, more temptation than any early-morning dream had ever presented. 

Horrified by this – and the force of his own arousal – he pushed her away and scrambled to his feet. 

“Hmmmm?”  Sarina opened her bright blue eyes and flashed him a sleep-filled smile.  She stretched, giving him an ample view of scarcely-covered full breasts and narrow waist.

If anything, Geoffrey felt himself grow harder. 

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?” he snarled.

Her silky, dark hair mussed, she peered up at him through her long lashes.  “You did not complain last night when you curled into my back and kept me warm.”

He felt his face flame.  “I was asleep.  I did not ask for you.  Nor do I want you here now.”

Pointedly she looked at his crotch, where he tried unsuccessfully to hide his massive arousal with his hands.

His sleep-shift suddenly seemed far too short. 

“Your body tells me otherwise.” 

He tried a different tact.  “What do you want?”

Instead of answering, she let her smile widen.

This time, he felt his entire body heat, as though a fire burned within him.  Shamed and angry, he glared at her.

“Leave.” 

She arched her brow.

He took a step towards her before he thought better of it.  Then, realizing anything that brought her in close proximity would be a bad idea, he halted. 

“Your lady calls you,” he said.

“Odd.”  She tilted her head.  “I do not hear her calling me.”

Just then they both heard Darrick shouting Sarina’s name.  Geoffrey noticed the other man’s frustrated tone was an echo of his own.

Slowly, Sarina climbed out of his bed, tugging her wrinkled shift down, though not before he saw a goodly expanse of creamy skin.  She sighed, causing her bosom to heave and Geoffrey’s body to resume its heated throbbing.

Moving gracefully, she stepped into her over-tunic, shimmying it up over the curve of her hips.  Then, eyeing him coyly, she stepped past him and left the tent, leaving the musty scent of her perfume behind.

Alone, Geoffrey stared at his mussed bed.  Lying on the ground beside it was his rosary, which he had diligently prayed over before going to sleep.  Picking up the smoothly polished stones, he let his fingers glide over the first ones and began once more to speak his prayers.

             
                            *    *    *    *

When Sarina finally arrived, all but purring like a contented cat, Alanna sighed. 

“What have you been up to now?”

Her cousin grinned.  “Tormenting Geoffrey.”

“Could you not choose another?”

Sarina arched a brow.  “Why?  What’s wrong with him?”

“Have a care with that one.  His unwavering resolve to walk a narrow path worries me.”

“I will broaden his horizons.”  Sarina winked.

Shaking her head, Alanna tried again.  “You have not been long in this mortal realm,” she said.  “Here they view women differently than we do in Rune.”

“How so?”

“You cannot simply tease and torment any man who catches your fancy as you do in Rune.  Here, the men can and will overpower women, and take from them what they want.”

Sarina’s smile vanished.  “You speak of the one who forced himself on you, this Morfran Mortimer who has stolen Caradoc.”

With a lump in her throat, Alanna nodded.  “Never will I forget that black afternoon.”

“Just because it happened to you--”

“It can happen to anyone.  Even you.”

Though Sarina looked doubtful, she dipped her chin.  “Forgive me.  I will take heed of your counsel.” 

Then, for the first time since her arrival, Sarina glanced around the interior of the tent.  “Isn’t this the tent of your betrothed, Darrick Tadhg?”

“Former betrothed.  And yes, it is.”

Sarina’s eyes widened.  “This is where you rested?”

“For a few short hours, yes.”

“And you council
me
to take care?”  With a chuckle, Sarina waved towards the pile of blankets and furs.  “Did Darrick--?”

Though Alanna felt her face grow hot, she had long been accustomed to her cousin’s teasing.  “Of course not.”

“Why ever not?  Do you no longer find him attractive?”

Rolling her eyes, Alanna shook her head.  “That is none of your concern.  And speaking of last night, where were you?  You are here to act as my chaperone.”

Sarina laughed. “Do you really wish me to do so?”

“Yes.  If you’d been with me last night, Darrick would never--”  She bit her lip, feeling a fresh wave of heat in her face.

“Never what?  What happened between the two of you?  Has your human warrior managed to overcome your reticence?”

“No, he has not.  And reticence?  I would call it more than that.” 

Her smile instantly vanishing, Sarina dipped her chin.  “`Tis a better word than
fear
.” 

Alanna bit her lip and said nothing.  What could she say?  Her cousin – and most of Rune – knew how it was with her. 

“I am well aware of what they call me, the laughing Fae men of Rune.”

“Ice Princess?”  Sarina placed her hand on Alanna’s shoulder.  “I know you are not, or would not be, if you could get past the remembering.  Forgive me, cousin.  Long have I enjoyed every aspect of the male/female joining.  I cannot ever understand your torment.”

“No you cannot.”  Alanna’s voice quivered, which infuriated her.  “But there is no ‘getting past’ what happened to me.  I will never, ever be able to forget.”

Deliberately willing herself to calm, she gestured at the tent entrance.  “I wish to go.  I yearn to hold my son in my arms.  Make yourself ready and meet me outside.  I’ll see that your horse is saddled.” 

Without a backward look, she stepped into the day.

Organized chaos.  All the tents had been dismantled and packed, save one.  Darrick looked up as she approached, and gave her a bland, impersonal smile.

“This day, we will ride east.  Before the day is over, we shall reach Grasmere.”  He spoke loudly, for the benefit of all his men.  “By nightfall, I hope to rescue my lady mother.”

“And Caradoc.”  Alanna pitched her voice for his ears alone.  “Please do not forget my son.” 

He gave a curt nod before turning to tend to one of his men’s questions.

Alanna’s palfrey had been tethered nearby.  Without waiting for assistance, she slipped her foot into the stirrup and swung her leg over the horse’s back. 

“You are riding astride?”  Geoffrey glared at her, as though her ability to do such a thing was unthinkable.

“I always do.”  She answered him calmly, wishing she knew of a way to end the discord between them. 

“In our home, this is how all women ride.”  Leaving the tent, Sarina arrived, tossing out her comment before she too vaulted into the saddle. 

Geoffrey’s gaze narrowed.  He looked from Alanna to Sarina and back again.

“`Tis shameful,” he pronounced.  “Only har--”

“Don’t say it.”  Alanna interrupted him.  “Whatever insult I have given you in the past, would that I could recall it.  I do not wish for such discord between us.”

“Your very presence is an insult.”  Geoffrey tugged at his ear.  Alanna saw how carefully he avoided looking at her cousin. 

Preening, Sarina noticed as well.  Her mare, made skittish by all the excitement, danced sideways.  Sarina brought her under control with a deft flick of the reins.

This move however, placed her almost knee to knee with Geoffrey, earning his fierce glare, before he turned his heels to his own horse’s side, moving away. 

“Geoffrey.”  Darrick’s voice carried a warning.  “Take care not to insult those I welcome as guests.”

His frown deepening, Geoffrey gave a curt nod.  “Understood.”

Sarina opened her mouth to comment.  But whatever she’d been about to say was cut off as Darrick gave the command to ride out.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Fierce hope shone in Alanna’s beautiful face.  This, despite her rejection, inspired within Darrick an ardent determination to ensure her son was returned to her. 

Though why he should care so mightily what Alanna wanted or needed, he truly didn’t understand.

That didn’t stop the wanting. 

Though he had all but accused her of telling false-hoods, even knowing she couldn’t lie, all along he was well aware that it had been he who lied to himself.  Alone with her, he wanted her.  Needed her.  Desired her with an intensity that left him raw and aching. 

Once, in the days before Morfran, they had named each other soul-mates.  This, Darrick had never forgotten and never doubted.  Apparently Alanna, in her shame and self-loathing, had managed to do both. 

Theirs had been an unusual relationship, from the moment they’d met by chance in the forest and fallen in love.  She’d been more to him than lover, more than wife-to-be, or future mother of his children.  Alanna had been his best friend as well.  Had their situations been reversed, and such perfidy found him, she’d have been the first person he’d have turned to. Evidently he, on the other hand, had been for her the last.

Knowing this hurt him more, he thought, than her actual leaving. 

Darrick sighed.  Fool that he was, he could still look at her now and hope for a future.  Even though she’d told him again and again she only wanted her son, he could not bring himself to imagine a life devoid of her presence once more.  The scent of her, the lilting sound of her voice, the way her hair turned to spun gold in the sunlight – these small snippets of Alanna had done more to fill the yawning emptiness of his soul than anything else he’d found.

His life had been barren for so long. 

He glanced around, noting Geoffrey’s thunderous expression.  Geoffrey, his childhood companion and sworn liege-man, hated Alanna.  `Twas time he learned why.